Friday, 10 January 2014

7 Questions with #Author Ty Johnson-Anderson @invisible_soror #theinvisiblesorority


1. Tell us a bit about your family.
I am currently a cyber security analyst and I am married to a SGT in the United States Active Maryland State Guard. We have one daughter, in which we call our deployment baby which means she was conceived right after my deployment to Iraq.
2. How do you work through self-doubts and fear?
I literally just suck it up and push through, knots and all. I get scared and I literally want to vomit. From joining the military, deploying to Iraq, getting married, having kids, or starting a new career venture, you just have to push through it; because nothing is worse than regretting NOT doing something. You only have one life to live. Feel the butterflies and love them.
3. What scares you the most?
The thing scares me the most is not living up to my own expectations. I am a perfectionist when it comes to anything I take on. This is a curse because I never measure up, and will never will. Even if I hit the mark perfectly in one spot, I will fall short in another, leaving me to count the entire experience as a flop. I am working on that part of my personality.
4. What makes you happiest?
My family makes me the happiest, my husband and my daughter. No matter how much my day sucks, my daughter’s hugs will always loosen my tight attitude.
5. What’s your greatest character strength?
I would say its creativity. I have a knack at looking at something dissecting and figuring out a way to get there or recreate it, although I don’t always follow through. But that’s what left-brain individuals are for.
6. What’s your weakest character trait?
Definitely perfectionism and follow through. I always have so much going on that I often do not tend to finish anything. I get a spark of creativity, immerse myself in it, and lose interest. And if it’s not perfect, I get upset with myself a lot.
7. Why do you write?
I write to inspire survivors of sexual assault with my story. As survivors, we often walk around in our own little bubble thinking we are alone in our plight. And we aren’t. I want them to know, there are other Invisible Sorority members among us and we need to step out of the shadow of guilt and support one another.
InvisibleSorority
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Genre – Non-Fiction, Self Help-Abuse
Rating – PG-13
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Floats The Dark Shadow by Yves Fey @YvesFey

Excerpt from Deleted Chapter at a strange Paris shop.  Fun, but it didn’t further the mystery enough.

Dark gleaming eyes watched her.

Black lips parted to show fearsome fangs.

Mesmerized, Theodora stared at the snarling leopard crouched and ready to spring.

Laughter erupted nearby.  Paused on the threshold, Theo fought the answering smile that quivered at the edge of her lips.  Instead, she pressed one hand to her heart, the other to her brow, and faux swooned against the doorjamb.  “Save me.  I will be devoured.”

“Save you from such a unique death?”  Paul exclaimed.  “Never!”

“Indeed, what poet would spare you such a devastatingly delicious experience?” Casimir  inquired.

“Delicious for the leopard,” Theo scoffed, stepping into Deyrolle’s taxidermist shop.  Underneath bowls of potpourri exuding rosemary, lemon, and lavender, she breathed a musty aroma of fur and feathers, a hint of chemicals.  Kneeling in front of the leopard, she felt its sharp fangs and stroked its rough, spotted pelt.  She wished she could feel the muscle ripple beneath the hide.  How wonderful that would be—to stroke a live leopard.

Despite all the praises Theo had heard, this was her first visit to Deyrolle’s.  She loved living animals and had had little desire to visit a shop full of dead ones, however unusual.  Now that she was here, to her surprise, she felt caught in its spell.  There was a strange blending of cruelty and in love the preservation of these creatures.  Violation and honor.  Still kneeling, she looked about her.  Hovering above the crouching leopard, a crane soared on outstretched wings.  A passageway opened to either side.  In one, a baby elephant lifted its trunk as if sniffing the air.  In the other, a huge king cobra rose, spreading his hood.  Beside the winding staircase stood a mannequin in a dapper suit and striped cravat, topped with the head of a gazelle.  Deyrolle’s managed to be at once charming, sad, and unnerving.

Theo stood and went to join the Revenants who had responded to Averill’s request to meet here.  Casimir, Paul, Jules were gathered around a glass case near the elephant.  They were dressed in descending degrees of elegance, aristocratic, professorial, and shabby country church mouse.  Also present were les trois Traits—the three Hyphens, as Paul had dubbed them—three slim, dark-haired poets named Jean-Jacques, Pierre-Henri, and Louis-LeRoi, professor, student, and fledgling lawyer … There was a bucket with three bottles of iced champagne on the floor beside them, and a fancy basket held crystal flutes.  An attendant waiting behind the cash register had a towel draped over his arm, as if champagne were de rigueur on such occasions.  Theo looked around for Averill and saw him descend the curving staircase that led to the next floor.  Her heart trip-stepped at the sight of him.  At first he seemed freshly scrubbed, almost boyish.  His hair was smoothly pomaded, his linen gleaming white, and his suit neatly pressed.  When he came close to greet her, she saw dark circles under his eyes.  Too much studying—or too much absinthe?

FLOATS THE DARK SHADOW

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Genre – Historical Mystery

Rating – R

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Thursday, 9 January 2014

7 Questions with Frances M. Thomson @bushbirdie #shyfeetbook #fiction


1. Tell us a bit about your family. 
My family is very international! I currently live in Amsterdam in The Netherlands with my boyfriend who comes from Australia. With my family mostly in the UK and his family on the other side of the world, you may think Amsterdam is the last place we’d end up but actually it’s nice that we found a place that both of us love, without it being more him or more me, though admittedly it’s much closer to my family and friends in London!
2. How do you work through self-doubts and fear?
My honest and very unglamorous answer is that I have a big cry! I am a very emotional person and I’m not very good at hiding how I feel. I therefore find it natural to just work through self-doubt by talking about it with someone I love and trust (more often than not my Mum!) and if I need to, I just got to a quiet space and have a good old fashioned, body-shaking sob. There is nothing wrong with that in my mind!
As for fear, I find that the older I get the more I am able to understand the fears that I can face and the fears I can’t, or rather the fears I shouldn’t face. For example, as a travel I have been asked to do some pretty scary but amazing things, like the Edgewalk on the top of CN Tower in Toronto or spending five days winter camping in Northern Norway - these have prompted a fear I know I can beat and should because it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. Likewise, when it comes to writing, I love it too much to let the fear stop me; I did that for 30 years and that’s a hard fact to admit. But I also know there are some fears - mostly physical - that I know it’s okay not to face - like snowboarding miles off-piste or running a marathon - my body just won’t appreciate me trying to conquer those fears!
3. What scares you the most?
Never publishing another book; I’ve got so many great ideas and loud voices speaking to me at the moment, they need to be heard! My biggest fear is also anything bad happening to my family and friends.
4. What makes you happiest?
Gosh, so many things make me happy! Riding my bike, holding my boyfriend’s hand, playing with my baby nephew, drinking a cool glass of wine on a summer’s day, reading a good book, snowboarding down a mountain, swimming in the warm ocean, laughing with friends, learning new things… I could go on. But when it comes to writing, I suppose what makes me happiest is receiving an email from a reader who tells me that my writing had an impact on them. That definitely makes me happiest as a writer.
5. What is your favorite quality about yourself?
I love that I’m not afraid to feel things. They say that some cities like Melbourne and Cape Town go through all four seasons in a day, well, sometimes I feel like I have days like that too! I experience the highs with a huge smile and I suffer the lows with tears and pain. I should add I’m not like this every day and I used to hate it - especially when I was going through difficult times - but now I see it as a real strength. Because when I have calmer moments and I’m sat at my desk and writing about a character’s struggle, pain, happiness or other emotion, I find it very easy to recall those feelings and to put them into words.
6. What is your least favorite quality about yourself?
That I sometimes struggle to see the bigger picture. This relates to my achievements, my occasional lack of focus, my often inability to prioritise the work that matters most and the way I deal (or don’t deal!) with setbacks. Perspective is such a wonderful thing, but it does like to hide from me.
7. What is your favorite quote, by whom, and why?
“Everyone has inside of him a piece of good news. The good news is that you don't know how great you can be! How much you can love! What you can accomplish! And what your potential is!” - Anne Frank.
ShyFeet
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Genre – Short Stories, Contemporary Fiction
Rating – PG13
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#Excerpt from Goodnight, Gustav Klein by Elliot C. Mason @ArthurRay44 #Romance

Goodnight, Gustav Klein
Chapter I - Change

Stark parades of wintry air pounded the reddened face of Gustav Klein. He was unadorned, not bothering to notice the skilfully rehearsed tricks of the Scottish wind; he was lost in a burning recollection, sketches of the past inside his mind hurling from one side to the other, dipping a steady toe into consciousness, ablaze and frantic. A crack expanding between ruptured stone, the dam burst and a flood of memories enthralled the wayfarer, whose hair jittered in the gale, who considered the season of intrepid sadness, lust and turmoil which had brought him to this point, to the peak of his sorrows, where the only way now to go is down.

              He was standing atop a small mountain near Aviemore, in the Cairngorms. The air was not warm, but it never is. And the fatigued rambler looked down, back to his trail of hope, drenched in the blood of reality, at the slopes and crevasses of his journey.

              To wind back through the broken ruins of history, the scratched dance floor: the ballet pumps of time stretch outward, arms fixed parallel with the ground, holding a tendu: he remembers a woman behind a window, sunlight glaring off the glass, turning her eyes into red dots and her cheeks as pale as the clouds. The left leg is raised, holding a firm countenance, leaning forwards into an arabesque: he remembers the sound of the fireworks, the celebrations, the cheering euphoria which brought him into the current year, and forgets why. The slender body of memory gracefully peeling away from its core, balancing a perfect adage: he remembers a round of applause, remembers the miserable beat of the train rolling through sodden tracks. And the dancing clock stretches farther, reaching down to the distant floor, allongé, allongé: he remembers grey clouds; remembers the sun endeavouring to break through, or hide away; remembers not being able to tell which. The strings of space grow, forceful plucking and an ominous ring, the hands of the conductor ravaging the air; the left leg beating in unison, the grand thump of a balançoire: he remembers a beautiful woman in a splendid city, and enjoying it for a while, before the Christmas lights were put up. Turning, tightening, the dancer of memory, rolling in, the plié lifting with heavy breath, and turn, turn, a pirouette into the past: he remembers tears and arguments and the stains of red wine. Bending at the knee, the ballerina who whisks the memories into a flamboyant concerto for the pensive thinker, the sweat of the conductor drowning the orchestra, the deafening blow of horns for the final soubresaut: he remembers saying goodnight to the journey that tantalisingly slipped through his heart like a fresh blade, and saying hello to the reflection of Mr Klein’s face, the single man who tried to escape, through the window of a train.

Time leaps. It hauls the body through the cesspit of regret. It silences the past and darkens the future. It guides with a rough hand, leading the memory to where it all began; the descent to the top of a mountain. The misty confusion of the mind is cleared, and all that is left are the dim, yellow lights of a small budget hotel in Munich switching off, the radiators crackling as they cool, the ‘For Sale’ sign twitching in the wind, the discarded rubbish blowing through the car park as the last car leaves. And the driver winds down the window, leaning out into the mild night of Bavaria, and his lethargy conquers each speck of his existence. He stares blankly at the building, the empty rooms, the moribund memories, and then he drives on.

              Time patters through the gloom of the memory in bourrée, and Gustav Klein merely thinks, hauling thoughts back to the foreshadowing bitterness of autumn.

GoodnightGustavKlein
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Genre – Travel, Political, Dystopia, Romance
Rating – PG15
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Wednesday, 8 January 2014

Lazar’s Mission by Kevin Sterling @ksterlingwriter

0Excerpt from Chapter Four

It was eleven fifteen, and there was no sign of Melati. She could have been late for a number of reasons, or a complete no-show for that matter, and Jack hoped it was the former. No doubt, fraternizing with the passengers was forbidden, or at least frowned upon. So the question was whether she had been sufficiently lured by Jack’s charm to break the rules. His stomach was in knots from the anticipation of seeing her, and he paced the floor of his suite like a caged animal.

Part of him was over-the-top excited to see her, play with her. But a voice of reason in the depths of his consciousness couldn’t help but speculate whether he was getting himself into trouble again. He just couldn’t see how.

Perhaps Jack was just channeling his Eastern mentor, Tasagi, who had not only been his private jujitsu and karate instructor for several years now, but over time had become a valuable spiritual guide as well. According to Tasagi, Jack was bringing dangerous situations to himself through a process called the Law of Attraction, and it was tied to his internal belief system. That meant Jack consciously believed he had chosen to involve himself with certain people or situations because of their reasonable appearance on the surface, whereas in reality his energy had attracted an underlying issue or conflict, and he didn’t recognize it until it was too late.

The problem was that Tasagi had him questioning everything now, including sweet Balinese girls, and he knew he had finally taken it too far. He knew there was nothing at all wrong with Melati, and he prayed he would soon hear her knock on the door.

In the meantime, he forced himself to stop pacing, and he reclined on the couch with a bottle of water to hydrate himself for what he hoped to be a spirited night.

To get more comfortable, he had changed into a loose-fitting pair of white drawstring linen pants with an aquamarine linen shirt and brown woven leather loafers sans the socks. After all, the ship was traversing the Mediterranean Sea toward the north coast of Africa, so an outfit leaning toward the tropical seemed most fitting.

Also, despite his earlier wine-opening announcement of eleven o’clock, he chose to uncork the bottle of Caymus Special Selection Napa Cab at ten and empty it into a decanter to let it breathe. The wine steward had thoughtfully included a pair of Spiegelau vinovino Cabernet wineglasses, and Jack knew the large, appellation-designed bowls would let the wine open up to its full potential.

Kevin Sterling

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Genre – Action, Mystery, Suspense

Rating – R

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Tuesday, 7 January 2014

#MustRead 7 Questions with Robert Breeze @robertbreeze


1. Tell us a bit about your family. Mum, Dad and dog Winston live in Hereford, a small town near Wales. Brother James lives in London and I pop over to see him when I need a good roast dinner.
2. How do you work through self-doubts and fear? It’s a torturous process and one I’ve not found a solution to, other than working on something else/crying.
3. What scares you the most? I have recurring nightmares about ships and being back in an exam situation.
4. What makes you happiest? Writing with my dog at my feet.
5. What’s your greatest character strength? Work ethic.
6. What’s your weakest character trait? Obsessive about planning.
7. Why do you write? Sounds vomit inducing but it’s just become my main passion.

2082
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Genre - Political Fiction
Rating – PG
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Monday, 6 January 2014

#Satire - 7 Questions with Bryan Taylor


1. Tell us a bit about your family.
I am an only child. This gave me more time to read, and I took advantage of it. My parents got divorced when I was twelve, and I ended up living with my dad. He always pushed me to be successful and always supported me in what I did, so that helped. Also, he was a preacher, and both my grandparents were preachers, and that is where my religious rebellion comes from. I have never married and have no children.

2. What scares you the most?
The government because they have power of your life and they usually make the wrong decisions because they do what benefits them, not what benefits you.

3. What makes you happiest?
Laughing and hearing other people laugh.

4. Why do you write?

I write because I enjoy entertaining people. I enjoy the process of thinking up interesting things, especially humorous twists that I hope will delight people, and then, of course, hearing the response from my readers.

5. What motivates you to write?

I write because I enjoy entertaining people. I enjoy the process of thinking up interesting things, especially humorous twists that I hope will delight people, and then, of course, hearing the response from my readers.

6. What writing are you most proud of?
My novel, The Three Sisters, is the work I am most proud of. It is my only novel, so far, so the choice was easy. Still, it is not only the book I wanted to write, but one I would have wanted to read. It has all the elements in it that I enjoy in a book, and I hope that readers can appreciate these things as well.

7. What are you most proud of in your personal life?
It would have to be the work I have done for the company I work for, Global Financial Data, in providing financial data to our customers.



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Genre – Humor, Satire, Catholicism, Politics

Rating – R

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Website www.threesistersnovel.com

Sunday, 5 January 2014

Author Interview - Brietta Tatro @BriettaTatro

Image of Brietta TatroWHAT MAKES ME HAPPIEST?

I live in Seattle and am mother to two rambunctious children, so I’d have to say sunshine and solitude followed by a cup of peppermint tea, a cat curled up on my lap and a good book to read.

WHAT’S YOUR WEAKEST CHARACTER TRAIT?

That would have to be impatience, for sure. Parenthood is one of the great sculptors of life, however, and through my children, I am learning to be a more patient person.

WHY DO YOU WRITE?

When I first tried to answer this question, I wrote simply, “I string words like Christmas lights to create stories because I must.” Then I worried this might sound a little pretentious. Writing, for me, is a compulsion. Words well up inside me like melodies and, just like a musician, I must write them down.

WHAT BOOKS DID YOU LOVE GROWING UP?

Aside from an unfailing devotion to fairy tales and mythology, I read Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House on the Prairie series multiple times and went through a serious Trixie Belden phase in 6th grade. I loved Frances Hodgson Burnett’s A Little Princess and The Secret Garden and C.S. Lewis’ The Chronicles of Narnia. I was also a huge fan of L.M. Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables series. And I cannot forget Roald Dahl’s James and the Giant Peach and Scott O’Dell’s Island of the Blue Dolphins.

HAVE YOU ALWAYS ENJOYED WRITING?

Tale-spinning and journaling were hobbies of mine from early on, but I didn’t realize how much I enjoyed writing until I became a college student. When I found myself actually relishing the challenge of the dreaded essay exams, I suspected something was up. But it wasn’t until a professor told me I had a gift for writing that all was revealed and I remain eternally grateful to him for this. When we take the time to recognize gifts in others, we may never realize just how great an impact it might have. One simple compliment could expose a previously hidden world for the recipient.

LOCATION AND LIFE EXPERIENCES CAN REALLY INFLUENCE WRITING; TELL US WHERE YOU GREW UP AND WHERE YOU NOW LIVE?

I spent the first ten years of my life in southern California. My little family of four lived in a large rambler at the end of a dead end street on the outskirts of a small town. We had a swimming pool, a large garden, a chicken coop and citrus trees. In our backyard, there was a rickety wood bridge to a tiny island planted with plum trees, the perfect spot for peeling and eating fresh tangerines. There were avocado groves up the street and our neighbors ran a cactus farm. My younger sister and I ran around barefoot and sun-kissed in those early years. When we moved to Seattle just before my tenth birthday, I was plunged into a greener, grayer world of forests and moss, snow-capped mountains and driftwood-covered beaches… and rain. Although I miss the idyllic days of my Californian childhood, I have grown to love and appreciate the Pacific Northwest. What we lose in the drizzle, we make up for with the most spectacular summers. And it is this study in contrasts between one home and the next - the light and the darkness, the warmth and the chill, the above and below – that has definitely influenced me as a writer.

DO YOU PLAN TO PUBLISH MORE BOOKS?

I’m already working on a sequel to Echo in the Underworld and it is possible it may evolve into a trilogy. Beyond that, I often jot down ideas for new stories. I have a futuristic story that I’d very much like to get written down, but it remains on the back burner while I continue to work on Echo.

WHAT OTHER JOBS HAVE YOU HAD IN YOUR LIFE?

I’ve scooped ice cream at a parlor, sold greeting cards at a gift shop, sliced bread at a bakery, controlled the chaos at a childcare facility, handed back correct change at a drug store, paid people’s bills by phone at a large (and now defunct) bank and then tracked down said payments when they went missing. I’ve tracked down customs document information for international packages and managed programming at a television station. And for the past decade, I have held the title of Mother – the most challenging job of them all.

IF YOU COULD STUDY ANY JOB AT UNIVERSITY, WHAT WOULD YOU PICK?

In a heartbeat, I would have to go with the study of folklore, mythology and oral story-telling traditions around the world. So many of the stories and fairy tales we love today are essentially psychological time capsules from an earlier age, snapshots of human hopes and fears that somehow still resonate in a modern age.

IF YOU COULD LIVE ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD, WHERE WOULD IT BE?

The closest thing to heaven on earth must be Vernazza, a tiny town in the beautiful Cinque Terre, a string of five villages clustered along the steep coastline on the west coast of Italy. Pastel-colored buildings perched above a restless blue sea, palm trees, potted lemon trees, terraced vineyards and a lookout tower for pirates – a fairy tale village come to life. I can picture myself sitting at an old-fashioned typewriter, pausing in the midst of writing my magnum opus to stare out the open window at the colorful fishing boats bobbing in the harbor. And there would be gelato. Lots of gelato. And did I mention the pesto? Like I said, heaven on earth.

HOW DO YOU WRITE – LAP TOP, PEN, PAPER, AT A DESK?

These days, the majority of my writing takes place on my lap top while sitting at my kitchen table. However, I do occasionally take my laptop to coffee shops, bookstores or the library. Sometimes it helps me to focus when I’m away from my house and all of the demands that go with it. And to satisfy my inner Luddite, I still keep a handwritten journal, plus various notebooks scattered about the house for random thoughts and quotes that catch my fancy.

IF YOU COULD HAVE A DINNER PARTY AND INVITE ANYONE, DEAD OR ALIVE, WHO WOULD YOU ASK?

As soon as I answer this, I’m going to say, “Oh, I forgot about _____________!” But ignoring the inevitable future facepalm, here is the short list:

Jane Austen – “My idea of good company is the company of clever, well-informed people who have a great deal of conversation; that is what I call good company.” Yes, the woman who wrote this would be the perfect dinner guest. As an added bonus, I could get the inside scoop on all the other masterpieces she meant to write.

C.S. Lewis - because he was brilliant and had a childlike imagination and because I’m a Narnia fan girl.

Oscar Wilde - “When Oscar Wilde was asked in an interview to list his 100 favorite books he said he could not. When asked why, he replied, 'Because I have only written five.” Not sure where this quote originated from, but it’s reason enough for me!

David Sedaris – one of a handful of authors whose books make me laugh out loud. Plus, can you imagine a dinner party with Oscar Wilde AND David Sedaris? OMG. Fabulous!

The Brothers Grimm – these two men had possibly the coolest jobs ever: Fairy Tale Collectors. And so many of the original versions of the shiny happy stories we know today were actually, ahem, downright grim. You need a touch of darkness, magic and mystery at the dinner table to act as a counterbalance to all the wit being slung about by the Austen / Wilde / Sedaris trio. Also, I suspect C.S. Lewis would be enthralled.

EchoInTheUnderworld

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Genre - Young Adult Fantasy

Rating – PG

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Dance For A Dead Princess by Deborah Hawkins @DeborahHawk3

PROLOGUE

Mid-April 2010, Paris

In the gray spring rain, he stood in the Place d'Alma staring down at the tunnel where she had vanished from his life on the last night of August 1997. He came here whenever he was in Paris. He counted the pillars until he reached number thirteen, the one that had taken her life. Tears formed behind his eyes, as they always did in this place. But he refused to let them overflow. Instead, he took a long breath of fresh rain mixed with the exhaust of cars speeding through the tunnel.

When the big black Mercedes entered its skid that horrible night, his last living link to Deborah had been taken from him. Diana and Deborah, West Heath girls, friends forever. Deborah had been dead since 1994, but he had lost her long before she became his wife, three years after he met her at Diana's wedding to the Prince of Wales in 1981. How many nights had he spent talking to Diana about his marriage, about her marriage, about his guilt over Deborah, and about the impossibility of being in love? Too many to count. He ached to tell her now how empty his life had become without either of them.

He stared down the long, gray tunnel, wondering as always what she had felt as she had slipped away from everyone who loved her. Had she struggled against it, as Deborah had? Or had her torn and broken heart quietly accepted its fate? No, he doubted that. She'd have fought to stay with her boys. Diana hadn't gone into death quietly. That January, she'd had a warning of what was coming. She'd recorded a video tape naming her assassins and had given it to someone in America for safekeeping. But she would never tell him who it was. Too dangerous, she always insisted. If you had it, they'd come after you, too. Leave it alone, Nicholas. The tape is safer out of England.

His phone abruptly interrupted with a text message from his assistant. He was late for a meeting of the Burnham Trust at the Trust's Paris headquarters, and everyone was waiting. Well, they could wait. All day and all night if he wanted. He was the Eighteenth Duke of Burnham and the second richest man in England after the Duke of Westminster, and he'd be late if he decided to be. He hadn't wanted to be a duke but having been forced into the job, he was going to enjoy every possible perk.

As soon as the news of Diana's death reached him, he'd vowed to find her tape and make it public. No luck for the last thirteen years, but his latest operative had just come up with a stellar lead at last. It was so stellar that not only was he pretty sure he was going to find the tape, he was also going to have the opportunity to unload the decaying family seat in Kent and exact his well-deserved revenge upon his father, the Seventeenth Duke.

http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/DanceForADeadPrincess.jpg

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Genre – Contemporary Romance,Mystery

Rating – G

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Website http://deborahlhawkins.com/

Author Interview - Donald J. Amodeo @DonAmodeo

Image of Donald J. AmodeoWhat inspired you to write Dead & Godless?

Books of Christian theology and larger-than-life adventure novels are among my favorite reads, so why not combine them? I’d read novels with a Christian message, but they seldom tackled more than one or two arguments. Crafting a comprehensive apologetics resource that’s also a suspenseful journey was a challenge that I just had to take a shot at.

What other stories influenced your own?

Readers of Dead & Godless will spot references to everything from Lord of the Rings to Star Wars and The Matrix, but if I were to name one (not so mainstream) influence, it would be C.S. Lewis’ Space Trilogy. Though less popular than Narnia, the Space Trilogy is a wonderful, more grown-up adventure with some real gems of theological insight.

What was the greatest obstacle you faced in writing this book?

My biggest challenge with Dead & Godless was finding the right balance between the existential debate and the action. When writing philosophical arguments, it’s all too easy to let them get drawn out. I like short, fast-paced chapters with a good measure of mystery and suspense, and that wasn’t going to be achievable unless I kept my arguments concise. Doing so while getting the getting the key points across (and keeping the dialogue natural) was no easy task.

What do you feel is your book’s greatest triumph?

That people enjoy reading it! More specifically, I’d say the book’s greatest strength is that it confronts the tough subjects in Christian theology (such as Hell and the Problem of Evil) in an engaging way that allows readers to see traditional teachings in a new light.

Can you tell us about your new book?

Dead & Godless is the tale of Corwin Holiday, an outspoken atheist whose unplanned, yet heroic death sets off a string of surprising events when he’s assigned a chain-smoking, alcoholic angel as his defense attorney in the trial to decide the fate of his soul.

Dead_Godless

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Genre - Christian Fiction

Rating – PG-13

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Saturday, 4 January 2014

Razer 8 series by P.T.Macias @pt_macias

Chapter One

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Marsha Diane Bryant looks over at the shiny red sport car. Oh yes, I’m going to get that cute car for my birthday. I’m so lucky that my Daddy spoils me, she thinks. She smiles at her Daddy and at her Mama. She watches him sign the paperwork.

“Marci, dear, you know that this is also a gift for your hard work in school. You’re going to graduate next year. I know that you’ve worked hard to maintain your GPA. Nothing gives me more pleasure than to see that you’re going to be able to qualify to be an intern at the Capitol,” states Rex Bryant.

Chief Commissioner Rex Bryant has always dreamed of seeing one of his girls enter the realm of politics.

Marsha chews her lower lip. Oh, yeah, I did forget about that. I don’t want to enter the world of politics. I don’t want to disappoint Daddy. I know that he’s counting on me since Margaret decided to get married. I don’t know when I’m going to tell Daddy that I want to go into law. It’s almost the same. I can be a judge, she thinks.

“Marci, I’m real proud of you,” says Daddy Rex.

“Thank you, Daddy,” replies Marsha.

“Sir, here are the keys to the car,” says the salesman. He looks over at Marsha with longing. “Ms. Bryant, you’re going to enjoy driving down the coast in your new car.”

“Yes sir, I’m sure I will. Daddy, can I drive Cherry Bomb home?” asks Marsha.

Her lovely blue eyes sparkle with pleasure. Her face is softly flushed with a soft glow of excitement.

Chief Bryant turns to gaze at his lovely daughter. He smiles with pleasure upon seeing her excitement. He raises an eyebrow with amusement. 

“Yes, Marci. You can drive your new car home. Cherry Bomb?” replies Daddy Rex.

He chuckles with amusement. He turns to the sales man and takes the keys from him. “Marci, dear, you drive carefully.”

Marsha jumps up from the chair and excitedly hugs her Daddy. She gives him a huge kiss on his cheek. She then takes the keys from his hands.

“Thank you, Daddy! Thank you, Mama. I love you both! I’ll see you at home. I want to stop for a few minutes at Sarah’s to show her my new car!” Marsha turns to give her Mama a quick hug.

“Marsha Diane, you best drive carefully. We’ll see you at home shortly,” says Mama Irene.

“Absolutely, Mama,” replies Marsha, nodding. She walks out of the sales office and out into the dealership showroom.

The salesman is opening the huge glass doors. Marsha walks up to the red sports car. She opens the door and slides in. She smiles and turns on the car.

Marsha turns to look over at her parents with an enormous smile. She waves at them and pulls out of the showroom.

Hell yeah, I’m going to love driving this cute car. I’m such a lucky girl, she thinks. Nodding she turns on the stereo and starts to sing along to her favorite song.

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LocoRazer

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Genre – Romantic Suspense

Rating – PG 13

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Website http://ptmacias.com/

The Angel & The Brown-Eyed Boy – Sandy Nathan @sandyonathan

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1

When the girl appeared on the sidewalk, the edges of her body and clothing were fuzzy, as though all of her hadn’t arrived. She looked up and down the street, the way a person would if she’d forgotten an address or lost her way.

Her hair was frizzed and matted, sticking out akimbo. She was thin, had a dirty face, and wore a scratchy coat that was far too big. Its sleeves were rounded little capes; her arms stuck out of them like chopsticks protruding from a napkin. The coat slipped off her shoulders, first to one side, then the other. She hitched it up and kept walking. When she walked, the coat opened to reveal her feet and lower legs.

Her thin socks, trimmed with grayed lace, were pulled up to make a ruffle below her knees. Pink satin laces held up the socks, their Xs snaking up her shins from her shoes. She looked pretty much like everyone she saw, except for her shoes. Long pink ballet slippers stuck out from beneath her coat, as improbable as roses sprouting from the cement.

Eliana made her way along the sidewalk, knowing that she was dirty, feeling the grit in her hair and on her skin. When she had reached the planet’s atmosphere, clothes and all sorts of things had rushed at her with great force, tossing her over and over. Dirt had come, too. She’d found the clothes she needed and put them on the way her teachers had shown her. Then her people had put her where she was.

Humans passed, but no one stopped or said anything to her. A paper blew against her leg. More dirty papers blew and piled up everywhere. Streaked and grimy buildings rose near her. Writing in different colors covered their walls. She looked carefully, but couldn’t make out the words. She’d learned to read and write English, but those words mystified her.

“Hey, you!” a person said loudly.

“Yes?” She spoke to a human for the first time, politely bowing. The human was dirty like Eliana, with torn clothes and matted hair. She couldn’t tell if it was a he or a she.

“Get out of here!” the ragged person shouted. “You don’t belong here.” Eliana cowered, but the stranger rushed past her, clawing at something Eliana couldn’t see. “Stay away,” the human said, and then stood with feet braced, shouting, “Get out of here, all of you. Stay away!” The creature hadn’t seen Eliana at all.

The girl realized that her people were right; they had put her where no one would notice her. Now she needed to tell them that she had arrived. She raised one foot, turning it gracefully and resting it easily on the other knee. She flicked the shoe with her finger, listening. A trill of clear notes deep within her brought the hint of a smile. She held the coat closed and stood still. She was where she was supposed to be. It had begun.

She fingered the piece of paper in her pocket. Her map. Beneath it, in the pocket’s depths, was the notebook. What was written on it would get her where she needed to go. She had all she needed.

She walked a long way along the hard path. More humans passed her. To her left, gray, inert structures rose high in the sky, blocking the sun. She touched the see-through parts of their lower levels, looking at the humans inside. They looked at each other with darting eyes, speaking rapidly. Everyone outside rushed frantically, noticing nothing. They didn’t see her, just as her people had said.

Eliana choked when a very large carrier passed, spewing a foul odor. The carrier floated above the hard surface where the vehicles moved. Her teachers had told her about the floating. Though she couldn’t see it, a force lived under the machines that made them go. It would kill her if it touched her. She didn’t know what kill meant; kill did not exist in her world. Her mother had explained that she would be like a dead pet. She had seen dead pets before they whisked them away. Motionless husks. She moved away quickly. Better get on with her purpose. She didn’t have much time.

A man with a round stomach and a gray hat walked out of an opening in the ground with many others. He walked like he had a mission. His coat was the same scratchy stuff as hers, but it was buttoned up and looked new. He looked new; his face was ruddy and clean. His shoes reflected the pale sunlight. The trill of notes resounded in her mind once again.

He was the one! She stood in front of him to make him stop. She hoped he could comprehend her speech.

“Will you help me?” she said, working to form the strange words.

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Genre – Metaphysical Science Fiction

Rating – R

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Plucking Poetry from the Air (The Encourageable Endeavors of Calliope Spencer) by CS Reid

Calliope tossed under her bedcovers, refusing to open her eyes inside her sunlit-filled room. Monday mornings were always the worst! Soon, her mother would be pounding on her bedroom door, shouting: “Rise and shine, C! Rise and shine!”
It would make getting up an even harder endeavor.

PluckingPoetryFromTheAir
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Genre - Juvenile Fiction, Careers
Rating – G
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Friday, 3 January 2014

Author Interview - Anne Asher @AnneAsher

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Tell us about your new book? What’s it about and why did you write it?
For a long time, the body work and movement therapy work I did occupied a unique niche that was limited to those rare individuals who were very physically skilled – mainly dancers.  During that time, I  routinely noticed how “regular people” were exempt from engaging with the work, and thought to myself – to a great extent, “regular people” are the ones who need it the most.  I enjoy making the work user friendly to people in pain and/or those who seeking a more body empowered lifestyle.

Do you have an organized process or tips for writing well? Do you have a writing schedule?

I am not the most regimented writer, and most likely, your readers could give me some good tips.

More often that not, I write from the seat of my pants.  With that said, the more I write, the more uses I find for outlines (and lists – I love lists).  Most of what my content comes from memory, because the book is the written version of the first several sessions usually given to clients.  Once I get the basic components committed to computer, it's time for the part I like best, which is making the movements, exercises and body empowerment concepts easy and fun to follow.  I consider this my reward for getting past the organization phase.

Advice to other writers.
Make a plan ahead of time.  Try to parse out the writing tasks so you do something (even if it's not very much) every day, if possible.  Realize that it will take longer than you think or plan especially if you self publish – to a great extent this is because of the learning curve you will inevitably encounter.

Hire a copy editor when you're done, if possible. 

Recognize you'll have to market – this is fun (for me at least).

Build exercise into your days and weeks – don't become a slave to the computer! 

Scrivener is a nice piece of software for book writing.  A fast way to get the book started (and something I’ve been meaning to try, but haven't yet) is to talk the book into microphone and then pay to have it transcribed.

How do you feel about self publishing?
Quite a while ago, a colleague of mine who had published numerous books both traditionally through an established publishing house and by self-publishing, was generous enough to impart to me her lessons learned.   She told me that if you go the traditional route,  you'll make about $0.40 per book, and you'd do all your own marketing. If you self publish, she said, you'll make significantly more than that, and you do all all your own marketing.

At that point, I stopped looking for a publisher.  I later realized a 2nd  benefit to self-publishing:  it allows the author to say what she has to say, in the way she has to say it.   As an independent spirit type, this is critical to me. 

How do you work through self-doubts and fear?


I put one foot in front of the other and continue.
Move Pain Out of Your Body
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Genre - Non-Fiction, Health
Rating – G
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Through the Glass by Lisa J. Hobman @LivingScottishD

February 2009 - The break up

“So, that’s it then, Flick?” Jim raised his arms in exasperation. “You’re leaving? You’ve completely given up?” He was past trying to convince Flick that they could make a go of it; work things out; get through this and come out the other side stronger. The past few months had been one argument after another and Flick had spent less and less time at home.

“It’s for the best, James. And please don’t call me Flick.” She sighed, “It’s not my name. Not anymore. I grew up. It’s good in the adult world you should visit sometime, you might like it.” She snorted derisively.

Jim shook his head; sadness oozing from every pore, “Aye, well you’ll always be Flick to me. And I’ll always be Jim. What’s with all this ‘Felicity and James’ bollocks anyway?” His accent always became stronger when he was angry. This was one of those occasions when the true Scotsman came out fighting. His chest heaved as he tried to calm the storm raging beneath his skin.

He almost didn’t recognise the woman standing before him in their bedroom; her fitted designer clothes complete with pearls and a shoulder length smooth sleek hairstyle. Such a contrast to the girl he fell in love with. Back then it was all flowing blonde waves and long, floating skirts. She was softer then; in every way.

“Well, as I said James, Felicity is my name…Flick was left behind at university. She was doe-eyed, foolish and rash…look, there’s no point us going over old ground,” she pulled the handle up on her wheeled suitcase, “I’ll be staying with Polly and Matt for a while whilst I figure out my next move.”

Matt had once been Jim’s closest friend but that friendship had somehow fizzled as his relationship with Polly had intensified. That saddened Jim.

Felicity went on, “Nilsson-Perkins have offered to help find me a new place near the city centre so I can be closer to the main gallery.” She wandered over to him and placed her hand on his arm. “It’s for the best, James. I think you know that deep down.”

He looked, pleadingly, into her eyes, his chest still rising and falling at a rapid rate. “For whom? For me?. I don’t think so.” His voice cracked as he shook his head; he stared intently and for several moments she seemed caught in his eyes. He thought he saw her shield begin to melt but she shook her head and looked away.

ThroughTheGlass

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Genre – Contemporary Romance

Rating – PG-17

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Website www.lisajhobman.co.uk

Once Humans by Massimo Marino @Massim0Marin0

Memories

From Dan Amenta’s Journal

We had the perfect life in the French-Swiss countryside until that mysterious windstorm in February. No one realized anything unusual has happened, but the next morning, while driving Annah, my daughter, to school, I discovered that vehicles littered the highway, with their dead occupants still inside.

Returning home, no one answered the phone at any of the emergency departments nor could I or my wife, Mary, reach our relatives and friends. Checking on the neighbors, I found them dead.

We soon realized we might be the only survivors of a global catastrophe. We stock up on emergency supplies, turn the house into a stronghold, and collected food and medicines. The Internet still worked so I launched a large, online campaign to find other survivors with the hope of learning more about what we were facing. While waiting for any response at all, I managed to befriend some neighborhood dogs and we armed ourselves with survival gear.

At first, it felt weird and disturbing to go into stores and take things without paying but, of course, there was no one to pay. The whole world had become a ghost town.

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Genre – Science Fiction

Rating – PG-13

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Website http://massimomarinoauthor.com

Author Interview - Anne-Rae Vasquez @write2film


How do you work through self-doubts and fear?
I freak out like anyone, I suppose. But then my strong faith in God and my desire to be creative drives me, I suppose.

What scares you the most?
Not being able to create things. I only hope to be as innovative and creative as I am now or moreso for decades to come, God willing.

What makes you happiest?
My immediate family and small circle of friends when they are supporting me through the good and the bad. I always try hard to share my support with them as well.

Why do you write? Have you always enjoyed writing?
I can’t help it. I’ve always liked writing since I was a kid. When I was in grade school, I used to write humorous comic book stories with my fictional characters which turned into a radio show which I recorded on my boom box and shared with friends and family.  Of course it was tricky because some of my characters highly resembled some family members (who thankfully didn’t connect the dots). Naturally for me, I started writing poems, short stories, screenplays, technical books, and novels.  This is my first time to write a Trilogy.   

What books did you love growing up?
My favourite books were…A Wrinkle in Time by Madelein L’Engle, Are you there God? It’s me Margaret, by Judy Blume, The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis, James, Flowers in the Attic by V.C. Andrews and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl.
DoubtAmongUs
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Genre - Young Adult, Paranormal, Science Fiction, Thriller
Rating – G
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Thursday, 2 January 2014

Author Interview - Stan Spencer @DrStanSpencer

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Tell us a bit about your family.

My wife and I have seven kids: six girls and a boy. The two oldest are in college (BYU).

What makes you happiest?

Learning new things; being with those I love.

What’s your greatest character strength?

A determination to get to the bottom of confusion and controversies to find the truth, wherever it leads.

What’s your weakest character trait?

Laziness.

Why do you write?

To organize my thoughts about topics I am interested in.

Have you always enjoyed writing?

I never have enjoyed writing, but I enjoy having written/rewritten something well.

What motivates you to write?

When I feel that I have useful information, I want to share it with others.

What writing are you most proud of?

My healthy living book at http://www.fatlossscience.org/book/

What are you most proud of in your personal life?

Being married to the most wonderful woman I have ever known.

Who is your favorite author?

Leo Tolstoy. Whenever I read Death of Ivan Ilych it touches my soul. His stories are sad but inspiring, and there’s something about his writing style that makes it real. I’m not sure what it is.

Diet Dropout's Guide to Natural Weight Loss

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Genre – Non-fiction

Rating – G

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Wednesday, 1 January 2014

#AmReading - Outlander by Diana Gabaldon @Writer_DG

Outlander by Diana Gabaldon

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This eBook includes the full text of the novel plus the following additional content:
• An excerpt from Diana Gabaldon’s Dragonfly in Amber, the second novel in the Outlander series
• An interview with Diana Gabaldon
• An Outlander reader’s guide
Claire Randall is leading a double life. She has a husband in one century, and a lover in another...
In 1945, Claire Randall, a former combat nurse, is back from the war and reunited with her husband on a second honeymoon—when she innocently touches a boulder in one of the ancient stone circles that dot the British Isles. Suddenly she is a Sassenach—an "outlander"—in a Scotland torn by war and raiding border clans in the year of our Lord...1743.
Hurled back in time by forces she cannot understand, Claire's destiny in soon inextricably intertwined with Clan MacKenzie and the forbidden Castle Leoch. She is catapulted without warning into the intrigues of lairds and spies that may threaten her life ...and shatter her heart. For here, James Fraser, a gallant young Scots warrior, shows her a passion so fierce and a love so absolute that Claire becomes a woman torn between fidelity and desire...and between two vastly different men in two irreconcilable lives.

An Infinitesimal Abundance of Color by Mark David Major, Layce Boswell @markdmajor

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Genre – Juvenile Fiction/Bedtime and Dreams

Rating – G

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