Happy Thursday, friend! A Spectre in the Stream, book 1 of the Slip Saga is finally here. You might remember my excitement when I read the prequel, A Memory in the Mirage and interview with Simon. Let’s welcome Simon again and learn about this new chapter in his series.
Get to know the author: Simon Tull
Hi Simon! Welcome back to Armed with A Book. It’s great to have you on here again. What have you been upto in the last couple months? Tell my new readers a bit about yourself!
I’ve been super busy launching my first Kickstarter for my debut novel, A Spectre in the Stream. It’s been a lot of work, but the campaign funded in under 2 hours, which is pretty thrilling to me. It’s been a long ride to get here, but I can’t wait to get the book into reader’s hands and find out what they think.
What inspired you to write this book?
Maybe it was because of the background of the COVID pandemic, but for some reason while watching an episode of The Expanse, I started thinking about what would happen after a vampire apocalypse. Because surely, the vampires would just end up killing everyone and leaving themselves no food source. The slip was born an instant later. My protagonist for the book, Prisma, popped into my head a few minutes after that, along with her name. From there, I knew I had a story I needed to write.
How long did it take you to write this book, from the first idea to the last edit?
I had the idea a few months before I actually started working on it. I was writing my first book at the time and didn’t want to switch until I’d completed the milestone of finishing. I did, then switched, and haven’t given that other manuscript a second glance. Once I started on Spectre, it took three and a half years to complete over 8 drafts.
What makes your story unique?
The mix of fantasy and cyberpunk isn’t something you see often, and I’ve spent a lot of time on pacing and hooks to make the book have a strong forward momentum. I also enjoy revealing mysteries along the way and building in a lot of foreshadowing. Between those elements, I think I’ve created a pretty fun read.
Who would enjoy reading your book?
Anyone that likes to see genres smooshed together, and anyone that wants to be wrapped up in a mysterious, fast-paced story, set against some cool world building.
Did you bring any of your experiences into this book?
Not consciously, but every character is probably a reflection of me in some small way. Which is a bit weird, given that there’s a psychotic cyborg assassin in there . . .
What’s something you hope readers would take away from it?
My hope is that when readers put it down for a break, then can’t wait to get back to it and find out what happens next. If it can do that for people, I’ll be happy.
Do you have a favourite quote or scene in the book that you find yourself going back to?
There are quite a few, but I quite like this one:
“The past is ashes and dust. If you go sifting through it, you’ll only get dirty.”
A Spectre in the Stream is the first book in The Slip Saga series. Tell me more about the series.
I’ve tentatively got 5 books planned for the main series, with another side novella or two of extra stories I think would be fun to tell, like A Mirage in the Memory. The main characters from A Spectre in the Stream will feature through the series, and the side characters will continue to make appearances along the way. Those that survive, anyway.
What is something you have learned on your author journey so far?
The keys that have levelled me up have been forming a daily habit around my writing, and finishing the things I start, despite having other ideas that try to drag me off in different directions. In addition to that, you also need to persevere through the tough times, either when life butts its nose in, or you’re struggling with a scene or character. But accomplishing a bit every day is the magic bullet, even if it’s something small.
What’s the best piece of advice you have received related to writing?
So many! To finish what you start. To write the next line. To set a daily goal. Together, they all add up to books.
If you could give a shout out to someone(s) who has helped in your writer journey, please feel free to mention them below!
If anyone wants to improve their prose, I highly recommend the 3 core classes by Margie Lawson at margielawson.com. My writing seriously levelled up after taking those. They’re simply brilliant.
Where can readers find you on the Internet?
Website and Kickstarter.
A Spectre in the Stream
Post-Apocalyptic Cyberpunk Fantasy, 2024
In a world gone mad with bloodlust, can a girl with a fragmented past use her inner monster to save a boy from undying predators?
Earth, post-Apocalypse. Prisma longs to understand herself. Two centuries after humanity died, the claustrophobic immortal is grateful she’s not driven by the thirst for blood plaguing every other enslaved survivor. But when she encounters a strange boy with a cryptic message about her origins, she fears his existence has made them both a deadly target.
As Prisma’s violently protective alter-ego gives her remarkable abilities, she and her curious companion track his mysterious origins through their decaying city and its virtual twin. But she’s horrified to learn of a vicious truth that sends her split personality into dangerous denial when a psychotic assassin and a desperate bounty hunter close in for the kill.
Can she unearth the secret that will renew their stricken planet’s hope?
A Spectre in the Stream is the edge-of-your-seat first book in The Slip Saga science fiction fantasy series. If you like gritty characters, violent action, and dark-edged humour, then you’ll love Simon Tull’s fast-paced adventure.
Content notes include graphic violence and swearing.
Book Excerpt from
A Spectre in the Stream
Chapter 35
The sign over Thibault’s head was notable only in its lack of neon and fanfare. [The Riven Styx.] He wasn’t relishing the idea of this encounter. The owner had offered him slake when he needed it most, in exchange for a simple deal: to never come back. But now Thibault was going to break that deal just a few hours later.
His reaver hung like a dead weight against his chest, an insurance policy he hoped he wouldn’t need to use. But life was a string of shitty choices, differing only in who got hurt.
He blew out a breath and sucked in some resolve. Pushing open the dilapidated front door, he strolled over to the bar, boot heels clomping on the hardwood floor. The air smelled of stale beer and sweat, of desperation and lost hope. The grime made him long for the clean sheen of the slip.
The bartender himself was nowhere to be seen, though Thibault supposed he wouldn’t be far. A lazy fan threw arcing shadows across the room, accompanied by a steady tick. A slake-hazed vire sat slumped at a table. Thibault grimaced. A few hours ago, that could just as easily have been him.
Clanking steps sounded from the door out the back, their owner shuffling out to find the source of the squealing door, his features flattening upon recognising the culprit.
“Twice in twenty-four hours. Must’ve found me a four-leaf clover.” Styx sauntered to the bar. “We had a deal, hunter. What the fuck are you doing back in my gaff?”
Thibault leaned his left elbow on the counter. The angle allowed him to hold the stock of the reaver hidden under his trench. This could go poorly if mishandled. Styx cared deeply for the girl—that much was clear.
“Couldn’t be avoided, I’m afraid.” He spread his right hand, a gesture of apology, or so he hoped. “You seen a boy, about sixteen at the Turn?”
The grizzled bartender studied Thibault, searching for something, but didn’t seem to like what he found. “And what’s he done, eh? What shocking crime has he committed he deserves to be dragged to the mesh with nary a say in it?”
“If it wasn’t me, it’d be someone else, kin. Anuthuma want him. They’ll get him sooner or later. You know that.”
“Sooner with your help, eh?”
“You see him? Mimics spied him with that girl you had in here last night. Know where I can find her?”
Styx straightened, his demeanour chilly as an arctic wind. Damn. Thibault had mentioned the girl too soon. He spoke fast, holding up a chromed palm. “I’m not interested in the girl, and neither are the Anuthuma. I only need the boy.”
Styx leaned over, planting two white-knuckled fists in spilled moonshine. “Get the fuck out of here.”
Thibault scratched at his neck, trying to look nonchalant, feeling anything but. “If I don’t find him, they’ll send others. She’ll get caught in the crossfire, maybe taken in to make up the difference. You tell me where to find him, I guarantee the girl stays out of it. You have my word, kin, for whatever it’s worth.”
Styx watched him like a hawk eyeing prey too large for its talons, trying to decide whether to strike. Thibault could see the man’s gears grinding, weighing a decision. The bartender didn’t care about the boy, beyond not wanting to help Thibault take anyone. But he cared for the girl, and he was no fool. He knew that if the Anuthuma wanted the boy, they’d get him, eventually. The longer it took, the more bloody it would get. Anyone near the kid would be caught in the blowback.
Thibault caught the change a split second before the bartender’s shoulders slumped. Styx cocked his head to the side and looked at Thibault askance, then reached under the bar. Thibault tensed, the thrill of danger in the air, half drawing his reaver from its holster. Styx’s hand appeared again, holding two tumblers, a flagon of moonshine in the other. His pupils shot to Thibault’s waist. He’d noticed the movement.
The bartender set the glasses onto the counter and poured, slopping alcohol without concern. He slid one towards Thibault with the back of his fingers, liquid sloshing over the side.
“Have to toast when betrayal is in the air, lad.” Styx raised his drink, downed the contents in a single motion, then slammed the tumbler back on the counter with a crack.
Thibault flinched at the word betrayal, and hoped Styx hadn’t noticed. That word made him think of Ors and where he might be now. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out, though. Ors was meshed in the same slip he had dominated for so long, now become its slave. Because of Thibault.
He picked up the glass and raised it in a silent toast to his once-friend, pitched it back, and gulped the moonshine down in a single swallow, the harsh liquid burning bright in his throat. He tilted his head forwards—straight into a yawning gun barrel.
Clever, clever bastard.
Interested?
Find A Spectre in the Stream on Goodreads, Storygraph.
Thanks for taking the time to join us for this interview!
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