Tales and troubled times of a hungry writer

Tales From The Script

2012-02-15T17:10:00.000-06:00

The most horrific thing I have ever heard of is a writer submitting his work to ten Hollywood business execs who know nothing about writing. This movie was an eye-opener. It also serves as a warning to aspiring writers; protect your work.

The Death of a Short Story

2012-02-03T16:28:00.001-06:00

I'm slowly learning that ideas, the ones that are malformed at least, must die.

William Faulkner once said, "Kill your darlings."

What he meant by that is that if your story is not up to it, whether it be a lack of character, theme or passion to write it, then you must get rid of it, my friend.

I'm in the midst of editing my short story collection which was over 60,000 words. After typing in the corrections for the last week and a half, half of the manuscript is finished.

And I've been able to trim 1,642 useless words. I can honestly say that those words were just fat. They needed to go. But, not only did I play snip-snip with my manuscript but I also decided that of the twenty stories which have been collected, one of them had to go.

It was a three paged story called A Rusty Decision. It was based off of a dream I had but that dream wasn't able to support a plot. I guess it was just me experimenting. Anyway, that story is now gone. And yet, I don't feel the need to replace it with anything. So, if this collection is one story light, then that's okay with me.

The important thing is that I'm on the right track, making progress and am amazed at some of the helpful/insightful edits that a friend of mine has made.

Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

2012-01-26T18:20:00.001-06:00

Let me break it down for you this way. I was on a hunt. The hunt for a good book. This was on a day when we needed to take the cat in for a haircut and the nearest place was a Petco in Bloomingdale. It was nearing the end of rush hour and I had just dropped my wife off at the place. I decided to walk to the nearby Barnes and Noble. It was one of those single-floor ones.

As I was browsing in the Literature and Fiction section, my phone buzzed. My wife was telling me it would take two hours for them to complete their work. So, she decided to join me. I thumbed through Pilgrim's Progress and a couple of Stephen Kings. They only had one Joseph Heller book. Then I stumbled upon Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Johnathan Safran Foer.

We huddled into the Starbucks area and I began to dig in. I had a Brief Biography of F. Scott Fitzgerald which I lost interest in and immediately moved to Incredibly Close. What a book! I had already covered six pages and I was completely engulfed.

I had seen the movie trailer and was interested in reading it.

As far as format goes, this book is unique. Books that stray away from the conventional format of a book are always a must for me. Ordinarily, a book is separated by numbered chapters and the paragraphs are justified left and right with all the proper indents for new paragraphs. Perfectly routine and traditional, wouldn't you say?

But, the books that do it differently (A Million Little Pieces, Blindness, House of Leaves), have just enough format chaos to grab your attention.

Quite often I was reminded of another book with a similar style. It was called The Curious Case of the Dog in the Night-Time. Don't bother Googling it. Just buy it. Thank me later. It's just that good, folks. No pre-Google search needed to know its a book you will spend hours enjoying.

The story for E.L&I.C. follows the thoughts of Oskar Schell, an eight year old boy, fresh from the incident that changed his life. His father died two years earlier in the 9/11 attacks. Now, in an effort to distract himself from his grief, young Oskar is on a mission to find what a key unlocks in New York City. He found the key while rummaging through his father's closet. His father is described as a smart, patient man who provided many puzzles, riddles and critical thinking games for his son. The son has autism which usually prevents him from venturing out into the world and its clear that the father created these "reconnaissance missions" for Oskar's benefit.

Right off the bat, I'm a sucker for Father/son stories. Along the way Oskar faces his fears, establishes friendships and, in my opinion, truly finds what he's looking for. This is a deep poignant story that people need to read, preferably it should be offered up in high school as required reading. The story's theme is about being connected. Often, when we're busy with our gadgets and personal problems, we lose sight of the people we're passing by. In the grim face of tragedy, people seek to be connected. I don't often use the word Heartwarming but this story has to be defined that way. The ending is bittersweet.

Because the book was so good, I'm not going to rush to the theatres to see the movie. Not to belittle the credit of actors Tom Hanks and Sandra Bullock but, why would I go see a movie when the book offered such a unique experience and accomplished much more than I was expecting?

I give this one 5/5 stars.

Here's the trailer. You be the judge. Book or Movie?

Which will you experience?

Give The Kids What They Want

2012-01-21T11:07:00.000-06:00

When I was a kid, I was read to by my parents. We had all the Dr. Seus books, I swear they were worn down and weathered by the time we had the house fire.

After we moved, we were still given books but, as far as school went, I hum-de-da'd my way through their library and found a few good books. Then I discovered great books. Then came High School...where textbooks sounded like their writers were on Vicodin or something.

I only remember two books they made us read. Black Boy and Run, Baby, Run.

I never finished Black Boy. I couldn't connect with it.

Run, Baby, Run was a true account of a gang member. I already knew to stay away from gangs so the entire book to me goes without saying.

I had to discover great books on my own. Like Catcher in The Rye, The Invisible Man, Into The Wild, The War of The Worlds, The Most Dangerous Game, Jumper, Johnathan Livingston Seagull, Catch-22.

Luckily, I already had a passion for reading so I sought out books for myself to read, without anyone guiding me. I read classic young adult novels.

But some are not so lucky.

Lowest literacy rate is in the country of Mali - 26 percent.

The highest is Andorra - 100 percent.

United states has 99 percent.

But I heard that Rhode Island has the lowest literacy rate of all. Their literacy rate is 27.3 percent.

It's true that our country needs to bump up in areas like science and math but I believe that reading is the most important one of all. If a child does not get inducted into reading with some good books under his belt, then there is very little you can do.

But, there is one website I support.

James Patterson has made one. Even thought I don't particularly like his writing style, he has made a way for parents to find out exactly what books their kids need by making lists of young adult classics through ages 1 to 10.

If you really want your kids to be smarter, happier and critical thinkers then give the kids what they want.

Go here - Read Kiddo Read to find out more. Who knows, maybe you can brush up on a couple of childhood classics you missed during your youth.

Mr. Dead Eyes, Revisited

2012-01-09T17:18:00.007-06:00

A current blogger at Free Audio Review has recently reviewed my book. I don't do it often but sometimes I Google my name and the name of my books to see if there is any news buzz. I was delighted to find that someone heard the audio book and decided to write something about it.

One line I like in particular from his review was:

"In the end this mash-up worked for me. I like things a little unusual and this story has it in spades."

I'd like to publicly thank, here on the blog, the person who took time in reviewing my book. He's already reviewed 231 books and I think you should check him out.

You can read the rest of the review here: Full Mr. Dead Eyes Review

Also, you can hear the entire book, for free, here: Podiobooks

So far, Mr. Dead Eyes has been my top seller and has also gained over 180,000 downloads. With there being a high number and a couple of requests for the second installment, I've decided to work on an outline and really begin bridging the story together by 2013.

I may also put up an audio version of Wearing Donnie Torr soon for more promotion. It has been on my mind for a while now. Until then, you keep reading and I'll keep writing.

Beat The Reaper

2012-01-04T19:31:00.006-06:00

For fans of annotated books, (i.e. Publish This Book, Infinite Jest) I may have the book for you. So, okay, yes, I admit, I had an unrealistic goal set when it came to reading as many books as possible in 2011. I read 73 books. I originally wanted to read 500 for the whole year. That's more than a book a day. That's over 40 books a month! But, I stand by my motto, it's not unrealistic until you can prove it.

For my first book read in 2012, I present to you, Beat The Reaper.

What a ride!

I finished this book in three days. And its 300 pages!

Beat The Reaper came out in 2009 and since then I've been debating whether to pick it up or not. The cover intrigued me. I have even read the first chapter, on several different occasions, in both Borders and Barnes and noble. And, as luck would have it, when I knew I could get this book on the cheap (Sorry Josh Bazell!) I leapt at the chance right away. And, after reading the last page, I still have no idea as to why I waited 3 years to read it!

Set in a Manhattan hospital, the tale unravels as we meet Dr. Peter Brown, whose really in a witness protection program because he has ties to the mob. Originally he befriends the mob to avenge the death of his parents but, like all things, he gets in way too deep. The story is told through a kind of off-the-cuff stream of consciousness way, with footnotes that address medical issues and a bit of the main character's trademark black humor. I absolutely love this book and couldn't get enough of it. So, yeah, okay, its far fetched at times, but its a fiction book and with all fiction books, you have to suspend your disbelief.

I've read that the author read two great books, The Godfather and Jaws, and tried to find a way to mash them together. Well, if those two books had a lovechild, the perfect blend of mafia, hospitals and a healthy fear of sharks (Loan sharks or nurse sharks) this would have to be it. The follow up is called Wild Thing, set to release in February of this year. If it even has a dash of what this book brought the the table, it will be well worth the paper it was printed on. I give it five out of five stars.

2011, a look back

2011-12-31T16:59:00.003-06:00

Here are the books I have read in 2011:

Mentor

Ancestor

The List

Survivor

Post Office

Teacher Man

Dear American Airlines

Last Known Victim

Blaze

Peter & The Starcatchers

Fanboy & Goth Girl

Mile 81

In Cold Blood

The House of Thunder

Your Heart Belongs to Me

Rage

The Good Guy

The Man who loved Books too Much

Lemons Never Lie

In The Night Room

Ham on Rye

That's Not in My American History Book

Afraid

Sh*t My Dad Says

Playing for Pizza

Be the Monkey - a dialog between Barry Eisler and JA Konrath

It's Always Something

2030

Other Kingdoms

Danse Macabre

This Book is Overdue

The Elephant went to Hollywood

Blockade Billy

My Lucky life in and out of Show Buisness

Squirrel seeks Chipmunk

Official Book Club Selection

The Island of Dr. Moruea

Playing for Keeps

The Day After

Sunken Treasure

Heaven is For Real

The Professor and The Mad Man

Unkillable

Musciophilia

The Storyteller

Cell

The Colorado Kid

A Million Little Pieces

Ernest Hemingway: A Writer's Life

Always Looking Up

I Like You

The Last Lecture

Stories I told Myself

The Bride Collector

Dress your Family in Corduroy and Denim

The Time of My Life

Wishful Drinking

Naked

Born Standing up

Dreams From My Father

My Reading Life

The Audacity of Hope

Scratch Beginings

Handle With Care

The Doomsday Club

My Boring-Ass Life

The Tenth Justice

The Girl who Played With Fire

Son of Groucho

The Last Bookstore in America

Origin

How to tell a story and other Essays

Darkness Under The Sun

Truck Stop

Brian's Hunt

Brian's Return

What I'll be up to in 2012:

In the year ahead I plan on writing more short stories and novellas. I usually plan a book a year but hopefully will get the ball rolling on some stand alone stuff.

Hope everyone has a very happy new year!

“Isn't it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?”— L.M. Montgomery

Black Books

2011-12-30T10:43:00.004-06:00

So I'm on my vacation from work. Usually on my vacations I tend to veg out, gorge on a little sleep, do a little writing, catch up on tv shows.

And one show, I'm delighted to say, has caught my attention. It's called Black Books. It stars Dylan Moran, Simon Peg's nemesis in Shaun of the Dead and also his fitness motivator in Run, Fatboy, Run. With him is a long haired sidekick who embodies a weirdo Curly sensibility and a short haired woman on the lookout for Mr. Right or even Mr. Right-now-will-have-to-do. This British comedy series is unlike anything I have seen so far. It takes place in a small bookshop where Bernard Black, the owner, is much like a tyrant to his customers. He hates life, traffic, idiots, skinheads, books, customers and people. People are the worst for him. Not only that but he gives off the air like he's always recovering from a bender. His turns of phrase and one-liners are the best, often producing stomach aches of laughter from both me and my wife.

The show ran from 2000 to 2004 and only has 18 episodes. Which is kind of tragic when you think about it that there are so few episodes but, I guess, when you nail it down, it was better that they quit on a strong note. The show is driven largely by his friends, Manny and Fran, who try to get Bernard to be more sociable as he is kind of a stick in the mud.

The antics are endless. Sometimes he pays the customers to take certain books out of the shop. He invents a wine bottle lollipop. He often finds himself in situations that get him into a bit of trouble. With a screwball comedy like this, I love the duality. While Bernard is surrounded and sometimes confounded by books, his friend, Manny, loves them. Manny often recommends books, handles book orders, does the accounting, opens up shop, and yet he and Bernard are complete opposites from each other. It's funny to think that this whole show came about because of a Little Book of Calm.

That's another thing. The fake book titles are hysterical. With titles such as The History of Screaming, Blue Sands and Tempopocalypse, how could this bookstore not thrive?

Now that I know about this one, I might just check out Spaced, which is considered the sister show to this one and done by the same guys, starring Simon Peg.

Don't believe that a show could be this funny? Well take a gander at the first episode below. I was smitten with the first three minutes.

From a Buick 8

2011-10-31T10:25:00.000-05:00

Well, we've finally come to the end of the whole Halloween-31-books-that-terrify-me segment of this blog. It has been delayed repeatedly since I, like most modern day blue-collar workers, have been busy. But I wanted to end on a crucial note. As you might've guessed; I've saved the best for last.

I was never a big fan of Christine. The movie was kinda goofy and weird to me. But this book, depicting another car that seems to have a life of its own, captured me from the first line. The book is split up through several points of view. All the stories revolve around this one mysterious car recovered by Troop D, a state police barracks in western Pennsylvania. Ned, the son of a recently killed state trooper, drunk driving related, meets the troop and learns of the car and its shadowy, mystical and disturbing origins.

The car was abandoned by the owner, who wandered off near a stream. Thought to have drowned himself, though they never find the body, the car is impounded. But the stories that all the policemen trade are laced in trickery and a deceiving mask to our own world. The car is unique. It has the appearance of a 1953 Buick Roadmaster and yet the wheel is immobile, the dashboard instruments are useless props and the engine has no moving parts.

While listening to this thing on audiobook, I began to question, "So what is it if it is not clearly a car?" The answer? It is a portal. To where? We don't know. For what purpose? We do not know. But one thing is clear. This memorably mysterious yarn, published in 2002, left its mark on me. This is one story that evolves. The deeper the story goes, the more complicated it gets. With a hint of Alice in wonderland and the tread marks of Christine, this is the top of the heap of must-read books.

The book has film rights which were acquired and Tobe Hooper is attached to direct. I think he'd be perfect to capture the unsettling mythos of the car. In 2009 the ball got rolling but the movie is now in limbo, said to have productions problems. Whenever the book gets made into a movie, I believe it will be just as scary as the revolving tale itself.

To wrap it up, I shall borrow the line from Poltergeist part II:

"Car's still angry, eh?"

"Angry? That car is PISSED!"

Misery

2011-10-30T10:29:00.000-05:00

Originally destined to be a Bachman book, this little number is not light on the scares. I can recall reading this one on break when I used to work the overnight shift at Target.

Each page I read with skimming intensity, only to be dashed to pieces every time I returned back to work. But I always remembered to bring the red hardcover with me. I also guarded it heavily, seeing as how one book was stolen from me already while reading on the night shift.

I've watched the movie many times, still finding new things in it. What gets me the most is how it's the world's worst way to write yet also the most humbling. Think about it. Writing is the most solitary thing you can do. Yet, we all feel we have an Annie Wilkes who tells us what to write and feeds our ego.

This book remains on my "To be finished" shelf. I've only made it about halfway through the book. Maybe I'm too terrified to continue.

The Shining

2011-10-29T10:32:00.003-05:00

Here's what we know about The Shining. It was a 1977 novel. It was King's third published novel and in 1980 it became the groundbreaking film starring Jack Nicholson and directed by Stanley Kubrick.

Now here's some of what you probably didn't know.

King picked in a US Atlas, at random, the town in which he would set a story. That setting would be Boulder, Colorado. They decide to check into a hotel just as they are closing up for the season. They checked into room 217.

The novel was originally going to be titled Darkshine.

The first draft of the novel took less than four months to complete.

King is in the midst of penning the sequel, Doctor Sleep.

Four Past Midnight

2011-10-28T10:32:00.000-05:00

Consisting of four novellas, this collection is packed full of good stories.

The Langoliers - On flight 29, ten passengers wake up to discover that the rest of the travlers are gone. Not only that, but they seem to be involved in a dry world where the past gets eaten up by strange creatures.

The Sun Dog - King has said that this serves as a prequel to his novel Needful Things.

The Library Policemen -After his son was afraid to return a late book for fear of what might happen to him, King penned this disturbing tale.

Secret Window - Not only is Mort Rainey going through a tough time: divorced wife, no kids, writer's block and a cabin all to himself, but a stranger comes to him accusing him of plagiarism.

Gerald's Game

2011-10-27T10:28:00.001-05:00

Well, we had to come to it eventually. So let's talk about Gerald's Game. I read this during college, when I foolishly thought I could take some air conditioning classes. The tests were tough and my brain was getting crammed. In between, the breaks in class, before the period would start, I'd thumb through the pages of this book.

The setup is simple. During a sex game gone awry, a wife accidentally kills her husband by kicking him. This induces a heart attack and the wife is handcuffed to the bed post.

It really is a freakish read. One that I devoured at the time but felt void of any lasting message. It's just brutal and incredibly long. At the time I thought there would be an amazing and startling revelation but one never came.

King doesn't do it often but sometimes I'll come across duds from some of my favorite authors. Along with Cell, this has to be the number one book I was disappointed in while attending college.

Just after Sunset

2011-10-26T10:27:00.001-05:00

Just after Sunset, King's fifth collection, creates a deep atmosphere. I picked it up at my local library one day and just started reading it at home. I finished 90 percent of it while hanging out at Starbucks. It's that good. You lose complete concept of time. So, without further ado, here are my favorites of the bunch.

Willa - A haunting tale about a man trying to find his wife at the train station where he waits, alongside a group of abandoned passengers to locate her. The problem is that no train is arriving and a deeper mystery is at hand.

The Cat from Hell - The only reason why this story makes the list is because I had already seen it. It was part of an adaptation in the 1989 movie Tales from the Darkside, in which a hitman is hired to off a cat who supposedly can't die. Very gruesome story, but it is one that keeps you constantly on edge. I was afraid of cats for a while, not only because of that Pet Semetary movie, but also because of this story.

The New York Times at Special Bargain Rates - A widow receives a phone call from her dead husband, who predicts two tragedies which come true.

A Very Tight Place - This has got to be the grossest story, aside from Guts, that I have ever read. It's a revenge tale involving on man's hatred for another. It involves a gun, a locked door and a tipped over port-o-potty while someone is still in kit. Need I say more? It was very hard to finish this one but I absolutely had to find out what would happen next.

N. - I don't know how King arranges his stories, but this should have been the last one. It's the perfect cap of the whole collection. A man, plagued by constant OCD, confides in his therapist that he must do these things to keep the balance. That, if he doesn't, a beast very well might make it's way into our world and that these checks and balances are the only thing keeping it at bay. Naturally, the therapist thinks the man is having paranoid delusions but he soon dismisses that when his client dies and he starts to feel the strange compulsion of OCD once he visits Ackerman's field; the last place the patient says that the beast was spotted.

Nightmares and Dreamscapes

2011-10-25T10:24:00.001-05:00

This has to be one of the largest collections of short stories I have ever seen to date. At a startling 912 pages, I would be highly surprised if you read though this entire tome with no favorites. It is impossible, I tell you. Fortunately, I didn't find it necessary to strain my eyes because the pocket paperback version looks like it was printed in size ten font. In all likelihood that means that if you lost the corner of a page, say if it tore against something, you'd probably be losing 250 words or more just from that small rip. So, I decided to rent the audio book and listened to it an hour before I would go into work, which, at that time, I was working as a busser at an upscale restaurant. I would just sit in the parking lot, sometimes fumbling with my tie in the rear view mirror as I listened to spine-tingling tales.

Here are the best stories of the bunch, in my opinion.

Dolan's Cadillac - A bittersweet tale of revenge in which a widower gets the drop, quite literally, on a mob-affiliated bad guy who had a hand in the murder of his wife.

The End of The Whole Mess - This story was narrated by Matthew Broderick. It tells the story of a man who is trying to rid the world of human violence by inspecting a certain community's drinking water. But what he finds is way more destructive than violence itself.

The Night Flier - This is the tale of a vampire who invades the skies in a small cesna plane, which substitutes as a perfect mobile coffin. Wherever he lands, he feeds, then takes to the air. A reporter is trying to track him down. I remember this was made into a horror movie that was also very close adaptation of the original.

Chattery Teeth - A man wronged in the past by a hitchhiker makes the mistake again but this time doesn't pay such a heavy price. With him he carries a pair of chattery teeth. It looks like a harmless child's toy but there is more to be said about innocent smiling trinkets.

You Know They Got a Hell of a Band - This one isn't scary. Just disturbing. A husband and wife, knowing they are lost, pull into a small town where they try to peacefully figure out their predicament over food at a local diner. The problem is they notice that the guests and staff look very similar to dead rockers and singers of yesteryear.

Sorry, Right Number - This is recorded as a radio play, much in the same vein as that Radio show called Suspense! (You can still find it on iTunes), where they debuted the episode, Sorry, Wrong Number. Now, having heard both, I respect each interpretation and think that each one is equally disturbing.

Crouch End - This tale was narrated by Tim Curry. Oh, and he does give a chilling narration to this story. Two London police officers working the night shift are discussing a case in which a woman came into the precinct in hysterics. Saying that her husband had disappeared and that there were monsters afoot.

The Doctor's Case - A mystery story involving Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson. In a startling turn of events, Dr. Watson actually solves the mystery. Not a bad interpretation. Very much like Conan Doyle. Sounded nothing like a Stephen King story.

Umney's Last Case - A stubborn detective in the 1930's gets a surprise visit from one fellow named Landry who happens to be the fiction writer who wrote him. Now, having lived his life penning the 1930's, Landry wants to switch places with Umney.

Skelton Crew

2011-10-24T10:29:00.000-05:00

This one collection kept me occupied when I frequented laundromats. It was so cram-packed with stories. Some chilling, some weird, but always a wide ride. Here are my favorites from Stephen King's Skeleton Crew.

The Mist - Included was the novella called The Mist, in which a group of survivors occupy a local grocery store as a ghostly mist covers the land. But, within the mist are dark creatures from another world that are hungry as well. Got about halfway before I moved on to the short stories. Just couldn't finish it. Too disturbing for me. But I did see the movie version and was equally terrified by that.

The Jaunt - By far the scariest science fiction story I've read in recent years. It's about a family about to use a device to travel that has been around for a while. The father explains to his son how someone stumbled onto the device, how it works, how they tested it on prisoners. But the father also explains how it is very important that all passengers inhale the sleeping gas before the trip. No human can be conscious in the jaunt. I was not prepared for the twist ending at all. But, man, was that story a trip.

Word Processor of The Gods - A hapless writer with an abusive wife and a teen son is the recent recipient of a hand-built word processor. What he comes to find out is that he can write things into existence. Whats worse...he can also delete things. Namely, abusive people.

Survivor Type - Disgraced surgeon, Richard Pine, is trapped on an island. Destined to write out the rest of his days trying to survive, he writes about smuggling drugs and the eventual madness that sets in. It's a gruesome little tale in diary form. There's no end to the lengths he will go to just to survive. After braking his ankle while trying to flag down a plane, he amputates it, desperate for something to eat.

Everything's Eventual

2011-10-23T10:27:00.000-05:00

There may be 14 dark tales in this collection, but I would say that 6 of these stories are pure gold. Read this one while I was still in high school.

Autopsy Room Four - A man is paralyzed but the medics pronounced him dead. Now he must try to find a way to alert them to their own mistake. It's kind of a re-hash of a popular Alfred Hitchcock episode but it is still pretty well written.

The Man In The Black Suit - A creepy man pays a little boy a visit. Very chilling. Kind of reminds me of that crazy ghost preacher in Poltergeist 2. This story nabbed King an O. Henry award.

The Road Virus Heads North - a man, while browsing a garage sale, picks up a sinister painting that seems to change in appearance as he drives home. The real question is...what is waiting for him when he gets there?

Lunch at The Gotham Cafe - A man and a woman are in the midst of a divorce settlement. They meet the lawyer at a popular cafe. But, to their surprise, a matre d goes nuts and starts slicing everything in his path. This was later turned into a short film which King praised in public.

1408 - I saw the movie of this first and thought it was brilliant. But the story was great too. It was like a little seedling of what is essentially a good haunted hotel room story. Much of the dialogue used is in the movie so it has my stamp of approval. Funny thing is, King used this story in his book On Writing to show how he edits his work. What started as an example became a financial succes in the box office. The film grossed $131 Million worldwide.

Riding the Bullet - This story became Stephen's intro into e-books. During the first 24 hours, 400,000 copies were downloaded. A man decides to hitchhike, on his way to his sick mother, but when a stranger picks him up, he gives his passenger a choice: "Either you die or your mother does. Who will it be?"

Night Shift

2011-10-22T10:28:00.001-05:00

Okay, so I know were back to King books again but this time I'm taking you through the short story collections in the order I read them. If there is one thing I can count on with King, it's that he could weave a good yarn big or small.

The first collection I was ever introduced to was Night Shift. On a whim I picked up an audio book of it and would listen to it in my car at 2am before I would head into work as a preloader for a shipping company an hour later. If anything, these stories kept me awake with their atmosphere as well as the bone-chilling situations. Here are some of my favorites.

The Mangler - a terrifying story about a laundry machine that will mangle you if you get too close. Seems to have a life of its own.

The Boogeyman - a troubled man meets with a psychiatrist to discuss his past of nighlty visits by what he calls the boogeyman. A really nice twist at the end.

The Lawnmower Man - a man has a run in with a weird human-like being that manipulates lawnmowers with his mind. Oddly enough, this was the basis for the movie The Lawnmower Man starring Jeff Fahey and Pierce Brosnan. However, King so disliked the outcome that he sued the filmmakers for changing his work that bared "no meaningful resemblance." Good story, very weird.

Quitters, Inc. - One man tries to come to grips with quitting his smoking habit. So he hires a company that does it for him. But the company is more than just a healthy reminder, they are stealthy and all the way extreme. Quitting might be the least of his troubles.

The Heart-shaped Box

2011-10-21T10:25:00.000-05:00

For those of you that don't know, this title is written under Stephen King's Son. Since his son wanted to strike out on his own, without the help of his father's fame, he decided to publish his books under the name of Joe Hill. He's also written a short story collection called 20th Century Ghosts, which I have not read yet. But the real breakout novel I'm here to discuss is The Heart-Shaped Box. Wow, what a ride.

Right from the first chapter, we are propelled into the life of retired rocker Judas Coyne. We get a glimpse of the macabre items he collects. He is said to have a painting by John Wayne Gacy, a skull, a couple snuff films, etc. But when his buddy finds a dead man's suit on ebay, he gives Judas a call. Jude, as they call him, can't resist such a deal. So he buys the suit and it comes in a heart-shaped box. But, as the days are passing, things are happening that can't be explained away. It seems the ghost of the dead man is still attached to the suit, now infecting Jude's life with creepy things in the night.

The characters, atmosphere and storytelling really shines in this one. My buddy Matt was singing praises of this book non-stop. Only after my wife and I read the entire thing did he then reveal that this was Stephen King's boy. Well, it shows.

Life Expectancy

2011-10-20T10:26:00.000-05:00

Although some would describe Life Expectancy as suspense, I feel that there are roots grounded in horror. So, okay, the cover doesn't look like much. And yes, it does remind me of that one Goosebumps book: The Cuckoo Clock of Doom. But the story itself, a man who knows he will have five horrid days in his life just screams terror. This was the first book I read of Dean Koontz and I've been chugging along trying to see if Koontz could recapture that lightning in a bottle. Sadly, after reading nine of his titles, it doesn't look like I'll have a terrifying ride as I've had with this one. If anyone out there knows of a good Dean Koontz title that is completely underated, be sure to let me know in the comments section.

Red Dragon

2011-10-19T10:26:00.000-05:00

Thomas Harris is among the top of the list of my favorite writers of all time. Why? It's due to his methodical way of working. To his credit, Thomas works slowly. So slowly, in fact, it seems he only comes out with a book once every ten years. Which is a long stretch for any writer. But this just ensures me that he takes time with his art and heavily researches his material. Case in point: Red Dragon.

Red Dragon is the beginning of an already dark tale. Will Graham, a brilliant FBI profiler is pulled out of his own self-retirement to catch a killer known only as the Tooth Fairy. But the FBI is getting desperate. They beg Will to sign on to the case, in hopes that he could crack this one. But Will still has his own demons to work out, namely, seeking the help of his old nemesis: Hannibal Lecter.

This was the first story that touched on the iconic villain of Lecter. It was later turned into a movie by Michael Mann in the eighties called Manhunter which held great critics reviews but failed miserably in the box office. Years later, Thomas writes The Silence of The Lambs, which I have not read yet and don't intend to read, ever. The reason? The film was all I needed. Going back, I remember reading this in high school, sometimes thumbing through the pages on the way to my next class. The writing draws you in. It's like poetry in motion. There is a reason why this author is a master at prose... because he takes his time.

Sure, I have read the sequel Hannibal and Hannibal Rising, how Hannibal became a cannibal, which I hold both books in high regard. But I always keep coming back to Red Dragon, which was a scary, suspenseful thriller that has left a mark.

Frankenstein

2011-10-18T10:26:00.000-05:00

Speaking of Frankenstein, did you know that till this day, people still refer to the creature as Frankenstein when, in actuality, it's really supposed to be Frankenstein's monster?

Though I have yet to clear ten pages of it, I am fascinated with its creation.

Mary Shelly was only eighteen when she penned this Gothic tale. Legend has it that she spent a cold stormy night with Lord Byron and John Polidori, weaving ghostly tales to amuse themselves. While one wrote about a talkative skull and another envisioned the story known as The Vampyre, Shelly wrote her tale of terror and found success.

One day I will read the entire book, which looks to be a quick read. But what inspires me the most about this woman, is that she finally realized she was a success when she said, " I think I can maintain myself, and there is something inspiriting in the idea."

Oh, and one very important detail that you may not be familiar with. In the original story, there was never a character named Igor.

Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde

2011-10-17T10:26:00.000-05:00

This is another case of slim novel (Novella, in fact), but perfect execution. Robert Louis Stevenson who was famous for Treasure Island and Kidnapped first penned this forever immortalized classic in just three days. Three days. That's when he had entered a period so few writers are familiar with: a white-hot fury of words. When he showed the manuscript to his wife, she suggested that it be written as an allegorical story. Stevenson thought about it then burned his manuscript, showing her the ashes and forcing himself to write the whole thing over which took another three days.

Upon its publication in 1886, it was sold for one U.S. dollar to people, the book was slowly building it's success. By 1901 it had sold 250,000 copies. Not bad for a rewrite.

Today, the story still fascinates us. It's been rewritten by other authors, parodied and played by several actors and ranks up there with the likes of Frankenstein and The Invisible Man.

Quite recently it was adapted as a mini series by the BBC and written by Steven Moffat, the creator of Sherlock, updating the tale and bringing a new face of horror to the already classic tale of dual personalities.

The Island of Dr. Moreau

2011-10-16T10:24:00.000-05:00

Many would view The Island of Dr. Moreau as a science fiction novel. And it is classified that in libraries. But when I read this story for the first time on my kindle, I was in for a shock. Like so many terrifying tales before it, it is not what is shown to you that is horrifying. It is what you don't see. It a slim novel but very hard to get through seeing as how you're almost too stunned to turn the next page.

Desperation

2011-10-15T19:30:00.000-05:00

Desperation came right after my reading of Insomnia. A worthy read. It was 560 pages, roughly around the same amount as Insomnia but with a much slower, different story.

King was inspired to write this on a cross-country drive in 1991. He was nearing the town of Ruth, Nevada. He found the town ghostly and somewhat void of human life. He had a thought that all the townsfolk might be dead. Then he thought of how they would've died. The Sheriff killed them was the thought that popped in.

So here we have this story, of people finding their way to the town of Desperation, Nevada. A couple, a family, the town vet, a traveling author with his agent who picks up a hitchhiker are all tossed into the web of this ghost town. And they all meet the town's Sheriff Collie Entragian, who seems to be a tall, eccentric, rude man of authority. But then that eccentricity turns to real fear as it becomes clear that the sheriff has been tidying up the roads by taking people back to the town in order to kill them. Later, we find that not only is the sheriff crazy, but he seems to speak a different ancient language mixed in with his regular speech and looks to being led by supernatural forces.

But the real gem character, out of the many who are well balanced and trying to survive the horror in this story, is David Carver, a small boy who is being led to help the survivors escape the town.

I devoured this book. I even watched the movie which starred Ron Perlman and Steven Weber, two great character actors. But, for those who have not read it yet, go to the book first, folks. You know by now that it's always better than the movie.

Insomnia

2011-10-14T19:29:00.001-05:00

After taking a dip into my first Stephen King book, Different Seasons, I started to get comfortable. Shawshank Redemption, Apt Pupil and The Body were great novellas. I was a bit weirded out by The Breathing Method though. It's one I'm sure is the most overlooked from all of King's works.

The next book I came across was a tome called Insomnia. No, it has nothing to do with the Chris Nolan directed movie of the same name. But I'd like to bring up two points: 1) I originally envisioned the main character of this tale, Ralph Roberts, as the talented comedian Robin Williams. 2) I can't for the life of me figure out why this King book has not become a movie yet.

I discovered this book a midst a box of random props from my days in doing plays at my high school. It was dusty and yellow but that bothered me none. I took it out, started thumbing through it whenever we had rehearsals. I connected with it. Like the main character, I was plagued with insomnia. Sometimes by choice, sometimes an unwilling participant.

But this didn't help any. The book prolonged my personal insomnia even more.

The novel follows Ralph Roberts, a recently widowed middle-aged man. He's retired but is somehow unable to fall asleep at night. His symptoms get worse as he has sensitivity to light and colors, thinking things are invisible or intangible, common stuff when you have this problem. But then it grows more severe and he starts to see bald doctors with giant scissors, going door to door in the middle of the night, snipping the life force away from people.

The novel gradually, slowly, works its suspense and mystery. When the characters are firmly established, that's when the real horror begins. I guess you can say I liked this one from the beginning. I read the last hundred pages on a nice summer morning, keeping tabs on a yard sale for my mom, diligently taping some torn pages as I continued to be enthralled by the magic that was King.

Carrie

2011-10-13T19:30:00.001-05:00

Surprisingly, out of the 21 books I've read of King, I like this one the least. I dunno. Maybe it was the fact that it was hyped up so much. Maybe becuase I spent most of my childhood fearing horror movies, expecially Carrie, because people talked about it all the damn time.

But what strikes me as odd was when my unlce bestowed upon me a pretty hefty collection of Stephen King books. Carrie, as you may know, is one of his slimmest books. 192 pages as a hardcover. I think the longest book I read of his was Duma Key, which was pretty decent, but the ending left me on a hook. That one was a gargantuan 1,104 pages. I haven't made it to his other tomes such as The Stand, The Dark Tower Series, or Under The Dome but I'm sure I will one day. And what with his newest book 11/22/63 coming out next month, I thought it only fair to make mention of this book.

We all know the story by now; teenage girl, going through a change, not popular, finds out she has wicked telekentic powers and, in a fit of rage after being dumped with pigs blood at her senior prom, wreaks havoc on the kids, the bullies and even her own abusive mother. The story was unique for its time and tripped a bunch of people out. It's what got King started.

But the book is clunky. It's a compilation of fake articles, interviews, sometimes recorded, magazine articles and a series of letters. I felt that there never could be a connection to Carrie as a sympathetic character. It felt like I was receiving all my information secondhand.

In any case, the premise is still scary, Stephen King is still writing, I'm still reading and it is still one of the most banned books in schools today. It definitively made an impact.

Richard Matheson

2011-10-12T19:41:00.000-05:00

I used to think that nobody could write better than R. L. Stine. Then came Christopher Pike. Then Neil Gaimen. Then Stephen King. You see where I'm going with this, right?

I'm climbing up the ladder. And on each rung, I've learned lessons, took notes and have been amazed at some of the verbal gymnastics that writers accomplish in their stories. (Especially, Harlan Ellison. That guy is a history of words himself.)

But one writer I took a chance on.

A buddy of mine, Matt, introduced me to Matheson one day at a comic shop. There was a graphic novel by the name of I Am Legend, which said it was based on the novel. "It's crazy, man," he said. "It's about this guy whose holed up in his house, fending for himself as the last man alive against countless hordes of vampires." I was intrigued, but not enough to read the graphic novel. It sounded like an interesting concept but one which I thought would be very difficult to pull off and make believable.

Little did I know, when I walked into Borders and purchased my first Matheson book, I was carrying the words of a Master Storyteller.

Gradually I made my way through the book. Sometimes at night. Which wasn't a very wise thing to do. Nevertheless, I devoured page upon page. The book holds the novel plus 10 spine-tingling short stories. And brother, you won't know what hits you when you read those. It was almost like he walloped me with the novel, of it's premise, its fluidity, its science to explain why the vampires have survived for so long, but not only that, it had moxy. Matheson was not afraid to take such a big step and redefine the genre. Then his shorts were like quick jabs to the gut, taking you, the reader, by suprise, asking, "Hey! How'd he get away with that? I never saw that one coming?"

Don't know about Matheson? Sure you do. In some capacity.

He's written dozens of episodes of the Twilight Zone, adapted one of his short stories into a screenplay which later became Duel, directed by Steven Spielberg.

Almost each one of his novels have been adapted for the screen: What Dreams May Come, A Stir of Echoes, Somwhere in Time, The Incredible Shrinking Man, Hell House (WARNING: For those who think they know what true terror is and have not read this book, you are sorely mistaken and should test your mettle against this book. But don't read it in the dark, it only heightens the sensitivity of your fears.), Button, Button and many others.

I will say this, I've seen almost all of these movies and have read almost all of his books, except for one. The books are way better. Especially when you compare them for that sorry excuse for I Am Legend that stared Will Smith. I'm sorry, but any movie with the line: "I...like...Shrek." does not even deserve a mention next to Matheson.

However, he has dipped a little. His newest book, Other Kingdoms, left me wanting more and made me a little disappointed.

But, as with all authors, I don't flat out quit reading them if they have a dud. Stephen King and Dean Koontz have done that plenty of times and I still read them.

Heck, I was surprised to learn that a new movie coming out, Real Steel, was actually based on a Matheson story. Now that I know that, I might give this movie a watch. As for the horror titles, Matheson will always be at the top.

Edgar Allan Poe

2011-10-11T18:21:00.005-05:00

Now on to the more adult books. I have to confess, I didn't open up a story of Edgar Allen Poe's until I was in college. It was an intro to fiction course with a workbook called The Story and It's Writer, which I now own. (Picked it up at a goodwill shop for 89 cents. It retails for about fifty bucks on Amazon.)

The first story I read of his was The Cask of Amontillado.

A creepy story in which one friend decides to dispose of his close mate by tricking him into going down his wine cellar, where there is supposedly a rare wine which one one has drunk.

From that one story, I needed more.

Then I started tearing through them one by one...

The Tell-tale heart, The Fall of The House of Usher, The Raven, each one taught me a new lesson in what it really is to write true horror.

Now, as it turns out, one of my favorite actors is playing the master storyteller in a murder mystery that is sure to make any fan drool with fandom.

The Graveyard book

2011-10-10T19:44:00.001-05:00

The Graveyard Book is one of those books that pops up, totally unexpected, and completely takes your breath away. Neil Gaimen, the man who brought you such goodies as The Sandman Series, American Gods, Neverwhere and Coraline, offers another children's book with errie twist.

Neil Gaimen was always fascinated with The Jungle Book, the idea of being raised by animals and living among them. This sparked his imagination into a question, "What would happen if a little boy were raised by ghosts?"

This book, which has eight chapters, is read by Gaimen himself for free. You can find the videos of him reading it on a book tour at

http://www.mousecircus.com/videotour.aspx

If you have an hour to kill, this Halloween, be sure to press play and listen to a truly fantastic, charming story.

Ghost Hotel Series

2011-10-09T19:42:00.004-05:00

As a kid, I was always eager to get one thing from school. The Scholastic Book Order forms. It was the greatest thing. The teacher would hand them out, we'd pick which books we wanted, we'd give her the money to buy them and in exactly one week, ta-da, your very own book.

I remember one time I got a handful of books, about three, and was happy to go home and read them. But later that day I found out one of my classmates had a copy of Ghost Hotel. I was so obsessed with Ghost stories that I immediately offered a trade, "I'll give you these three if you let me have that."

This book came out around 1996. I still have the copy of that book. Although it's a slim book, about 170 pages, I've never been able to finish it. I've gotten about halfway. I guess I was always too afraid to finish it. Or maybe I enjoyed the lingering mystery of it all these years. But, in all likelihood, my reading list, as always, continues to grow. Just like Ghost Hotel, some books get pushed to the wayside.

Still, there may be one day in which I read it. Possibly this month.

I also have the other two books that came after it: Return to Ghost Hotel and Escape from Ghost Hotel. I may do a weekend trilogy reading. If you remember this book, be sure to let me know what you thought of it. Here's the back cover summary:

Anna, as an adopted child has always wondered who her real parents were. When Anna and her family check into the strange hotel, Anna meets the ghostly Colonel and Mrs. Terwillinger.

Unable to resist the lure of the past, Anna is drawn back in time to the danger-filled days of the Underground Railroad, which helped runaway slaves to freedom. Here Anna discovers the mystery of her childhood - a mystery that must be solved if Anna is ever to find her way home again.

Resident Evil Series

2011-10-08T19:41:00.000-05:00

We've come across a lot of authors who put a lot of initials in front of their names: J.M. Barrie, T.C. Boyle, R.L. Stine, etc.

But one author who might've escaped you is one S.D. Perry. I didn't catch wind of her until 2003...when she completely novelized the first Resident Evil video game.

As far as the movies go, I'll make this as short as I can: The first one was great, different. Apocalypse? A joke. Extinction? It was extinct enough. Afterlife? Why am I still watching this? Why are these so popular? I hear they are making yet another grimy installment, sure to confuse and baffle theater goers as to why this series is just chugging right along. It's called Retribution. Yeah...I doubt it.

But looking back, you can see how the RE series has come a long way. It spanned video games, movies, comics, graphic novels and now books. I was hesitant about reading this series but gave it a shot and, boy, was I surprised.

RE Book #1: The Umbrella Conspiracy - This classically depicts the events of the first game. It has all the mystery and suspense without any of the tedious tasks of finding keys and running from one corner of the mansion to another. Even though I played the game, it still gave me a really good chill. I'd say for the person who isn't into video games at all, they should pick this book up. It may turn them on to the story, without any of the carpal tunnel syndrome you get from playing the game hours on end.

RE Book #2: Caliban Cove - This book is a take on Rebbecca Chambers. She was the only underage member of the STARS search and rescue team. It was pretty good.

RE Book #3: City Of the Dead - Okay. Here is where it gets tricky. This is the third book but really it's based on the second video game which is called Resident Evil 2. So really, it may be the third book but it's really the second story in the series. Get it? Got it? Good. The Cove book was an added subplot that was a completely original work from the author herself. This time around, instead of a mansion, the zombies are roaming the streets of Raccoon City. Leon Kennedy, a rookie cop, and Claire Redfield, the sister of one of the STARS members, have come to the city to try to make sense of the madness of this disease.

RE Book #4: Underworld - This book, another original story from the author, finds the surviving STARS members, along with Leon Kennedy, in a secret facility known only as The Planet. It was lacking something. I just don't know what. Maybe it tried too hard.

RE Book #5: Nemesis - Well, where do I start? I played the game, originally called Resident Evil 3: Nemesis and really liked it. As for the book, I've only read three chapters. I left the book in the cafeteria when I was working the overnight shift at Target and never saw it again. Some rotten bastard stole it right from under me.

RE Book #6: Code Veronica - I loved this story! The game might have had six different titles but the book was a completely well done story that perfectly matched, possibly, better than the game itself.

RE Book #7: Zero Hour - This is basically a prequel of a prequel. This story happens before the events of Umbrella Conspiracy. This happens to be one book, out of many, which I haven't read on my book shelf. Believe it or not, I took it with me on three moves. Twice from two different houses and finally to my new apartment. I just haven't been able to bring myself to read it. Maybe I don't want the series to end.

If you ask me, they should base the movies on these books. Not some hap-hazard-half-baked-half-cocked-half-limping screwed up train of disappointment fecal matter pie that they have become. Maybe I'm being to harsh. Or maybe I'm just bitter. One of the two.

Danger.com

2011-10-07T18:20:00.001-05:00

This book I hardly remember buying, but the impact of its message haunts me to this day. We've all done it. Gone on chat rooms, poked around, made a mockery of the mystery of who is on the other end.

Jordan Clay's Series Danger.com exploits that fear and what happens when a hapless dude hooks up, via chat room, with a very strange, needy chick. Think Fatal Attraction for the Internet.

In the story we meet, Jonah. Then we meet his online squeeze. Her screen name is Gemini 7 but her real life name is Nicole Gemini. Bit of a stretch, don't you think?

Anyway, the barriers start to come down and Jonah gets to meet the blonde haired beauty. Unfortuneatly, Jonah already has a girlfriend. Jen is his main squeeze but, he's grown tired, always sick of hearing them refered to as Jonah-and-jen or some such stupid thing. This was way before the whole Brangelina phase. So, in effort to stretch out, live dangerously, he meets Nicole...who isn't so sweet once you get to know her.

Slowly, things begin to happen. Jonah's dad gets into a mysterious car accident. Jonah's girl, Jen, is found with pills in her purse which lands her in a drug rehabilitation clinic. Yep, I see a pattern here. New girl in town. Jealous, nasty, possibly crazy. It's all coming together. It's been referred to as a Cyberthriller that turns Teen Gothic and it shows.

In the final chapters we get a taste of the madness as a battle ensues and Nicole is killed. I'm not quite sure how she died but in the last scene we get, big surprise, a girl coming after Jonah who looks just like Nicole. Yep, Nicole had a twin that we never knew of who was causing all that trouble. It was a high fly ball out of nowhere that kinda turned me off to the series all together.

The series only lasted 7 books, which is no big surprise. And the book was only 99 cents, but still, it left a lasting impression. However , chat room thrillers have now gone, I hope, to a bygone era.

Graveyard School

2011-10-06T22:43:00.000-05:00

Now that Camp Zombie is out of the way, I can tell you about another little series I got involved in: The Graveyard School Books.

These revolved around a fictional town of Grove Hill. The books lasted from 1994 to 1999. While I considered them books, they were technically defined as novellas because they were so short. They were shorter than the Goosebumps series. But there was a difference. Big difference. Characters ate eyeballs, corpses and coffins rose up out of the floor of the boy's bathroom like something out of the movie Poltergeist. I mean, this was some hardcore stuff.

Across from the school sits an abandoned cemetery...which isn't much of a stretch. Proviso West, the high school I attended, was just a street away from the cemetery. You could see it right when you walked out of the main entrance.

All totaled, the series lasts about 28 books. I've read Don't Eat The Mystery meat #1, Slime Lake #7, Let's scare The Teacher to Death #8 and There's a Ghost in The Boy's Bathroom #10. The others were just a little bit too goofy for my taste. That seems to be a theme of YA Horror; somehow it always turns to humor rather than horror.

Camp Zombie

2011-10-05T22:43:00.000-05:00

Okay, so this series, in particular, wasn't very impressive with me. But it did keep me up at night. The idea of a Zombie camp counselor, roaming the grounds. Sheesh...just leaves you with an unsettling feeling. Come to think of it, I'm glad I never attended a camp. Maybe this book had something to do with it.

Oddly enough, I've only read the Second Summer.

Ghosts of Fear street

2011-10-04T20:22:00.003-05:00

All I'm going to say about this series is that it was something new, before my journey into Christopher Pike. This was like Goosebumps 2.0 and it left a mark on me. While the descriptions got better and the stories were more engaging, I found the dialogue to be a little wooden at times. Not to say that I didn't have favorites. But, like the Goosebumps series, I slowly began to realize that the books were getting...well...goofier.

The ones that did it right, out of the 35 book series, were Who's Been Sleeping In My Grave, The Ooze, and How to be a Vampire

The one thing that I took away from these books was to always make the dialogue interesting.

Also, the covers were pretty out there. Look at the the one above. It's almost like the vampire is a puppeteer or someone who goes (forgive the pun) Bat-s#*t Crazy about reading.

Christopher Pike

2011-10-03T20:19:00.003-05:00

Before the Borders in Oak Park closed, I began having a fix for something new. A little over ten years ago, when a Goosebumps fix seemed hopeless and dated, I wandered over to a section, in that same Borders, and spied some young adult horror fiction.

Christopher Pike caught my eye with his book, The Weekend. Here's what I read from the back cover:

The weekend in Mexico seemed like a dream holiday, with an oceanside mansion all to themselves, but someone was taking their revenge. There was the girl upstairs fighting for her life, and the garage explosion that could have killed them all.

First off, whoa. I mean, wtf. So many questions. Who is the girl? Why did they all gather there? Mexico? Sounds dangerous. What caused the garage to explode?

Ironically, I have never read The Weekend. But that didn't stop me from pulling 22 plus titles to the ground as I sat cross-legged, reading only the back cover of each and every one of them. My mother got mad at me for making such a mess but I didn't care. I was addicted to the thought-bubbles exploding out of my head. Now, looking back on it, I can say that Christopher Pike helped me be more intriguing when it comes to writing a back cover summary of a book. I try to raise as many questions as possible when writing a good summary for the back cover, which can take me anywhere from a couple days to a couple months.

In the end, even though I wanted to bring all the titles home with me, I only walked away with a handful...Chain Letter, Chain Letter 2, Tales of Terror and, of course, The Grave.

Chain Letter was a fresh idea, kinda peculiar.

Chain Letter 2 was even weirder.

Tales of Terror was just plain wrong, but I liked it. There was a bit of a Misery-like story in there but I was easy to forgive at that age.

But The Grave showed me a combo of horror, suspense, supernatural, mythology and a dose of the macabre. 90 percent of the book was perfect terror and mystery... the ending was a bit goofy. Oh, and hey, check out the description of The Grave:

An innocent man is attacked by a cult and buried alive. A pretty girl meets a fascinating guy, who hardly seems to blink or breathe, and emits a cool presence. They're both living in a weird realm where life and death mirror each other--where the grave no longer promises escape.

Do I detect some pre-Twilight Edward descriptions?

Goosebumps

2011-10-02T20:18:00.001-05:00

Not only is R.L. Stine famous for writing the popular Goosebumps series, he was also a huge chunk of my childhood. Specifically, he and my brother got me into collecting books.

My brother bought 5-10 books in the Goosebumps series...I bought the rest. I'd make a trip to our local Target with my mom and find an entire endcap loaded with new titles. I was in literary ecstasy.

Not only were the stories fresh and weird, they also helped shape my imagination. They fed little into details, giving you just the basic concept and characters and dialogue. This is where I focused more on the setting, drawing vivid pictures in my mind of the landscape, roads and houses. Whenever I couldn't picture something quite right I'd close the book, close my eyes and paint inside my head.

Of course, I can go on and on about my favorites of the 62 classic titles, ( Welcome to Dead House, Monster Blood I,II,III,IV, Let's Get Invisible, The Haunted Mask, Night of The Jack-o-lanterns, A Shocker on Shock Street, Attack of The Mutant) but I would rather want to know what your favorites were and why?

After the last book, Monster Blood IV, the series sat for a while until Stine released a 2000 series version of it with Cry of The Cat... which just wasn't my cup of tea.

Reading all of those books was a lesson in creating your own setting whether they be from memory, real landmarks or just pure imagination.

Later, it became a popular tv show. Only caught a couple episodes in my youth but still, to this day, remember the chilling theme song.

For a man who has sold over 400 million books, I'm happy to see he has done so well. I just hope future generations will go back to the original 62 in the series.

Scary Stories

2011-10-01T23:22:00.005-05:00

It's October. That means spring has taken a hike, the hi-jinks are about to begin and somebody's house or car, might be yours, will get properly toilet papered this evening. Oh, also, people will be listening, watching and reading all things horror.

So what am I going to do with 31 days?

Share the best books of the genre I've ever read.

I grew up reading these. Each one was a lesson in real horror compared to the crap that's out there today. I'm all for old school horror. I'm talking about the books that made it hard for me to sleep at night.

Today, I'm reviewing Scary Stories by Alvin Schwartz.

After a stint in the navy, Schwartz became interested in writing. Later, he got a degree in journalism. When he set to work, he penned a series of stories to tell in the dark, which were part old folk lore and part urban legends.

From 1981 to 1991 he gave us three books, packed with such memorable classics as The Big Toe, The Hook or The Viper. (Which I know the last one is a little silly and not really scary, "I've come to Vipe your Vindows," granted, but still a classic yarn.)

But what I love most about these stories are the details that aren't being shared. It just makes it that much creepier and certainly a tactic I hope to employ in my stories. If you're looking for a really good example, I recommend The Monkey's Paw. I won't spoil it for you, but I'll just say, you'll be relieved at the end but it will keep you up at night regardless.

There are so many simple, effective scary stories in these four collections. Some are not even 500 words long.

But, then again, some of my favorites are the ones that still terrorize me today such as the bride who accidentally got locked up in a steamer trunk...or The Dead Man's Hand, The Cat's Paw, or countless others.

Also the illustrations were also like something out of a bad dream. If the story didn't scare you, the illustration would.

I know now that the twists, turns and hauntingly mind-bending stories collected within these slim books was the closest I was going to get at that time to Horror and Suspense that matched Alfred Hitchcock.

So here's a salute, to ALA's No. 1 banned book. Great way to kick off the month. Share with your friends...if you dare.

Rage

2011-09-21T21:25:00.004-05:00

When finding something to read next, I wouldn't normally gravitate towards rare books. But reading that one book in my last post by Allison Bartlett really got me interested in them. It is true that every book tells a story. Just looking at some of the books on my wall I can associate them with a memory. Catcher in the Rye? Found in the attic of my parents house. My wife suggested I read it. Catch-22? Bought it after I read the first five chapters for my intro to fiction class. Magic Man? It was in the bargain bin right before I was going to walk out of a Borders without buying anything. The list goes on.

But when I found out that Stephen King purposely pulled one of his books out of print, I have to admit, my interest was piqued.

I wasn't outwardly looking for it, but, one day in Woodridge, I stumbled upon a collection in a Goodwill store. The collection was called The Bachman Books. Of course, everyone knows by now that King was writing under another pen name and called himself: Richard Bachman. Inside was the full novels of Roadwork, The Running Man, The Long Walk and...right at the beginning of the book: Rage. The out of print book.

It only cost me 75 cents.

Rage is a slim book, about 169 pages. But packed into those pages is a very disturbing story. Now, look, I know that this is a controversial book and that's why I'm going to warn some people about this book. This book is not for disturbed minds. A smart person can read this book and not be affected. However, if a disturbed individual read this...well...it's more likely to grease his crazy wheel.

The book starts with Charlie Decker, a troubled teen already facing hard times when he brought a pipe wrench to school and decked a teacher with it. Now, at the start of the book, he's recalling flashbacks of his troubled family life. Later he sets fire to his locker then walks into his homeroom in high school and shoots his algebra teacher. What follows next is a series of surreal discussions, confessions, proclamations, sex education, procrastinations and a fair-fight slap match between two girls who hate each other. Charlie is obsessed with the concept of getting it on. It's very hard to determine what he's talking about but, then again, the book is through Charlie's point of view and in the story he's a very dangerous sociopath who now has a the control of a classroom under his thumb. The group of twenty five students band together to discuss their life, their flaws and their somewhat broken future. Eventually, they all gang up on this one bully named Ted Jones and it is unclear exactly what they did to him but, by the end of it, he's nothing but a drooling, whimpering mess. The book is intense, dangerous, but chocked full of suspense. I'm not saying that it's good but I am saying that my curiosity of it was satisfied and, happily, that book is now closed. It still sits on my shelf. I might read it again someday. But by then it will be with a wistful eye and a shake of the head.

One of the major reasons why Stephen King pulled the book was because one such troubled teen shot a teacher...and they found Rage in his locker.

So now comes the opinion you've probably been wondering about: Was he right in making the book out of print? I would say yes. Knowing a person has imitated a work of fiction to such a degree must weigh pretty heavy. But I believe that he did what he felt he had to do. I mean, how much can you ask of the guy?

My wife has always told me something that has stuck with me. She's said, "Never apologize for your work." And I stand by that. Books will offend, books will pry, books will certainly provoke thought. But the writer's work is to simply write. Separate indivdiuals who cannot give this material the fear and respect it deserves, to just read it and walk away from it, were more disturbed from the get-go.

The Man Who Loved Books Too Much

2011-09-12T19:21:00.005-05:00

The Man Who Loved Books Too Much, penned by Allison Hoover Bartlett, paints the portrait of an underground thief known as John Gilkey. Gilkey, raised by a lenient family, does not believe in right or wrong. He believes in winning and losing.

Ms. Bartlett does a fantastic job researching her subject, both man and mystery. It's hard to believe, when I picked this book up at a closing Borders, that I'd be so protective of it. I never want to let it go. The story was so compelling I actually, PURPOSELY, read slowly. Having only 14 chapters, it is a light read.

Gilkey never fails to fascinate. He started stealing rare books in 1999, believing that a man was only as good and as noteworthy if he had a private collection of handsomely rare books. He printed out a list of 100 classic books. He wanted to collect them all. So, on his journey to aquire more books, without paying for them, he concocts schemes and excuses to get his way. First he starts with credit card number receipts, using the number over the phone to a bookdealer and walking in to collect the book later. But from there, his schemes become more elaborate and creative. It just goes to show what man will do, what lengths he will endure, for a good book.

Not only do with get to know the lowly thief, jumping from bookshop to bookshop across america, but we also learn of the man who tracks him down: Ken Sanders. He's a gruff, tough, no room for enough businessman who believes that John Gilkey made off with thousands of dollars, hurting the booksellers. Though we know that he is correct, there is something seductive in turning these pages. I guess we're all trying to find the method in the madness.

Bartlett even outlines book thieves in history, who have actually maimed and killed people, even burning down their houses, to aquire one rare book. Now that's what I call a Bibliomaniac.

Gilkey, never wanting a downside to his life, offers many different ways that the book could end. Like the diligient listener that she is, Bartlett hears him out. All of the concepts sound interesting. He offers to open his own bookshop, write detective novels starring a character similiar to himself, perhaps produce author Bobble heads to give to people who send him books. A man as obsssesd as Gilkey had me hooked from page one.

I give this five out of five stars. Do yourself a favor and read this one slowly. Savor it, becuase it's just that good.

There's Still Hope After All

2011-08-30T16:27:00.004-05:00

After many moons and a significant amount of time spent tapping the delete button, I am now happy to announce that I have finished my second collection of Short Stories.

My last collection had 19 of them.

This has one extra.

It is significantly thinner than my last collection but I passed the 50,000 word mark so, in my eyes, I'm off the clock.

Feels so liberating to finish something after so long. I started this thing in late 2009 and encountered many blocks along the way.

Right now I'm having a friend edit it so that it can be ready some time in October. So keep an eye on those kindles, folks. A new Scarlato title is on its way.

In the meantime, I'll start working, after some rest, of course, on several Novellas already in progress.

Crossing Borders

2011-07-30T00:37:00.011-05:00

So, we've come to that fork in the road. I guess I should have seen it coming as soon as I heard, as early as 2008, that Borders was in trouble. It was eventual that they would be losing business and would be closing some stores. Naively, I just thought they would close twenty or thirty. Surely that can't mean all of them, I thought.

But, no, it was true.

It hits me hard to know that a fine chain like this would be closing its doors.

Why does it hit me hard?

Several reasons.

Borders, namely the one in Oak Park, was always my constant escape hatch. When things weren't so cheery at home, all I had to do was walk, hitch a ride with a friend or just drive there myself. I'd go there to relax, read, drink a mocha frappe from the cafe. The usual. I was so used to coming in, the minute I'd walk in I'd stretch my arms, roll my neck and head for the shelves.

I think the longest stretch of time I spent in a Borders was nine hours. Yeah, I bought a couple, okay, several, okay, a couple bags of books but that was just my thing. I think twice I've taken a nap in a chair at Borders. That bookstore was my second home.

A couple years go by and I finally come across the fact that there's an open mic night called the Lucid Apple once every month. I told my first story, Failing Upwards, there in February of 2010. It was the night of my life. I told more stories as the months went by. I did mostly stuff from my first and second short story collection. I read The Nature of a Second Hand, Powerless, The prologue to Mr. Dead Eyes, The prologue to Wearing Donnie Torr, Lighter, The Graveyard Shifters, I Want to be a Monster, The Flight of Red Sophia, and finally Ghostbusted, which was my first nonfiction essay.

Each night I had weak knees, terrified, but still came running back for more.

Now, with Borders liquidating, everything is falling apart. No more Open Mic's. They are trying to move to a different place, which I hope they do, but right now they are negotiating for one more night which seems damn near impossible to get. I hope they keep it going, though. I will definitely show up. But it's a rough sock to the gut.

I knew what the problem was. It was eReaders. A takeover. If Borders was just a few years earlier with the Kobo, who knows, it might have been Barnes and Noble closing.

I stopped by the Borders in Naperville for one quick look at what I feared most.

July 23rd, 2011: To borrow Roosevelt's line is, "A [day] that will live in infamy."

This one picture gives me chills...

Everything must go, hardly anything did...

I weep for the Future...

Had to do my last tribute to Borders by planking. The two books in my hand are Ham on Rye by Charles Bukowski and The Man who Loved Books Too Much...

So long, Borders. I wish I could've stocked my books in you.

Danse Macabre

2011-07-14T17:00:00.003-05:00

Okay, let's be honest. Stephen King is pretty prolific. He's not only written many books but also mind-boggingly lengthy. Some have been wordy. Some could have easily been shorter (namely Gerald's Game). But you have to hand it to good old king. He sure knows his stuff.

If there's one thing I love from reading Stephen King, it's his introductions. Each one is a story within itself. Who can forget his story notes on Everything's Eventual, Skeleton Crew and Nightmares and Dreamscapes? Who can simply pass by The Importance of being Bachman (an intro into his life as a pseudonym and that eventual end.)?

I know I can't.

I know that the introduction isn't the biggest selling point of a story but it certainly is the tidiest way to move you along, find out the author's motivations for writing the story, a peek behind the curtain, if you will.

Well, I'm here to tell you that his non-fiction book, Danse Macbre, is like one big introduction to the horror genre from 1920 -1980. Of course, it's King, so you can expect some divergent thinking and many tangents, even footnotes that sort of bog down the point. The first half is about the movies and myths he experiences from his youth. He covers vampires, ghosts, werewolves, mad scientists and even that Hook story all the teeny boppers knew in the 1950's. Like the Red Sea that it is, it is a lot to wade through. But, if you hang steady and let the tide take you, you eventually get to the meat.

Once he goes through the ins and outs of proper horror, classy horror, the black and white horror that we've forgotten with all this Psycho-in-your-face-torture-porn, he gets to movies that did it right and, more importantly, books that did it right. Back in those days you dealt with cold, hard, true terror. Now everything is done for shock value. That doesn't seem right to me. Something Wicked This Way Comes, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, The Incredible Shrinking Man just to name a few. He also pays tribute to the writers, sharing some insight on interviews behind the stories they wrote.

The last chapter is, I think, by far the best, where he rotates real news stories on crimes inspired or inadvertently comitted by horror films and books. There's this crazy article about Baltimore in 1980 where a women gets attacked by someone while she's reading a book while waiting for the bus. I won't spoil what happens next. You'll have to read it to believe it.

By the end of it all, you've gathered that half was criticism and half was the really delicious meat we were hunting for. The last two sections give an Appendix A and Appendix B. Appendix A is a list of all the classic, well-done, well-directed horror movies with a few stinkers just to get you started. The other index a list of every horror book referenced and they are classics. I suggest you read them. I've already added them to my reading list.

If you can take one thing away from reading this book, you could say that, although lengthy at times, King was able to go through every nook and cranny to show us the classier horror of the day. No rock went un-turned.

Truly, a good read from King.

Lost: Let Me Explain

2011-07-01T17:01:00.000-05:00

I figured I owed the good readers of this blog more of an explanation to the events that eventually led to me hating the show Lost.

So here it is.

My wife and I like to get into shows late in the game. Some shows we break this rule and watch on a week to week basis because they're just that good. (i.e. Numbers, The Mentalist.) But other times we take the plunge and search for shows that have already finished or are at least three or four seasons in. We've come to watching them on instant on Netflix. It's a nifty little way for us to gorge on a chunk of episodes.

With Lost, which debuted in 2004, we found it around 2009 or so. We tore through the first season like nobody's business. Eventually we found ourselves slowing down in the fifth season and came back to it several months later. We finally came back to the show and finished season five and had a marathon of season six, which only got more confusing with each passing episode. On the last day, there were only three episodes left. We decided to save them for one day. A day I labeled "Happy Answer Day" because, well, y'know, I actually THOUGHT THEY WOULD BE GIVING CONCRETE ANSWERS!

However, as the events unfolded, we found that the episode descriptions were not matching up with the episode in question. Like an Episode with the description, "Locke finally reveals his real motives." What we we treated to instead was an episode composed entirely of a flashback from Lord knows when. Locke appeared five seconds before the episode ended and didn't say much of anything important.

But the real kicker was when we downed the last two hour and a half episodes that completed season six. When the last credit rolled, we were left sitting there with, as usual, 45 questions left hanging in the air. My patience was fading and we both squinted at each other. My wife and I expected more. Wanted more. Deserved more of an explanation.

In the end we realized that, the hours wasted watching the show equaled a total of five days we would never get back. All that time we could've been out with friends. We could've been living it up. I could've been writing.

Look, I know that J.J. Abrams wasn't originally to blame, because he focused on Season 1 & 2 and left the rest of the show to dimwits, but he abandoned a project that left way too many holes. With each episode I felt as if I were kicked in the face.

So, okay, J.J. Abrams wowed me with the Star Trek movie but, as my wife and I have discussed, that wasn't his baby. He was working with someone else's brain child. He did a good job but most of his movies just left me disappointed.

Cloverfield? Too much noise and not enough explanation.

Mission Impossible 3? It was alright but not groundbreaking.

Fringe? I stopped watching after ten episodes.

Now everyone is telling me to go watch Super 8. Well, whatever excitement I had toward that movie has disappeared. Enough so that I may just wait until it is on dvd.

So, there you have it. A Lost rant if there ever was one.

So disappointing. I guess the only thing I've taken away from the show is that it was a lesson on how not to F^*% with your audience when you are writing. The acting was good, the story was compelling, but everything fell short. I mean everything.

If you're like me, I know you've probably watched the Epilogue show somewhere online (which answered two meaningless questions) and you've probably come across the Lostpedia site which tries to satiate your frothing curiosity but, in the end, it wasn't worth the time. I guess I'll just have to settle for self-contained shows in the long-run.

That's about it.

LOST

2011-06-14T22:44:00.003-05:00

Let be clear, for the record, about my brief take on the show Lost.

To my potential future readers, I make this promise: I will never do, what the creators of Lost did, when they wrote the season 6 finale episode.

That was the biggest cop out ever.

Wow.

Lost.

Not much else I can say about it other than that.

The Return of The Pizza Man

2011-05-27T11:39:00.002-05:00

I touched on this briefly back in March but I just wanted to give all my readers a heads-up. I've mentioned a couple times that my father is a brilliant pizza-maker. He puts his heart into every slice, letting no detail falter when creating the perfect pizza-pie. Recently he set up shop in Melrose Park, where I was originally living before I got married. The restaurant has been open about two weeks so far and I've already started getting ideas for commercials and other promotional videos.

If you live in the Chicago area, I highly recommend you grab a slice at

6 north 19th ave

Melrose Park.

Until then, please enjoy these videos which I made with my new Flip Mino. Also, share these videos with your friends. We're trying to spread the word.

Pizzeria Del Sole Commercial #1

The Rebirth of Sherlock Holmes

2011-05-27T11:13:00.004-05:00

So my friend got me and my wife into this new show called Sherlock Holmes. I know what you're thinking.

There have been a million incarnations of Sherlock. What's one more?

But this, my friends, is a very smart show hosted on the BBC. It appears on Masterpiece Mystery. Imagine, if you will, that Sherlock and Dr. Watson were modern men. What would they look like today? What would they act like? That's the basis for this show. They combine all the elements of what made the Sherlock stories great and update them, giving them a CSI quality. Also, they've saw fit to create websites that lend to the Sherlock universe such as The Blog of John Watson and The Science of Deduction.

You don't believe that a show could be that good? Well then check out the trailer below and judge for yourself.

Flamingos

2011-04-17T11:07:00.000-05:00

Thanks for the offer to interview me.

What is your earliest memory of writing?
I remember making little books for my mother when I was really young. I would draw pictures and then write a story about them. I was always making up some kind of story back then.

How does it feel being published?
It feels amazing. I love the fact that people are out there losing themselves in a world that I’ve created.

When did you decide to be a writer?
I don’t know if I ever really decided to be a writer, it just sort of happened. I was always writing. I always had a notebook and pen with me everywhere I went. Writing was not only something I felt I had to do, but something I loved doing. I figured I might as well try to make a career out of it.

Do you get writer's block? How do you combat it?
I do tend to get writer’s block from time to time. I usually always have several projects going at one time. If I get stuck, I switch and start working on something else. Sometime’s changing my scenery or even changing the pen I’m writing with can help, too. If that doesn’t work and I still feel like I can’t write, I tend to relax with a good book. The words start flowing again after time spent lost in another world.

Where do you write? Do you write longhand, typewriter or computer?
I write anywhere I can. Seriously, I always have my notebooks with me. I write everything in longhand, so it’s easier to find a few moments here and there to work. I just pull out my notebook and go.

Tell us about your Latest Book.
I’m working on several novels right now. I’m really excited about my upcoming horror novel called Flamingos. It’s about a guy who finds out the hard way that they boogey man is very real. I’m also working on the sequel to Weaver of Darkness. It’s called Angel of Darkness.

What advice do you have for aspiring writers?
The best advice I can give is just to write and keep on writing. Too many people sit around and say they’re going to write a book, yet they never do. You just need to write, no matter what, everyday.

My website: www.melissalwebb.com

my blog: www.melissalwebb.wordpress.com

twitter: www.twitter.com/melissalwebb

my fan page: http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Melissa-L-Webb/193813600663672

I’m an author who enjoys all things paranormal. I currently live between the ocean and the redwoods in Northern California, with my dog, Buffy.

The idea for Weaver Of Darkness has been with me since I was very young. Day after day, it haunted my mind until I realized I had to write it down and share it with the world or I would literally go insane from ignoring it. Once I put pen to paper, the story just weaved itself, as if I was only unearthing it for the first time in years. Weaver Of Darkness has always had a mind of its own.

Excerpt from Weaver of Darkness:

The cloaked figure emerged out of the trees and stared into the silver goblet in his hands. The liquid inside sparkled like quicksilver in the moon light. He’d seen all he needed to tonight. The time of transformation was at hand. Soon What Was and What Is would once again merge and usher in the time of conflict.

Murmuring over the cup, he poured the liquid upon the ground. The silver stream arched and weaved as it made its way back into the earth, back into the knowledge it was brought forth from. Everything was about to change. The knowledge showed that. This was the eve of the new world. Soon it would arise like the phoenix out of the flames, and what was started, would soon be finished. He pulled the hood from the cloak up and tucked the cup in the overlapping material flowing at his waist. Slipping back into the woods, he pondered his next move. The events were already set in motion. Soon it would be time. Now, She just had to remember.

Slade's Destiny

2011-04-16T11:00:00.000-05:00

What is your earliest memory of writing? A ‘novel’ I wrote when I was about 10 that was like a cross between Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys – it was called Key Investigators and the Mystery of the Aztec Dagger – for a 10 year old, it wasn’t bad.

How does it feel being published? Being published is a dream come true, I’ve always wanted to be a writer so now I’m, literally, living the dream.

When did you decide to be a writer? I can’t remember ever NOT wanting to write. It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do.

Do you get writer's block? How do you combat it? Sometimes I get, not writer’s block exactly but stuck in a scene or passage – I usually go back and check what I’ve written before and see if I’ve missed something and that usually shakes me out of it.

Where do you write? Do you write longhand, typewriter or computer? I have a great study, set up perfectly for a writer, I use a computer but I’ve also got tons of reference books both for my fiction work and non-fiction work.

Tell us about your Latest Book. Slade’s Destiny is the final of The Witchcraft Wars series and I truly think it’s the best thing I’ve ever written – fast paced, action paced, quite a few surprises and a few cliff hanger chapter endings.

What advice do you have for aspiring writers? Write and just keep writing, it may take a very long time before you’ve written something worth publishing but if you don’t at least try then you’ll never know if you could.

My Links:

Website: http://traceyalley.weebly.com/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Tracey-Alley-The-World-of-Kaynos/127959000550782

Twitter: http://twitter.com/traceylalley

For purchase

Amazon - http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=tracey+alley&x=0&y=0

Smashwords - http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/15058

Some Rivers End on the Day of the Dead

2011-04-15T11:00:00.001-05:00

My earliest memory of writing something besides my name and worksheets for phonics comes from second grade. I had a kind-hearted, older teacher named Mrs. MacDonald. She was so old she had taught my mother, my uncles, and my brother. She expected great things from me.

Once she noticed that I loved to write stories, she encouraged me to writer longer and longer stories. I wrote about the camping trips my family took, the pigeons we kept in a backyard coop, and our other pets. Mrs. MacDonald read every word. She helped me to understand how to develop different feelings and different kinds of narratives.

Being published is a dream come true. When the first proofed copy of my first book arrived, I kissed the cover and looked to the heavens. Though I should have also included Mrs. MacDonald, I said to the clouds, “Thank you, Mama.” I wished I could have shared the book with her.

In third grade, my teacher read to us every day, books such as The Big Wave by Pearl Buck. I became passionate about reading and wondered if I could actually develop into a writer. I wrote letters constantly as a child. But it wasn’t until I had finished my teaching career (34 years in a public high school) that I said to myself, “If not now, when?” I enrolled in UCLA’s Writers’ Program, and off I went.

I definitely get writer’s block. I have the sequel to my first novel sitting in stasis right now because I have written myself into a corner with one of the main characters. Every day I work on a different direction for her. But even while that book simmers, I am writing flash fiction and revising a prior novel. For flash fiction, I find that music scrambles on my MP-3 player or coloring in a coloring book help me to find ideas that have been lying latent in my brain. I am also someone who walks a lot (I have two dogs), and when I walk, I think. One of my favorite things is to look for images in the clouds.

Although my creative writing teachers felt that a long-hand journal frees the soul to write, I write best at my computer in my den. I try to ignore the phone, the Internet, and other distractions for at least two hours of each morning.

I have three latest books. The first is a flash fiction anthology called “Flash Warden and Other Stories.” I have included in the anthology my favorite flash fiction pieces, hint fiction (25 words or fewer) and six categories of six-word memoirs. I am hoping the book will be used by aspiring writers and also by teachers or subs who need to fill some time in classrooms with creative stories and follow-up prompts.

The second book is a rewrite of my first-written (but not published) novel, Stairs of Sand. I have worked on this book for five years. It definitely has benefited from the latest rewrite and should be out later this summer. The story follows two women, a mother and a daughter, each with borderline personality disorder, each with her heart closed against the other. It is a journey told in two voices of the way childhood’s hurts can be overcome. The story carries some autobiographical elements such as the setting, but I guarantee that it is pure fiction and does not represent my family. I wrote it as an exploration of the ability to change and improve family ties at any age or time of life.

Finally, I am working on the sequel to Some Rivers End on the Day of the Dead. The next book is called So You, Solimar. It features some of the characters from Some Rivers End, but takes place sixteen years later. This means the setting is 2018. That’s part of my problem with writer’s block. Yes, the world will change by 2018, but in what ways? I don’t want to write a dystopian novel. This book, like Some Rivers End, focuses on family and school and coming-of-age because I think kids need to see others struggle, sometimes in far more dire circumstances, as they grow into their own values.

Any aspiring writer needs to remember that many people say, “Oh, I should write a book,” but few actually do it. If you want to write, then BIC—butt in chair. Sit down and write at the same time every day. Do not make allowances for yourself to skip your writing time or to place it last on your agenda. You will always be too tired and too busy to write if you don’t put your writing into your daily routine. Secondly, be careful about your writing group. Pick people who are not your best friends. You want their honest criticism, kindly and openly offered. You should not be in a writing group that tells you everything you write is wonderful. At the same time, if someone in your writing group has a particular vendetta against you, you don’t need that either. And above all, send your writing out! Why not? You will receive many rejections, but the feeling when someone says “yes” to publishing one of your works is the feeling you have worked for through hours of practicing, polishing, and pain.

Bio:

Eileen Granfors lives in Santa Clarita, California. A former army brat who was born in New Orleans and lived in Germany, she and her family settled in Imperial Beach, California, where her mother’s love of body surfing turned her into an avid surfer girl. Eileen is a proud UCLA alumna. She has published her first novel, Some Rivers End on the Day of the Dead, a coming-of-age multicultural look at the Hispanic tradition of the Day of the Dead. She is working on its sequel, So You, Solimar.

some rivers end on the day of the dead

Eileen Granfors

Catier's Ring

2011-04-14T11:00:00.001-05:00

What is your earliest memory of writing?

I was writing as soon as I could read. In Kindergarten, I wrote a story about dragons. It was all of eight lines long, but it was my first story.

How does it feel being published?

The aspect of being published I most enjoy is finding connections with readers. When a story is complete and published, it is in its final, mature form. I am continually surprised at the dramatic variation in reader response to a finished work. I learn so much from the emails and messages I receive, and especially from interviews and podcasts. It is not at all uncommon for me to get the impression that readers have a bigger stake in the work than I do, and that is quite a humbling realization.

When did you decide to be a writer?

I knew I would be writing even before I finished high school. It was not until late in my career that I decided to attempt fiction. I began outlining my first novel in 2000 and completed it in 2005. "Cartier's Ring" is actually my third novel, though it became the first one published earlier this year.

Do you get writer's block? How do you combat it?

There is always something to write. If I can't punch my way through a scene, I'll go to work on television analysis or a current events essay. If I just can't seem to get my fingers to work the keyboard I'll spend a couple hours reading, or do physical exercises. It's usually not too long before an idea pops up and then I can finish the scene or continue the analysis.

Where do you write? Do you write longhand, typewriter or computer?

I often outline longhand, but I write scenes and put together television analysis using my computer.

Tell us about your Latest Book.

"Cartier's Ring" is action-adventure historical fiction set in 16th century Canada. Though the novel is the result of painstaking research over twelve years, the novel is really carried on the strength of the protagonist, Myeerah of Hawk Clan. She is the most headstrong character in any of my novels, and she really brought life to the story. Readers have told me they've cried in the middle of the book. That's the type of praise writers love to receive, of course, but the credit really goes to Myeerah.

What advice do you have for aspiring writers?

Read as much as you can and be sure you understand the rules of spelling, grammar, and composition. Most wannabe writers these days believe that Spell Check can repair any deficiencies in basic knowledge of the language. For good or for bad, though, the software has not yet been created that can transform leaden words into golden prose. When you no longer use Spell Check, you are ready to attempt writing, but you are still years away from publishing. You will spend the next few years learning, and this means a lot of work with several critique partners over long months and years. When an honest reviewer gives you a thumbs up, you're ready to publish.

Read more about "Cartier's Ring": http://pearsonmoore.net/CartiersRing.aspx

Purchase "Cartier's Ring": http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004VMTS7E/?tag=kindleboards-20

Excerpt from "Cartier's Ring":

The women will laugh at me. Only men have dreams such as this, not girls. Not the daughter of a slave.

I paddle the canoe upwind toward the berry patch, tacking as Tsiko taught me. He says our birch bark canoes are lighter than the elmwood craft of the Hodenosaunee, but with the wind howling in my face and the waves pushing me back, I feel I’m paddling a heavy log upstream. The water splashes onto my skirt and my belly—cold but delicious. I look down to see a drop hit my chest, and I laugh.

I grab the bow and quiver and jump out into the shallow salt water at the shore. Water penetrates my moccasins and leggings, a pleasant shock. Grasping the bow in my right hand, I pull the canoe onto shore, toss the quiver over my shoulder, and run into the meadow.

Panting, I sprint over to the great sugar maple and touch the two horizontal lines I carved yesterday in the bark, three hand spans apart. Today I will stay here until I hit it. The women won’t understand. I don’t understand. But dreams are always true.

I take five long strides toward the meadow, another five, five more, and I turn around, my long black hair batting my face in the wind. The tree is three counts of five paces away, and the two lines on the trunk seem impossibly close together. But today I will hit it.

The arrow is light in my hand as I level the nock and draw back, feeling the string taut in my fingers. I concentrate on the broad trunk of the maple, thinking of what Tsiko said: ‘Aim high and you’ll hit the deer.’ I raise the bow three finger widths toward the sky and—

“Sister!”

Lightning fear courses through my arms, the arrow shoots out of the bow and past the tree.

I pivot and see him: Domagaya, standing not four paces away.

I know he will laugh. The women’s laughter is as nothing. But Domagaya’s laughter will slice deeper than seashell.

“You missed.” Domagaya’s voice is deep but playful.

I look up and see the mirth in his eyes. But he's not laughing, only smiling.

“Only because you scared me.” I stare at him, my eyes taking in his broad chest and thick arms, the deep scars of proof on his forearms and thighs and chest. He is the Grand Sachem’s second son. He is our best hunter, and the warrior who saved us last summer. But most of all, he is tall and beautiful, and I adore him.

He pulls his eyes away from me and squints at the maple tree. “Why is a girl of not yet twelve winters using my little brother’s bow? You’ll hurt your arms, and you won’t harvest corn when we return to our kanata.”

“It’s—” I stare into his beautiful eyes, but the feeling is too strong, and I look down.

"You used to run out into the forest in Stadacona—out to the big maple tree near the river. You were shooting arrows there, too? In Stadacona?"

I nod, keeping my head down.

"Why?"

I raise my eyes. “It's my dream.”

"A dream of black snakes," he says, smiling. "An Iroku dream—from the girl of Hodenosaunee blood."

"I'm not Hodenosaunee." He makes me angry with his words. "I'm Myeerah, child of Aataensic. Mine is the dream of a Wendat girl."

He smiles no more, but his eyes are hypnotic. “Dreams are always true—truer than life. But dreams of bow and arrow don’t come to little girls, only to men.”

“I'm not a little girl.” I stare into his face, and his eyes wander over my body. I feel a sudden and strange thrill radiate through me.

“No, you’re not.” He gazes into my eyes, smiling. But it is not the smile of his face—it is the smile of his heart. A cool wind penetrates my leggings, but I feel warm all over.

“Tell me your dream.”

The smile has left his face, but his eyes are intense, as if the wind and the tree and my arrow no longer have significance to him. He needs to hear my dream. I shudder for a moment, then begin.

“A red snake comes to the kanata as the sun sets and wraps around a woman’s leg. As she struggles, the snake's scales fall off, and underneath it's black. Her husband runs to her, bow in hand, but a white wolf comes from behind, sinks his jaws into the man's leg, and pulls him toward the forest. The man throws his bow to the woman, and she shoots an arrow, wounding the white wolf.”

“And the wolf releases the man?”

“Yes.”

Domagaya picks up the bow and strides toward the maple; I follow. He knows exactly where to find the arrow, and draws it from the brush. He walks behind me, placing his warm hand on my naked back as he pulls the quiver over my shoulder. I wish for him to continue touching me, but he takes his hand away. I cannot have him, anyway; I am not yet a woman. We walk back out to the meadow.

“You didn’t draw properly.”

I frown. “That’s not why I missed. You startled me.”

“No.” Domagaya nocks the arrow and draws out the sinew. “You need to pull out straight. Watch.” He draws the string back almost to his cheek, his eyes dead on the target, and releases. The arrow flies like lightning and hits the tree with the sound of an axe splitting wood. The point is embedded deep in the tree, right between the horizontal lines.

I run to the maple. With great effort, I pull out the arrow and turn toward Domagaya. Far behind him, past the meadow, on the shores of the Great Salt Water, five canoes approach from the north, farther than the arrow flies, but closing fast. They are not birch bark, but a dark wood of some kind, except for the last canoe—it is pure white. Their paddles are strange.

Domagaya says, “You didn’t tell me what happened to the woman in your dream.”

I see the men in the boat, their markings. My heart skips a beat, and I cannot get my mouth to work. I know who they are, and what they will do. I fall into a crouch.

Domagaya turns to the shore, sees the canoes, and ducks into the grass. “Iroku! Black snakes. Get down!”

I dive into the grass. My heart beats wildly in my ears, louder than the wind, louder than the waves on shore. I hear them now, though I dare not rise up to look. As fast as I can manage, I crawl over to Domagaya.

“They’ve come to take me back,” I whisper. The blood is pounding in my ears, my hands shaking.

“No, you were born here,” Domagaya whispers. “You’re one of us now. You’re Myeerah, daughter of Aataentsic.”

I feel heat on my cheeks and warmth in my heart. He cares about me. He will protect me. He will protect all of us. I huddle close to him, rubbing his arm in affection.

“Through the berry patch.” Domagaya points to the bushes behind the sugar maple. “Take the path to camp. Hurry!”

On my knees, I scurry over to the tree. I look back, and stop breathing. Domagaya, bow in hand, rises to his feet, opens his lips and squints, looking out toward the shore.

Thank you for offering to do this!

All the best,

Pearson Moore

Lawyers, Guns and Money

2011-04-13T11:00:00.002-05:00

Today we have J.D. Rhoades.

What is your earliest memory of writing?

As a kid I read all the time. One of the books I really liked was Louise Fitzhugh’s HARRIET THE SPY. I immediately got a notebook and started writing observations down. Later, as a teenager, I was big on keeping journals. I wrote a few short stories, but nothing that I dared show anyone.

How does it feel being published?

Well, I’ve been published, and I’ve been out of print. Published is better.

When did you decide to be a writer?

I’d taken several courses in the creative writing curriculum in college (UNC Chapel Hill). I had some great teachers like Doris Betts and Lee Smith, but I got a real inferiority complex out of the experience--I was interested in science fiction and mysteries, and there wasn’t a whole lot of understanding or tolerance for “genre fiction.” So I didn’t write much of anything for the next thirteen years. Around 1996, I wrote a couple of short, satirical letters to the local newspaper, which led to them asking me to write a weekly column. The editor at the time said one day “Hey, you’re pretty good, why don’t you write a novel?” So I did. It went nowhere, but by then I had the bug.

Do you get writer's block? How do you combat it?

I don’t believe in writer’s block. I have, however, occasionally suffered a total failure of motivation, where everything I wrote was so god-awful to my eyes that it physically hurt to look at or even think about. When that happens, I just can’t bring myself to sit down at the computer.

So I try to shake things up. I’ll write a chapter in longhand, for example, just for the change of pace. Or change the font. Or read something I wouldn't normally read. Anything for a little mental jolt.

Where do you write? Do you write longhand, typewriter or computer?

I write on a couple of different computers at home and at my day job. I used to have to save to a flash drive and carry the MS from place to place. Thanks to “cloud computing”, though, I can now save my WIP to something like Dropbox and pick it up later to work on on another machine.

Tell us about your Latest Book.

LAWYERS GUNS AND MONEY is the story of Andy Cole, a successful small town criminal lawyer who’s gotten where he is by keeping the towns’ secrets and generally going along to get along. When he’s asked to defend the younger brother of the local crime boss on a murder charge, he starts finding out that there are secrets even he doesn’t know. The pressure ramps up on him to go along with selling out his client and keeping the secrets buried. Andy has to face the loss of everything, including his life, if he does the right thing. Along the way, he starts developing real feelings for the woman with whom he’s been having an on-again, off-again affair, and she ends up at risk as well.

What advice do you have for aspiring writers?

AIC,FOK. Ass In Chair, Fingers On Keyboard. Everything else is arguable.

J.D. Rhoades lives in North Carolina, where he was born and raised and where he sets his books. He's worked as a radio news reporter, club DJ, television cameraman, ad salesman, waiter, practicing attorney, and award winning newspaper columnist. He's appeared on public television and radio and on the BBC World Service.

Why I wrote this book: Since my day job is as a practicing attorney, people have been asking for years when I was going to write a "legal" thriller. Most of those, however, have a very distorted view of how law practice actually works--you don't have just one client or case, your clients aren't always innocent (even though they may not be guilty of what they're charged with), you worry about getting paid, etc. I've also wanted to write a classic hardboiled P.I. novel, the one where the world weary and cynical sleuth finds he has a heart and a soft spot for the underdog. So this one, I hope combines the two.

LAWYERS GUNS AND MONEY for Kindle:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B004OYTU0O

For Nook:

http://search.barnesandnoble.com/booksearch/isbninquiry.asp?ean=2940012409171

For other formats:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/43619

Excerpt:

He was tipped back in one of my client chairs, head thrown back, his leather cowboy hat pulled down over his eyes. His long gray ponytail hung straight down, almost reaching the floor. A battered leather satchel sat next to the chair. He had his Tony Lama boots propped up on the desk and his hands folded on his chest. He looked like he was asleep.

“Voit,” I said, raising my voice slightly, “I ever come in your place and put my feet up on your bar?”

Slowly, he raised the hat and looked at me for a long moment. “Don’t recall that, no,” he said.

“Then why don’t you do me the same d*mn courtesy?” I knocked his feet off my desk with my free hand. He wobbled for a moment in the chair before it tipped forward and brought him upright with a thump. He sat straight up and glared at me.

A lot of people would have called me crazy for laying a hand on Voit Fairgreen. He’d shot men for less, or so the legend held. He’d never been charged with anything above a class G felony, and thanks to me, he’d mostly avoided jail time for those. Mostly. But people who’d made him angry or crossed him in his diversified businesses—drugs, gambling, non-tax-paid cigarettes and alcohol--had a habit of dropping suddenly out of sight and not coming back. All that said, with some clients you have to take a stand damned quickly, or they’ll make your life miserable. Voit Fairgreen definitely fell into that category. Plus, he obviously needed me, or he wouldn’t be here this early, so I figured I was fairly safe.

I sat down in my chair. “So what can I do for you?” I asked pleasantly.

His eyes were still narrowed, but his voice was calm as he said, “I come to talk about Danny.”

“Ah,” I said. “And how is the white sheep of the Fairgreen clan?” Of the five brothers and three sisters that Amos and Paulette Fairgreen had inflicted on an unsuspecting world, Danny, the baby of the family, was good-looking, a gifted athlete, and the only one who showed any promise of being worth a d*mn.

“You ain’t heard, then?”

I shook my head.

“He’s in the jailhouse.”

“Huh. What’s he charged with? DWI? Possession?”

Fairgreen’s shoulders sagged. “They say he kilt somebody.”

I put my coffee cup down. “Hold on just a second.” I picked up the phone and hit a button. “Chuck,” I said, “I’m going to need you to cover the calendar call for me this morning. Max has the files. Continue what you can, handle what you can’t.” I hung up the phone, cutting off Chuck’s questions. He’d figure out what to do. He’d passed the Bar only three weeks ago, but being tossed into the deep end without water wings is the lot of the young associate.

“Now,” I said. “Who’s he charged with killing?”

Voit rubbed his eyes. The lines in his weathered face looked like canyons. I felt bad for being so rough with him earlier. I let the feeling pass through me.

“Girl named Chloe. Worked at the Rancho. Waitress.”

“What makes them think he did it?”

“They found him passed out in her house. With her.”

I nodded, keeping the poker face in place. Your client being found in the presence of a dead body is widely regarded as a bad thing among the defense bar. Still, you have to show confidence, even if you’re not feeling it. “Okay. He had his 96 hour hearing yet?” A person arrested had to be brought before a judge within 96 hours of being locked up to be formally advised of his charges and his right to a lawyer.

Voit shook his head. He picked up the satchel and reached inside. He came out with a bulging manila envelope, which he threw on the desk. It made a satisfying thump. “Tell me if that’s not enough.”

I picked up the envelope and opened it. It was stuffed with bills, most of them hundreds. “Do I want to know where this came from, Voit?”

“It comes from me,” he said. “That’s all you need to know.”

I let it go. “I’ll be at the hearing at 9:30,” I said. “Tell Danny you hired me. And tell him to keep his mouth shut. He talks to no one about this but me. No one. Got that?”

Voit sounded a little insulted. “He knows all that,” he said. “He’s a Fairgreen.”

Which doesn’t make my job any easier, I thought, but I didn’t say it. I walked Voit out into the waiting room. Two more of Voit’s younger brothers were seated there, taking up most of my waiting-room couch. It’s a rare gift to be able to look as if you’re looming while you’re sitting down, but the twins, Liberty and Justice, were big and ugly enough to pull it off. Both twins were once and future clients as well. A lawyer with less expensive tastes and fewer ex-wives could probably have made a comfortable living off the Fairgreens alone. I nodded to them as they got up. They nodded back.

As I walked back into my office, I caught a glimpse of Maxine, my office manager, in the hallway, talking to Becky-or-Becca. I couldn’t see her face, but from what I could see on the receptionist’s, there was a thorough ass-chewing going on. I went in, sat down, and checked my calendar. Looked like a medium-heavy day in District Court. Nothing Chuck couldn’t handle. I hoped.

Max came into the office. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days. There were dark circles under her eyes, her normally crisp pantsuit hadn’t been ironed, and her shoulders looked like she’d been carrying concrete-filled sacks. She fell into one of the client chairs and ran a hand absently through her short, iron-gray hair.

“Sorry, Boss,” she said, her voice rusty and hoarse. “I should have been here. He’d never have gotten past me.”

“No worries,” I said.

“Say the word and she’s gone.”

“Nah,” I said. “You’ve put the fear in her. We’ll see if it takes.” I held up the manila envelope full of cash. “Looks like we’ve been retained.”

Her tired eyes got wider as I dumped it out onto the desk. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” she said, then crossed herself. “What’d Voit do now?”

“Not Voit,” I said. “Danny. He’s charged with murder.”

“Danny? No way.”

“I hope the jury has the same reaction. Count this up and put it in the trust account till I figure out what’s going on.”

Expert Assistance

2011-04-12T11:00:00.002-05:00

Today we have Robert L. Collins, author of Expert Assistance.

What is your earliest memory of writing?

Don't really have one. I made up stories when I was young, but I didn't start thinking about "writing" until junior high school.

How does it feel being published?

Well, my first short story sale was in 1990. It felt great! Still feels good to sell a piece or get a book out.

When did you decide to be a writer?

I start writing in 8th Grade. I had seen Star Wars and got into Star Trek. I was always creative, and then I read Asimov on Science Fiction. This was the first time I became aware of writing. I thought it sounded like a good way to channel my creativity. I've been at it ever since.

Do you get writer's block? How do you combat it?

Not much, though I can be stopped when something gets strained. I've found the best way to keep from being blocked is to have more than one project to work on at one time. It's one of the reasons why I write nonfiction (mainly history) as well as science fiction & fantasy.

Where do you write? Do you write longhand, typewriter or computer?

In my "office" at home, on my iMac. I really couldn't type until I started using a computer. Until recently I wrote some things in longhand when I was on the road. Now that I have an iPad, I'm going to use that if I have to write while traveling.

Tell us about your Latest Book.

The book I'm plugging right now is the new edition of my first published novel, Expert Assistance.

Blurb: To get out of debt, spacer Jake Bonner takes on two odd jobs. The first, chauffeur pop star Evvie Martini on her tour; the second, helping Daniel and Clarissa Rosen overthrow their planet’s tyrannical ruler. Unfortunately for Jake, Evvie finds out about his second assignment and, hoping to advance her career, invites herself to the revolution. From there the absurdity grows for Jake and his band of “freedom fighters.” Expert Assistance pokes fun at revolutions, pop culture, and some of the cliches of sci-fi.

What advice do you have for aspiring writers?

First off, learn the basics: plot, character, description, dialogue. Write as much as you can, every day if you can manage it, and try to write at least a couple of pages at that time. Finish what you start. Begin with short stories or articles to learn and to earn some publishing experience. Above all, keep at it!

My blog: http://robertlcollins.blogspot.com/

Expert Assistance at Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004LGS7KO

Black Diamond Death

2011-04-11T11:00:00.004-05:00

Today we have Cheryl Bradshaw, author of Black Diamond Death.

What is your earliest memory of writing?

I would say junior high school. I started off writing poems and I used to make up a lot of stories in my head, but I never actually put pen to paper until high school. It was then that one of my teachers suggested writing to me as a career. I remember in high school typing a short story on my dad’s old typewriter and it didn’t type out all the keys and when my teacher read it he said, “A good story marred by too many careless errors.” And since I knew why it had the errors, all I could think about was the fact that he called it “a good story”.

How does it feel being published?

It feels like I just climbed Mount Everest, and now I’m standing at the top realizing that I really can do anything. In two months I’ve sold almost 1,200 copies and that feels amazing. The fact that my story is out there being enjoyed by readers everywhere is more than I could have hoped for. It has exceeded every expectation I have ever had for myself.

When did you decide to be a writer?

At 17 I became fully cognizant of how passionate I was about writing, but it took two decades for me to actually decide to start and finish a book and then publish it.

Do you get writer's block? How do you combat it?

Not really. I have days where I read what I have written and I know it’s not my best, but I don’t worry too much about it because I know that once I edit it, it will be much better. When I write a first draft I look at it like it’s the skeleton and I know I can return later and flesh it out.

Where do you write? Do you write longhand, typewriter or computer?

I write on my laptop, and even though I have a perfectly lovely desk, I am usually sitting on my bed typing away.

Tell us about your Latest Book.

My first novel, Black Diamond Death (the first in a series), was published in March 2011. It follows Sloane Monroe, a private investigator living in Park City, Utah. The story opens with a skier found dead on the slopes and then quickly escalates as the presumed accident turns to a possible murder.

Here’s an overview:

"IN A PANIC I GASPED FOR AIR, BUT THERE WASN'T ANY. I TRIED TO CRY OUT, BUT I WAS ALONE, AND IN MY HYSTERIA IT HIT ME. I HAD FELT A SIMILAR FEELING BEFORE––LIKE MY BODY WAS GIVING OUT ON ME, AND I KNEW WHAT IT MEANT. I WAS DYING."

Enter the world of Sloane Monroe in Black Diamond Death...

A SKIER CRASHES

On the slopes of Park City, Utah’s newest ski resort a woman is found dead. At first glance, it has all the makings of an accident. The victim, Charlotte Halliwell, collided with a tree as she schussed her way to the bottom of the hill. But what if her death wasn’t an accident at all––what if she was murdered?

A SISTER IS ON A MISSION

In Black Diamond Death, Audrey Halliwell faces a problem: finding someone who believes her story.

Enter Private Investigator Sloane Monroe.

When Audrey marches into Sloane’s office with claims her sister’s death was no accident Sloane is skeptical at first, but agrees to take the case. With little to go on, she questions the people in Charlotte’s life and discovers Parker Stanton, a jilted ex-fiancé with plenty to hide, and as the son of a prominent businessman, he will go to any lengths to protect his secrets.

A SECOND BODY IS FOUND

Just as Sloane feels she's close to solving the case she stumbles on another dead body and is forced to re-examine the clues from the beginning, but she must tread lightly. With the killer aware that Sloane will stop at nothing to find him, her life is in danger and her every move is being tracked. Will Sloane uncover the truth before he strikes again?

What advice do you have for aspiring writers?

1. Live your dream and don’t allow yourself to be dissuaded from doing what you love.
2. Never give up, and don’t let anyone convince you that you are any less than you are.
3. Read daily.
4. Write daily.
5. Don’t ever stop learning and growing. Writing is a process, a craft and there’s always room for improvement.
6.Learn from others. Want to know how other writers did it? Read their blogs, visit their websites, read their guest posts, and hang out where other writers hang out. You will learn a lifetime of tips and tricks by connecting with other writers, and you’ll also make some lifetime friends along the way. It’s a win-win.
7.Promote yourself. It’s something I wish I didn’t have to do, but no one else is going to do it for you – so buck up little soldier and get yourself out there!

And last but not least, I have a set of quotes by my desk that I read often including this one which is one of my favorites:

"Follow your bliss and the universe will open doors for you where there were only walls." -Joseph Campbell

Where to find Cheryl Bradshaw

Website: http://www.cherylbradshaw.com/

Blog: http://unearththeclues.blogspot.com/

Facebook Author Page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Cheryl-Bradshaw-Author-Page/193229280695236

Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/cherylbradshaw

Black Diamond Death Excerpt

The air was calm, but I was restless. I had a decision to make so I did what I always do when push comes to shove––I shoved back, but not in the way one might think. Skiing had always been my release. There was something about being surrounded by fresh powder in the clean, open air that reminded me what it felt like to be alive. I could stand on a mountaintop with a world of trouble on my mind, and it didn’t matter. Every care I had dissolved just like the snow soon would and the mountain would be reduced to tiny patches of white, mere remnants of a ski slope that once provided the town’s entertainment for the season.

In a few minutes I’d get together with Audrey for lunch and do something that didn’t come easy––tell her the truth. It wasn’t that I lied to her; I was a master in the fine art of keeping things to myself. I always thought it was better that way. But I was wrong to allow her limited access to my life, and I wanted to change that. So I’d explain it all to her, and once I finished I would reveal my plan and hope she’d understand. She just had to.

I rounded the last narrow pass on the slope and traveled downhill through the trees. My tongue had gone numb over the past couple hours and every time my teeth hit against it I felt nothing, like it wasn’t even there, and my throat felt like a strand of lit matches were pressed hard against it. I wondered if I was getting sick. That would explain the unrest in my stomach. The flu had made its way around town so it made sense that it would make it to me, but if it was the flu, why had I lost all the feeling in my face?

I ran my gloved hand across my goggles, but it didn’t help––even when I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again the trail in front of me was a blur. With what little force I had left, I jammed my poles into the snow and tried to stop, but the slope was too steep and I couldn’t bend my hands or even move them for that matter. My fingers felt like long shards of ice and in one simultaneous motion they launched a mass of frozen liquid throughout my body.

What was happening to me?

In a panic I gasped for air, but there wasn’t any. I tried to cry out, but I was alone, and in my hysteria it hit me. I had felt a similar feeling before––like my body was giving out on me, and I knew what it meant.

I was dying.

Crystal Tomb

2011-04-10T11:00:00.001-05:00

Today we have Melanie Nilles.

What is your earliest memory of writing?

Third grade. I had a teacher who encouraged us to write our own stories. Every child loves making up stories, but I kept it up through school until I was older and actually learned how to focus my attention on telling a complete story.

How does it feel being published?

It's great knowing that others are reading your work. It's not being published that's exciting though; it's being read. The purpose of writing is to share ideas, specifically the ones in the writer's head. Being published is just a stepping stone to sharing that with the world.

When did you decide to be a writer?

In college is when I decided I wanted to actually be a writer and started writing regularly. Of course, those early drafts sucked, but over lots of practice, I improved.

Do you get writer's block? How do you combat it?

Sometimes, but I don't think of it as writer's block. If I'm blocked, there's a reason for it, and often that reason is because something is wrong in the story but I haven't consciously worked it out. Once I have, I can move forward again.

Where do you write? Do you write longhand, typewriter or computer?

I prefer to write with my laptop on my bed. Often the best ideas come during sleep or just before falling asleep, so the bed tends to be my most creative place in the house. And I can have some peace while the family is making noise elsewhere in the house.

Tell us about your Latest Book.

I have a new book coming out Memorial Day (U.S.) week. It's the third book in my popular young adult Starfire Angels series. The title is CRYSTAL TOMB.

Description:

The Shirukan aren't the only threat to the Starfire shard Raea bears...

An alien enemy has awakened to reclaim the crystal that was theirs, and those last survivors of a war that nearly destroyed Inar'Ahben aren't afraid to kill anyone who stands in their way.

An ancient monument to a mythical civilization on Earth may hold the key to stopping the new enemy, if the secret of its origins can be unlocked. Raea is running out of time to solve the most puzzling question of human history and resolve the conflict brought to Earth. If she fails, she may lose more than the Starfire...

What advice do you have for aspiring writers?

Dreams take time to mature. If you want something bad enough, you have to work hard to make it happen. No one is going to just hand you the keys to success. Only you can make that happen.

Also, never give up trying to improve. Perfection is impossible, but making the best better is not.

Thank you for the chance to share a few thoughts.

Melanie

www.melanienilles.com>

The Cameo Trilogy

2011-04-09T23:00:00.002-05:00

Today we have Dawn McCullough-White. She's almost finished with a very interesting trilogy.

Bio:

Dawn McCullough-White writes mainly dark fantasy and horror.

Her novels tend to favor the use of anti-authority anti-heroes as

the main characters, most commonly with a strong,

female protagonist.

Dawn was born in 1969, in Rochester, NY, and began writing

prose at age 14.

Ms. McCullough-White is married and has a young son. She is

fascinated by history and social psychology. She is a vegetarian

and animal lover. Her favorite drink is Gewürztraminer.

She's fan of Alice in Chains, U2, and Stabbing Westward, her

favorite books include The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien,

A Movable Feast by Ernest Hemingway, and The Social Animal

by Elliot Aronson.

Questions:

What is your earliest memory of writing?

I used to write and illustrate my own comic books starting when I was around seven years old. So, that's probably the earliest example I can think of. I wrote my first novel when I was fourteen.

How does it feel being published?

It feels right, like this is what I'm supposed to be doing in my life.

When did you decide to be a writer?

I knew it's what I wanted to do when I was a teenager. At the time I was pretty naïve, and didn't really understand how the whole process really worked, but I did think long and hard about what career would satisfy me in my life and writing certainly filled the bill. Of course, I didn't go to college when I graduated from high school right away either, my parents were against it, and that probably could have helped to improve my writing at the time. Instead, I ended up learning how to write the old fashioned way- writing thousands of words, numerous novels, and improving a little more with each one, until I could finally deem my writing good enough for human consumption.

Do you get writer's block? How do you combat it?

Yes, I do. It happens mainly in between writing projects which is the worst, because when it happens I'm sitting there stressing about what book I'm going to write next, and it seems like the sky's the limit. I find limiting my choices about the plot helpful, that way I'm not just floundering around in limbo with too many pointless, unconnected ideas. It's also a lot easier when you're an Indie to write what you're passionate about. I really can't imagine the stress put on traditional writers to pump out whatever their publishing company wants them to write in whatever time frame suits them. I'd probably chew my arm off if I ended up in that position. I'm too anxiety-ridden anyhow to handle that sort of added stress to my life.

Where do you write? Do you write longhand, typewriter or computer?

On my eight year old laptop, the M key sticks but so I'm too comfortable with it to replace it yet. It will probably end up dying with one of my half written novels on it before I break down and buy a new one.

Tell us about your Latest Book.

Well, my latest book is Cameo and the Vampire and if all goes well I'll be releasing it this summer. It's the third book in the Cameo Trilogy, and should tie up all the loose ends left dangling in books one and two, and as the book suggests the main character will probably have an encounter of some sort with a vampire.

The series fall in the Historical/Dark Fantasy/Paranormal Fantasy genres- and are action adventures, with paranormal creatures such as vampires and zombies. These are fast paced, character driven novels.

What advice do you have for aspiring writers?

I'd advise them to do a lot of writing before they decide to put anything out for the public to read, and get an editor.

Preview:

Cameo the Assassin

Chapter One

Her eyes were wide, nearly sightless orbs staring into the sky. She watched as the clouds drifted overhead, gasping. She could hear her own blood bubbling at the corner of her mouth as it slithered out and slipped in a gob onto her neck. For a moment she felt nothing, her eyes went dark, and she felt herself suck in the air once more. Never had simply breathing given her such happiness, at least, not as far back as she could remember. Maybe this is exactly how she felt with the very first breath of her life.

At her throat was the dead head of Adrian, his blonde hair was tousled gently about her. It was the first gentle thing he had done with her all day. His blood was mingled with hers now, predator and prey, dead and dying lying in the beauty of the summer meadow.

Somewhere beside her lay sandwiches and colorful plates. Ivy had wanted pretty plates and had made certain that the silver was polished very well. The last she had seen of her little sister had been her lifeless form, knocked hard into the Faettan soil. She was a few feet away now, a little body lost in the sea of tall grass ... like her own ... and like that of the young lord with his head still on her breast.

The sun was warm on her face, illuminating exactly what had taken place only a little while ago, showing all of Faetta true darkness in the brilliant light of day. Somewhere, drifting in on the summer's breeze, was the sound of people passing on the ridge, chatting about their lives as she was dying just down the hill, in the meadow.

Her eyes were fixed; the transformation of the day into dusk was recorded behind those lenses. Her body rigidly awaited death. Her blood gummed up in the stab wounds in her chest, cold and nearly luminescent against her deathly pale skin, as the faintest of starlight lit her young woman's form.

The spider's web danced in the cool breeze. It was assembled beautifully in the branches of the black trees whose backs arched, and arms stretched to the sky, silhouetted against the setting sun. The meadow was turning dark. This was the moment he had been waiting for. The sun was soon snuffed out, and he did not waste any time. He burst forth from the dark house at the clearing, his black boots beat down the tall grass and the wildflowers growing in the meadow. He was tall and thin, rigid in appearance, nothing more than wispy black gauze against the stark nightfall, running like a wild animal toward his prey. He quickly fell upon the picnic basket, half-eaten food, and silverware fallen askew under the waxing moon. The forks and knives glittered in the starlight.

A fog rolled out from under the thick of the treeline; it ebbed along as if it were alive itself and fanned out with its smoky tendrils snaking around the bodies that lay there.

Haffef's black eyes found the form that he had longed for and saw the child in the distance. As he swept past the older sister, he saw the distinct rise and fall of her chest. This had been the scene of a horrible crime, and as he knelt to look into her eyes, he took in her ripped gown and saw the rape that she had endured at the hands of the others at this picnic, seeing vividly what she had seen.

Her body was covered with stab wounds, and to one side of her bruised and bloodied body lay the dead body of a man. Clutched in her fingers was a paring knife slick with blood.

The fog crept over her battered form, as if it would steal her life away and take her with it as it moved. Haffef glanced over his shoulder at the girl who was just a few feet away, then back at the teenager in front of him who had a cameo brooch embedded in her collarbone.

Kneeling beside her, he tossed the dead body off of hers, moving it with such force that he nearly took off Adrian's head. A young woman he had seen before in Terrence, he realized, now lay here amidst yellow flowers, nearly dead. He was amazed she had actually lived through the day.

She felt the long, black hair against her face, caressing her body. It was light like the frail web of a spider. She felt his slender fingers against her back, the gentle feel of him raising her neck and the shocking pain it caused. After all she had endured earlier, she found herself unable to fathom what was happening to her now. It felt like ice ripping open her throat, its shards coursing from this icy bite to her heart. She took in a breath like one she'd never known; her lungs expanded, but it was almost as if they had hardened, and it nearly hurt to make them work again. It was renewing, but there was death in that breath of life. She blinked with eyes that were dry, and all she saw were black boots that were slick with dew and long, black hair that fell to the ankle of his boots.

She pried her fingers from the paring knife, opening and closing her hand to see if it still worked. Her breath was visible in the cold night air....

The stars moved across the sky as she regained strength. She watched the cool slivers of silver-tipped clouds as they slipped overhead. The moon and stars shifted position while she remained, her eyes capturing the moments that were lost to her. With a sudden surge of energy, she flipped her body onto her stomach and pulled herself away from Adrian's corpse.

The Bayman's Bride

2011-04-08T11:00:00.002-05:00

Today on the blog we have J. Jay Kamp. Without further ado, here is the interview. Enjoy.

Thanks so much for this great opportunity! I really do appreciate it so much.

What is your earliest memory of writing?

When I was eleven years old, I started writing down stories -- fan fiction, in a way -- about Han Solo. These were usually complicated soap-opera-like stories about he and I being married, the houses we lived in (primary residence and vacation home), the pets we kept, and all the fun we had together. I kept writing from there, and created different stories about whomever I liked over the years, which continues to this day, as all my books' characters are inspired by actors or musicians.

How does it feel being published?

It feels pretty surreal. I've spent twenty years submitting my work to agents, and I even managed to secure an agent at one point, which didn't do me a heck of a lot of good. It seems to me that traditional publishing houses are very narrow in their tastes, and strict in their guidelines, and my books don't really fall within those confines. So it feels good to be free to express my own ideas, and set a story in Belize if I want to (which I'd been told was too exotic a locale by agents and editors).

When did you decide to be a writer?

I decided to become a writer while I was standing in line at Tower Books in Seattle in 1990, waiting to have Anne Rice sign my copy of The Vampire Lestat. Of course I'd been writing long before that, but I'd been sidetracked by the idea of a music career in my youth, and it was only in meeting Rice that I realized I was really made to write books. I began my first novel upon arriving home from the author signing, and I've been writing books ever since.

Do you get writer's block? How do you combat it?

I've been fortunate so far in that I've never really suffered from writer's block. I tend to feel like I'm "channeling" my characters, and often they almost write themselves. I have vivid memories, for instance, of writing the character of James in The Last Killiney; if I became stuck during some part of the story, I would ask him out loud, "Well, what do you say here, James?" And the answer would come to me. Strange but true.

Where do you write? Do you write longhand, typewriter or computer?

In the beginning, after the book signing with Anne Rice, I converted an old bird aviary attached to our house into a writing den. It was quiet, out of the way, and had no distractions other than the cat wandering through once in a while. Later, I wrote a significant portion of The Last Killiney at the kitchen table at our family's vacation home at the north end of Vancouver Island in Canada, which is where much of that book takes place. By the time I wrote The Bayman's Bride, I had a writing nook installed in a corner of my bedroom...and a pair of ear plugs. As for the mechanical method of my writing, I wrote my first book on an Apple Mac Plus, which later enjoyed a revival as a door stop. Since then, I'm afraid I've been converted to PCs, and in the last ten years, I've written everything on a laptop using Microsoft Word.

Tell us about your Latest Book.

The book I'm working on right now is going by the working title of The Wager. It's book number three in the Ravenna Evans Series, and has the same characters as The Last Killiney (and also The Bayman's Bride, although that doesn't become apparent until one reads The Wager). The story is set in Belize, Dublin and Dorsetshire, and the hero is a man tormented by his inability to sleep, and by the consequences of a bet he's made in which he's lost everything. There are bits about the Irish rebellion of 1798, the Belizean "Battle of St. George's Caye," Dorset coast smugglers and time travel, so there's a lot going on in this story and I'll be very excited when it's finished!

What advice do you have for aspiring writers?

Always edit and revise your work. Listen to criticism if you're hearing the same thing from several people, but ignore those who want you to rewrite everything to fit with their ideas. And above all, keep writing!

Here are links to my books, The Last Killiney and The Bayman's Bride, as well as my Facebook page

And lastly, here's an excerpt from The Bayman's Bride:

Rowen was at the bookseller’s when he first came around.

Her maid described him as a Spaniard—a dark-complected man, pleasant enough in face and manner, but with an accent so thick she’d scarcely understood a word he’d uttered.

“’Twas something about m’lord,” the maid told her, putting the letter in Rowen’s hand. “Said he’s coming back in two days.”

Rowen looked at Hester in astonishment. “Bennett is here?”

“No, the Spaniard is coming, not Lord Marlowe.” With her usual perturbed expression, Hester shook her head, hands gravitating naturally to her hips as she regarded her mistress. “He’ll be here to fetch you on Thursday…or at least that’s what I thought he said.”

“And he mentioned Bennett? Bennett sent him?”

“Well, open the letter and see, why don’t you?”

So she did. With trembling, awkward fingers, Rowen unfolded the paper to find her husband’s flawlessly written hand. In the corner, just as she’d expected, she saw not her first name nor the endearment of “wife,” but a cool and formal address of title: To Lady Marlowe.

She shouldn’t have read another word.

But of course, she had to. She’d not seen Bennett in nearly a year. Surely his letter would reveal his location, his reasons for leaving…because he’d gone away, you see. Bennett had courted her, pursued and proposed to her, and then, in an act that can only be described as premeditated cruelty, he’d gathered up his well-traveled baggage and left. On their wedding night. He’d not even consummated their nuptial vows. He’d boarded his carriage without so much as a parting kiss and journeyed to New Spain. She’d heard nothing more.

Now with his letter finally in her grasp, Rowen skimmed down the page with impatience until she found what she wanted: the Bay Settlement on the Bay of Honduras. Between the Belize and Sibun Rivers, he’d taken up lodgings at a logwood camp where “communications with Jamaica are so infrequent as to make correspondence with you all but impossible.”

How convenient. She wanted to tear up the letter at his indifference. Still she forced herself to read on about how, through a Scottish settler, Bennett had learned of a city in the jungle near Belize Town. “It’s a ruin,” he wrote, “similar to those in Mexico City, but smaller, much more elaborately decorated. Carvings and idols cover its walls, so I’ve hired some workers to remove these treasures. I’ve sent one man to collect you forthwith, as well as to buy a ship for transport. This man will escort you to our encampment, at which I’ll be waiting for you with utmost expectancy. Please abide my wishes, Lady Marlowe. Give Santiago no trouble.”

So the Spaniard’s name was Santiago. Rowen said it aloud, and Hester confirmed it right away. “Santiago de Escalante, m’lady. Made me repeat it three times, he did.” Taking the hateful letter from her hand, Hester tossed it in the fire. “What will you do, then? Will you receive him? Or would you have me suggest where he put his ship?”

Angrily, Rowen pictured her husband—but no, not her husband. She’d try to forget that little technicality, although she recalled everything else about the man. The particular shade of his dark blond hair, his close-set eyes the color of sage, Bennett had been attractive, true, but he’d carried himself with the poise of an ostler or a potato farmer. He’d been vastly intimidating, and yet his manner had been so painfully reserved, so genuinely shy, she’d often felt sorry for him.

Not anymore.

“Well?” Hester asked. “Surely he can’t make you go?”

Rowen gazed at the fire in the hearth, the little flames rising on Bennett’s letter. “No,” she said. “He can’t make me go. ’Twould take twenty Spaniards to get me on that ship.”

“And even then we’d fight, wouldn’t we?”

“If he thinks—,” and Rowen almost shook with rage in considering the notion, “—if Bennett believes he can marry me to suit his father, then command me to join him in some mosquito-infested jungle…”

Hester raised an eyebrow. “Tropical fever’s impaired his judgment.”

“Well, why else would he send for me? No lord takes his lady to such a dangerous place unless he’s mad, surely.” Shrugging, she glanced at the maid in frustration. “You know he’s reclusive. Bennett’s never needed a woman, much less a wife. God knows his idols amuse him more, and in the way of family, he can’t mean to start one, unless—”

“Unless his father’s demanded an heir?”

Rowen shuddered. Of course that’s what the old duke wanted. His Grace would have Bennett produce a son, a successor to the estate’s three houses, 46,000 acres and rent role of £27,000 a year, not to mention the duke’s legacy of statesmanship which Bennett showed no interest in inheriting. In all these things Roselund needed a grandson.

Bennett cared only for antiquities.

“The duke’s cut him off,” Hester announced.

“Then my lord will starve.”

Hester tapped her foot. “I’d think not, m’lady.”

Rowen ignored her, walked toward the window with her eyes fixed stubbornly on the sill. Outside, the racket of horses’ hooves and carriages in the Strand was an easy distraction to the way Hester watched her. An heir! A year alone and now he wanted her? Did he think she’d forgotten the way he’d sauntered into the house after their wedding, no hand in hers, no waiting for her, just this casual business of directing the servants to load his crates? Bennett hadn’t an emotional bone in his body. Take care around my vases, he’d said, and then, when she’d begun to cry, Would you suffer me to stay, my lady?

“Let him starve, indeed,” she whispered. “He’ll get no heir.”

Drachar's Demons

2011-04-07T23:00:00.000-05:00

David Burrows is the author of the Prophecy of the Kings, a fantasy trilogy comprising Legacy of the Eldric, Dragon Rider and Shadow of the Demon. David is currently working on Drachar’s Demons.

I used to write stories in junior school when I was 7. Apparently I leaned right over the work which probably explains why I needed glasses at an early age. My teacher was great and I think I was teacher’s pet. No, they didn’t have a cage for me at the front of the class, but she used to always give me glowing reports about my stories. I think that must have had an influence. I was very good at writing stories about dinosaurs so a book involving dragons is clearly a step in the right direction. I had the idea for the Prophecy of he Kings when I was 17, but unfortunately didn't start writing the full tale until many years later.

Getting published is only the start of the process so I couldn’t afford to be jubilant when I self-published Prophecy of the Kings. It was a very nice feeling to see the work in print, but anyone can do this and I think becoming an author involves a great deal more. The first reviews really made me feel more like an author, although I really think that accolade has to be reserved until you’ve become noticed or sales hit a good figure (10,000 books). I was awarded book of the month on one web site (http://sfbook.com/shadow-of-the-demon.htm) and also a gold award on another – (http://readersfavorite.com/cat-71.htm?review=3451). That was really excellent news and started to make me feel that I was becoming an author. I still feel I have a long way to travel.

Writing is part time which is a very good thing given how slow it can be to earn living from writing. I decided to write after reading Tolkien’s Silmarillion, such an epic and sweeping tale. That was when I was seventeen. That book really enthralled me and I just felt I wanted to try my hand at writing. I have a very good imagination and for fantasy that really helps.

I wrote the books long hand originally. I liked writing on trains best of all and found I could concentrate better then. Not sure why, because it is everything I would normally try to avoid, noisy and distracting, but for some reason that worked for me. My wife was a secretary for a while so she typed the manuscript up and did a far better job than I could. I now have a laptop so I tend to write straight into Word.

Everyone gets writer’s block at a guess. My way of dealing with it is not to bother. I wait, and wait and wait. This is the advantage of writing part time and not having dead lines. The reason for my writer’s block was I wrote my characters into a corner; a fix; trouble. This is where the tale led me and I refused to rewrite the tale. I really took a long time waiting for inspiration. Sometimes months. When it came it was like reading someone else’s book, turning a page and going – wow, that’s a really neat idea. I would like to think that Prophecy of the Kings is full of really good ideas and some of the reviews confirm that. The other area where I struggled was in making up names. For a fantasy book of nearly 250,000 words, that can be a real challenge. I solved this one by using anagrams of people I know. A witch in book two became Ariome, nearly an anagram of Moira – the mother in law! Boy was I in serious trouble for a while. She took it in her stride though and bought me a small witch on her travels, to go in my car. I often spin it, hoping to make her feel sick. That’s boys for you.

My latest book is Drachar’s Demons and I am thoroughly enjoying writing it. It is a prequel to Prophecy of the Kings. I can hear some groans from Star Wars fans – they either love or hate their prequels. However, a prequel was very natural to write. I created a whole new world in the Prophecy of the Kings. You really have to have a background plot to tell a good tale in my opinion; something that the current book sits comfortably over. What is the surprise though is how hard it is to tell that tale. You have to keep true to the sequel and try not to change anything, chasing a good storyline. What was really good though was that Drachar’s Demons just flowed from imagination to computer and I found the plot waiting to be let out. It was far easier than Prophecy of the Kings. Still occasional blocks, but so far I have completed three quarters of the tale in record time (for me). So far it has taken me 3-4 months, writing part time.

For any aspiring author I would suggest, have a go, but manage your own expectations and be prepared for some really harsh criticism. Some authors take it to heart when people criticise their work. You cannot do that, you have to take the criticism and use it to grow and become a better author. Most of all is to have fun writing. If it is not fun, then it isn’t working.

Best wishes

David

The Russian Renaissance

2011-04-06T23:00:00.001-05:00

Today on the blog we have writer Ian Kharitonov to talk about his new book The Russian Renaissance.

What is your earliest memory of writing?

I began writing an Indiana Jones fan fiction story when I was about 6 or 7. Shame I didn't finish it!

How does it feel being published?

It's a great feeling to get your book out to readers. I'd never imagined anyone would care about my novel when I started, I did it purely for myself, but my novel ended up winning an award from Clive Cussler.

When did you decide to be a writer?

I've always been creative, and I realized that I wanted to be a writer when I was 15.

Do you get writer's block? How do you combat it?

When I get writer's block it means that something is wrong with the story. The only way to combat it is improving your work, by editing weak areas or doing more research on the subject you're dealing with.

Where do you write? Do you write longhand, typewriter or computer?

I still jot down notes in an old-fashioned exercise book, and write on my Macbook at home.

Tell us about your Latest Book.

The Russian Renaissance is an award-winning international thriller. Following the tradition of Cussler, Ludlum and Morrell, it's full of high-octane action, intrigue and exotic locations. Unlike other thrillers set in Russia, it's been noted for its high level of authenticity and chilling factual detail.

Here's the blurb:

"Constantine can no longer hide in Europe. As he discovers a century-old secret, he must flee back to Moscow, chased by assassins.

Only one man can save him. Eugene Sokolov: an officer in the world's most elite rescue unit, a martial arts legend… and Constantine's brother.

They face an enemy unlike any other. In a game run by a KGB spymaster, the fate of Russia will depend on their survival."

What advice do you have for aspiring writers?

Learn your craft. A lot will come from experience, but at least two books are essential: Techniques of the Selling Writer by Dwight V. Swain and The Successful Novelist by David Morrell. After that, don't listen to any advice and follow your heart.

EXCERPT : The Russian Renaissance

PROLOGUE
1941
The Soviet Union
Death was the only destination in the train’s five-year-long schedule.
Even its name sounded like a shrill omen. The Felix Dzerzhinsky, a 137-tonne locomotive, was a child of its era—an unstoppable mass of raw power fleshed in metal.
During 1936, its first year of operation, the Felix Dzerzhinsky coursed between Russia’s faceless stations and towns, hauling cattle. The animals had filled the tidy new freight cars with the lingering smell of their sweat and waste, parasites infesting the cracks between the hoof-dented boards, the feeling of imminent slaughter staying with the train forever.
Soon enough, the cattle was replaced by people. Men and women, old and young, most sick, some bleeding, all filled the freight cars heading to the gulags, towards a fate far more dreadful than that of the animals. The luckiest died on the way.
Now, as the war broke out, the Felix Dzerzhinsky carried a special cargo to the safety of Central Asia: hundreds of wooden crates stacked from the secret vaults of Leningrad and Moscow. Special passengers in the form of a six-man Red Army escort occupied the newly-fitted first class carriage.
The single beam of light sheared the night as the Felix Dzerzhinsky roared across the vast Kazakh steppe. The train pushed its boilers to the limits, charging to the invisible finish line. Yet its run was cursed by the presence of the treasured cargo.
Death still waited at the other end.
Inside the confines of the single passenger car, the gunshots boomed above the monotonous throbbing. The Red Army soldiers were too slow to react. They had not expected an attack from within. Not from their commander, Comrade Yehlakov of the NKGB.
At close range, Yehlakov blasted the heads of four soldiers keeping watch, each barely eighteen. While the other two fumbled for their bolt-action rifles, shocked awake from sleep, confused, Yehlakov finished them off.
The new car was now also smeared with death.
Yehlakov replaced the empty clip of his TT semiautomatic, and entered the driver’s cabin, gunning down the crew. The driver clutched his throat, trying to clog the wide open hole, and the torrent of blood gushing from it mingled with the soot on his hands. He stumbled, gurgling, looking at his black blood. A second gunshot destroyed his face, and he crashed over the corpse of his fireman.
Stepping over their bodies, Yehlakov pulled the brake handle. The brakes locked onto the wheels and the enormous friction showered sparks in every direction. A piercing screech of protesting metal reverberated around the compartment. The train shook as it tried to restrain its own momentum. Gradually, the Felix Dzerzhinsky came to a stop.
Yehlakov climbed down from the cabin and looked around. The gloom was impenetrable. The train’s lamp would serve as a position marker.
Leningrad, the origin of the Felix Dzerzhinsky, was a city commanded by evacuation mayhem. Fuel, provisions, armaments and entire factories were being relocated from the advancing Germans, and many consignments lost in the process. The disappearance of the train, if it were ever noticed, would be written off to a Luftwaffe raid in Moscow by Army staffers fearful of repercussions. Yehlakov didn’t care much. There was little chance of Moscow surviving anyway.
A column of trucks appeared in the distance, their flickering lights drawing closer. The huge ZIS-5 vehicles stopped in front of Yehlakov, washing him in the beams of their headlights. In the blinding light he couldn’t make out the faces of the men approaching him.
“Right on time,” Yehlakov said, squinting.
“Too bad for you,” the man from the lead truck replied. Three figures leveled their machine guns at Yehlakov—the recognizable silhouettes of American Thompsons.
Yehlakov’s cry was cut short by a hail of .45-calibre bullets that shredded his body.
“All right men,” an order sounded. “Move, move, move!”
The tiny figures of two dozen soldiers scurried to the Felix Dzerzhinsky like scavengers ravaging a beached whale.
Reloading all the crates into the trucks proved to be a massive job, but the attackers carried it out with efficiency. Trouble arose only once. A crate crashed, bursting open, and antique icons poured from it onto the dusty ground. Gleaming through the darkness in their radiant halos were the faces of saints. The holy men gazed at killers with divine serenity, their eyes full of suffering and forgiveness.
After it was all over, raging flames engulfed the empty cars, and the attackers vanished back into the night.
The dead metal beast had completed its final, blood-drenched journey.
***

www.iankharitonov.com
www.amazon.com/dp/B004PLMJ3G
facebook.com/rusren
twitter.com/rusren

-- Ian Kharitonov