Realm: The problem of Realm

My least horror-iffic horror novel, I've often shied away from discussing Realm. Duh, it ain't a horror novel. Do you see the pumpkin above the masthead? That's a horror author's website. Realm has horrifying things in it but as its tagline implies and its very much non-horror, fantasy-driven cover, Realm is not a horror novel, it's a fantasy in the vein of C.S. Lewis.

The book doesn't sell much. Not that many of my books do. Even then, Realm sticks out like a sore thumb. It's kind of obvious that when I'm heading to a book fair with my arms full of horror books, Realm isn't going to shift many copies. I've thought about putting a focus on the book in the coming months and trying to sell it specifically.

I do have something of a soft spot for Realm. I don't hate any of my books, honestly. Realm, though, kickstarted an odd period of my life in which I moved to Oxford. It was, sort of, looking back, a horrible, horrible mistake. Hence Realm is seen as one of those music hall performances that sparked so many men to sign up for WWI. This jingoistic novel, with one foot in the 19th century, which sparked disaster. Flash forward ten or so books to Salem to Salem, which in comparison with the idealistic "pro-democracy" of Realm, is practically a Timothy McVeigh book. I've sort of cooled down since Salem to Salem. Now, there's no real political compass in my novels. Anti-imperialism, as seen in Ugly Botany and Lord Caterpillar Returns, is very much the flavour of the day.