Yet, I also said this: “To paraphrase the great philosopher Ali G: Is it coz Idris is black?”

If you’re attempting to solicit a reaction from an increasingly reactionary and volatile social web, it’s best to leave them both shaken and stirred.

Ian Fleming was from a different era, when MI6 agents were recruited from Oxford and Cambridge, often beginning with a polite tap on the shoulder. Those with a swathe complexion were the type most prized, since their everyman appearance allowed them to blend in almost anywhere in the world.

Times have changed, and since the SAS do not discriminate based on racial type, it’s difficult to mount a credible argument against an MI6 operative being of African descent.

Yet, this is the iconic fictional character James Bond we’re talking about, here. It isn’t the first time Idris Elba’s name has been bandied about as a replacement for the inimitable Daniel Craig, the current James Bond, and Anthony Horowitz, author of “Trigger Mortis”, the most recent antics of Mr. Bond, has an opinion on this:

“For me, Idris Elba is a bit too rough to play the part,” Horowitz told the Daily Mail. “It’s not a colour issue. I think he is probably a bit too ‘street’ for Bond. Is it a question of being suave? Yeah.”

What, you don’t like his opinion? I don’t agree with Horowitz, but I wouldn’t express to disliking his opinion, as that’s something else. Since there’s no overt racist intent to his comment, whether you might like or loathe what Horowitz said is of dwindling importance.

But the reaction on the web beggars belief. Time and again, the group think consensus appears to be: “If your thoughts are not the same as our thoughts, they are, in effect, illegal — and if not, they should be, damn it!”

What’s perhaps more ridiculous is the fact that Horowitz has been compelled to apologise for having and then expressing an opinion.

As an author, I have certain characters who would suffer were their ethnic background to change. Jo, the main protagonist in A Darkening of Fortune, is of Arabic descent, and his background relies on this, to the extent that should he be changed to — for example — Caucasian, or Afro-Caribbean, the whole novel would collapse.

So I’m able to see both sides of the argument, here. What do we take from this? The future of our suave and sophisticated secret agent James Bond, much like the character himself, is far from black and white.

Confirming the suspicions I had, we are so far from the type of artificial intelligence we see in the movies, it’s unreal … and laughable.

We understand so little about the brain — almost any brain — that creating AI is a bit fanciful.

But then there’s also the question of self-awareness and consciousness, neither of which are synonymous with the other, and both are poorly understood.

And to confuse things further, there is no agreed definition of what life is. You’d think it’d be obvious, but it is a very contentious subject.

I suppose it’s unfair to ask if the idea I’ve had is possible or feasible for that matter, so it’s a question of whether it’s viable.

But, as a writer of science fiction, I’m not going to allow a few niggling facts to get in the way of a good idea.

So far, the extent of the idea I’ve been cultivating is at least viable.

Michelle Rodriguez weighed in on the subject of race with regards to superheroes, and in doing so contributed to an on-going discussion about race in fiction.

If you’re not familiar, then Idris Elba as a possible future James Bond, the hispanic Spider-Man, and the female Thor are prime examples of race — and also gender — becoming lost in a furore that needn’t be such.

As a disclaimer, I am not of a racial minority; being of Anglo-Saxon stock kind of greases the wheels of life for me, which I take great care to be aware of, to avoid that sense of entitlement, privilege, and of victimhood from creeping in, which is so prevalent in parts of Northern Europe.

No, we Caucasians are not under threat from a tidal wave of immigrants. If anything, we’re a danger to ourselves.

A few years ago, I would have known little of the on-going superhero-of-colour debate (I’m not much into DC or Marvel comics), but I did understand — or at least, was aware — that there weren’t many minority superheroes, and that even fewer of them were British.

So I wrote A Darkening of Fortune, a near-future sci-fi crime thriller, to address both of these issues. But more important was the need to address some of the aspects of what it means to be British and Asian — or at least as to the best of my own abilities, observations, and vicarious experiences.

Let’s imagine for a moment A Darkening or Fortune becomes a huge success and I receive an offer of a cinematic adaptation. If during those discussions the movie studio was to propose changing Yusef “Joe” Iqbal to a white Caucasian, there the discussion would come to a grinding halt. End of story.

I made the decision to create my own universe, or more specifically, a continuum.

“What, like the Marvel Universe?” Christy suggested.

Not quite, no. But then again, yes. I don’t pay too much attention — if any at all — to what other people are doing, as I have my own ideas.

In my universe, every novella and novel is part of a constellation of stories, each connecting with another in some way, be it a character, a technology, an event, a business, a location, or an idea.

“They won’t really care.” Christy reasoned. “The readers, I mean.”

She had a point.

“I write for myself.” I said.

Yes, I am a selfish author.

It’s the creation of these nebulous connections, and the challenge of ensuring every story is a part of the same continuum that motivates me as much as anything.

However, it does impose certain rules; certain ideas I have are out of bounds, since they do not fit within the scope of the continuum.

You’d think that there’d be plenty of room in an entire universe. No, certain genres just don’t fit.

I have made a commitment, which I intend remaining true to, come what may.

If you look at it from an external perspective — through the lens of the imaginary reader, often not anything like the real reader — it quickly becomes a series of no-win scenarios that would make even the head of John Nash spin.

So you’re writing for yourself? How vein. Are you writing to entertain? How presumptuous. What, you write to be famous? You are such an egotist. Or, are you writing in the hope that you become wealthy? How selfish.

Personally, I don’t concern myself with what people think in so far as what my reasons for writing might be. In truth, I write for all of the aforementioned reasons. But if, as a writer, you are bothered what other people think, be humble and write for respect, though I suspect that might limit your imagination.

You can’t please everyone, but it’s often easier to please yourself.

“You can spell it how you want.”

And there, at that moment, was a sense of unbounded creative license, let loose. I realised that the normal rules applicable to factual writing really didn’t apply. Or at least some of them didn’t.

About three years ago, after a near twenty year hiatus, I took up pen and paper once more and began plotting Ascending Angels, remembering that formative moment from my childhood and what it meant.

As an adult, I’d found that my ideas could finally stand on their own, with their feet planted firmly on the foundations only an adult could build; hard earned experience, observational knowledge, the lessons of failure, and those fleeting moments of success, pleasure, and joy that punctuate our lives.

Shortly after writing Earth Day, I found myself feeling like that child once more, wondering if more rules could be bent, broken, or discarded entirely.

A series of serials. Seriously?

It became apparent to me that Earth Day had potential beyond itself and its own novella confines. A kind of potential I’d stumbled upon not quite by chance but by “idle” imagining, though few thoughts that appear in the mind of the creative are truly idle.

I’d written Earth Day while awaiting feedback from friends for an advanced draft of Ascending Angels. And it’s more than likely that the context of that novel was the seed for the idea I had.

Much of what takes place in Earth Day has a correlation with Ascending Angels, and by extension the events of two other novels I had planned as part of a series; Perdition’s End, and Gods of War. However, the idea of extending this series in such a way made little sense to me; Earth Day, which is a novella, would need to surrounded by those other novels. Bookended, no less. I found the idea weird.

But then I began thinking about those other novels and novellas I had in the works, and it became apparent that they too, in their own way, fit within this “universe” I was building.

“What, like the Marvel Universe?”

Soon, the idea of a series of novels was less appealing to me than the prospect of creating a constellation of novels and novellas, each connected to another in some way — be it a technology, a character, a company, an event, place, or alien race. I had found something that truly appealed to my sense of grand design.

Imagine, every single story connected to another in some way, weaving a thread through space and time, with each story revealing something else, something perhaps trivial, or maybe deep and provocative, but each incrementally building upon the one before.

“What, like the Marvel Universe?” Christy said, without a hint of sarcasm.

Yes, I suppose so! But if I were to abandon an idea just because someone else had gotten there first — having created their own universe, of all things — then there’s not much hope for anyone else.

2 for the price of 1

But why stop with one universe when I could have two? Again, not entirely by design, but I have ended up with two universes (sadly, no spoilers), which forces upon me at least one restriction, in that rather than fumble over the plural form of universes, which just sounds clumsy, I have elected for continuum, which — while perhaps a little pretentious — it makes infinitely more sense, both literally and figuratively.

Fear the forgotten

“After many years, two former school friends meet by chance. Or do they? Deborah — a high-flying corporate lawyer, now living in New York — remembers a sequence of events one way, while Ben — a travel writer and campaigning journalist — remembers them another. But why?

Unable to shake loose the feeling that something’s wrong, Deborah and Ben return to the rural idyll of their home village in England, to make sense of what really happened during that apparently lost week in their young lives.

What they uncover is more disturbing than anything they could have ever imagined, striking at the very heart of their adolescence, affecting not just their own lives, but the lives, the careers and the reputations of people past and present: an event so unbelievable, only the unimaginable could bring it to an end.”

Remembrance is available NOW on Amazon Kindle

In between puzzling over action sequences and continuity, I decided to learn how to touch type, which has helped ease the physical pain of writing. And I’m learning Spanish, again!

Onwards…