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Monday, October 10, 2011

The opening to book two Terra Incognita "The other"

Ben found himself standing on the side of a vast mountain, looking out against the surreal night sky, plastered with a multitude of colorful star clusters. He reached out to touch the universe, like it was only an arm’s length away as the vacuum of space seemed to devour all sound. The passing of time was stretched, drawing long lines behind anything that moved.

Standing before him was a person with their back turned to him, looking out over the mountains. Ben stepped up, feeling the crack of sea shells break beneath each step until he was looking over the persons shoulder. Using their finger as a reference point, Ben focused his attention towards something moving behind the jagged peaks. Scrutinizing the scene, he watched as a massive hand grasped the mountains zenith and pulled itself up. What came up over the pinnacle couldn’t be described as a face, but rather the gaping maw of a swallowing blackness.

The person’s voice was the only thing that could be heard against the deafening silence as they whispered the words “The Hollow.”

Thursday, September 22, 2011

This week Alan Nayes!

Thank you, Joshua, for the opportunity to introduce readers to my next release. SMILODON is due out in early October, and is what I term a creature thriller. I’ve always found the subgenre entertaining and the stories—whether in book version or movie—never fail to capture the public’s attention. Popular examples are JAWS, the ALIEN movies,  RELICJURRASIC PARK, and many more. You get the picture. 

Since publishing THE UNNATURAL, my first creature thriller, I’ve been dying (pun only intended) to pen another one. SMILODON is my terrestrial JAWS so to speak. I’m excited about this one. Like the huge prehistoric predator in the story, this book will grab on to the reader and not let go. The story blurb is a giant cat terrorizes a small town in the Pacific Northwest

I’m thrilled to give your readers a sneak peak at the cover art and synopsis for SMILODON. Hope you enjoy it.

                                                 Synopsis

Seven years after a near-fatal mauling by a grizzly bear, in which his only son was killed, Jason Bristol, a one time prize-fighter and expert animal tracker, is back in the woods tracking again--when he’s not nursing the nearest fifth of whiskey.

     Then Jason’s best friend and mentor is discovered half-buried beneath a mat of pine needles.  The prospector’s mangled corpse has been mauled virtually beyond recognition.  A rancher loses a prize thoroughbred and suddenly the nightmare responsible for Jason’s downward spiral is rekindled as Jason is thrust back into the wilderness on the trail of a predator that defies belief.

     The time clock has begun for Norah Phelps, too, daughter of multimillionaire real estate developer Richard Phelps whose recent purchase of the 95,000 acre former Clarksdale Animal Preserve has pitted environmentalist and wildlife biologist daughter against capitalist father.  Norah, responsible for relocating the local wolf population, remains unconvinced a pack of marauding wolves are accountable for the attacks and enlists Jason’s help in her quest for the real killer before the spate of killings can jeopardize not only her future but also the future of her father’s prize development project.

     Against the majestic pristine backdrop of Idaho’s Bitterroot Wilderness Area, the story unfolds.  Jason, with Norah’s assistance, soon discovers the ghosts of his past are nothing compared to the battle he’s undertaken.
    
     Smilodon.  A saber-toothed cat.  He’s angry, he’s frightened, he’s hungry, and he’s 12,000 years from home.


Look for SMILODON this September at an ebook store near
you!


Alan Nayes was born in Houston and grew up on the Texas gulf coast. He lives in Southern California. He is the author of the critically-acclaimed biomedical thrillers, GARGOYLES and THE UNNATURAL. His most recent release is BARBARY POINT, a love story. He has two other novels that will be published soon. SMILODON is about a huge cat that terrorizes a small town in the Pacific Northwest. In early 2012, Samhain Publishing will release his erotic horror story GIRL BLUE. GIRL BLUE is about a terminally ill sculptor who becomes haunted by his last work.
         An avid outdoorsman and fitness enthusiast, he is one of only a few individuals to  ever swim across Wisconsin’s chilly Lake Winnebago. When not working on his next project, he enjoys relaxing and fishing at the family vacation home in Wisconsin.

Alan Nayes books can be found at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Smashwords.

          BARBARY POINT 
              Amazon http://amzn.to/jwaVbN
              Barnesandnoble.com http://bit.ly/j4mUlk
              Smashwords http://bit.ly/kZwoq7

          GARGOYLES
              Amazon http://amzn.to/nUMXs4
              Barnesandnoble http://bit.ly/nBThYm
              Smashwords https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/77758

            THE UNNATURAL
               Amazon http://amzn.to/oXRiNV
               Barnesandnoble http://bit.ly/oxjm4S
               Smashwords  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/80711 

Readers can contact Alan Nayes at:

                    Website http://anayes.com/                     
                    Goodreads  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/527589.Alan_Nayes
                    Facebook http://on.fb.me/mflYEU
                    Twitter http://twitter.com/#!/alannayes
             Blog   http://alannayes.blogspot.com/ 

Again, thank you Joshua for having me on your blog.

Monday, August 22, 2011

what scares me? originally posted on Todd Russells page.

What scares me? Well that's simple. I'm afraid of the slithering horror that moves just outside of your vision. It's that same thing that disappears, changing its shape and taking on a new visage as you try and focus on it. You look, so sure of what you saw, but each time, it's gone. I'm afraid of the shadowy tendrils that flair out, coming closer, conquering everything they touch as the sun goes down. Or when a light goes out, and darkness consumes the comfort and solace that you cling to in order to alleviate your fear.

Terra Incognita: The Abyss by Joshua MaysIt's the intentions of the leering man that scare me, the one who rubs you the wrong way, or gives you a strange vibe. The actions of a person you care about when they aren't around. You think you can trust them, but can you really? It's the power that hides in our hearts, turning us into monsters on a whim. Taking away our humanity, reverting us back to the animals we were meant to be. It's the mass murderers, and terrorists who could show up at any minute. It's the serve weather warning, or the melting ice caps.

It's the long drive to work each day, or that seven hour flight that has too much turbulence. It's the complications during pregnancy, or the people out for your children. It's the first step on a new journey, or that decision that could change your life. It's the people and places that are different, and all the dangers that come with them. It's the virus that floats in the air, or rests in our bed, waiting to infect us and bring sickness.

It's the power behind religion, and the reason we all stay in line, doing our best to be good people. It's the ancient beings that come from beyond the stars, sleeping beneath our seas. It's the reason, why people are afraid of death, and the afterlife. No, it's not the fear itself, but rather the greatest fear of them all. It's the fear of the unknown.

Saturday, August 6, 2011

Terra Incognita: The sample

Chapter One

Benjamin Harking stood on the threshold of his home and knocked on the half-open door, reluctant to enter. The hollow sound was amplified by the size of the foyer and the lack of furniture. He felt awkward coming back to this place; even after almost two years it hadn’t yet become home to him. The sudden change in lifestyle had come so quickly that he still wasn’t used to the idea of being rich. His dad had been offered a major promotion and the next thing Ben knew, they had moved into this oversized house and he was off to boarding school to get a “proper” education. The house was so large that his family had once gone a full day at home without seeing each other. It was over a hundred years old, which made it a little creepy on late nights when everything was still and quiet. The creaks and groans were loud enough to stir them from a deep sleep.

The Victorian-style mansion was located in the northern panhandle of West Virginia, near Morgantown.  They were miles from their nearest neighbor and even farther from any semblance of civilization. Ben missed his friends from Papillion, Nebraska, but he understood his father couldn’t turn down that promotion. He knew that he couldn’t blame his family for this, but it didn’t change how he felt. He wondered if they realized what they had asked of him, to give up his entire life in an instant, just to be dropped into a new and unfamiliar one. Did they understand what it felt like for him to have everything he loved taken from him and replaced with something new and unwelcoming?

As his suitcase hit the hard marble floor, he called out, “Is anyone here?” The sound of his voice had a slight echo in the vastness of the hallways and corridors, but no one replied. It was Christmas vacation; where was his family? Here he was, right on schedule. They knew he was coming home today, but the only thing to greet him was a massive Christmas tree with an assortment of wrapped boxes underneath. It was decorated, but without the gaudy of use of ornaments his mother was known for. Right then he knew that Charles, their butler, must have done it. Despite this, it still made him a little sad that they hadn’t waited for him like they used to. Their family traditions were whittling away more and more as the years passed. Disappointment was a growing trend in his life. His parents were always busy with work or some social engagement that he couldn’t attend.

“Hello?” he said again, louder this time.  Still no answer came from anywhere in the house. A loud sigh escaped his lips as he saw something on the table next to the door. It was an envelope with his name written on it in big cursive script. He looked down at his cell phone to see if anyone had called, but it was clear of notifications. With a slow, hesitant motion, he picked up the envelope and opened it with little care for its contents. It was obvious that it was from his parents because of the handwriting on the front. A weight of grief sank his stomach a little when he read the words of his mother.

Your father had an important business meeting to attend to in the city. We will be home as soon as we can.
Love, Mom.

It was short and simple without any signs of affection or emotion. Even the word “love” seemed hollow and forced coming from a woman who spent more time on her cell phone than she did with her family. That was the way of his mother lately. Though he couldn’t figure it out, Ben knew that this newfound success had changed them all. His father was always busy and irritable and his mother was always working her ass off to become accepted in a group of women who (unlike her) were from money. Ben had vowed not to be changed by it, but he couldn’t help enjoy some of the perks and advantages it brought him. It was hard to ignore the sudden influx of money and resources. A new car had been promised to him for Christmas, and his allowance had tripled. This allowed him to buy more books and other pieces of entertainment to keep him company when there was no one else.

The letter drifted toward the floor as he picked up his duffel bags and carried them up to his room. Tired and winded, he had to sit down after lugging his suitcase up the stairs and across the house. Ben wasn’t a “fat” boy, but he wasn’t in shape by any means. The three flights of stairs alone would have left him without breath, but then add an additional walk to his room carrying twenty pounds of stuff, and he was beat. The fabric of his couch felt wonderful as the cushion gave under his weight. The furniture in the dorms at Pency Prep wasn’t even comparable to the stuff his mom had picked out for the house. She had made it her new hobby to decorate everything she could, and Ben had to admit she wasn’t bad at it.

Except for the furniture, the d├ęcor of his room was of his own choosing. Two of the four walls had floor to ceiling shelving, covered with books that ranged in topic from advanced reference to fantasy fiction. His interests were broad and he considered this room his own private oasis in the unforgiving desert of family life. When he was hiding, Ben would read for hours on end and usually fall asleep with a book in hand. All around the room were treasures from his childhood that he refused to get rid of. Ben wasn’t a hoarder, but he saw no reason to put away old toys and other childish hobbies just because he was getting older. The fact that this pissed his mother off was an added benefit.

In the top desk drawer, he found something he hadn’t seen in a while. Hidden under some disheveled papers was a silver medallion. The trinket, which was once worn as a necklace, was the last gift Ben’s grandfather had given to him, just days before the old man had died. It had meant a lot to Ben at the time, but now it just took up space in his cluttered little area. Engraved on one side was a three-legged crow. His grandfather had been an archaeologist and found these kinds of things interesting. According to him, the crow symbolized the heavens, humans, and earth, collected as one entity, and was meant to bring him strength in times of need. Just thinking about it brought back the feelings it had inspired at the time and for a moment, he was lost in the thoughts of his grandfather.

“Ah, good to see you are home.” Ben jumped. Lost in reverie, he had thought he was alone in the house. Placing the item back into the drawer, he looked up and saw a welcome face.

“Hey, Charles,” Ben replied, looking up at the grey-haired man peeking in from the doorway.  Charles’ smile faded as he picked up on Ben’s sadness and stepped in. Ben knew Charles empathized with him. They both knew that these things happened, but neither wanted to deal with them. Ben’s parents had been pulling this disappearing act a lot over the last year.

“Don’t worry, Master Harking, they will be home soon.” The term “Master Harking” was something they had picked up when Charles first came to work with them. It started out as a joke, but it had stuck and somehow become something more. It signified both Ben’s reluctance to become jaded by all the money and the humor Charles found in his attitude. They would often hang out, and Ben would help him with his house duties when he was really bored. It was better than sitting alone in his room and it afforded Ben someone interesting to chat with. Ben was privy to a secret about Charles that many people didn’t know. The seasoned butler was a master storyteller, and he would fill the boy’s ears with tales of his life and other interesting things he had learned.

Charles was a good guy and in a lot of ways one of Ben’s only friends. He had allowed Ben to get away with certain transgressions over the past two years under the pretense that “boys will be boys.” With a mutual respect, they had formed a stronger relationship than the one he had with his parents. In times of personal trouble, Ben had even used him as a proxy guardian when he felt he couldn’t confide in his own family. Being on the cusp of manhood, Ben was at a pivotal time in his development as a person. Not having any kids of his own, Charles had taken the job, if only to make sure that Ben was in fact raised in a suitable fashion. The absentee parents he worked for tended to get on Charles’ nerves, but the pay was good and it allowed him time with Benjamin.

“I have to take off,” Charles said, looking at his watch. “Do you need me to make you anything for dinner?”  The wrinkles in his face gave away the sadness that his deceitful smile tried to hide.

“Nah, I can make my own dinner. I will eventually make my way down to the kitchen. Will I see you again before Christmas?” Ben asked.

“No, you won’t. I’m taking these two weeks off so I can go on a trip, but I’ll be back before New Year’s. Maybe we can go searching for fireworks again,” Charles said, trying to sound upbeat and positive.

“Yeah, maybe we will. See you then,” Ben said. He noticed that Charles had a hard time walking away. Ben knew Charles felt bad for him, but there was nothing to do about it. The butler walked away, leaving him to sulk in his room. Sitting there in silence for awhile, he finally got up when he heard the front door close. The idea of food was gnawing at his stomach now, telling him it was time to eat. The trip home had been long, and the food at his school left something to be desired.

The large kitchen was on the ground floor, at the back of the house. It was filled with all sorts of modern state-of-the-art appliances covered in stainless steel. As he pulled open the massive refrigerator, he thought about how his good grades used to be posted, held up by the unusual magnets they had collected over the years. With a sigh, he opened the bin to pull out turkey and fixings to make a sandwich.

As he stood there spreading mayo onto the bread, he peered out the window, past the small potted plants and hanging curtain, and into the backyard. There he could see a large garden shed and a chain-link fence connecting it to the house. These were both new additions since he had last been home a month before. This place was different every time he came back. New additions were always a priority as his parents tried to match the house to their new level of success.

The kitchen seemed to be vast and empty every time he entered the room and it reminded him of the house they lived in before. Every Sunday he’d wake up, and his parents would be making breakfast while on their cell phones talking to the outside world about this job or that. The smell of pancakes or biscuits would always bring him down the stairs and the chirping sound of endless business jargon would send him back up as soon as he was finished. The resentment of this had taken its toll. But at least back then, they were around for meals.

After placing his sandwich on a plate, he climbed the stairs back to his room. He sat there for a while trying to enjoy the food as the TV blared with news and stories about the holiday and coming snowstorm. Ben wasn’t very excited about the prospect of being stuck alone in the house with nowhere to go, but without a driver’s license he didn’t have any options. He looked around his room for something to do, but everything there seemed unappealing at the moment. With the last bite of sandwich devoured, he picked up his cell and scrolled through to the M’s.  “Mom” was the first number that came up, but instead of risking her not answering, he turned it off and threw the phone onto the floor in a fit of frustration.

After picking up his dishes, he walked out of his room and down the stairs. He made it to the foyer before he stopped, looked down at his plate, and in a weak act of defiance, placed it on the hall table. He picked up his mother’s letter off the floor, and just as he set it on top of the plate, the floor creaked and moaned and then broke underneath his feet.

“Oh, shit,” Ben said as he fell to the ground. His shin hit hard against the splintered wood, causing pain to race up his leg. It took a few seconds for the sting to subside and a few more for him to regain his composure. With a crack, he pulled his foot from the hole, bringing rotted pieces of floorboard up with it. Anger rose in his throat as all the small moments of his past compounded into one.

“God damn this house!” he yelled, holding his leg.

He hated this house, and this only gave more reason to feel that way. Everything in his life had changed, and this place stood only as a reminder of how unhappy he was. He felt more alone here than he ever had in his entire life. This wasn't a home for him, but rather a simple residence. It was nothing more than an unbecoming place to get mail—not that he ever got mail.

Looking down into the hole, he expected to see the vast expanse of basement. Instead, he looked into a small concrete room that that didn’t appear to have a door. It was almost empty except for a table and some stuff stored in the corners. It looked cramped and dusty, but his curiosity kicked in. With little else to do, the prospect of exploration was enticing. He ran up to his room and returned with a long black flashlight. He clicked it on and shined it into the hole to scan the room under the floor. The beam didn’t reveal a door, but he did see something resting on the table itself. It looked like a large, dusty book. With a slight shift, he migrated the light until something else came into view. There, grasping the book, was a skeletal hand, and attached to that, a corpse, withered to nothing but bone. Ben jumped up and rushed through the kitchen to the basement door with a newfound wonder in his eyes.

This room was an utter mystery to him considering the fact that Charles had shown him around the house. The tour he received when they moved had encompassed the attic, all three floors, and the cellar. There was never any mention of a hidden chamber in the basement. After rushing through the basement door and reaching the bottom of the polished wooden stairs, he surveyed the area, looking for any clue that could help him get into the room. The walls were white and branched out into a maze of hallways connecting to guest rooms that were never used. If it hadn’t been for Charles, most of the corners would be covered in spider webbing and dust.

As he searched, his imagination began to go wild with impossible questions. Why was there a skeleton in his house? How long had it been boarded up, and what was that strange book? This was the most excited he had been in quite awhile. In a single instant, his angst had turned into something more. The possibilities almost took his mind off his parents not being around when he got home, or how much things had changed when they were supposed to stay the same. He tried his best to not think about how excited his dad would have been, helping him look for this hidden treasure. There was a time when this sort of thing would have brought them together.

It only took a few moments for Ben to find a place in the wall that didn’t look right. It had a door-sized spot that upon close examination appeared to be painted an off-white color that didn’t quite match the rest of the wall. It was hidden in a shadowy corner away from the rest of the rooms, under the stairs. He stood there for a moment running his hands up and down the area, trying to figure out a way to get in. It wasn’t long before a single, brilliant idea dawned on him. It was simple, but it could possibly land him in some serious trouble.

The thoughts of any ramifications dissolved into the ether as he ran to the other side of the basement. The door into his father’s workroom hit the wall as he forced it open. Ben stood there for a moment, looking around, examining every inch. Tools of all shapes and sizes hung from the pegboard that lined the walls. His search ended as his eyes rested upon a cherry-red fire ax. Dad, like most men, loved his toys, but never had time to use them. This one in particular was brand new. With a smile on his face, Ben knew he was going to enjoy ruining its nice red finish.

Back at the wall with the secret door, he hesitated, pondering what he was about to do. The ax felt heavy in his hand, but the excitement and the rush won through as he held it.

If Ben had known what this act of defiance would lead to, he wouldn’t have gone through with it. Instead, he would have put the ax back up on the wall and walked away, willing to finish his mediocre evening without protest.

As it was, Ben was clueless. A bus-sized grin gripped his cheeks and he lifted the ax over his head and brought it down against the wall.

Sunday, July 31, 2011

Terra Incognita: the release

The book has finally been released into the open world and as I wait patiently for someone to finish it and tell me what they think, I can't help but ponder on all the hard work and effort I've put in to it. This is something that I've worked on for two years and I'm sad to say that the finished product isn't enough. There is so little time, and so many distractions. Everyday, I look at the half finished first draft of book two and I think "Get to it," but I don't. Tomorrow is my restart date since part one is out, and I just finished the short story. Now I have to churn out book two so that I can build my brand and peddle my wears. I don't mind then grind, I just wish it didn't have to be forced. I do rationalize though, that this is good training for a job that relies on deadlines and due dates.

Marketing is the worst. Having to put myself out there everyday hoping that someone will like my "work" enough to tell their friends. There is something about this process that worries me. Having my success in other peoples hands doesn't really work for me, but sadly I have no choice in the matter. Having people read your writing is truly a leap of faith every time you put the words in their hands. They read it, taking in what they want, and then remembering it how they want. Their subjective thoughts on your work can make or break you, both physically and mentally. I understand how a lot of other writers can by bogged down by this kind of pressure.

 Writing to an audience has proven to be harder than I thought, especially now that I know this audience is fickle and hungry for constant stimulus. How is a writer supposed to distance themselves enough to keep writing, yet stay in touch enough to sell? There is definitely a razors edge here that must be walked at all times.  Fall to one side, and you alienate your audience for the sake of your own artistic views. Fall to the other and you lose yourself in the prospects of monetary gain and become little more than a factory, pumping out products for basic consumption. Why can't life be black and white?

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Interview with Julia Crane!

Julia Crane Author of Coexist: Keegan's Chronicles

Who are you, and where are you from?
Hello, and thanks for having me. I’m the author of Coexist: Keegna’s Chronicles. I’m currently living in Dubai, UAE. Prior to moving to Dubai we lived in TN and I have lived a few other places on the east coast. Born in VA, lived in Maine and FL for a few years. My father was a merchant marine, and I later married a member of the military.

Tell us your latest news?
I’m very excited that Coexist has been released and is available on Amazon.

When and why did you begin writing?
I started writing as a teen. I read so many books writing just seemed to be a natural step.

What inspired you to write your first book?
I finally had the time. I use to run own a small business and having three children there never seemed to be time to write. Once we moved to Dubai I had a lot of free time. My husband and I had a bet to see who could write a full novel first. He never made it past the first chapter.

What books have most influenced your life?
Hmm, too many to mention. Where the Red Fern Grows was the first book to make me cry. Nancy Drew sucked me in and I couldn’t read her books fast enough. Leading me to secretly want to be a PI. Atlas Shrugged I read and was in awe. I could go on and on.

If you had to choose, which writer would you want as a mentor?James Patterson he knows how to write page turners.

What book are you reading now?
 I’m currently reading three indie books. Independence Day by Aaron Bex.  Not Magic Enough by Valerie Douglas, and Moonglow by Charlie Romo. My kindle is full of books I’m trying to read as many indies as I can.

What are your current projects?
I’m currently working on Conflicted: Keegan’s Chronicles. I hope to have it out by Decemeber.

Name one entity that you feel supported you outside of family members.
I can’t say enough about the Indie Writers Unite FB group. Everyone is so friendly and helpful.

Do you see writing as a career?
Well, I am lucky enough to stay home so yes this is now my career.

If you had to do it all over again, would you change anything in your
latest book?

 No, I learned a lot during the process. It was a lot of fun to write.

Do you recall how your interest in writing originated?
Not really, I think almost everyone dreams of writing a book someday.

Can you share a little of your current work with us?
 I’m currently writing Paranormal Young Adult books that center around a family of elves.

Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing?
Yes, I have major tense issues. I’m sure it causes a headache for my editors.
Who designed the covers?
 I found an amazing artist through deviantart.com She was so helpful and worked on it till it was perfect.

What was the hardest part of writing your book?
I guess finding quiet time to write. I have two teens and a two year old.
Do you have any advice for other writers?  Write, and keep writing. Don’t worry about errors at first just write before you forget all your wonderful ideas.

Do you have anything specific that you want to say to your readers?
THANK YOU! I’m so glad I have had this opportunity to meet so many great readers and writers through this process.

Check out her website!

Thursday, June 9, 2011

An interview with Harris Channing!

Today, I had the pleasure of interviewing Harris Channing. She is a Romance Writer who is trying to cut her teeth in the indie writing world. Her book is on sale for .99, so go check it out and post all of your good reviews! 


Who are you, and where are you from?
My name is Harris Channing and I'm an author from Middle Tennessee.


Tell us your latest news?
My latest writing news--I recently released my novella, AN UN WILLING BARONESS
via Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble and Smashwords.


When and why did you begin writing?
 I began writing in grade school.  I had a wonderful 6th grade teacher that told
me she felt I had talent.  It meant A LOT to hear that.  If teachers don't
realize the power of their words, they need to think again!
 I didn't start writing for anything but recreation until I was in my early
20's.  I went on hiatus for a while to have kids and care for them, but when
they started school, I started seriously pursuing my dream.


When did you first consider yourself a writer?
 I've been a writer since I was about twelve.  I've only recently considered
myself an author.  Let's just say, I'm WAY older than twelve.


What inspired you to write your first book? 
When I was in my early twenties things in my life were very bleak.  I used
writiing as an escape and my characters truly helped me overcome some pretty
dark times.
 
If you had to choose, which writer would you consider a mentor?
I feel like I should say someone like William Faulkner or Ernest Hemingway, but
the truth is, Catherine Cookson inspired me.  Not so much by her books (and
there are some wonderful stories!) but by the way she overcame personal
obstacles to become the wonderful success that she became.  Also, when she was
very old, in bed after eye surgery, I wrote to her and via her secretary she
wrote back, offering me writing advice.  A true lady. 

What are your current projects?
 I'm in love with the Regency era at the moment and am about midway through an
erotic romance tentatively titled, "The Desperate Duke".  After that I want to
write book 2 of my Immortal Protector Series-THE DEMON MADE ME DO IT.


Name one entity that you feel supported you outside of family members.
 I don't suppose my crit partners Lori Brighton and Renee Micheals would like to
be called entities, but they have supported and sustained me.


Do you see writing as a career?
 I aspire for writing to be a career.  Right now it's a hobby I obsess over!


Can you share a little of your current work with us?
My latest release, AN UNWILLING BARONESS is a Regency romance.  Here's the
blurb: Three years ago, Chloe allowed her heart's desire to leave her. Now Jude is
back, but between his mother, her father and the Baron von Richter, is she
destined to become an unwilling baroness?


Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing?
Just buckling down and doing it!  Plus the critique, editing phase…it's hard to
realize that a book you slaved over, needs you to slave over it again…and again!


Who designed the covers?
For AN UNWILLING BARONESSS and THE DEMON IS IN THE DETAILS, I did!  As a matter
of fact, I'd like to have a side business designing covers for other writers.  I
really enjoy the process!
 
Do you have any advice for other writers?
Yes, don't get discouraged.  Just keep trying.  You'll never succeed if you
quit…I guess that's good advice in most aspects of life.


An Unwilling Baroness at Amazon


An Unwilling Baroness at Amazon UK


An Unwilling Baroness at Smashwords

An Unwilling Baroness at Barnes and Noble

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Saturday, May 28, 2011

Dominion

There is no solution to the human condition. We rape and kill everything that gets in our way, all in the name of progress, under the banner of dominion. This disgusting behavior has perpetuated itself to the point where there is no turning back. We can't undo the mass killings that have become a part of our very nature. We take and take, and in a pathetic attempt at retribution, we set up programs that are meant to undo thousands of years of damage. There is no band aid for extinction, or suture for the destruction of natural habitats. There is no turning back, just slowing down. We have set into motion a catalyst of change that will forever leave its mark on the world, and for what? A steak dinner? A feather pillow? A bigger home to house the things that we so desperately cling to in an attempt at godhood? Humanity is worse than any virus because we were blessed with the ability to choose. Are you happy with your decisions?

Friday, May 27, 2011

My first blog

Over a year has gone by since I started writing Terra Incognita, and here I am, on the cusp of having it published  (for the 2nd time). It has been a long journey filled with great ideas, bad ideas, hours of writing, and many more rewriting. I'm ready for the editing process to be done so I can get back to the grind of creating and crafting. The  procedure is long and arduous, but the pay off is so gratifying that it makes every second worth it. It's sad to think that the worst may be before me though. Facing that first review, for better or worse could make or break me. Only time will tell. For now, I will keep writing.