Stories!

3 Day Sale on a short fiction collection.

MishaBurnett's avatarmishaburnett

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First, Fauxpocalypse is on sale–for the next three days it’s only 99 cents.  It’s a collection of short stories about what happens when the end of the world is predicted and then doesn’t happen.

I have a story (well, a story and a prologue) in it.  It was my idea originally, but a number of very talented writers found their own stories to tell in my world.

It’s a mixed bag of stories, some funny, some sad, but all, I think, thought-provoking.

sinsofthepastbookcoverNext, I have a story in the upcoming Sins Of The Past collection.  I’ve read through it, and it’s an interesting collection of horror stories set in various historical periods.

My own contribution is about a film director in the 1960’s, and it contains references to The Book Of Lost Doors.  You don’t have to be familiar with my novels to understand the story, but I think it’s…

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Book Marketing and Promotion Part II of II

Check out Part 1 of my interview about Book Marketing and Promotion!

91canderson's avatarChristine F. Anderson Publishing & Media

From the Editor’s Desk
By:  Dr. Andree Robinson-Neal
Last time we looked at examples of the cost of book marketing and promotion; if you recall, the post ended with a comment about the fact that you, the writer, have an obligation to work at marketing and promoting your book.
Your publisher’s job is to help you develop a product and work with you as you determine the audience for it.
Contrary to seemingly popular belief, publishers do not have a magic wand that allows them to connect your book to your audience; no one knows your book as well as you do and as such, no one knows your audience as well either.
What does it mean for you as the author? Charles E. Yallowitz is an extraordinary writer. While Charles self-publishes, his points below still apply and he was kind enough to share some thoughts on marketing with us:

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Hero Poem: The Heroine (Can We Still Use that Word?)

Supergirl through the years

Supergirl through the years

The same and different
From the male equivalent
Uniforms both tight
Skirts instead of outer undies
A female badass
Strong and quick
Not willing to back down
Always entering the fray
With bravery and might

                                                                                                                                                                                                               

I had some trouble with this one because I know very little about Supergirl outside of the Superman Animated Series.  I also realized that she is a big point of debate among people because she is always in skirts with a tight top.  Then I realized how so many male heroes are always in spandex with rippling muscles.  Some only wear underwear . . . I’m looking at you, Namor!  Prince of Atlantis can’t afford pants?  Not really sure where I was going with this one.  (Still more clothed than Dr. Manhattan from Watchmen . . . I can’t bring myself to put up that picture.  Look it up if you dare and don’t have kids around.)

Namor

Namor

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Sword of Destiny – Anniversary offer

Sue Vincent's avatarSue Vincent's Daily Echo

While I wander the moors on which Sword of Destiny is set this weekend, the book celebrates its first year; a Kindle offer will be running for three days from 12th to 14th September. Sword of Destiny will be available for download for 0.99 during the whole of the promotion.

Available on Amazon UK and Amazon US

When I was a child I tramped the moors of Yorkshire with my mother, my grandfather and my great-grandfather. I listened to them weave the tales that brought the landscape to life. Tales of boggarts and barguests,sleeping giants and the Old Ones who walk between the worlds.

They spoke, especially my great-grandparents, with the rich dialect that is being lost, as are many of the old tales. I started writing a story, weaving the legends and the landscape I love into an adventure, preserving them for other eyes to discover in imagination. I…

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How a Novel Can Be Like a Memoir: Guest Blogger SK Nicholls

Luanne's avatarLuanne Castle: Poetry and Other Words (and cats!)

I read the novel Red Clay and Roses by blogger S.K. Nicholls. In addition to its engaging, well-told story, the book intrigued me with its historic detail and accuracy.  When S.K. and I discussed the real life story behind the book, I saw that the line between a novel and a nonfiction genre, such as memoir, is not always that well-defined. In this case, thank goodness!

So I asked S.K. to talk about the historical nature of her book, without using any spoilers–and here she is!

By the way, you’re going to want to check out her book for yourself!

***

The lovely Luanne has invited me here to her very neat and pleasant blog to tell you a little bit about how writing a roman à clef relates to writing a memoir. I’m a little disorganized. I’ll try not to mess things up too much while I’m here.

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Romancing September #RomancingSeptember – Day 11

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Special Teaser: Fizzle and the Fallen Fae

(Here’s an excerpt from Legends of Windemere: Curse of the Dark Wind, which is still being worked on.  HOPING for a December release, but we’ll see what happens.  I’m thinking of doing excerpts once or twice a week, so let me know what you think of the idea.  Some people might see some things as SPOILERS, but there really isn’t anything series shattering in here.  It’s just Fizzle being Fizzle.)

By Kayla Matt

By Kayla Matt

“It may be possible for Fizzle to use the vents to get to the end of the passage,” Timoran suggests, scanning the ceiling for a hole that the drite can fit through. “Once there, he can use his magic to temporarily block the wind. That way we can make a run for the other opening. Do you agree to this plan, Fizzle?”

“Fizzle see way in,” the drite says with a nod. “Be ready.”

He climbs the wall and turns invisible as he slips among the stalactites. Focusing on a faint glow, he swiftly makes his way to the middle of the ceiling. The hole is a tight fit and he freezes every time the Dark Wind rushes a few inches from her feet. He sucks in his tiny gut and scrambles into the ceiling, expecting to be plunged into darkness. The light grows as he wiggles through the narrow tunnel and emerges into a vast chamber. Fizzle slinks along the floor, heading for the sound of trickling water and keeping his eyes on the swirling, glowing forms in the air.

One of the creatures flies low enough for the invisible drite to get a clear look at it. The emaciated humanoid struggles to control its butterfly wings as it coughs up black mist. Patches of blue hair are on its head, the scalp seeping ooze. Fizzle can barely recognize the creature as a pixie due to its haggard appearance and crazed expression. With a thrumming glow of white light, the pixie violently spasms and darts back into the teeming swarm. The entire colony has been corrupted by the Dark Wind, so they are nothing more than feral beasts. As they swoop near the ground, they reveal the collection of bones on the ground.

Using the shifting light of the pixies, Fizzle searches for a way down to the lower chamber. He tries to move quickly, but he clatters the skeleton of an eagle and draws the attention of the crazed creatures. They swarm around him and wait for the invisible drite to make another move, their minds no longer able to see through illusions. Minutes pass before they return to the air and Fizzle continues at a slower pace.

His heart leaps when he sees a gaping hole several yards in front of him, the distant sound of roaring wind rising from the tunnel. The screech of the pixies reminds him to move cautiously because getting trapped in a tight spot with the flesh-eating swarm would be his death. Fizzle is within reach of his escape when he crosses a flowing stream. The sound of his feet padding in the water riles the pixies and they see the running water moving around his ankles. With an echoing chorus of screams, the swarm emits a wave of magic that peels the invisibility spell from Fizzle. The chattering of sharpened teeth fills the air as the pixies spread out to surround the nervous drite.

“Fizzle no want trouble,” he announces, hovering off the ground and spinning to watch all of the pixies. “Fizzle can help. Clear Dark Wind. Then pixies return.”

Leaving a cloud of rainbow smoke in his wake, Fizzle launches into the air and smashes through the swarm. The drite weaves among the stalactites as the pixies blindly follow, many of them crashes into the hanging stones. Another blast of Fizzle’s breath gives him enough cover to double back toward the hole. He stretches his body and strains his wings, but veers away when the pixies cut him off. Many of them are hooting and hurling sharpened twigs as they herd their prey toward the other half of the swarm.

Muttering a quick spell, Fizzle lowers his head and a small shell of force appears in front of him. He bashes through the pixies and hits the wall, creating a deep dent. Fearing that he is about to be surrounded, Fizzle whirls around and fills the air with his magical breath. The sound of screeching and tiny bodies hitting stone causing him to blow the rainbow mist away with the rapid fluttering of his wings. For a few seconds, he can only sit in the dent and stare at the confusing sight before him.

The pixies are fighting amongst themselves with half of them trapped in a hallucination caused by Fizzle’s breath. Bodies plummet to the ground as wings are viciously torn from backs and the victors dive to feast on the fallen. Not wanting to risk his wings, the drite makes his way to the ground and runs over the bones. A few pixies notice him and attack, but he slaps them away with his tail. With a final glance at the carnage in the room, Fizzle crawls into the hole and plunges into darkness. He pokes his head out of the ceiling in time to see a blast of Dark Wind erupt from the wide opening.

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Hero Poem: Powerless

Return of Superman

Return of Superman

Once the strongest of them all
Now a mortal man
Pitted against villains
That have retained their wrath
They hold the advantage
Yet the hero will not hide
Body honed from battles
And the mind of a seasoned warriors
Gathering what weapons he has
To continue the fight
And proving a hero
Is more than powers and tools

                                                                                                                                                                                                            

Should I be apologizing for this topic?  I know I’m writing these up in late August and this is Thursday, but I’ve gotten into so many ‘Superman Sucks’ debates since high school that I feel like I should say something.  Though, I’m really more of a Pre-Clone Saga Spider-Man fan.

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Waking Up Lost

Eyes opening as slits
In a skin I barely know
Yet I see it every day

The sensations are wrong
Nerves misfiring
Causing phantom touches

Motivation is lacking
Though I still want to start the day
A voice says it’s all for naught

I push and prod at my heart
That beats only to keep me alive
Not wanting to indulge in fantasy

What happened in my dreams?
Did a specter steal a piece of me?
Condemning me to a life of being lost

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Workplace Blog Hop

notebooksSo I was tagged by Jade Reyner to get involved in a blog hop where you show a picture and talk about your workplace.  Then I tag a few other authors.  Think I’ve talked about my place before, but here we go with the picture:

not_found-fullYup.  I got nothing beyond the pile of notebooks at the top.  You see, I don’t have a room or corner to truly call my own.  I’ve worked at the library until I couldn’t handle the loud iPods and losing my space whenever nature called.  I’ve written books at the dining room table, which put me in the main traffic area of the house.  Same thing goes for when I worked on the house computer that shares a room with the television.  These days I work will sitting on my bed and praying my back can hold out.  A lot of pacing and stretching occurs throughout the day.

By the way, the only doors with locks in this house are the bathrooms.  Every time I try to work in there, I get asked if I need to see a doctor.  That or the son tracks me down to ask the questions one would expect from a 5-year-old.

There isn’t much inspiration from these spots because I spend a lot of time battling the threat of distractions.  I get more ideas when I wander out of the house for errands, watch TV on a numb day, or step away from the books.  Sorry.  This is kind of a lame post, but that’s my reality.

Let’s see how other authors do it since I’m tagging:

John W. Howell

Pamela Beckford

Dean Kealy

Leigh Michaels

Elaine Jeremiah

C. Miller

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