Please welcome Paul Crilley to the virtual offices! He’s here to tell us about his latest release The Oriris Curse.
[Manga Maniac Cafe] Describe yourself in 140 characters or less.
[Paul Crilley] A Scotsman living in South Africa. Generally quiet, loves his kids. Passionate reader. Superhero in training. Teller of tall tales.
[Manga Maniac Cafe] Can you tell us a little about The Osiris Curse?
[Paul Crilley] It’s the sequel to The Lazarus Machine, a steampunk mystery-adventure in the vein of Dr Who, Sherlock Holmes, Indiana Jones, and James Bond. This time round Tweed and Nighitngale are looking into the mystery of Nightingale’s missing mother, (which was touched upon in the first book). Their investigation brings them into contact with a sinister cult called the Brotherhood of Osiris, and they are forced to go undercover on the maiden voyage of the Albion, the very first luxury airship. (Tweed has to pose as a waiter, something he’s not at all happy with.) The trail takes them all the way to Egypt, where they discover that a certain mythical ‘hollow-earth’ theory might not be so mythical after all.
[Manga Maniac Cafe] How did you come up with the concept and the characters for your Tweed and Nightingale series?
[Paul Crilley] The whole thing started off as a single image I came up with about ten years ago. It was of a shivering, skinny Sherlock Holmes sitting on a rocking chair staring into the fire while Dr Watson looks on in horror. Only problem is, Holmes had been dead for ten years. It was originally going to be an straight adult book, (is that a term? Not Young Adult, is what I mean), told by Dr Watson, just like the original Holmes tales, but then I started adding more and more steampunk elements and then Nightingale appeared (originally as an antagonist), and that image morphed into what we have now.
[Manga Maniac Cafe] What three words best describe Tweed?
[Paul Crilley] Analytical. Arrogant. Loyal.
[Manga Maniac Cafe] Name one thing Nightingale is never without.
[Paul Crilley] Her Tesla gun.Continue reading