Author Interview

During my recent blog tour for Call to Arms: Nations Fall, I was interviewed several times. I wanted to repost those interviews for anyone who missed their chance to read them.

Q1: What was the inspiration for your latest book (i.e. the one you are currently promoting)?

A1: This story deals with the events leading up to the end of the world (the Second Coming) from an LDS perspective. I wanted to write a realistic story that would give people warning of what they could expect and also to give them hope in an increasingly chaotic world.

 
Q2: How much of yourself is reflected in this book, and how?

A2: Virtually none. Anything pulled from my life that shows up in the book is by subconscious accident. The characters in my book are true heroes while I’m pretty average. 

Q3: The first thing that draws me to a book is its cover. Can you tell us about your cover - why you chose that concept and who the artist is.

A3: The cover artist is Michelle May. She does wonderful work. Part of the book takes place in Trenton, Italy. I found some pictures of Trenton while I was writing and used them to help me with the descriptions of the city and to give me a feel for the environment. One of the pictures is of the Fountain of Neptune. The cover for Call to Arms: Nations Fall is an apocalyptic version of the picture I used during my writing.

Q4: Why should we read this book (or series) and what sets you apart from the rest? / What makes your book/series unique?

A4: I think readers will see similar events to what I’ve written happening in the world today. The reason they should read it is to open their eyes to the crumbling world society and use that as inspiration to prepare themselves for upcoming events. My stories on this topic are meant to be as realistic as possible. The characters, for the most part, are people like you and me trying to get through life as best they can.

 
Q5:  Can you tell us something quirky about this book , its story and characters? (for example, were the characters named after something or someone in particular)

A5: All of the main characters are named after people in my family tree. Calvin McCord, for instance, is my great-great-great-uncle.

 
Q6:  Who would you recommend this book to and what should readers be aware of (any warnings or disclaimers)?

A6: I would recommend it to fans of apocalyptic fiction, religious fiction, and to a lesser extent military fiction. We see the beginning of World War III in this story. As far as warnings, usually my readers comment about how they couldn’t put the story down so you might want to wait for the weekend to start on the book. However, even though I write clean fiction there are a couple of scenes that are rather intense and some military action scenes. In movie terms I would give it a PG rating.

 
Q7: If you could / wished to turn this book/series into a movie, who would be your dream team? (e.g. director, actors, locations, etc. - dead, alive or mythical!)

A7: I do have a few actors picked out for some of the roles.

Robert Williams would be a young Richard Thomas (John-Boy Walton)

John Williams would be Karl Urban

Sarah Williams would be Emma Stone

Calvin McCord would be Brian Cox

Nelson Boggs would be Sean Penn

Sierra Weintraub would be Alexandria Daddario

Q8:  What do you like to write about? Do you stick to a particular genre or do you like to explore different ones? Is this / Are these the genre(s) that you also like to read about?

A8: Most of what I write is Fantasy/Sci-Fi. What I find myself wanting to write about the most is the conflict between angels and devils-with humans firmly stuck in the middle. My favorite reading genre is post-apocalyptic sci-fi.

Q9: What is your writing process?

A9: I have a moment when I’m excited about an idea for a story. I spend a couple of weeks plotting the story. Then I spend the next six months writing the story from the outline.

Q10:  What is in store next? (please tell us about your future plans; if book is part of a series, can you give us any hints on future developments)

A10: There is a follow-up novel planned. Actually, I have 3 more stories in the series planned. I have to tell you that I really feel bad for Robert. He has a long and painful road ahead of him. And poor Calvin, despite his excellent leadership the government he hopes to save is doomed. Frankly, I’m not sure what I’m going to do with him.

  

Bonus Question: And as a final quirky thing, to get to know you a little bit better... do you have a pet or something that is special to you (this could be absolutely anything!)? Could you please provide us with a picture of you with them / it?
 
A10: No pets. I have a daughter who loves to be with me. She attends most of my author events and really helps me out. Here is a picture of my daughter, Lucy, with one of my fans at a book signing.

Lisa Swinton Interview

            In January, several wonderful people helped me spread the word about The Gathering during my first ever blog tour. Now, I get the chance to be on the other side of the event for Lisa Swinton and her new book.

            Here is the cover description for Fallen Angel.

 

 

Antonio does not believe in love at first sight until he sees her fall into a street in Milan and get hit by a motorcycle. Compelled to know if she can return his affection, he becomes Renatta’s hospital volunteer only to learn that the accident erased her memory. Together they must discover her past, present and future. In the way of happily ever after stand her opera career, tyrannical mother, and fiancé. Antonio must win Renatta’s heart before she bends to the will of her mother and marries Marcello. Failure means a lifetime of loneliness, for love at first sight never happens twice

 

            As part of the Fallen Angel blog tour I had the chance to interview Lisa.

Q: Why did you decide to start writing?

My friends made me do it! I'd never planned to be a writer. I have a degree in Musical Theater. But that part of my creative life went on hold while I supported my husband through med school. Some friends challenged me to write, so I did. It fit perfectly into my life and provided the creative outlet I needed. Writing can be done anytime, anywhere and works well with raising kids. Now I have characters that bug me. Who knew writing would take me so many places to meet interesting people? I didn't! But I'm very grateful to my friends who challenged me and supported me threw. I am very blessed.

 
Q: What was most difficult part of writing Fallen Angel?

Learning how to write and what makes good writing. That and the endless editing. And then figuring out how to self publish. This is definitely my learning curve book.

 

Q: Why did you decide to write this particular story?

I spent 3 years as singer in Las Vegas portraying a character named Desdemona. This is the backstory of how her parents met and fell in love.

Q: Can you tell me about your favorite scene in the book and what makes it so special to you?

One of my favorite scenes in the book is when Renatta finally confronts her mother about why she chose to rip their family apart so many years before. It shows so much development of her character and there's lots of tension.

Q: Why Milan? What does that choice of location add to the story?

Funny enough, Milan isn't my favorite city in Italy, but it's got strong artistic ties both in opera and in fashion and I needed both elements for this story. I needed a northern Italy location and while the Olympic games brought more attention to Turin (where I lived for a summer) I don't think it registers as quickly with a reader as Milan does. It has a major airport and train station which I also needed. Plus the duomo there is incredible.

Q: Who is your favorite character in book?

Stefano lightens the mood so much and is the kind of BFF you'd like to have hanging around. He's fiercely loyal.

Q: What do you hope your readers will take away from the story?

Even though life has its ups and downs, there is joy to be found and love to be shared.

Q: Are there plans for a sequel?

No. If there were, it would be Desdemona's story and you'd meet Antonio and Renatta with their daughters almost all grown. They have 5: Carmela, Violetta, Desdemona and her twin sister Elisabetta, and Mimi. All opera names.

            You can find Fallen Angel on Amazon. Just follow the link.

 

Blog Tour Anyone?

            Guess what I did for most of last week. Go ahead, take one wild and crazy guess.

            That’s right, I worked on my upcoming blog tour for The Gathering. And now I’m writing an article about it. Talk about the blind leading the blind. But I’ll do my best to give you some helpful hints on the process. If you don’t plan to ever become an author you can just sit back and giggle at all the work that went into mine.

            For those who are unfamiliar with blog tours, you basically convince as many bloggers as you can to mention you on their blog. This is usually a month long process that centers around the release of an author’s book. Fortunately, I’m not doing this alone, Cedar Fort has helped me.

            The first step in creating a blog tour is to block out the dates. As you can see from the banner below, mine runs from January 2^nd to January 31^st. Since the release date for The Gathering is the 14^th this gives me roughly two weeks of blogging before it comes out and another two weeks once it’s on the shelves.

            Next, you’ll want a visual reminder of the blog tour. This is a task that Cedar Fort took care of that would have been difficult to do on my own. See the lovely banner below? You could do a blog tour without a banner, or a button, but it wouldn’t be as effective. A graphic announcement of the tour will catch the eye of anyone visiting a blog that’s participating in the tour and they tend to stay up on the active page for most of the month. Some bloggers may even add it to their sidebar for the duration of the tour.

            Then you need to find bloggers who are willing to participate. Once again, Cedar Fort helped me out in this area. They provided me a list of blogs that I could contact about the possibility of getting involved. It still took me about ten hours to go through that list and check to see of the blog was active, dealt with novels in my genre, and had open spots in their schedule. I also made the rounds with my own personal contacts, writers that I’ve met at conferences and on the internet.

            If you don’t happen to have a handy list to work from then start with your blogging friends. See which blogs they have linked to on their blogs and then go there and check out the links they have too. Keep this up until you find enough blogs to promote your novel during the upcoming tour. That probably means about sixty since at least half of them will not be interested.

            Now all you need is content. What exactly is it that the bloggers will be doing? They could be reading the book and writing a review. They could be interviewing you as an author. They could be doing something as simple as mentioning that your book is for sale and posting the back cover blurb for it.

            One of the things I’ve learned during the marketing process is to make it as easy as possible for them to participate. I offered to send over an author interview that I wrote myself and they could use that as a starting point or post it as is. These are busy people and they are going to be much more willing to help you if you reduce the amount of time and effort they will have to give in order to do that. I’ll be doing a guest post for one of the blogs in my tour. In that situation, they give me a topic to discuss and I write an article that they will post on their blog. Minimal effort on their part and I get the chance to reach a new group of people.

            Whatever your fellow bloggers agree to do, they will need the proper tools. In addition to a banner, those tools will likely include links to your blog, a link to the Amazon.com page for your book, any content that you pre-generated, an image of your cover, and in my case a link to the blog tour page on my publisher’s website. I’m sure I left out several others, but this should give you an idea of what I mean.

             Finally, make sure to thank everyone once the tour is over. These people expended time and effort to help you sell your book. Do the same to show them how much you appreciate it. Not only is that the civilized thing to do, but it paves the way for a good working relationship with them in the future. It might even help you make some new friends.

           

 

Hunter's Moon

 

            Here we go with another snapshot prompt over at Chasing Revery. This week’s photo is shown below. As normal, participants are asked to put together an offering of 500 words or less, using the given photo for inspiration, and using five pre-selected words. The words for this prompt are: Flea, River, Denim, Creeper, and Catastrophe.

          

 

            The Hunter’s Moon has risen into the sky. Just a little higher and the event will begin. Traverse the city and cross the river and I’m safe. At least until they capture me again. This is my third hunt since men invaded from Europe.

            The last time they captured me, I had not learned to distrust mankind. Back then they hunted me in buckskins and boots; this time they’ll wear denim and “tennis.”  Back then parasites infested my pelt and now I wear a flea collar under my pressed, white, long-sleeve shirt. At least that’s an improvement in my situation.

            Even in their movies they depict the hunt in fog shrouded locations where the beast – that’d be me – lopes through a forest of creeper choked trees, howling. No one pictures the savage ritual taking place in the middle of New York City.

            But this is the end. I am the last. My instincts tell me that the hunters have become too sophisticated, too well armed with technology, for me to escape again. They will hunt me down and when I am dead the world will see catastrophe as they have never before witnessed. For without the “Old Ones” to speak with the spirit of the Earth, and comfort it, all of nature will fall out of balance.

            The universe must have a sense of humor. Tonight, civilization will finally do away with the last remnants of the old way and when it does nature will pound humanity back into the Stone Age. Perhaps then my kind will be resurrected to rule over them as they once did. Or maybe it is just The End. Who knew?

            The view through the window really was remarkable. The moon is so beautiful nestled between the marvels of modern architecture. The old and the new – together. That is beautiful.

 

 

Deadly Brunch

        Once again, I am participating in the weekly writing prompt over at Chasing Revery. Hop on over there and check out the other mini-stories linked there. For anyone not familiar with this regularly scheduled prompt, the participants are asked to write something under 500 words, based on the picture below, and using 5 randomly chosen words. The words this week were: Dictionary, Sparrow, Cafe, Ladder, and Spinach. Hope you like what I came up with.

Deadly Brunch 

            Death checked his wrist for the ump-teenth time, only to be disappointed once again when he remembered that he didn’t wear a watch. It was a ridiculous habit he’d picked up from the mortals. They were always so fixated with the minutes, hours, and days of their lives that they missed what was happening around them. He had crossed paths with Time on more than one occasion and found his fellow primal force to be a terrific bore. Until this moment, he had wondered why the mortals paid him homage with their constant watch watching.

            Brunch, as it turned out, was vaguely between morning and noon. Having never been invited to the quirky meal before, he had had to check a dictionary to make sure he arrived at the café during the appropriate part of the day. Imagine that, someone had actually wanted to dine with Death.

            Of course, this was no ordinary someone. It had been no less than Love herself who had asked to meet with him today. No matter who you were, she represented the very top rung of the social ladder. Time would be so jealous if he knew.

            He glanced down the street in an attempt to spot her, but found only the mundane inhabitants of the world: humans, a pair of dogs being walked by a woman he was scheduled to collect this afternoon, and a mother sparrow feeding her chicks.

            Looking at the birds as they participated in their own eating ritual made him wonder what he should order when Love and he were finally seated. Death walked over to the menu that had been attached to the window. Today’s special was Spinach Soufflé. That sounded very sophisticated.

            From the position of the sun in the sky, he judged it to be nearly noon, possibly even later. What could be keeping her? He had a busy afternoon ahead of him. In fact, he was due to take his first Primal right after brunch.

            With a sigh, Death returned to the spot where he had been waiting all morning and folded his arms. He hoped she arrived soon.

 

GUTGAA MEET AND GREET

  

            Some of you may be asking: “What are you doing, Randy? Only one post last week and now we get two in one day. Have you lost your mind?”

            I won’t comment on the possibility that my mind has wandered off on its own – again, but I can tell you about having two posts. Deana Barnhart has kicked off her Gearing Up To Get An Agent event going on all this month. And I’m taking part in this. If you are a writer, you should be too.

            Today is the Meet and Greet for all of the writers who are participating. This gives all of us a wonderful chance to meet some new friends in the writing community. As part of that we are answering a few questions. Here they are:

 

Q: Where do you write? 

A: We happen to have a surplus of bedrooms in our house and one of them has been turned into an office for the purpose of writing and game design. I have a super large window that allows me to keep an eye on the weather and occasionally distracts me when I should be writing. 

 

Q: Quick. Go to your writing space, sit down and look to your left. What is the first thing you see.  

A: Oops, I jumped the gun. I sort of already answered that, but I’ll look anyways. I see – that I need to pull some weeds in my back yard. Also, I think we have a decent chance at getting some rain later on today. 

 

Q: Favorite time to write.  

A: It used to be late at night after everyone went to bed. Sometimes it still is. However, I find that in the morning, right after I drop the kids off at school, is the most productive time for me to write. 

 

Q: Drink of choice while writing? 

A: My favorite is Dr. Pepper. However, that has been replaced by . . . Water. I know that’s not a very exciting answer. Maybe I should substitute it with something like: I enjoy the occasional Pangalactic Gargle-Blaster. 

 

Q: When writing, do you listen to music or do you need complete silence? 

A:  Silence? What’s that? I have a house full of children. It really depends on my mood. Most of the time I keep it as quiet as possible when I write. Once in a while, I pick a song that I think reflects the atmosphere of the story I’m writing and I’ll play that for inspiration. For example, when I wrote Hellathon I played Hair of the Dog over and over. 

 

Q: What was your inspiration for your latest manuscript and where did you find it? 

A: If you spend any time, specifically Monday’s, checking out my blog you will quickly find out that I have been blessed with a really active imagination. Inspiration for story ideas come to me all the time and the how of it really varies. 

That being said, the short story I sold last month was based on the parameters the publisher set down – introduce the zombie apocalypse to a classic fairy tale. Easy-peasy. 

 

Q: What’s your most valuable writing tip? 

A: I don’t know if this is my most valuable tip, but it is the one that I most often offer to the wonderful ladies in my critique group. Write it and move on. Obviously, you want to fix any major flaws in the plot, but the truth of the matter is that there are thousands of ways the story can be written and the majority of them work. Don’t spend the next six years rewriting the story to be perfect. Have a vision for your story. Write it. Revise it for errors. Move on.

 

GUTGAA

Sorry for being MIA earlier this week. I have a couple of writing deadlines that are keeping me busy.  Today’s post will be rather short so that I can get right back to work on my writing.

September promises to be pretty exciting if you are an unpublished author. Deana Barnhart is hosting the GUTGAA (Gearing Up To Get An Agent) bloghop. Obviously, with a name like that the primary focus of the bloghop is connecting unpublished author’s with agents, or publishers.

You can see a schedule of the events on Deana’s blog, but they include:  

• A meet and greet so that all the participants can get to know one another.
• A BETA/Critique group connect for those who happen to be looking for a little help in getting their manuscript into shape.
• A pitch polish event to help you get your pitches ready for the agents.
• An agent pitch contest where the participants can have their query looked at by contest judges before going on to the final round.
• Random prize giveaways.
• The 50 top rated pitches will be placed on Deana’s blog for the agents to look at and make comments. If the agents are interested in any of the pitches they are free to request partial or full manuscripts from the author.
• There will be 2 small press pitch contests and the top 25 pitches will have the chance for 7, that’s right 7, small presses to look them over and possibly request a manuscript.  

Like I said, if you are an unpublished author, this is an exciting event that you don’t want to miss. Head on over to Deana’s blog and check it out.

 

 

Barely A Tale

This week is the Fairy Tale Madness blogfest. What a cool idea. All we need to do is come up with some twist to a fairy tale. Is that right up my alley, or what? Here is my entry for the Best Tragedy category. Hope you like it. Or maybe I better hope you don't. Tragedy has to be bad - doesn't it?

BEARLY A TALE

            “Someone’s been sleeping in my bed and she’s still there!” Junior shouted from his room.

            “Hold on, Son,” Papa Bear called out. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

            Papa raced through their home and caught a glimpse of a yellow streak as it headed down the stairs. When he arrived in Junior’s room the cub was crying. The room was a shambles. Worst of all, the wooden bear doll he had made for his son had been crushed. What sort of monster would invade a family’s home, eat their food, and destroy their treasures?

            “Are you hurt?”

            “No, Papa.” Junior’s lip trembled.

            “Stay here and protect your mother.” Papa Bear charged out of the house. On the road ahead, he could see the fleeing form of a human. He should’ve known. The humans were always forcing their way into places where they had no business being.

            The blonde cub had a lead, but that soon vanished. Within minutes, Papa Bear had closed the gap to a few yards. He planned to give the human cub a good scolding as soon as he caught her.

            A loud popping sound exploded from the woods. When he stopped to see what made the commotion he spotted a hunter cradling one a long-fang.

            Good! Let the humans handle the matter. Once Papa explained what the whelp had done he could return home and repair the damage.

            Papa stood up and held out his arms in the universal sign of peace.

            BANG!

            Papa felt something burn into his chest. He opened his mouth to tell the hunter what had happened. Surely, he would help.

            BANG! BANG!!

            The pain was unbearable. He tried to take a step towards home, but fell to the ground. His eyes closed and darkness took him.

           

Childhood Monster Bloghop

            Christine Rains is hosting the Childhood Monster bloghop. How cool is that? Well, hop on over to her blog and you’ll find out just how cool it is.

            This struck an interesting chord with me. Keep in mind that I was the geeky kid who stayed up until the wee hours of the morning so that I could watch the Friday night creature features. For probably as long as I’ve been able to control the television dial, I filled my entertainment hours with vampires, werewolves, giant dinosaurs, and anything else that creeped or crawled its way across the silver screen.

            Most of the time, this did nothing more than elicit wondrous exclamations of joy over the fangoric feast I beheld. I absolutely loved monsters and an over-saturation of them in my waking hours did not leave me shivering under the covers at night.

            Except for one! (Okay, really it was three, but two of them are nearly the same monster so it should only count as two and I’m only going to discuss one of them here.)  That was the 1958 classic: The Blob. Steve McQueen and Aneta Corsaut star opposite an ever-growing scoop of plum jam. Oddly enough, it even had a great theme song written by none other than Burt Bacharach and Mack David that became a nation-wide hit.

            The thing (no, not the original movie) is, that it took more than scary music and screaming women to frighten me. In my mind, I had it all worked out; most monsters had weaknesses that could be exploited and were rather easily stopped by a solid barrier, like a door, or a wall. While thunderous, city-eating lizards gave plenty of warning that they were approaching and you just had to hide until they walked past. I even had a safe location all picked out in case decided to level Phoenix.

            You could throw all of that out the window with the blob. It could ooze its way wherever it wanted to go. It could creep up the bedpost and slide right between the sheets with me and then I was a goner. Even if I did notice it time and threw my brother at it as a distraction what would I do next? I lived in a hot, hot desert. The only thing cold in our house was the freezer and I just didn’t think chunking ice cubes at a mobile, man-eating toast topping was going to save my bacon.

            That remained the scariest movie to me – until I got married and watched Play Misty For Me. That one still gives me the shivers.      

Bean Stalk

            I’m doing another fun writing prompt over at The World of My Imagination. It has to be under 500 words, use the picture below, and include the following words: Bet, Skyscraper, Reform, Balcony, and Surface.  Here’s mine.

BEAN STALK           

            “What the tarnation is it?” asked Jeb.  He gazed up at the large, yellow . . . thing.

            “It might be one of them U, F, Os,” said Hank. “Mebbe we should see if our livestock is alright. They could be experimenting on them.”

            Jeb sighed. “Don’t be ridiculous. That ain’t no flying saucer. It’s some sort of enormous plant.”

            Hank nudged his friend with an elbow and chuckled. “Good one. You expect me to believe that a tree grew that big over night?”

            Jeb shrugged. “That’s just the way in happened when old Jack planted them magic beans in his back yard. He grew a bean stalk bigger than the tallest skyscraper.”

            “You idjet. Jack and the Beanstalk is one of the phoney tales they teach the kids in school.”

            “I was in reform school six years and they never taught me no non-sense about giant bean stalks growing in your yard over night.”

            “Not reform school,” said Hank. “Regular school. You know, where they send you to read and write and do ciphers and all.”

            Jeb nodded as he pulled out a pipe and filled it with tobacco.    

            “I bet it’s a guverment experiment gone wild,” said Hank, with a gleam in his eyes. “Those federal boys are always poking their noses into things that aught not to be known. And this is what you get.”

            “What do you get?” asked Jeb. “A giant yellow feather duster?”

            Both men laughed.

            “I just don’t know,” said Jeb.

            “Mebbe we could find someone and ask.”

            “Like who?”

            “What about that funny looking fella what’s staying at the motel.”

            “The Professor?” Jeb asked. “Could be. He looks the type.”

             “Don’t he though. Him and his fancy talk about balcony seats at the opera and how he’s checking the surface temperature of the landscape to prove there’s some warm globs around here.”

            “He said, ‘global warming’ – not ‘warm globs’ you redneck.”

            “Oh,” said Jeb. “I suppose that makes a difference. Still. What in the tarnation is that thing?”

Tracks of Love

            In case I haven’t mentioned it enough times already, I am participating in a weekly writing prompt over at The World of My Imagination. It has been hugely fun for me to come up with a piece of micro-fiction each week and good practice as well. Normally, my writing is rather long-winded and this gives me a chance to tighten it up.

            The story needs to include the following five words: Wallet, Circus, Kid, Cruise Ship, and Slide. (Isn’t that really six words?)

Tracks of Love 

            These two parallel rails of iron are the only link I have to my love. Each day I rise with the sun and follow them, hoping that she will be waiting for me at the next station. My steps are lightened with the memory of how we met at the circus. Hour upon hour of treading along the rails is quickened with day-dreams of our union.

            Up ahead, the morning light breaks through the trees and reminds me that I haven’t eaten in days. Pulling out my wallet, I check my available funds and find that I have none. The last of them must have gone to buy that sandwich in Galveston.

            That’s alright. My heart tells me that today will be the lucky day when my journey ends and a life of marital bliss begins. Just thinking about it sends me into a panic as I quickly check my pockets for everything I’ll need when we meet again.

            Breath mints? Check!

            Engagement ring? Check!

            Tickets for the cruise ship that will whisk us away on romantic waters? Check!  

            As I clear the grove of trees that cluster around the track I see the train station up ahead. My legs urge me to run, but the station is still miles away. Eventually, I give in to their incessant stomps and burst into a sprint.

            The power of love is so strong that I run without stop all the way to the station. I leap up on the platform and slide to a stop in front of a man reading a news-paper. He lowers the paper and looks at me. “What’s the hurry, kid?”

            The . . . circus.” My words are forced out between breaths. “Is it here?”

             His words go unheeded. On the wall behind him is a poster. Not only is the circus in town, but my love is displayed prominently on the advertisement. For several minutes I drink in her beauty.

            When at last I return to my senses the man with the paper is gone. Not that it matters; I’ve found what I came here for. I have found the Bearded Lady.

           

      There you have it. This is what happens when I write a love story.

WRiTE CLUB

Sometimes the unexpected walks up and slaps you in the face – and you like it.

 

            When I got up this morning I had two ideas in my head for what I would blog about today. However, after a quick tour through the blogs I normally follow I found something that knocked both of those right out of the ring.

            WRiTE CLUB caught my immediate attention and I knew I had to participate. Simply put, this is a blog event that pits the micro-fiction of the contestants in competition with one another. Two stories go into the writing arena and only one emerges alive. Okay, not really. No stories will be hurt in the process, I just made that up.

            They have already posted the first write-fight and if you sign up you can vote on which one you like the best. Hopefully, I’m not too late with my submission and they will let me take a couple of swings at another author. You know, figurative swings.

            So pop on over and check out sporting event of the year for up and coming authors. It is sooooooo cool.

Refuge

            Time for another writing prompt over at The World of My Imagination. It used the picture below and the following five words: Devotion, Counterfeit, Miss, Smear, Heckle. Hope you enjoy what I came up with.

REFUGE

 

            It didn’t look like a place of refuge with similar brown houses lining the street, connected by yellowish lawns, under a washed-out sky. I stopped for a moment to drink deeply of the scene before me. Compared to the superficial dreams, faux emotions, and counterfeit lives I had been involved with over the last year what lay before me looked beautiful.

            Success is over-rated. Or at least what the world defines as success. Before I had left home I heckled my father for his silly devotion to family and principle. Obviously, I thought, he just wasn’t in touch with the real world. He barely had a high-school education and settled down with the girl that lived next door. What did he know about the big, bright world that beckoned to those talented enough to make their mark on it?

            Oh, I made it alright! Straight to the top of the charts. Everyone loved me. My fans loved my image. My friends loved my money. How I miss having someone love me for myself.

            If it hadn’t been for a tiff with one of my contemporaries I’d still be there. I’d still be going through the motions, playing to the crowd that always surrounded me, pretending I was happy. Instead, just a few words in the right ear were all it took to smear my name and end my career.

            At first, I was furious. Then, I was desperate. Finally, I accepted the situation. I even called my ex-associate and told him it was alright; that I was happy it happened.

            He laughed.

            A short walk down the street and I’m standing in front of my parent’s home. It feels like my home, but I’m not sure what the folks will say when they see me coming back, not even a suitcase in my hands, with nothing to show for my great adventure except failure.

            I knock on the door.

            My father opens it, his eyes wrinkle as a smile spreads across his face. “I hoped that you were coming home.”

Broken

            I have moved away from the This Week In The Blogverse feature and will probably be focusing more on showing everyone what I can do as a writer. Hopefully, that will be a good thing and won’t drive away the people that follow this blog.

            On Wednesday, The World of My Imagination put up a writing prompt. In 500 words we were supposed to come up with a poem or a story that used the picture below and the words: Nurse, Cockroach, Brooch, Pride, and Noise. This is what wrote:

BROKEN

 

            Main street is normally a place of refuge from my own dark thoughts. I can focus on the noise of cars and people as they go about their every day business. These are the sounds of life in the city.  And Main is the busiest, loudest, most vibrant street here.

            But today Main showed me a different face. Mean. Cruel. Spiteful. Maybe just so I’d remember not to take it for granted whenever I walked down its sidewalks.

            Outside Struthers Treasure Emporium sat a used theater organ. Not just any old organ, but the one they put into the Bell Flower Hall when it was built. That was before cockroaches infested it and the locals drunks elected it as the ideal place to sleep it off.

            That was also back when I was an actor. Or at least thought I was. What a grand time that was; one acting gig after another, money, accolades, and the attention of women. In particular, a pretty nurse that had a laugh that sang to my soul like the merry clinks of a wind chime.

            I reached into my breast pocket and pulled out a brooch. Other than my memories, it was all that I had from that perfect time. As sharp and vivid as if it were happening right now, I remember the night I gave her the token of my love.

            They say that “pride cometh before the fall.” What they don’t tell you is that it stays with you.

            Looking at the organ made me think that the brooch belonged here with it. Besides, I could probably pawn it to Struthers for enough to buy one last lunch at the corner café.

           

Hookers and Hangers - Part II

            This is the second part of the Hookers and Hangers bloghop. On Monday, I posted the first line from ten chapters of Exit Stage Left. Today, I am posting the last sentence from each of those chapters.

            Here they are:

1. “Looks like we have a case to solve.”

2. Everything tilted as the ground rushed at me.

3. “Vincent, did you finally decide that turnabout was fair play?”

4. You make things right with me or I’ll take my pound of flesh.

5. “We need to meet the rest of the cast of Space Trip and find out who murdered their captain.”

6. “Which one do you think will lead us to the killer?” Dave asked.

7. “A stakeout,” Dave said with a big smile. “Awesome.”

8. Not the best view of the historic landmark, but if Felix was telling the truth it would be the best place to snag an interview with Ken Noyota.

9. “If whatever you might be looking for exists, my bet is you’ll find it there.”

10. “This is the lost episode.”

            In addition to the Hookers and Hangers I will be posting some flash fiction as soon as I take a look at the writing prompt over at Chasing Revery and write it.

            Leigh Covington is participating in a blog hop. This hop has the code to add a bloghop linky to your blog and I decided to give it a try. If you get the chance check out some of the other participating blogs.

Hookers and Hangers

 

            The ladies over at Falling 4 Fiction are conducting the Hookers and Hangers bloghop.  It sounded like fun so I have decided to participate. In short, those of us involved in the bloghop are to post the first lines from each of the chapters from our book.

            Initially, I thought I would use the opening lines from my first novel, Hellathon. Then I copied over the lines from the first ten chapters and read them, realizing that beyond the awesome opener in chapter one the rest fell flat and didn’t do what they needed to in order to pull in my readers.

            So, change of plan, here are the first ten opening lines from my murder-comedy, Exit Stage Left.

1. “I got us a job.”

2. A car makes a statement about its owner.

 

3. I opened my eyes.

4. “Dave, did you happen to talk to Vincent before you signed us up for this case?”

 

5. When people get into trouble they hire lawyers.

6. Private investigators in television and movies have a lot of advantages over real ones.

7. Where do you start an investigation when the only obvious suspect is an innocent man?

8. Stakeouts are typically long and tedious

9. A second attempt to enter the theater brought us face to face with a stagehand the size of a small mountain Felix had sent to guard the front door.

10. Even with an address, Denny’s secret apartment proved difficult to find.

             By the way, if you were interested in reading the opening line from chapter one of Hellathon, here it is”

1. Banan had already killed six-hundred and sixty-three men in order to enter the race . . . some of them more than once.

Scaredy Monster

            For today’s post, I am participating in Susanna Leonard Hill calls a “Short and Sweet.” This will provide an interesting writing juxtaposition from my horror offering earlier in the week. For this writing prompt she provided four lists of story components. We could either pick from the list or randomly generate a number and use the corresponding item. This is what I came up with:

         
            Character = Monster who is afraid of thunder.

            Setting = An Enchanted Forest.

            Time = During the first warm day of Spring.

            Situation = Someone’s pride has been injured.

   

            The story is supposed to be 50-100 words, but Susanna gave us permission to go a little long if we wanted to. Keeping a story to a hundred words is tough. I gave it a try, but came in at 189. Still, keeping it under two hundred is an accomplishment.

  

Scaredy Monster

            Petey jumped as the first growls of thunder rolled past him. Wasn’t it bad enough that he was lost in the stupid enchanted forest? Now the Spring rains were going to dump cold water on him just as the weather had gotten warm and comfortable.

            Thunder exploded in the sky above.

            Boy, he hated thunder. He hated it more than being teased. Now he wished he hadn’t run away from home.

            Petey sat down under a big oak tree and started to cry.

            Then he heard a different sort of thunder from the forest. The sound of falling trees . . . getting closer . . . and closer. Until the two trees in front of him were torn from the ground and tossed aside.

            There stood his mother. Big. Green. Warty. And so beautiful.

            “Petey,” she said in a voice louder than a freight train. “I was so worried about you. Who knows what you might have run into in this forest? Maybe even humans!”

            Petey ran to his mother and wrapped his arms around her. Compared to humans, putting up with his sister didn’t seem so bad.

Cult of the Fang

            I have come to a decision about my blog. For the last 15 months I have focused primarily on the art of writing and how to help my fellow authors in training get published. There are plenty of blogs that already do that and frankly they do it better.

            While I don’t plan to do away with all content related to the craft of writing, I think it is to my advantage to present more of samples of what I do to the public. In other words, this is the first step towards making this blog more about my writing. I hope that doesn’t sound ego-centric. At some point I hope to have one of my novels published and when that happens my blog will be drawing fans who have little, or no, interest in writing related subjects.
            As part of that effort, I plan to participate more often in the writing prompt they offer at The World of My Imagination and other opportunities that come up. I hope all of you will stick around and enjoy my stories.

(Warning: this first story is a little darker than what I normally write. I don't think it goes too far, but it isn't the light and fluffy stuff I normally post.)

Cult of the Fang

            The old church faced north. Except that it wasn’t old and it wasn’t a church. The building permit for this architectural throwback had been filed six years ago. And who ever heard of a church as big and grandiose as this building that didn’t display any religious symbols.

            No, this was a sanctuary for the Cult of the Fang. Heaven only knew why they faced all of their dens of death to the north.
            A gleam from the gutter caught Jim’s eye. He bent over and retrieved a necklace with a small silver cross. No doubt, cultists had stripped it from some poor soul before dragging them inside. Jim put the necklace into his pocket and then slunk towards the property.
            With the sun low in the sky it wouldn’t be long before the cult’s master arose. When that happened, no place within twenty miles would be safe for Jim. He had to strike now.
            Jim decided against climbing the wrought-iron fence surrounding the property and chose to pick the over-sized padlock that secured the gate. After checking the street to make sure it was clear he pulled out his lock-smithing tools and opened the lock in under a minute. The front door of the faux church proved no more of a challenge.
            Slipping inside, Jim listened for activity.
            Nothing.
           As quiet as a tomb and smelled like one too.
           He snuck along the walls, using what furniture and trappings there were for cover. If the cultists had followed tradition when designing the sanctuary, the next room would be a huge, fancy hall and beyond that the private sanctum of their master.
          Jim slid the door back without making a sound. The reek of blood assaulted his senses. He paused for a moment, watching for movement inside, adjusting to the smell. The way appeared clear.
          He had made it halfway across the central room when doors opened all around him. Cultists stepped inside, cruel smiles on their faces.
          “Herald,” one of the cultists called out in an old, raspy voice. “You crossed the line. The Pact forbids you from directly interfering in our affairs. Now that you have, the clause that protected you is void. It seems that you have reached the end of your participation in our millennium old conflict.”
          “It is a stalemate that has continued for far too long,” said Jim.
          The cultists tightened the circle around the Herald and he feigned a break through their lines. As they wrestled him to the center of the room he retrieved the necklace and placed it in his mouth.

They positioned him over a huge mahogany bowl and spilled his blood.

Jim let the necklace fall out of his and into the bowl. With the last of his life energy he mumbled the prayer that would purify the blood and poison the cult’s master when he drank it.

            The rules of the pact hadn’t changed, just their understanding of it.

            To defeat evil – sacrifices had to be made.

Contest Winner

As promised, I am going to announce the winner of my prod contest. Thank you to The Watcher, Small Town Shelly Brown and Angela Brown for entering. And the winner is . . .

Angela Brown.

Go ahead and e-mail me the address you want the book sent to and I will get it sent out sometime during this next week.