Time to check out Mick Donnellan’s new novel – The Naked Flame.

Mick Donnellan’s new novel 

The Naked Flame 

now available on Kindle and as Paperback.  

You can read The Naked Flame on Kindle here: 

The Naked Flame on Kindle

You can buy The Naked Flame on Paperback here: 

The Naked Flame in Paperback 

About The Naked Flame:  

Set in Athlone, the heart of the Irish midlands, The Naked Flame is a story of love, loss, betrayal, and passion. John joe is engaged but doesn’t want to get married. He’s not sure how to break this to Karen. Then it’s time for the stag party in Madrid. There he meets Marilyn. They spend the night together and everything changes. Now the wedding is cancelled, the police want to talk to him about a double murder and the phone is ringing with mysterious requests to come to London. John joe suddenly finds himself in a surreal world, full of unusual characters and extreme danger, with no obvious way out. Met with impossible choices he can only trust the alluring woman that offers all the answers – but at what cost?  

 Mick Donnellan’s fourth novel is rich in comedy, tragedy, hints of the absurd and undertones of a man in existential crisis. The story thunders along with unexpected twists and ominous turns that culminate in a devastating climax. A unique tale, it strikes an emotional note, and is guaranteed to supply an entertaining read. 

About Mick Donnellan 

Recent Awards/ projects: 

Mick Donnellan is the author of three previous novels. El Niño (2012) Fisherman’s Blues (2014) and Mokusatsu (2019). 

The Naked Flame was completed during a retreat at the Tyrone Guthrie Centre in late 2021. 

When not writing fiction he works as a successful Playwright and Screenwriter. Film credits include Tiger Raid (2016) adapted from Mick’s Play Radio Luxembourg.  He has recently received the Agility Award through the Arts Council of Ireland and the Mayo Theatre Bursary through Mayo Arts Office.  

His most recent Play Nally was supported by Westmeath Arts Office and aired in May 2021 as a Zoom/Youtube performance. It was attended by over two thousand viewers on the night and many more since.  

You can watch Nally here: https://youtu.be/FiJYuaa5x2Q  

In May 2020 Mick had a monologue (The Crucified Silence) chosen as part of the Scripts Ireland Play festival. After a week of intensive workshops with Playwright Eugene O’Brien, the monologue was directed by Jim Culleton (Fishamble) and performed by Aaron Monaghan.  

Mick is currently part of the Galway Theatre Development Programme run by Andrew Flynn in conjunction with Galway’s Town Hall Theatre. He is also listed on the Irish theatre institute here:  http://irishplayography.com/person.aspx?personid=47564 

About Mick Donnellan:

Mick Donnellan completed the MA in Writing at NUIG in 2004. Since then, he has worked as a novelist, travel writer, teacher and Playwright. He completed his first novel, El Niño, in 2004 and immediately secured a literary agent. He left Ireland soon after and went on to live in Spain, Australia, and Canada. While traveling he worked as a journalist and co-founded the Arts Paper – Urban Pie – in Vancouver. Upon returning to Ireland he went on to work with Druid (2009) and RTE (2010)  and El Niño was published in 2012 with excellent reviews.   

Later, Mick established his own theatre company, Truman Town Theatre. All Truman Town Plays are written, directed, and produced by Mick. The company exploded on to the theatrical circuit in 2011 with their hit Play – Sunday Morning Coming Down. Following a national tour, they went on to produce (and tour) two more hugely successful Plays Shortcut to Hallelujah and Gun Metal Grey. These dramas eventually became known as the “Ballinrobe Trilogy.”  

Moving slightly from rural settings but not themes, the theatre company toured a fourth Play, Velvet Revolution. Set in a stark urban landscape, it created interest in Mick’s work among the film industry. He followed Velvet Revolution with his fifth Play – Radio Luxembourg – and it was immediately optioned by London Film Company Dixon/Baxi/Evans and adapted for the screen.  

While the film was in development, Mick’s second novel – Fisherman’s Blues – was published. As it rose up the ranks, and enjoyed positive reviews, Mick was taken on board as screenwriter on the Radio Luxembourg project. After some months commuting to and from London, the script was complete, and a shoot was organised in the Jordanian desert. Titled Tiger Raid and Starring Brian Gleeson, Damian Molony and Sofia Boutella, it was accepted into the Tribeca film festival (New York) and was also seen at Cannes and Edinburgh. The Irish Premiere was screened at the Galway Film Fleadh. You can read more about Tiger Raid and watch the trailer here:    

 Other exciting projects include the screen adaptation of Shortcut to Hallelujah with Florence Films. The screenplay is titled Sam and is based around the gypsy curse supposedly set on the Mayo Football team as they returned home as All Ireland Champions in 1951. Set in the present day, Sam is drenched in Irish lyricism and modern-day dark humour. The script has been met with keen interest by film producers and actors throughout the industry.  

Mick has lectured part-time in writing at the AIT (Athlone Institute of Technology) in County Westmeath. The course has enjoyed an exponential increase in numbers since its inception in September 2017. April 2019 saw the release of the well-received Tales from the Heart which is a collection of creative work from the students. It was launched at the college by bestselling author and esteemed politician Mary O’Rourke. 

Mick has worked as a writing lecturer at NUI Galway.

http://www.mickdonnellan.com

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#3 – Close encounters of the dashboard kind.

This fella had an occupy Galway look and a navy car for sale. We were outside Supermacs when he pulled up in the newly washed wagon. He had wiry hair and a red face with busted blood vessels, a shabby beard, and the confidence of a bad Russian gambler. Rasputin job, selling cars on Donedeal. He didn’t even say hello, just went: ‘I think I’m selling too cheap.’

         We let that settle, cars went by in irritated combustion. I looked down, noticed a broken light, asked: ‘What’s that?’

         ‘It’s nothing. Something simple. No problem to fix.’

         ‘Can we take it for a drive?’

         ‘Sure.’

         On the road, there was a myriad of symbols on the dash. Airbag, warning lights, something else. There was a noise in the engine too, bit like it was grumpy or ready to explode. And the tracking was off. There was a kind of a lazy sense of swaying back and over on the road, like you’re on a boat in choppy water. The gears were stiff and it was a hard work trying to accelerate, like the car didn’t want to, like it was saying: Stop! Leave me alone.

         The oul fella was with me, full of sage advice and comments, like: ‘This could be another ball of shite.’

         ‘Do you rekcon?’

         ‘Well the dashboard is like a Christmas tree with all the lights so that’s a bad start….’

         ‘Needs an airbag too.’

         ‘And a few other things by the sound of it….’

         ‘Great to have a dashboard at least, not like the other yoke.’

         ‘Yeah, I suppose they should be in every car really when you think about it….’

         We thought about that, took in more noise and mechanical anxiety, then decided to turn around. Pulled in at a layby. Checked the glovebox and found the car manual. Looked up some of the faults. There was talk of stop engine immediately. Bring vehicle to your nearest dealer. Red lights are critical issues. I looked up.

         They were all red.

         Time to head back.

         Himself was waiting, against the wall, vagrant hitchhiker look now, or like a man waiting for a bus to go working on a fruit farm full of convicts. He walked over. Saw the manual on the dash. Didn’t like that, asked: ‘What is story?’

         ‘Tryin to figure out those lights.’

         ‘Simple fix, simple. Some cleaners triggered the sensors under the seat and caused the airbag fault. Fix no problem.’

         ‘We’ll pull up over there.’

         And we did. He said: ‘I have this car a long time. No issues. Drives like a dream.’

         ‘Can you open the boot?’

         His face went vague, unsure and he said: ‘Ok, I think I know how.’

         Took him some effort, but he found the lever, popped the boot. We all looked at it like we knew something about engines, then I went for proactive and pulled the dipstick for oil. Wiped it with a tissue and then dipped. Pulled it back up and there was barely a drop on it. Maybe a slight sliver at the bottom of the tiny ball but far from enough. Your man was in right away with: ‘Easy fix, some oil, no problem. This is not an issue. Drives like a dream. Yours for fifteen hundred….’

         ‘Fifteen hundred what? Half price Roubles?’

         ‘Euros. Yes or no? You want? I have big demand…’

**

http://mickdonnellan.com/want-to-buy-mick-donnellans-novels-on-amazon/

Nice warm chips.

He was late sixties maybe. Galway accent. Denim jacket. Beard. Kristofferson look.

Bonnet open, Toyota, side of the road, hoping something might happen. He’d been there a while. Contemplating the engine, listening to the scream of the traffic on the bypass.

I pulled in. Asked him the rhetorical: ‘Everything ok?’

‘The car just stopped.’

‘Stopped?’

‘I was driving down the road and it just cut out.’

It was getting cold, and dark, and supremely dangerous. We stood there. I said: ‘I can try it.’

He gave me the key. Put it in the ignition. Turned it. It went: clackclackclackkkkkk.

It reminded me of something. Maybe the Astra when the starter went. Or the Mitsubishi after the alternator broke. Or maybe it was when the engine went on the Insignia. Could have been that time with the Avensis too. Either way – there was no tools. No expertise. No hope. So I asked: ‘Do you have breakdown insurance?

He shook his head in a way that said the car should hardly be on the road at all and never mind that fancy stuff. There was nothing for it only give him a lift into town and try find a garage. On the way, I asked him: ‘Had you plenty of petrol?

‘Petrol?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘No?’

‘Well there was a quarter tank in it when I left Galway.’

‘And is there much in it now?’

‘A drop. I think. Maybe I ran out of petrol?’

‘Where were you goin anyway?’

‘Wexford.’

‘From Galway?’

‘Yeah. I was goin to take a left at Clara and up through Tullamore and into Portlaoise and onto Carlow then down to Bunclody and into Wexford.’

‘Right.’

But I might turn back now.’

‘If you get goin.’

‘That’s right. Do you think will I?’

‘Get goin? I don’t know. I doubt it.’

”The oil light was on too.’

‘For long?’

‘A good while.’

‘And did you check it for oil in Galway?’

‘No….maybe I should have?’

At the garage, they had some ideas. None of them that good. Rain coming now. A bitter bite, white hot sky and clouds. The guy’s name was Jack. He took advantage of the Supermac’s across the road. Got a large chips. Came back. Sat there. We both thought. Eventually he said: ‘Them are nice warm chips.’

‘Was it not a bit ambitious leaving Galway this morning, for Wexford, in a car low on petrol? And oil?’

‘It’s not my car, see.’

‘Who owns it?’

‘I just borrowed it. Think will I get home?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘I might get the bus back.’

‘And what about the car?’

‘I’ll have to sort it out I suppose. Do you know anyone with a truck?’

Now he was thinking. I had a myriad of numbers from previous breakdowns. Chanced one of them. He was working. Said he could be there in twenty minutes.

So we went back to the car and waited. Jack still working on the chips. The sky still working on the rain. The traffic doing its best not to hit the Toyota. Loads of beeps. Incredulity. Exaggerated swerves. Jack said: ‘Tis a busy spot here.’

‘Tis.’

And then the breakdown truck came. Hazard lights. Chains. All that. Got it loaded up. A big puddle of oil on the ground from underneath. The driver said he knew a garage and would get Jack to a bus or a train or whatever he needed. Jack tried to give me €50 for my trouble and I said no. And off they went.