Tell us a little about yourself, Myron.
I live on the ‘Island of Love’, Cyprus, with my wife Niki, whose
background is Greek Cypriot. We have been here about 12 years. I have two kids
with Niki, Alex (27) and Emily (20) and one from a previous marriage, Craig
(31). I started work as a travel agent and stayed in the travel business for
some thirty years; during that time, I played in a band as a drummer. I was
competent, not great, and could keep a rhythm.
I have diversified in my working life on more than a couple of occasions.
I became a copywriter for JWT, ran my own company from an idea I created called
Tubewalking, which was short-distance short-walking maps for commuters and
tourists in London. I have also designed and produced web-based and arcade games
for the gaming industry.
During my time in Cyprus, I was a Creative Director for an ad agency,
creating ad campaigns for all media, including TV, Radio, Press and mainline
advertising. When the financial crash happened, once again I had to diversify,
so not just concentrate on writing but find a job. I found one in the financial
industry, where I have worked for the past 5 years. I am still in that
industry.
Can you tell us what got you into writing?
My first step into writing was as a free-lancer writing scripts with my
former band member, Phil Campbell, who had experience in the film industry, as
he was a runner for Hammer Films, amongst other jobs he did. We wrote for the
BBC and a very popular duo who were one of Britain’s best loved comedic pairs,
accepted our material. We went our separate ways while still remaining friends
to this day. But I started writing more satirical pieces for programmes such as
‘Week Endings’ and ‘The News Huddlines’, as well as ‘Not the nine O Clock News,
a Kick up the 80’s with Tracey Ullman and The Marti Caine Show. All popular
shows of the 80’s. During this time, I was at JWT in another capacity as a
Travel Manager but was persuaded to take the copy test, which I passed and was
enrolled into JWT as a junior copywriter. I was writing daily at JWT so
naturally I started to develop plots for potential novels and screenplays. But
it wasn’t until I came to Cyprus that I wrote my first book.
Share a short excerpt from your novel
Chapter One
Cyprus
1991
‘Corporal Richard Cole reporting, Sir.’
‘You’re
late, Cole. Get on board now, the transport leaves in twenty minutes.’
‘Yes,
Sir.’
Cole’s
kit was already heavy and the extra burden of running for
the plane left him breathless. He thought he was fit at twenty-five,
and he should have been, but apparently, he still needed extra exercise. He
bolted up the steps and boarded the transport plane, taking the seat next
to a young soldier who was far too wrapped up in a magazine to notice him.
Richard
removed his cap, revealing a short haircut for the trip, as deserts were not
the place for hair that touched shirt collars. In the intense heat, he stroked
the back of his head. His hands returned wet and his face dripped droplets of
sweat, which fell onto his fatigues. He looked around as he leaned back on the
rough seat. He was about the same size as most of the other soldiers but his youthful
looks made him look younger than his age purported and that of his companions.
His face also appeared well-tanned compared to the pasty expressions of some of
his fellow travellers. And like Richard, all were in uniform and kitted up to
their eyeballs. Everyone buckled in and waited for take-off.
It was
February thirteenth. The Gulf War, Part One, had begun just over a month ago
and the air-war was in full swing. The despot Saddam had been as stubborn and
ruthless as the day he invaded Kuwait in the summer of 1990. The diplomacy that
followed by various countries and the UN was going nowhere, so the order
to initiate an airstrike came on January sixteen. The ground war
would soon follow. It was where the aircraft was headed.
War had
never occurred to Richard when he first signed up. Sure, the Falklands had
stirred the patriotism of the British people and made the country proud again
but although the Falklands was a bitter and bloody conflict it was a domestic
affair between two countries, Argentina and Britain, and if most ‘Brits’ were
honest at the time, not many of them knew where the fucking Falklands
were anyway. It was, after all, Maggie Thatcher’s Waterloo and it worked for
her.
This
Gulf War had much wider and sinister connotations. Not only were the ‘Brits’
involved but also most of the free world, with the US
fronting the adventure. For whatever reason was given, there was no
doubting Saddam was dangerous for the world, with the implications
for the Middle East frightening. Under this cloud of uncertainty and fear, the
green and pleasant land of England would seem a million miles away, even though
they were only just a few hours from the hot scorching desert of Kuwait.
En-route
to Kuwait they stopped in Cyprus, landing at the civilian airport in Paphos, as
the military fields of Akrotiri and Dhekalia were already
full to overflowing with combat aircraft of all types and sizes.
At
Paphos, the plane touched down around 4pm, the sun still hot as the troops
left the aircraft and thumped down the metal stairs to the awaiting
trucks, boarding twenty men at a time. Richard took the last place at
the back of his truck. The engine roared with life and with all formalities of
customs and immigration dispensed with, it began to rumble along the coastal
road out of Paphos. After all, this was war, albeit secretly hosted on Cyprus.
This was
Richard’s first visit to the island and from what he could see from the back of
the truck it looked like a fine place to visit. From his small vantage point at
the back, there seemed to be a good deal of activity going on, with lots
of cars and people hurrying about. And amongst them was a collection
of Greek Cypriot soldiers kitted out in green camouflage
uniforms waiting along the roadside.
In this tourist-like atmosphere it was all
too easy to forget that this was a divided land, invaded by the Turks in 1974,
after an unsuccessful coup by the Greeks led by then-President and Archbishop
Makarios. The island was divided by a thin green line which ran from
the North to the South and was policed by the UN. Under such circumstances the
fragile peace inevitably seemed vulnerable, yet it held.
The
green line was a constant reminder to the Cypriot people in the south that
their island was occupied—at least some of it including the wonderful
beach resorts of Kyrenia and Famagusta, which were cut off and
entrenched with mine fields and guarded by Turks.
These
resorts had once been deemed to be among the classiest in the
Mediterranean, with hotels and restaurants patronised by tourists from the
world over. Only now, these fine accommodations and eateries
were home to the rats, snakes and scorpions that occupied them. The
analogy of vermin in these occupied resorts was a good description of the
occupiers for many Greeks. Still, it remained a sad and sorry state of affairs
that those who were about to become involved in a new conflict could not
resolve this one first. Perhaps one day they would try.
As the
truck started to move out of town, the convoy meandered along the picturesque
road towards the base at Episkopi. The sun had begun to dim and the road
became windier, as the trucks struggled round and around the bends, slowly at
first then accelerating through the gears to gain momentum. The driver
purposely crunching the gears from time to time just to make sure none of his
occupants had fallen asleep. The inside of the truck was hot, the new
temperature something the soldiers were not yet acclimatised to. As the convoy
reached a tight bend, one of the guys at the front looked out of the canvas
window and shouted to the rest of his companions. ‘That’s Aphrodite’s Rock.’
Richard
looked out of the back of the open truck and saw one large rock embedded in the
shore and two smaller ones rooted in the sea. The sun reflected on their
colour, making them shimmer against the stunning blues of the Mediterranean.
The white tufts of surf lapping against the base of the rocks as if licking
them.
‘Petra Tou Romiou the Greeks call it, birthplace of Aphrodite.
Goddess of LOVE,’ purposely accentuated to make an impact.
‘What,
those old rocks?’ came Richard’s somewhat bemused retort.
‘Yep,
that was where she was born, they say, came out of the sea, just there.’
‘Bollocks.’ Richard’s astute friend of the magazine made his
contribution.
‘Precisely, that is what she’s made of, some Greek god’s bollocks, well,
dick actually, cut off and thrown into the sea from which came Aphrodite. Aphro, meaning from the foam.’
‘You’re
a scholar then?’ Richard asked his learned friend at the front.
‘No,
just read it in the guide book. Amazing what you can learn from these
things.’ He passed the book down to the back of the truck.
Richard
opened it to the page on Aphrodite’s Rock, nodding his thanks.
Magazine
man raised his head. ‘Must be an omen, seeing that today, what with it being
Valentine’s tomorrow, maybe we’ll get a shag.’ The last comment was lost in the
laughter that now enveloped the rest of the truck as the convoy wound its way
higher up the hill and over the escarpment of Aphrodite’s Rock, which
had finally slipped out of sight.
Which do you prefer: print books or e-books when you are reading?
Books in print is my preference. I like to hold a book, I feel closer to
the story that way.
I agree, but I do like my kindle fire when I am on vacation, I can carry lots of books in a small amount of space. Have you been given any helpful advice?
Yes, and I have always respected people’s opinions, so yes, I have, but
sometimes you must go with your gut feeling and that usually is for me what I
do.
Currently, what are you working on?
The third part of the Mistress Trilogy.
Tell
us a little bit about your main characters.
Richard Cole is a veteran British Soldier of the first Gulf War, who
developed PTSD after he was ordered to be an observer on a mission to Highway
80 in Iraq. He found solace with the fascination of the legend of Aphrodite,
who throughout the conflict was his constant sanctuary from war. On returning
to Cyprus some years later, he pays a visit to her birthplace and this starts a
stream of events which catapults him into a new and terrifying world of the
unknown where choices are to be made.
Aphrodite, the mystic Goddess of myth and legend was born from the waves
at a site called Petra Tou Romiou; she is an ephemeral spirit that at first
protects, then taunts, and finally haunts Richard until his very soul is under
her spell. Unable to fight her, he eventually succumbs to her seductive powers
so that he will become hers.
Julie Cole, Richard’s American Boston-born wife, is a focal part of the
story as she lends sanity to the story. She is more mature and astute than
Richard. Is charismatic, good looking, and sexy, which makes her a difficult
adversary for the temptations of the Goddess.
What
is the easiest part of the writing process? What is the hardest?
The easiest part for me is constructing the story, I often think of the
end and build backwards. The hardest is finding time to write, especially if
you work full time.
I know exactly what you mean. Finding time to write with three kids and working is a challenge. Do you have people read your drafts before you publish? How do you select beta readers?
I have an excellent editor, Athina Paris. She has transformed my story
from my first draft which I sent to her, offering excellent critique, which I
follow. It should also be said that James Hill, my publisher, has been a
shining light in this whole project and he too read the draft, before
publishing. Together they make a formidable team. For test subjects, I choose
friends mainly, some family, but you are not always sure with family that you
get a balanced and honest appraisal. I also ask people who are writers or are
associated with writing.
I think it's important to find a good team when writing. Getting valuable feedback is critical. What
brought about the idea for your book?
An epiphany moment on my very first visit to the rocks in the early 90’s.
I saw something on the walls of the restaurant that day, which at first
surprised and then stunned me, at that point I knew I had to write this book,
no matter how long it would take. It was only when we moved to Cyprus did I
began this journey.
What
was your writing process like?
When I was in advertising I used to think in
pictures, I found that so much easier to visualise the concept that way, the same is true for writing. I
visualise the plot as if it was on the screen and then adapt it for the book. I
wrote the screenplay before I ever wrote the book.
Myron, any
last words you'd care to impart with us?
I am grateful for the opportunity to bring the story of the Mistress of
the Rock to people’s attention. I know people say there are no original ideas,
but I can say this hand-on-heart, you will never read or see another story like
this in your lifetime, the image of the Goddess is totally unique and real, whether
you believe it or not. My ultimate dream is for Mistress of the Rock to be made
into a movie, as I believe it could be good for the island of Cyprus, bringing
tourists, expanding the culture of the island, and providing a lasting legacy
for the Aphrodite legend.
Thanks so much for sharing with us. Happy Reading!!
