P.J. Loop

@pjloop.bsky.social

310 Followers 292 Following

A full-stack writer. Forget seven days, whoever heard of someone trying to create an entire world in only their spare time? Actually, that might explain a few things. #teowad #scifi #mystery #humour #heart https://teowad.co.uk/book1 https://pjloop.co.uk

The text reads:

...

But anyway… There I was, sixteen years-old, living alone in a borrowed place, with only a weekend job in a newsagents to keep me going. I’d manage to find an evening college, one that didn’t ask too many questions, that was teaching me woodwork. If I could get to the end of the course, without something else catastrophic happening, I’d be in for a shot at proper, full time job. And I’d have my own freedom. I was getting my life back, not on track —per se— but I could see glimmers of hope. When, up rocks a blazing inferno and destroys all my chances of keeping anything on my own terms.

You might think I’m taking my survival lightly.
I’m not, I’ve just always been this way.
I laugh and snipe at all the wrong things.
But that’s what comes from having parents who named you Cadence Lightshadow.
That’s one of the reasons why my life definitely improved, at least for a short while, when they disappeared. I could pretend I had a different name. I used to get so many stupid questions and comments about my name.

Bfore you get the wrong end of the stick, and think me harsh, that name of course would be fine if I spent my weekends helping out at the local wizarding school, or if all my best friends were creatures from some fantasy realm called Quaz’ar or something. Which they aren’t by the way, I don’t have any friends —or siblings— and there isn’t any such school in the greater county of Essex.

Magic does not exist.

I know this because I live in Chelmsford.

And —if magic existed I wouldn’t have had to jump from my rapidly diminishing second floor window, wrapped in my duvet, chased by flames and poisonous fumes, straight down into a privet hedge.

You might wonder why I’m recounting all this, why go through all the trouble of explaining things I can barely understand myself. And therein lies the rub. That’s because I missed something, and I need help in figuring out what the hell it is.

The text reads:

But as I said, this time I wouldn’t want to reverse anything. Just in case it all went worse than it already did. I mean, it could get worse? Couldn’t it? That’s always a possibility.

And I’m pretty certain though, if I hadn’t finally drifted off, far earlier than usual —way before the sun had gone down— then I might have slept too late. Slept through it all.

Never to wake again.

When I think back, I realise that I felt the heat long before I ever noticed the smoke. But it took me a dazed while to wake, to see that the strange clicking and cracking sound was my bedroom door —burning.
Yep, one of my genius neighbours, downstairs, had accidentally set our entire complex on fire. Well —they aren’t my neighbours any more. I don’t mean anything bad by that, amazingly no one was hurt or anything. But I still don’t know exactly who caused it, or how.

I mean, how do you burn down your own building?

That wasn’t the important thing, though. The important thing was that in an instant I had lost my borrowed home, everything I had, and I had nowhere else to go.
And the worst part, the authorities found me again.
And more to the point, they knew there was no one to look after me.
There hadn’t been for a whole year.
Not since my aunt Angela passed away (R.I.P.) and I managed to run away from the authorities the last time. I ran to a whole different part of the country, and —well, that’s a total tangent right there, I promised myself I wouldn’t do that. Perhaps I’ll explain that bit… later, if you’re lucky.

Are you feeling lucky?

Oh and no, my parents are not in the picture.
No one knows where they are.
They disappeared a year before my aunt died.
As far as the police could investigate, they vanished off the face of the earth.
With no explanation.
At least no one told me I was lucky there.

The text reads:

# The Eviction of Cadence Lightshadow

I remember It was a night where sleep was avoiding me.
At least before it snuck up, when I was least expecting it.

Ridiculous really. Considering how important the next day was supposed to be. Most evenings I’d leave everything far too late, fighting to stay awake as long as possible, and then the morning would be a mad rush. But not this time. I’d specifically got everything sorted early, tidied up, even put the washing machine on a schedule —for the first time ever!— so it'd run cheaper and the clothes would be ready to hang as soon as I woke.
Would my parents be proud of me? —__Ha!__
But then… I just laid in bed staring at my ceiling.
Well —it’s not ‘my’ ceiling, I don’t own anything here. I barely have enough clothes the right size to make it through winter. And if I can’t afford new clothes, then I sure as hell can’t afford my own flat.

Actually, who owns the ceiling when you live in an apartment complex?
Is the ceiling the property of the rooms it covers, or does it only count as the floor for anyone crazy enough to live above you?
They never teach you anything useful like that at school, do they?

Anyway, I guess it was just too damn early to try for sleep at that point.
My brain just wasn’t cut out for doing the good thing.
It never normally is.
Usually, it’ll only let me sleep after I’ve zapped pretty much all of my energy, leaving only the last few drops of consciousness behind. Just enough so that I can brush my teeth and then collapse into my broken old bed.

I don’t own the bed either…. Well… didn’t.
I still wonder if me falling asleep earlier, as I eventually did, is why I’m still here.
But you can never know what a different choice will mean.
Not in this reality.
If we could, if we had an ‘undo’, would anyone ever get to the end of anything, ever again?
I don’t think I would. I’d keep going back, trying to get things perfect.

The text reads:

Webb watched, helplessly, as the ground around them sunk, only a foot, but it was enough. Distance lost her balance and the grip on her bag. She tumbled back towards the wall, falling right between the two metal triangles, and vanished into the network of blue lines snaking across the wood.

The text reads:

Distance heard familiar sounds, but there were too many echoes.
"What—?" she tried to speak but her head hurt.
"It's okay, rest," came another voice, it was quiet and the words seemed to bounce.
Distance opened her eyes, hoping it would help. It didn't. She could only see strips of understandable things, bands of light barely deciphering what lay in the shadows. She felt a warmth across her back and a hand on her shoulder. Turning to see, she lost her balance.
"Hey, it's okay, hold still —we need to wait," more whispers, and another hand came to stabilise on her side. Distance saw the piercing blue eyes, flecks and details up close, glowing in the black, before she saw anything else of the detective. Webb was holding her steady. She tried to get a sense of her arms, to feel where she was, but even in a small movement she whacked an elbow into something behind.
"Oaowh…" Distance exclaimed, again attempting to stand, her legs were prickling.
"Ms. Distance, stop. We need to keep quiet." Webb rounded on her and pushed them both further into the dark space. The detective was so close she could feel her breath, hot against the side of her neck. The blood in Distance's leg started flowing properly again, and her vision deepened —the new position was better.
__Urghh… what the —hells!?__
Webb was watching something, the detective kept twisting and Distance would almost get a face full of hair. For want of information, her mind focused on the white strands, they way they curved around the shadows of her ear, her tied bun was still just about holding its shape, but it was feathered and blackened in places.
The hypnotic eyes focused straight on her.
"Are you alright?" Webb asked, barely audible. Distance's focus started to come back. She could feel the cold of the wall they were leaning against, pushing her harness into her back.

The snippet of text reads:

Webb gave a self-deprecating grin and relaxed her stance. “If we're going to start down the path of wishful thinking, then I **damn well** wish I hadn't dropped half of my tactical kit!” she exclaimed. “If I hadn't done that, we'd probably be talking to them right now.”
Distance reacted in pure surprise.
"Huh? How?" the specialist demanded, rounding on Webb like she'd just declared the universe was flat. "The FarTalks aren't working, and neither is your communicator, which I've seen you try on both networks."
“I… err,” Webb glitched. “By using a Mesh,” she finally managed, taken aback by the change in her partner.
“A mesh?” Distance continued her incredulous response. “Since when did the guard use MeshInduction?”
“Well, we don't… Well not any more. It's old tech—since all this Resonance madness—but it's still a procedure fallback for my teams. Especially when trapped anywhere." Webb raised a hand, discounting the possibility. "Doesn't matter though, we don't have my Patch, so—”
Distance's eyes flared.
“You might not have your Patch—but you have me!" she huffed.

The text reads:

Miniature distorted versions of the hallway sprayed forth from the ceiling. Cold droplets falling in rings, splashing down across every surface, puddling into islands of water that drenched the floor.
Webb charged forwards through the artificial rain with Distance in close pursuit.
The constant water streaming everywhere was playing havoc with her vision. All she could see were indiscernible waves, flashes and patterns —overwhelming noise— forcing her to use every trick to navigate, every little hint from her senses.
No matter how disrupted.
⏎
__At least they're gone!__
...

The rest is spoilers.

Shows a frame stolen from Webb's mood board video. This is my interpretation of her, and whilst I have used AI to bring her to life, she started as my own sketches.

She has always had bright white hair, and near-glowing blue eyes. She is a PoliceGuard detective who has been through a lot, and yet, she still keeps fighting forward.

Here you see her wearing her tactical armour, and holding a FarLink (a blue-glowing particle map of data).

Funny point, in the story she is supposed to catch the FarLink with one hand, and it is supposed to be thrown from off camera at her in a fast way. Could I get the model to understand that... erm, no. But hey, perfect is impossible, right?

It's been fun building these shorts, but definitely would've been better if I knew a team of on-character actors and set builders who would operate for next to no money. Perhaps in the future :D

The text reads as:

Distance barged past the flickering emergency light and into the room only a stride before Webb. They drove their combined weight backwards against the door, slamming it shut, it hit so hard the air rippled.
⏎
They were thrown into absolute darkness —again.
⏎
Distance felt around the door, its smooth coldness and rough edges, searching for what she'd seen. A flash of metal. __Aha!__ Turning the handle, a deeply satisfying __clunk__ punctuated the black, as several BoltLocks slid across into place. Her heart eased, but it was still pounding in her ears as her mind spooled.
Leaning back against the door, she tried to catch a breath, to balance out.
She felt Webb next to her, the detective's armoured jacket hard against her arm, the quiet sounds of her partner recovering.
Neither said a word.
⏎
Distance didn't want to dispel the calm they had stolen. Hearing only the sounds of their varied breathing, she held onto hope.
__Please. Keep going!__

An image showing the two main protagonists, Worth and Distance. These are frames from the moodboard videos.

An advert screen for the mood board. It shows the end frame of the video. We see the name of the book: "The End of Worth and Distance : Episode One". In the background we see Latium Onaia, a city in harmony with nature and mechanicals. We see one of their moons, Lunaris, and we see the edge of Worth (on the right) and Distance (on the left).

A mood video that helps explain a complex book —where I don't feel genre/tropes work.

Yes, it was half built with AI specifically through 'Veo 3', which I believe stands on less dodgy & thieving ground than many other tools. You may disagree with me, & that's fine. The images used started as my own sketches.

But as I said, this is not the art. I'll never use AI for my writing, just on the throwaway parts, the 'necessary evil' to get seen.

The video starts panning through the streets of Onaia, a world that is a collision of mechanical tech, musical science & bountiful nature. Then the camera launches up to the rooftops, where we see beautiful old architecture & find someone using a FarTalk. Then we're back to the cobbled streets again, focusing on details like trees and the street GlowLamps... as the captions try to give us a feel for the series without giving too much away:

What if?
Everything you knew
Mattered more
Than you
Ever thought possible
What would you do?
To protect it.

The text reads:

"How is it you always make everything sound like bread soup?" she asked loud enough for him to hear. Her grin breaking into a chuckle.
"What?" Redley replied, baffled, stepping towards her, he could hear his team start up various conversations as Leandro returned to the group. What Amata had said truly hadn't made any sense, and clearly—by her reaction—that fact was broadcasting across his face.
"Oh, is that not a phrase you Hearters have?" She tilted her head as if in surprise, but he knew her enough. He knew she was just distracting the both of them, avoiding thinking about what was to come next.
He deepened his puzzlement at her in reply.
She widened her yes, "Ah right, well… bread soup —it's damn easy to make, and you have that habit of making everything sound straightforward," she spoke much more quietly now that he was closer.
"Do I? I didn't realise you were evaluating my rallying speeches," he grinned.
"Not all of them. But I've seen enough over the years."
"I see, well, I have to confess, I'm still trying to work out if 'bread soup' is a compliment or dig."
"What's really gonna twist your noggin' is people always forget bread soup's only easy when you've got bread, but if you don't, it's a pain in the ass!"
He laughed, shaking his head.

An image of a lonely laptop, on a sea of table, lost in the cyphers of my local library... during Rhyme Time! :joy: At least that's what it used to be called when I brought my little ones here (for the uninitiated that means ~2 year olds coming to the library for a singalong). So yes, I timed the "quiet period at the library" wrong. But it's not like I have an abundance of choice when it comes to time slots, and that's what noise cancelling headphones are for, and... actually, it's a really nice sound to be avoiding. Crazy to think my little ones are now almost ten. Madness... Time is a definitely a trick played on use mortals.

A fake picture of not me, not in a night club, not listening to 'Turn the lights off'. You get the idea.... there's lots of blue, and I probably need a shave.

This shows a screenshot of my new addition to the subscriber/signup section of my site. It shows the lists of playlists per character. There are 9 in total at the moment, but there are more I could add. Anyway, I like them, even if no one else does. It covers such artists as Chvrches, Pixies, Tool, Hundred Reasons, Illenium, Daughter, Metric, The Haunt, Switch Angel, AViVA, Pendulum, and so on... just tracks I've collected like shortcuts. Shortcuts to a different world, one with better edges and friendlier physics.

A sketch of one of my main characters, Micah Webb —(how I think she looks, doesn't mean I'm correct). She's a PoliceGuard inspector who has had more than her fair share of tough breaks. Yet she keeps showing up, working hard and fighting back. She's been the hardest for me write out of all my characters, but I'd definitely say the most rewarding.

She has white hair up in a small, tight bun, she has eerie blue eyes that have an energetic quality about them. She's wearing her standard uniform with tactical belt. She comes across as cold and confusing, but that's only because no one yet knows what she's dealing with —even herself.

A sketch showing my three main characters: Distance, Worth and Webb. (at least how I see them). Distance has auburn hair, round Harmonic glasses, and has to follow the rules even though she dislikes that that is a fact. She's recently taken to being more flamboyant with her appearance however, after years of being very conservative. Worth has dark hair, typically looks unkempt, usually because he's been up all night, but he has a way about him that either annoys people or means he can 'get away with murder'. He's always wearing his dark long coat or jacket. Webb has white hair that is tightly controlled when on duty (she's PoliceGuard), and harmonically enhanced eyes, something she's is still coming to terms with. Worth and Distance are security specialists in a world that has a sound-based magical-like science known as Resonance.

Hopefully people will find these characters interesting.

I know I do, hence the books.

A start of a pencil sketch of one of my main protagonists, Ash Worth, (at least how I see him). The image shows mostly the work I've done on his head, which is the bit I always find difficult. I'm veeeery slow when it comes to drawing in detail. This has taken a couple of lunch breaks so far. But... I'm quite happy with things at the moment (for once).

Worth might have a tall, shadowy and handsome appearance, if he looked after himself better and didn't keep failing to get home for a good night's rest. His hair is never going to be controllable however, and he's definitely on the side of pale where doctors might start looking worried and prescribe medication.

An image showing Distance opening a FarTalk (a metal communication device that also looks remarkably like a book). She's stylised in blues with the glow of Resonance lighting up her face. The text is a snippet from one of the chapters.

Text Reads:

A figure dropped cautiously from the bright top of a high wall, down into deeply contrasted shadow. They landed with a sound that only comes from jumping onto compacted soil. A quiet thump, followed by the soft noises of the earth sighing a relief.
Ignoring the rest of the garden landscape, the figure darted to a nearby wooden arch. A construction that could have easily been mistaken as a huge plant, considering it was swamped in vines and almost completely obscured by the leaves of an eager Trailing Chandella.
The only thing that trailed about our figure however, was her auburn hair.
Her locks flaffed+ expertly as she flitted across the idyllic grounds, only coming to rest as she paused briefly under cover of darkened shadows.

Footnote:

+ Translators Note: Another word we had to invent to keep on par with the beauty of the Onaian language.
flaffed: /flæft/ verb (past tense) To become so good at one's job that you can make your actions look utterly chaotic and beautiful at the same time.

A combination of my book, 'The End of Worth and Distance : Episode One' and an interesting Harmonic system with Resonant energy being directed at the book.

I often try to achieve good composition and colour variance in my images, and I think this works quite well here. The book is like a blue, glowing, rectangle. Whereas the outside is like a copper, metal prison.

This is a video that shows my Scrivener compile bar rendering the final PDF version that has gone for the final test prints. Sounds quite boring to be honest, but it wasn't for me. I've tried to recreate that feeling with the music (soulful, sad sounds that have a positive burn) and things then explode into clips of all the activity that I've been up to in trying to get this story over the line —even if that line is entirely invisible and self made.

Put simply, a lot of fanfare around me sending a file off to a 'print on demand' service. We humans are strange, are we not?

This is an advert page for my soon to be self-published book 'The End of Worth and Distance : Episode One'. Which will be released —unless something catastrophic happens— on February 29th 2026.

The image shows:
The book is sitting on a pebble rock, out in the rain. Not an ideal place for a book, but *you* try getting it to stay in one place. And at least it has a platform.

The text reads:
"Puts the fun back in foreboding, the mystery back in your shipping forecast, and the dangerous where you least expect it" —P.J. Loop

teowad.co.uk | pjloop.co.uk

#SciFi
#Fantasy
#Mystery
#Humour
#Heart
#Bureaucracy

Blurb from the book:

FIRST, THERE WAS DARKNESS
THEN... CAME THE NOISE ?!

In a world where the wrong sound can ruin your breakfast, steal your livelihood, or bring your construction project to an end permanently, what happens when things get truly incomprehensible?

Security specialists Ash Worth and Victoria Distance have the misfortune to find out. Skilled in the science of Resonance—and the art of friendly arguments—they are a force to be reckoned with, until strange forces reckon back-putting them on track for a disaster of truly bureaucratic proportions.

Pseudo-accused of an impossible theft they set about trying to find the real culprit. Whilst attempting to clear their name-and their office space-they encounter odd PoliceGuard detectives, bizarre occurrences, and mysterious creatures that creep around at night, purring at the moons.
The story of 'The End of Worth and Distance' blends science fiction, steampunk, mystery, darkness and humour in a tale where cutting-edge nostalgia and weird technology meet the impossible.

BY THE SPIRALS!!
HOW CAN THIS BE THE END?
IT'S ONLY THE FIRST BOOK?!

This is a screenshot of my Scrivener Binder for teowad:ep1, it shows the colour highlight that I'm using to track which scenes have corrected layout for print, and have been proof-read (shown by turquoise).

What you can't see here is all the other scenes (across all the other chapters), that have taken ages to get to turquoise.

The bright green have already been checked in numerous other ways (the penultimate chapter), and should only need brief layout handling. The white are the scenes that still need proper laying out and proof-reading for the paperback format.

Only one chapter left in white.

I say this like they haven't been laid out or proof-read before. They definitely have, this is probably my fifth time going over the entire manuscript (in its /current/ form). But somehow... somehow, glitches still get through??! I swear sometimes Scrivener is doing it on purpose. It waits until I'm certain things are fine, before it makes mini changes...

Recently however, I've been spotting fewer and fewer typos/writing mistakes.

Which is a good sign.

You can bet though, as soon as I publish, I'll spot about eight more.

Without a doubt.

I am amazed people can do this for a job, proof-reading has damn near killed me 😂.

And yes, I know any kind of hardback or different format (if I ever get there) will need a new layout. I'm ignoring that fact for now.

At least the e-book is looking as good as the print one now, thanks to some careful CSS modifications. 🙌

An image of a weird ransom note with redactions, the message reads:

Two security specialists, [redacted word] Worth and [redacted word] Distance —adept in the art of Harmonics— are pseudo accused of an impossible theft in their alternative steampunk world of Onaia. It takes all their skill, the help of [redacted word] PoliceGuard detectives, the clandestine [redacted word] of a mysterious [redacted word], and the truly [redacted word] —to save their entire city from collapsing into chaos.

A picture of an author realising that words have more side effects than first appreciated. Essentially a close up shot of man with glasses, frowning at a computer screen. This is mostly what he does, except for the days where he's laughing maniacally, or frowning whilst away from a computer screen. And no, this isn't AI. Generative models can't get the right balance between sideburns and unkempt beard fuzz, and —as far as I'm concerned— they never will.

This image shows a screenshot of my Scrivener binder, it depicts the scenes at the end of the book, and my progress going step by step, checking for:

- arc continuity and plot holes
- character development corrections
- repeat words
- reducible sentences (Oh... the reducible sentences)
- improvable prose
- mischievous chaffinches

For anyone who doesn't know, it is painstaking work, and there are no shortcuts.

This screenshot also reveals some of the scene names which don't appear in the book, but every scene must have a scene name —otherwise its just unfair. Some examples are: 'Deadheading', 'Post-sign', 'Novemulus construction' and 'the way is shut'.

The text reads:

"You do realise you aren't saying anything, right?" Worth noted, rubbing his shoulder, an action which then morphed into an unstoppable stretch. She looked at him as if he were speaking a different language. Worth watched as it dawned on her how deep in thought she had been.
"Sorry," she blurted. "It's just, this experiment, it's defying physics!" she declared with a flash of her eyes.
"I see," Worth replied, "yes, that __would__ be worrying. Perhaps it's just too early in the morning for physics to be working correctly?" he offered, finding himself uncertain if he was being serious or not, or if he __should__ be serious or not —and he really wasn't sure why.
Distance scowled. He then understood why his brain was being cautious about jokes. She took her experiments very seriously. By way of apology, he found an intelligent question to ask.
"What's it doing then, if it's managing to ignore physics? What exactly is experiment XP8?"
Worth observed as her eyes went from annoyance, over to supercharged potential, right round to sheepishly embarrassed. The whole thing happened quicker than a skipped meal.
"__Err…__ I sort of __recovered__ a temperature sensor, __one of ours__, from the mayor's place yesterday." Her cheeks flushed red as she spoke.

The text reads:

Distance couldn't take her eyes off the woman blocking her way.
⏎
Her sudden foe stood at the other end of the lobby, dressed dark as night, bold against the warm hotel foyer lighting. Distance instinctively reached for her shoulder bag, but felt the pang of realisation, compounded by how easily her reflexes had forgotten.
⏎
She wasn't carrying it —Worth was.
⏎
__Damn it!__ she huffed, __what contraptions have you got in these endless pockets then, Worth?__ It wasn't lost on her that despite being taller than average herself, Worth's coat still felt long. The material flopped against the back of her legs every time she moved. At least his shirt mostly fitted. __Of all the ridiculous things…__ she glitched, her brain still trying to catch up with everything, __That stupid dress!__
Her hand settled on a block of cold metal within the coat's left side pocket, it had an odd shape. __Some kind of MatterGrenade?! No... he'd never carry such things…__ It felt solid. __Perhaps I could swing it threateningly? Or, maybe it's that unwieldy BindDetector? That thing always packed a punch… well, to walls at least.__
The bafflingly severe woman —her temporary nemesis— had frozen at first. Both women had shocked each other into a standoff. But now, and Distance could only imagine it was due to her own indecision, the woman stepped forward. Her foe's startled expression gave way to a lilted grin as this criminal gained confidence.
⏎
__This isn't the time for creepy smiles!__ Distance's brain snapped at her would-be attacker. But it was clear the other woman had the advantage. She was armed to the teeth, and all Distance had was a puzzling array of someone else's tools.