Welcome to WriterWannabe, where your imagination takes flight
Greetings! My name is J.S Frankel, author of 'The Tower' a Young Adult novel that shows one's dreams can and do come true in your imagination. In the ensuing days, weeks, and months, I'll be updating my work, doing some writing, writing, and more re-writing, and trying to top my previous best. I hope you'll join me on my journey.
May 19th, 2019
In honor of today's release of Cyber Sprite, I'll tempt readers with an excerpt. Tell me if you're tempted!
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Helena Schreiber was a wild-haired, wild-eyed woman of indeterminate age who lay in a hospital bed wearing an offwhite gown and was hooked up to various tubes that fed into her arms and her nose. “Now, Doctor Schreiber, this is... uh—”
“Jake,” I said.
“Jake,” the nurse repeated.
“I heard him the first time,” Schreiber responded in a voice that was nothing short of withering. “Get out and bother someone else!”
With that, the nurse shut the door as the old lady screamed something incomprehensible at her. At first, I thought she was curled up, but upon closer examination, she was abnormally small as well as hunchbacked. From her unkempt appearance combined with her garb, she made me think of an asylum inmate, not a member of the senior citizen’s brigade. The room reeked of stale air and body odor, and I held my breath. It didn’t help, as the stink wormed its way into my nostrils. Nothing unusual in the way of furniture was in the room save one thing, something I never thought I’d see here. It was a laptop on the little table.
A figure eight character was on the screen, a ball bearing rolling through its chambers on an endless search throughout infinity. Once the door closed, though, the fit stopped, and she gazed at me, eyes calm and composed. When she spoke, she cultivated her words carefully, calmly, in a clipped manner. “Your full name, please?”
“Jake Cullen,” I breathed out. “Is it okay if I open the window?”
She nodded, and I cracked the window wide open, breathing in fresh air. When I turned around again, she stabbed a gnarled forefinger at me. “Who contacted you?”
I pointed at the computer. “You did. Your e-mail name is Moon Ringer, isn’t it?”
Schreiber blinked, and her hand dropped into her lap. “That is... that is impossible. I do not know you.” Her eyes strayed toward the computer. “Bring it to me,” she commanded.
Once she got it, she tapped a few buttons and then let out a rattling breath. “She knows. Finally, she knows, and for some reason, Jake Cullen, she has contacted you. And you may call me Helena.”
Call this an at-sea moment. I had absolutely no idea of what she was talking about. Either this Schreiber person was a semi-psychotic computer scientist or some senile old lady, but I couldn’t tell which. Then I realized that her screaming at the nurse had all been an act. The question remained of who this Schreiber’s acting was for. “Who is she?”
Helena looked around at everything, eyes practically popping from their sockets as they searched for something no one else but her could see. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I haf been checking every day since coming here. That was ten years ago. Before today, there was no response, only an image.”
The way she said haf—it was the first slip in her speech. “You’re not from the US originally, are you?”
“What?”
Form the words, say them clearly. Oh, screw it. I took out my pad and pencil—I always carried them with me—and started writing. Schreiber looked at my question and murmured, “This could work in our favor.”
What could? She then muttered something else about ever-curious ears, gave the room another furtive once-over, and then tapped something on her laptop. “Look,” she whispered. “It is true. I haf succeeded.”
I walked over to gaze at the screen. A young woman, maybe my age, sat in the middle of a meadow among the tall grass and yellow buttercups. She wore a green one-piece dress, the same color as the grass around her, and she blended in well with her surroundings. With long raven-black hair and a pointy chin, she reminded me of an anime character. A reflective expression was on her face.
She then looked up with the most startlingly blue eyes I’d ever seen. No, not looked up—she looked at us, almost through us, and then smiled and waved. Half in a daze, I waved back and then dropped my arm. “This can’t be real,” I muttered.
Schreiber heard my mumbling. “Yes, she is real. More than that, she is sentient.”
Really? Seriously? “You’re telling me that this anime, is, uh, self-aware?”
Impossible, yet true. Words formed on the screen. Hi, Jake. Glad you could finally meet my mother. I told you you’d get your answer.
In shock, I turned to the aged woman beside me. “You’re her mother?”
Schreiber let out a mirthless laugh. “You could say that. She is an AI, the first and only one of her kind. I am the one who created her."
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You can buy Cyber Sprite here, if you wish!!---> http://www.devinedestinies.com/978-1-4874-2303-2-cyber-sprite/
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March 28th 2019
For those writers out there, a little reaffirmation: who you are, what you do, whatever you write...you're worth it.
No, this isn't a self-actualization kinda deal. It's the unvarnished truth. Let me explain.
You've written your manuscript, edited it to the best of your ability, gone over it again and again, perhaps employed the services of a couple of beta readers...and you've gotten rejected by the publishers.
Or, you've done the above and had your book published, but you've failed to make many--if any--sales. Sucks, doesn't it? You bet it does! And the rejection and/or lack of recognition may make you feel as though you're not worth a damn.
I've been there, trust me. I've gone through rejection after rejection to the point where I wanted to chuck it all. And even after getting published, the lack of sales made me wonder why I got into this crazy game to begin with.
However, I realized something along the way. What I wrote, what I thought and did and penned, what I turned out, it was worth it. I was worth it.
Yes, some writers simply don't have the skills necessary to pen a good book. It's a sad fact, but it's the truth. And those who do possess those skills may not get the recognition--financial or critical or both--that they crave. Still, does this invalidate everything they've done?
Not in the least. The fact that you were brave enough to put your thoughts down makes you worthy. Sure, it would be lovely to get published and rake in the big bucks. I won't lie about that. EVERY writer wants to make money. Nothing wrong with it.
Reality-check time: it won't happen for a lot of you. Maybe me, too, unless a million of you out there would like to aid me in my quest. ;)
Still, does this lack of financial reward/recognition invalidate you as a person? No. Not. And never. You have written something. Even if it isn't good, you've done what others have only dreamed of. If you're smart, you'll then take what they've penned and that which was rejected, and then rework it, rework and reword it until it is acceptable. That's what I did. So should you. Even if your work doesn't get accepted, you've taken the next step and proven to yourself that you're worthy as a writer--and as a person.
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March 10th 2019
An excerpt from my latest novel, Fight Like A Woman. #YAFantasy #Action #Lesfic #Romance
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Worry leapt from her eyes. “And you know that I have repeatedly begged you not to go out on your scouting missions. Every time you leave, I fear you will not return.”
Suddenly, everything became clear. This Rinarra person had done something about the invaders. With those nails she had, her agility and speed and more, she must have been someone fierce—and I was now her.
“Well, you know me,” I said, trying to calm this person down. “I always come back. I always keep my promises, and now I’m here.”
The woman stared at me. “I think that monster hit you harder than you know. Somehow you...you sound different.”
“I’m still me.”
No, I wasn’t, but she didn’t have to know. Outside of the table, chair, the primitive bed and the cooking implements, there was nothing here to indicate any modernity. No interstellar radio, no electrical devices of any kind that I could see. Getting a message to the Vega system would be impossible. Then she kissed me on the cheek.
“I am glad that you returned. I was so worried. It is good that you are safe.”
Who is this person, I thought, and what was up with the kiss? Then my inner voice spoke. Merat. Her name is Merat. The second syllable in the name had been stressed.
“Uh, Merat?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sort of tired. I think I have to lie down.”
She nodded and went over to take the pallet and the blanket. She then searched among the pile of clothes, found an extra pullover, and handed it to me. “Here,” she said. “Change your garment and rest. I will wash, we can sleep after.”
Fine by me. She prepared the pallet and then went outside, carefully closing the door behind her. I got changed, lay down, and looked around. The only source of light here was the fire and the single candle that burned on the table.
For the first time since crash-landing here, I felt a sense of peace creeping over me, along with a pleasant sensation of exhaustion. Sleep would be good...my eyes closed...and then they snapped open. Merat had mentioned something about sleeping arrangements. There was only one pallet, and the way she’d held me before, not to mention that peck on the cheek...
Uh-oh. I tried to think of Rinarra, searching inside my mind. Are you there, Rinarra? No answer, but then again, I hadn’t been expecting one.
The door opened, and Merat walked in, hair wet and matted down the sides of her face and on top of her head. She wore only her pullover, and casually took it off and dropped it as she went to the fire to dry off. “Are you feeling warm?” she asked, not bothering to turn her head. She had a slender figure much like mine, but not as toned.
In a quick move, she squatted down to stoke the fire, murmuring something about keeping warm, the nights here got cool in the summer, and that we should enjoy our time together. Wait a minute. Enjoy our time...I’d never enjoyed my time with anyone— ever. I’d had thoughts, but those thoughts had never translated to any action, and now Merat wanted to...
Time to leave, but Merat came over to the pallet and slipped in beside me. “You must be exhausted after your battle. Was it bad?” she asked, her hand stroking my hair and then my face.
“It was bad enough.” There goes my heart rate, and what should I do with my hands?
“You are so brave,” she whispered. “I could never do what you have done. Then again, I do not have your gifts.”
She touched my fingernails. It was obvious she knew of my abilities, but didn’t have the same set of skills. Everything abruptly grew hotter, and it had nothing to do with the fire or the fact that I was underneath a very warm blanket. What to say in this situation? My breath came out shallowly, and right now no useful reply came to mind. “Uh, some of us have it. Some of us don’t.”
(You can find Fight Like A Woman at: https://www.amazon.com/Fight-Like-Woman-J-S-Frankel-ebook/dp/B07P5NY4KK/ref=pd_ybh_a_9?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=1HFHH7HZYV4DTPBV5N6Z
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February 8th, 2019
Recently, a friend of mine suggested posting links to my work. Well, why not? Just in case, I'm over at Amazon at https://www.amazon.com/J.S.-Frankel/e/B004XUUTB8/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1
You can also find me at Regal Crest for the Lindsay/Jo trilogy, Twisted, and the new Fight Like A Woman: http://regalcrest.biz/j-s-frankel
Devine Destinies: http://www.devinedestinies.com/js-frankel/
And, for the Nightmare Crew trilogy as well as The Menagerie, Finch Books is at: https://www.finch-books.com/index.php?route=product/author/info&author_id=402
Nothing wrong with Amazon. It's a great place. But, if you can get a digital copy cheaper, why not go to the source? They're all safe sites, they deliver exactly what Amazon does, only the price might be a bit better, so check them out, please!
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December 27th, 2018
A brief excerpt of The Auctioneer
Nibblo let out another gurgling laugh. “You have a lot to learn. However, since you’re the replacement for our old auctioneer, I’m prepared to be lenient.” Screw your leniency. “Am I supposed to feel grateful?”
Yes, snark from me, and he could deal with it—or not. Obviously, he couldn’t, as his good humor disappeared in a flash and his thick lips got tight. “New auctioneer or not, it would be wise for you to learn a little respect. That is how your predecessor did it, and you would do well to emulate his example.”
Respect—in his eyes, that was a seven-letter word meaning kiss my ass. Another bit of advice from my father surfaced. He’d always told me that respect had to be earned. Money didn’t buy respect. Being decent did. However, I doubted Nibblo and his boys even knew the concept of what the term meant. I slowly got up to push my face close to his. The stench from his mouth and body almost overwhelmed me, but some things couldn’t be let go. “Get this straight, tough guy. You probably have a lot of money. You have your buttkissers with you. But you don’t own me, you don’t control me, and you don’t control what goes on here. Got it?”
Right, talk to a walking toad who probably owned half the galaxy. Talk tough. I’d never been tough. Never been weak, either, but there was one thing I wouldn’t stand for, and that was being pushed around. Surprise, surprise, he actually took a few steps back. When he spoke, though, every word he uttered contained menace. “Listen well, Earth-boy. You don’t know me, either. You have no idea of how wealthy I am, what businesses I control, or how many men operate under me. Think it over, and we will see each other again at tomorrow’s auction.”
Quasi-threat delivered, he moved toward the door, but not before inclining his head at his minions. He then exited, but his lackeys did not. “You can follow your master,” I told them.
They didn’t budge, and it was only then that I realized what the nod had signified. Like a mob boss, he’d given his boys the okay to rough me up. The other patrons hurriedly finished eating and tore out the door. That left me, Fursal, and the Mutt-and-Jeff team of pseudo-bruisers, although a few of the other bidders hung around to see the outcome. Fursal tried to intervene by saying, “Guys, this is a public place. No fighting on the premises. In case you forgot, I’m the owner. You’re supposed to be attending an auction tomorrow, not—”
“Screw you,” the butter-stick man said and shoved him aside. “He dissed our boss. That demands recrimination.”
Moron, he couldn’t even use the right word, and I blocked his arm when he tried to slap Fursal. It probably wouldn’t have hurt, but who knew? Gently, I pushed the blue blob out of the way. “I think you mean retribution, skinny.”
Butter-stick blinked. “Oh, yeah... right. Retribution.”
I would have to correct a thug. Well, as the saying went, let’s get this party started, and I set my stance. “Okay, who’s first?”
“Me,” the gargoyle said. He came in fast, kicking out at my legs. His first shot missed, but the second one got through and connected with my left knee. It staggered me, but two could play at this game. Fourth and twenty, time to punt, and punt I did, kicking him to the far end of the diner. Field goal!
He landed on a table, bounced off it, and fell to the floor, groaning heavily. Yeah, one down and one to go, but I’d started the celebrations too early, as butter-stick man threw a hard right that connected with the side of my head and sent me reeling. For a slender dude, he hit hard.
“Humans,” he spat. “You are nothing.”
He tried to follow up with another shot, but overcommitted himself and swung wildly. That allowed me to catch him with my own one-two and it put him down. “Leave my friend alone!”
Gargoyle-man jumped me from nowhere, latching onto my neck and pulling me down. His friend got up to knee me in the gut. They continued to assault me, and someone gimme a weapon! I blindly reached out with my left hand, felt something heavy and metallic, grabbed it, and then bashed butter-stick in the head. Once, twice... and then again. You want it, you got it!
“Augh!” he cried, and let go, holding the right side of his face. “No fair!” Who said fighting was fair? Gargoyle-guy was still hanging onto my neck for dear life in an attempt to choke me, but one shot to his head made him fall off, screaming in pain.
Once I was free, I took a look at my makeshift bludgeon. I’d grabbed a food machine. It was lighter than I’d thought. Now, it was dented and stained with their blood, and they hung back well out of range, fists bunched and wary. They’d been expecting an easy target. Humans didn’t like being pushed around. At least, this human didn’t.
“Ready for more?” I asked, spitting out some of my own blood. “I got a lot more.”
They snarled but stopped when the sound of a weapon’s safety being clicked rang out. That was accompanied by a voice that yelled, “Hold!” Immediately, the other two goons got all quiescent, backed off and clasped their hands in front of them, hanging their heads like guilty children. I dropped the box and turned around. Baltarus stood ten feet away, flanked by two cockroach guards, and he did not look happy at all. “Matthew, go to the washroom and clean yourself off. Then we shall have a talk.”
(The link is here: https://www.amazon.com/Auctioneer-J-S-Frankel-ebook/dp/B07MD3Q564/ )
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November 10th, 2018
It's been a while, so here's an excerpt from The Auctioneer, my latest YA Fantasy novel to be released soon. Check out the link as well for my other novels, please!!
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“Now, as to your duties, the auctions—as you would call them—are held here once a week. On other days of the week, auctions are held on the other space-ports, of which there are many.”
“Why—I mean, why use space-ports?”
Baltarus meditated on my question for a few moments, scratching the back of his neck in a slow, idle manner. “In the past, when we held our auctions on planets, we had to face the charges of favoritism. Cheating was rampant.
“The Traders—and the other beings in this galaxy—agreed on star-ports. In the past, the star-ports were used as trading and refueling stations. Some still are. Those that still fulfill that function see all sorts of life pass through them on a daily basis. Over time, we came to the conclusion that having a neutral place to conduct business would be best. So far, it has proven to be so.”
Then came the most important question. “Why me?”
“Do you recall the little man who greeted us?”
Who could forget? “Yes.”
“While he did not indicate such, he is very ill and will not live long. Although he has served us well and is honest, he is no longer capable. We need a suitable replacement, and the Traders sent me to find someone who was young and able. That is you. I must confess that of all the worlds I have visited, I find your world the most beautiful one of all. My home world would not be considered as such.”
It all sounded so nice, but then reality—my reality—set in. “You kidnapped me!”
Baltarus stared hard at me, his good humor gone. “Yes, we did. This is a temporary thing until we find another suitable replacement.”
“Uh-huh.” Nice words said just before the natives ate you.
“Once we do, we will honor our promise of providing you with enough funds to continue your life, and we shall return you to Earth.”
An old saying came to mind. “I’d like to see that in writing.”
“Do you mean a contract?”
“Yeah.”
“Is my word not good enough?”
“What about the Traders? Is their word good enough?”
“I have never had any trouble with them. They have paid me, and that is more than sufficient proof.”
Certainty laced his every word, and it made me wonder if I’d ever get out of here. “For you it is. I need something a little more concrete.”
Now a faint smirk emerged on his face. “If by concrete you mean something legal and binding, we can work such a deal. However, consider your situation. Consider it carefully, and then decide.”
While he sat there, an expression of confidence radiating from his features, a number of thoughts ran through my mind, mainly how in the hell had I gotten myself into this mess?
Bitching about it wouldn’t work, though, as the hard, cold truth hit me. Baltarus was right. I needed money. My late father had been in debt, and that had been passed along to me. No way out of it, so weighing the pros—get rich, and the cons—die a pauper—I came to my decision.
“Okay, you got me,” I said. “Now, what do I have to do?”
Baltarus rubbed his hands together. “Since you wanted something legal, here it is. You will not need a pen or paper, though.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny object the size of a thimble. “Place your thumb inside.”
Warily, I did so, expecting the device to draw blood or cut off the tip. It did neither. A tiny shock ran through me, and I jerked my thumb away. “What the hell was that?”
“It is what you call a DNA bonder, for lack of a better term. It basically means that you have agreed to work for us for a period of two months. That should be sufficient time for us to find a replacement.”
Two months wasn’t very long. That’s what I told myself, and if this Baltarus guy could provide the cash, I could say goodbye to my debt. “Fine, what’s next?”
He nodded. “You must familiarize yourself with the goods that are sold here. Our system is not much different than yours is, but the merchandise is. Whereas your people sell urns and furniture and baubles such as diamonds, our wares are far rarer, and much more expensive.”
In a universe where diamonds were considered baubles, what was being sold here had to be priceless, or at least what they thought was priceless. Baltarus proceeded to reach into his pocket—it seemed to contain everything and anything—and pulled out a small device the size of a smartphone.
After clicking a tiny button on the side, the screen lit, and a display leaped off the screen. “This is an index of what will be put on the block, as your people say, next week.”
Wow, a holographic list…but there was one problem. I saw lots of pictures, but the languages listed, squiggles and ideograms and numbers, threw me. “How am I supposed to understand everyone? They’re aliens…and, uh, I am, too.”
“Take off your jacket.”
While I did so and then loosened my tie as well, Baltarus reached into his pocket and came out holding a tiny object. Closer examination revealed it to be a kind of syringe. Whoa, wait a minute…I’d already been shocked by the thimble thingie. What did he want, a skin sample? Too late, as he stabbed my arm right through the shirt.
Immediately, a fire flashed through my brain, and I received a synaptic charge, a download that told me I’d have no difficulty in understanding what the people here said.
“We will stay with English between us for now,” said Baltarus. “However, once you start your duties, you will be able to instantaneously access all the languages here. They will sound like English, but they are not.”
He went on to list such alien tongues as Enggrah, Rutan, Flattar, Vengrid, and a whole lot more. There was no dominant language in this solar system. Everyone knew everyone else’s languages, courtesy of the universal translator. “It is something we have implanted from birth. The Traders invented it.”
There it was, that name again. “Who are they?”
According to my new go-between, they were a superior race that was not only immeasurably wealthy and intelligent, but they were also incredibly powerful. “They are gods among men,” Baltarus assured me. “They are beings that we rarely interact with, yet they control all that goes on in this quadrant of space in terms of trade, manufacturing, design, and more.”
What Baltarus had said confused me. If they were so powerful, why didn’t they just take over? “And what do they get?”
“A percentage, of course. They could enslave us, but they will not. Conquest is easy, but control is less so. They do speak for us when it comes to interstellar conflicts, but other than their interest in auctioneering, they do not interfere.”
Nice to know. Other facts emerged. The currency in this solar system was one of units. Each citizen, once they reached a certain age individual to their world, received a certain number of units that could be used to purchase food and goods. Units were universal credits, in a way, and could be traded or bought, but that was technically illegal.
Although this system had a black market, most people went to banks. Yes, this system had banks, and they exchanged the units into the currency of whichever world a person visited. It sounded strange, but then again, changing American currency to foreign currency had always been the norm. And for these aliens, their system worked.
Once Baltarus had given me the basics, I replied, “So those guys I saw out there, they pay with the units from their worlds?”
“Precisely so. Auctioneers and their representatives—meaning you and me—must act individually and without bias. Your job is to hold the auction and ensure that everyone bids fairly. Once that function is fulfilled, you will be paid. Zerch is a most precise individual with numbers.”
Okay, that much I got. “So, what do you do, exactly?”
Baltarus sat up straight, adjusting his jacket and almost preening. “As a representative of the Traders, it is my job to ensure that all bidding members attend and pay up. There are rules here, and one of them is that all bidders must pay for their purchases immediately and show the receipt when necessary.”
“The receipt?”
He nodded. “It is just for administrative purposes. Without the receipt, the purchase is considered null and void.”
I filed that bit of information away. “You do anything else around here?”
Baltarus picked up where he’d left off without missing a beat. “One of my other duties is to make the rounds of the planets, seeing what antiquities and artifacts the inhabitants of those worlds might be willing to sell. I also assist the auctioneers should a bid come in by computer. That is my function here.”
Something he’d mentioned before hit me. “You said pay up immediately?”
“Just so. The auction members bid, as your people do, and once their bid has been accepted as the winning one, they must pay immediately. It is another rule here. Your people have a saying, I believe—bullshit walks, but money talks?”
Uh…yeah. “I guess so. What if they can’t pay right away?”
“Then their lives are forfeit. It becomes my job to dispense justice. That is how the Traders operate, and that is a duty I perform for them. I have had to do that only once. Truthfully, I do not like dispensing justice in such an unseemly manner, but it ensures that all act well and fairly.”
Harsh! But, then again, I didn’t live here. At least, I had no intention of living here permanently. Speaking of living here, I gazed around the room. It seemed simple enough. Baltarus got up, took out his clicker, and opened a portal. “I will inform my superiors of your decision. Please rest up.”
He pointed at the locker that lay at the far end of the room. “Your new uniform is there. Wear it. That is all we request of you, that, and your ability to conduct an impartial auction.”
He walked halfway into the portal, and then returned long enough to take something out of his pocket. “You may use this.”
“What is it?” It was the smartphone he’d shown me earlier, but I had the feeling it did way more than make long-distance calls and link up to the internet or whatever the people used here.
“It is what you would call an information database,” Baltarus replied. “It contains knowledge not only of the items on the upcoming auction, but also information on each and every planet in this galaxy. It accesses the universal repository.”
Universal… “You mean, there’s a place where all the information is stored?”
A look of smug superiority crossed Baltarus’ face. “We have such places. There are many planets, and like your libraries, they are accessible to all their citizens who wish to learn. Since you are to remain on this star-port, for the time being, this device will allow you to learn what is possible.”
Learn…that’s all I’d been doing for the bulk of my life. Baltarus then told me to focus on the specifics for the upcoming auction. “It is, after all, your job. Study well.”
Then he was gone, and I was alone. “What to do now?” I muttered.
Uttering a sigh, I lay down on the bed. I’d expected something hard as a rock, but this was a pleasant surprise. In fact, it was so comfortable that it made me want to fall asleep immediately, although it couldn’t have been much later than two in the afternoon.
Still, my eyes started to close, and just before they shut and sleep came up to catch me, I remembered how I’d signed the contract.
It had been done in blood. The devil got his victims the same way.
http://www.devinedestinies.com/coming-soon/?product_id=6295
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July 3rd, 2018
FEAR NOT, FOR I AM WITH YOU...
Okay, this is not a religious tract. It's a little essay on dealing with fear, the fear of writing something that others may not like, or may take offense at, or downright hate. Fear of writing something that will not sit well with others, or may cost you friendships. Fear of not being good enough. I think that many writers live with some of these fears, if not all of them. I certainly do.
However, I have learned that if I'm going to write whatever I choose to, then I cannot worry about what others might say. They might question why I write about certain topics. They might question my style of choice of words or how I set up the plot. That's fine; that's their right, and they're entitled to it. And they are certainly entitled not to buy the book if they don't want to. No problem with that.
But for me, I know deep down that if I'm ever going to become a good, no, a great writer--haven't gotten there yet, but I'm still trying--then I cannot let the possibility of fear prevent me from writing what I do. When I wrote a few lesfic novels a couple of years back, people asked me why. "You're straight, you're a guy, and you're writing lesfic?" My answer: "It's a story. It's what I chose to do."
When I wrote a novel about a relationship between a straight guy and a transgender woman (teen, actually) some people actually said, "This is going to hurt your career as a writer."
What, for writing a story? Gimme a break. I haven't been writing seriously for very long, but I have learned that a writer has to go with their convictions, even if they aren't popular or accepted. I draw the line at writing something hateful; I will never do that. But I have written about some controversial topics and will continue to do so, for this is what it is all about for me, and, in my opinion, what it should be about for any writer. Be fearless. Be not afraid to admit your shortcomings, be not afraid of writing what your heart tells you to write, and be not afraid to commit those feelings to cyber paper. Be fearless. That's half the battle right there.
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May 22nd
An excerpt from The Undernet 2: Azrael...
Caldwell pointed at the door. “Shaksy came highly recommended from Quantico, but she’s green. She’d worked in Chicago before, but only for a couple of months before being transferred. She’s been here for about a month, so I’m sticking around until she grows into her position. What would I do if I retired?”
The question was rhetorical. I knew Caldwell was dedicated, but not being able to go out in the field—which he loved—had to be demoralizing. “I make the best of things, Milt,” he said and then eyed me closely. “Are you making the best of things?”
How did he know my mental state—that of being screwed up—just by looking at me? Oh, wait, he was a trained field agent, trained to observe anything and everything. He probably knew how bad it had been for me. Oh, wait again, my girlfriend had severe PTSD, I had zero friends and zero prospects of getting a job, much less living a normal life. Caldwell gazed steadily at me, so I had to give him an answer.
“If you have to know, I’m all screwed up inside. I can’t sleep, my girlfriend is just as messed up as I am, and I get nightmares over what happened at the Larsen’s. Now, someone I didn’t know that well was probably killed over the Undernet.”
Caldwell grunted. “I didn’t know about your girlfriend. It happens. That’s all I can say.”
“You don’t say?”
I hadn’t intended to be snarky about it, but right now, the feeling of being abandoned and shunned and ignored resonated so strongly within me, I didn’t care. My answer didn’t seem to faze Caldwell at all. “Yes, I do say. I can understand the pressure she must be feeling. People break up for many reasons, Milt. I was married once, you know? My wife and children now live on the other side of the country, so, yes, I guess that I do understand what you’re feeling right now.”
His words, quietly spoken, made me sit up and realize that bigger things were at stake, and he underscored it by adding, “As for the Undernet being involved, we’re not sure of that, yet. I’m still looking at the file. It makes sense, though.”
How does it make sense? Unless... “I went over to the Muller’s place and asked about the computer.”
“And?”
His eyebrows arched, as if egging me on. Egg me on, my ass. From the way he asked the question, I knew he’d been behind it. “You told the police not to touch it, didn’t you? I wanted to see if I could find some clues. Mr. Muller told me that the police had been ordered not to take it.”
A pleased look settled over his face. “Good detective work. That was us. Me, actually, and I figured you’d look at it.” He glanced at the bag. “Did you bring it?”
“Yeah, and I got a message from the guy who did it. Well, I’m pretty sure it was the guy who did it.” Caldwell’s eyes lit up. “That might be the break we’re looking for. Hand it over. We’ll check things from here.”
Much as I wanted to keep the computer, it was his call, not mine, so reluctantly, I placed the bag on the table. “Colin went to the Darknet, but there’s no way to know if someone from the Undernet got to him. It could be the leader or some other nutcase.”
Caldwell nodded his head in a slow, sorrowful gesture. “You’re probably right about that.”
He took out his cellphone, punched a number into it, and then shoved it back in his pocket. Ten seconds later, someone knocked on the door. A small middle-aged man, totally bald and with a mousey and harried look about him, poked his head inside. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Come in, Hampton,” Caldwell said. The little man bobbed his head in a greeting, and after he’d seated himself, Caldwell made the introductions. “Milt, this is Horace Hampton, our leading software expert. He’s out of Cal-Tech, and he’s supposed to be their foremost expert on all things software.”
“I’m quite knowledgeable about the Darknet’s mode of operation,” Hampton said in a reedy voice that contained a touch of smugness. “If you can make it, I can reproduce it.”
“How about the Undernet?” I asked. “Having any luck with that?”
My question took the wind out of his one-mast sailboat, and his smug attitude disappeared. “No, I’m not.” He turned to Caldwell. “Who is this?”
“He’s the expert in navigating the Undernet,” Caldwell answered, his manner stony to the extreme. “Drop the superiority act, Horace, and tell him what you know.”
Hampton gulped. “Yes, sir.” He swiveled his gaze around to me. “You know the system of the Darknet, right?”
“It’s an overlay system, isn’t it?” I was no expert. I was going on information Ramon had told me.
“That’s right,” Hampton affirmed with a nod. “First came the Arpanet about forty-five years ago. It then evolved into the internet. The Darknet used slightly different software to build over that. From what I can tell, the Undernet seems to be a combination of the Darknet and the internet, but it runs on different algorithms and it uses a totally different code. That’s the mystery.”
Information delivered, he sat back with a sigh. “Isn’t there any way you can jam it or break through it?”
That question came from Caldwell, and the little man shook his head, an expression of frustration on his face. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do for the past six months, sir, but it’s not working. The Darknet is one thing. It behaves like the internet, has the same strengths and weaknesses, but the Undernet is an entirely different system. I’ve tried introducing viruses.”
“And?”
Hampton went from sounding frustrated to pissed off. “They don’t work. The system is virtually impregnable. It shuts down any attempt to introduce any different kind of software, and I can’t trace the origin point, the source.
“I then thought about piggybacking onto the system from the Darknet, but the Undernet has some kind of impenetrable wall to it. It’s like an antivirus wall we use on our computers, but it’s infinitely stronger.”
“Ramon said the same thing,” I added. “He said that you needed a particular kind of software to enter.”
Hampton stared at me. “You knew Ramon?”
“Uh-huh.”
That seemed to work for Hampton, as he eyed me with newfound respect. “Pity that Ramon isn’t around any longer. He and I could have cracked this together, and—”
“Get on with it,” Caldwell interrupted, this time with a touch of testiness.
Hampton gulped and swallowed again. “Sir, the only thing I know is that I can’t jam the system, either by a virus or by another program with a longer runtime. For lack of a better word, the Undernet is perfect. The only thing I did find out is that it’s operating from a single user.”
Caldwell sat up and eyed him carefully. “That means that one person is operating it?”
“Yes, sir, it means that all the commands, the main ones, are coming from one server, the owner, whoever it is. But there are a couple of problems associated with that. One, there are other servers in operation. That means whoever has control of it has delegated service to some other users. The nature of the Undernet precludes any access to them.
“Two, there’s no way to triangulate on the source. I’ve been trying, but the Undernet keeps redirecting me to other sites, most of them portal dump sites, places where there are viruses. It’s almost like it’s sentient.”
Caldwell grunted his disappointment. “Got it. Keep working, Hampton. Thanks for the update.”
The little man bobbed his head and quickly exited the room. Once he was gone, Caldwell blew out a deep breath. “Well, at least we learned something about the nature of the enemy. One person, it’s a one-person operation. That means if we find the person, there’s a possibility that we can make them shut that damn abyss down.”
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March 21st, 2018
Things I've learned
Below are a bunch of random things I've learned about the publishing biz, the people involved, and the reading world in general. These are my thoughts--like, who else would want them, yes?--and feel free to disagree. Nicely.
1. Readers are fickle. If I knew what the market was, well, maybe I'd cater my books to that niche. Oh, wait, see #2.
2. No, I wouldn't. If I've learned anything, it's that you have to write for yourself. Writing to please a certain group of people--and that could be anyone--is sure death for a creative writer. Write that which YOU enjoy, not what someone else wants to read. If you're ghostwriting for someone, fair enough. If it's your own book, write for yourself and you alone.
3. Getting your posts liked and shared won't necessarily lead to increased sales. It may lead to greater exposure, but that's about it. Don't get me wrong. I LOVE it when people share my posts, and I try to do the same for them. Realistically speaking, though, it won't always lead to increased sales. And...see #4.
4. Expect low to no sales in spite of good reviews. This happens for a number of reasons, but it will happen. Sure, it's disappointing, but that's what life is at times. Deal with it. If you're good enough, sales will come, which leads to...
5. Not getting rich. I love writing, and I'd be lying if I said that I didn't want to make money from my novels. Who doesn't? However, unless you're very lucky or very good, chances are it won't happen. So, what to do? Keep writing. It is a labor of love, or at least, it should be. JMO...
6. Learn to market effectively. I'm still learning. 'Nuff said.
7. Expect criticism. No matter what you do, no matter what you pen or how well you pen it, sooner or later someone out there will hate what you write. It burns, it sucks...and it's going to happen. Deal. I've been criticized in the past for writing lesfic. Being a straight guy, it may be seen as being somewhat unusual, but there it is. If the story is good, and I feel strongly enough about it, I'll write it. I did the same with Picture (Im)perfect, a story about a straight guy dating a trans girl. And I stand by what I've written. Deal.
Finally...you're in this for the long haul. That is, if you're serious about it. If you are, then strive for improvement each and every time out. You may never reach perfection, but that's a rather nebulous concept. You can only get as good as you can get. Think inches, not yards. (Or centimeters, not meters, for the metric set). But always push yourself to improve. Don't think of being the next J.K Rowling or Stephen King clone. Be the best YOU that you can be. And keep writing.
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March 13th, 2018
There's always an alternative
A lot of things come down to price, I've found. I've had a lot of potential readers tell me, "We like your books and want to buy them, but they're too expensive!"
Well, it depends on what you think "expensive" consists of. On Amazon, my e-books range in price from $4.99 to around $7.00. I won't get into the "you'll pay 10 bucks for a sandwich, but not 5 for a book" argument, because they're two different things. Priorities will always be there. So, for most, eating is a priority. I can relate.
What to do, then? I am reminded of a line from The Untouchables, one of my favorite movies. "Don't pick one from the barrel. Get it off the tree." (Paraphrased). This is not a diatribe against Amazon. From what I've heard, their customer service department in terms of books is second to none. I've heard very few complaints from those who've purchased novels from them. Their service is fast and customer-friendly, for the most part, and that's something to be taken into consideration.
However, because they are a huge conglomerate, and because they control the price (largely) their prices can and do scare off potential readers. So, here's where the alternative comes in. My novels, among them Picture (Im)perfect, The Titans of Ardana, Master Fantastic, Star Maps, and a whole lot more, are ALL $4.99 at the publisher's site. http://www.devinedestinies.com/
Other novels of mine with Finch Books are the Nightmare Crew trilogy and The Menagerie. Check out theri prices compared to Amazon's. https://www.finch-books.com/index.php?route=product/author/info&author_id=402 Dare to compare, and I think you'll find a good deal headed your way.
As a customer, you have the right to go where the price is cheapest. So don't be afraid of going right to the source. You may find those apples somewhat sweeter.
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February 11th, 2018
It's been a while, so for those of you interested in a cracking good YA/Fantasy read, here's an excerpt of my upcoming novel, Outcasts! http://www.devinedestinies.com/978-1-4874-1607-2-outcasts/
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In a quick move, I went to my dresser, grabbed a new shirt and threw it on. Outside, the weather was hot and things were peaceful. My house was a simple two-story affair that lay around fifteen minutes from downtown. Call it the best and worst of both worlds, we lived in a quiet neighborhood, yet shopping and going anywhere for fun had always been outside arm’s reach.
As I gazed at the faux-Georgian style of my house, I couldn’t help but smile. There were a lot of memories here, many of them bad, but a lot of good ones as well. I’d never thought about living anywhere else.
Looking up, Joe had already started to saunter down the main road. The air flowed by us, and the smell of cedar and hollyhocks wafted into my nostrils. “So, I emailed Neil and Callie,” he said out after I caught up to him.
There it was, the opening. “Did they say anything?”
“Nah.” Joe sounded deflated. “Callie didn’t mail me back, and Neil, well, you know he doesn’t play well with others.”
“True that.” Now curiosity bit bigtime. “What exactly did he say?”
“He told us to piss off.”
Neil Morton was a quiet sort. His mutation—crap, I really hated that word—was such that his body was covered in stone. His face looked human enough, but his body was solid, heavy, and he couldn’t use regular chairs or beds. He subsisted on rocks and stones. He’d lived in Portland his whole life, but after our group disbanded he’d relocated with his aunt to a suburb in San Diego. There, he tried to live a normal life.
Tried.
Didn’t succeed. He’d been harassed from day one since his transformation, but since nothing could hurt him, all a person could do was to insult him. In his case, the old saying of sticks and stones was only half right. As for Callie…
“Why don’t you fly over?”
Joe’s question broke my train of thought. Was he a mind-reader or what? “You said something?”
He chuckled. “You’re thinking about Callie, aren’t you?”
“How’d you know?”
The corners of his mouth curled up in a slow smile. “Your eyes are glazed over, just like when you first met her. I remember.”
Was it that obvious? Apparently, it was, as he continued with, “You like her, I know that. She lives in Portland, so just fly over and see her. You know where her house is, so do it.”
Easy for him to say. In the past, I had flown over her house a few times, but always chickened out at the last moment. Commitment wasn’t easy, not in this kind of not-in-a-relationship-but-want-to-be-in-a-relationship kind of thing, which wasn’t a relationship at all. Bad enough people saw me as a monster—even worse if they saw me as some kind of stalker. No, leave her alone. She had her own problems, and…
“Mitch, wake up. We got company.”
Blinking my eyes and waking up from my semi-stupor, we’d arrived in the downtown area of our fair town, population around nine thousand. Young and old, whiny children with their parents, jocks flexing for the attention of the hotties, business people in their suits—everyone seemed to be here, enjoying the calm and quiet day. Everyone except us, that is.
“Hey, you two better haul ass.”
Wonderful, Paul Sampson had decided to show. He’d gotten taller, filled out, and even though we hadn’t seen each other for almost a year, one thing hadn’t changed. He still had a whiny, petulant voice. “How’s it going,” I asked. “Managing to pass life?”
“Screw you,” he responded, a sneer working overtime. “I graduated, you know? Did you? Freaks like you should find somewhere else to live.”
That word—it got my pulse racing which was a bad thing. “Stay cool, man,” Joe whispered. He turned to Paul. “We’re just here to grab a pizza. That’s all.”
“Grab this,” someone else said.
Looking around, Truk had also decided to put in a guest appearance. Aw crap, this isn’t going to end well.
Truk had a smaller kid in his grasp. The kid, maybe sixteen, skinny and with an expression that read help-me-now, was struggling and yelling, “Lemme go, man!”
Great, Tweedledum and Tweedledumber just had to come and ruin things. “Let him go, schmuck,” I said. “What’s he done to you?”
“He owes me money.”
“No, I don’t,” the kid choked out, starting to cry. “He’s…he started screwing with me, him and his loser friend.”
“Watch your mouth, punk,” said Paul as he walked over to the kid to smack him across the face.
Seeing something like this, seeing them pick on someone weaker for no reason almost made me lose it, but Joe murmured, “Cool it man, that’s what they want.”
Looking around, a few people had gathered. They were waiting. They knew who I was, knew who Truk was, and probably knew what was going to happen if I let my rage get out of control.
That’s what they want. Yeah, they—meaning everyone—did, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t say something. Keeping my eyes focused on Truk, I laid down an ultimatum. “Let him go. You beat him. Let him go or face the repercussions.”
It seemed to take forever for those words to sink in, but finally they did, and with a huff of air that sounded like an elephant’s fart, Truk released his grip on the hapless dude. Said hapless dude ran off, throwing us a look of gratitude as he went.
Once he’d gone, Truk planted his feet and crossed his arms over his chest, as if daring me or anyone else to try something. He’d gotten even bigger, standing well above six feet and built like an NFL linebacker. I’d heard rumors around town that he’d tried to do a walk-on for a university football team, but considering his lack of IQ, he’d probably gotten lost on the way to the campus.
As usual, the dullness in his eyes hadn’t changed. With him, it seemed as though thinking and speaking weren’t directly related. It took him a long time to come up with anything comprehensible.
However, this time, he sounded almost articulate. “So you freaks stick up for freaks. You’re not part of this place. You never were,” he snorted. The snort caused a wad of gunk to come out his nose. Gross me out time, but he didn’t seem to care and wiped his nose with his hand, smearing the excess on his pants.
And that was where it all started. You’re not part of this community. You’re not one of us. You’re not human. “Get lost, schmuck.”
“My name is Truk.”
I didn’t care. Picking on someone was bad enough, but being called a freak, that made my temper rise a notch. “Whatever, truck, schmuck, we’re here to get something to eat. Don’t push your luck.”
Apparently, the word restraint didn’t figure into his vocabulary. His meaty hand smacked my shoulder. It didn’t hurt, but it managed to raise my Mad-O-Meter another few degrees. “Knock it off, Truk. I’m warning you.”
He leaned over to leer at me. “Or you’ll do what, freak?”
By now, some people in the crowd were chanting, “fight-fight-fight” as if it would make their day. Joe already had his fists balled, ready for action. Even though he gave up six inches in height and over seventy pounds of body weight, he wasn’t the type to back down.
My only thought was if Truk pulled any crap, he was making a monumentally bad mistake. Then he made the biggest one of all. “You going to tell your mommy on me? She messed up bad when she had you, gargoyle boy.” He followed up his insult by smacking me across the face.
Enough!
Something akin to a tidal wave of rage swept through me. Wings, I could control when they came out, no sweat, and they emerged from my back, unfolding themselves and causing the onlookers to gasp.
As for the claws, anger and willpower were my allies. “Wrong thing to say,” I growled. Joe tried to intervene, but I pushed him aside. “Sorry, Joe, too late for forgiveness.”
A split second later, the claws came out. Harder than tempered steel, I sank all two inches of them into the upper part of Truk’s left arm. Blood spurted, and he howled in agony as he sank to his knees.
His howls drew an even larger crowd, and they quickly formed a circle around us. People were taking pictures and my ears picked up the sound of a man calling the police on his cellphone. Good, call the cops. I’d been expecting it.
“You ever mention my mother again,” I said, barely able to keep myself from inflicting more damage, “your parents will be missing a son. You got that?”
By now, Truk was begging for his life. “Please, man, I’m sorry!”
A few of the bystanders were snapping pictures and using their smartphones to get all this down. Good, let them. It would make a great newscast, but right now, I kept my focus on my quarry. I snarled, “We just wanted to get something to eat. That’s all!”
It wasn’t enough, and the sound of a lone police car’s siren alerted me to the arrival of the law. Truk was blubbering and wailing in abject misery and fear, and I almost felt sorry for him—almost. The stench of piss—his—filled the air. “Just one question before I let you go,” I said. “What’s my face look like?”
“You…you,” he gibbered, tears of pain running down his cheeks. “You’re a friggin’ gargoyle, man! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
That last part came out in a shriek of terror. I let go of him then and shoved him away. Turning around, I caught my reflection in a store window. The high, slanted cheekbones. The flattened nose, the eyes, red and smoldering with fury, and the pointy chin—they all showed the world I’d become a monster.
Taking in a deep breath and making a mental effort to calm down, it had its effect. As the rage faded, my features returned to their default self. The claws shrank back into my hands, and my wings melted into my body. I stood there, triumphant over meting out a long overdue lesson.
A moment later, I saw Truk holding his bloody upper arm and crying like a baby. Shame took over. I’d lost control, and while those fools had deserved a beatdown and more, this way was definitely not the right way. Fighting really solved nothing, and even though both kids were asshats, no, this wasn’t cool.
The crowd kept murmuring, and a few of the larger dudes comprising the group stepped forward, perhaps to mete out their own version of justice. I tensed, hoping the claws wouldn’t come out again and half hoping they would.
However, a voice at the back ordered them to stand aside. They did, and the question of, “Mitch, can we talk?” floated over to my ears.
Spinning around, Chief Sullivan, a tall, strongly built cop in his forties with a quiet, steady manner, stood five feet away. He had a hand on his holster, but didn’t make a move to take out his pistol. I’d known him since I was a boy and trusted him, but just to make things clear, I raised my hands. “Yes, sir, we can talk.”
Sullivan nodded and visibly relaxed, then motioned to his police car. “Get in. We’ll talk.”
Joe walked over. “Uh, sir, we came here just to get some pizza is all.”
The man who held the key to our freedom flicked a glance at my friend. “I guess your order is to go.”
August 28th, 2017
It's been a while, so for your enjoyment, here's an excerpt from The Undernet. In case anyone is interested, here's the link to Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Undernet-J-S-Frankel-ebook/dp/B0746861TT/ref=pd_rhf_ee_p_img_4?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=HWN592MX6BCXECQK670F
Mrs. Smith was lying down on the sofa as I tiptoed down the stairs. Her eyes were closed, but her lips were moving, perhaps in a prayer. Two older women knelt by her side, patting her hands. This whole scene made me feel worse. Death came and then you had the aftermath—which was worse?
After gently closing the front door, I saw Mr. Smith walking toward me. His face immobile, but eyes puffy and red, he asked, “Did you come to see Simon’s room?”
“Yes, sir, I did. I wanted to say goodbye to him my own way.”
His head swayed back and forth like a wounded animal’s. “I was talking to the police,” he said in a low, measured tone, but all the same, the anguish came through. “They don’t have any leads. They say they’ll catch the scum that did this, but...”
An uncomfortable silence followed and I couldn’t think of what to say except, “I hope they do, sir.”
“Did you talk to my wife?”
“She’s lying down, sir.” Fighting to come up with the proper words, I said, “It’s... hard to believe this happened.”
He swallowed a few times before saying, “Thank you for coming to the... funeral. Please thank Roberta for me as well. I,” his voice caught, “I’m not ready to talk to anyone else at the moment, Milton... but I wanted to thank you for being a...” the catch in his voice sounded again, “a good friend to our son.”
With a slight nod, he brushed past me. The door closed behind him, and I stood there, thinking things through. There had to be a reason behind all this. Maybe taking a walk would help. The sun shone brightly, the people wore their least and lightest and for them, life seemed ready for the taking. On the other hand, the beauty of the day didn’t affect me at all. All the information overload I’d received was freaking me out, and why didn’t anyone care...
“Unghh.” I bumped into a large dude, and he shoved me back. It was Jim Kody. Why couldn’t he be somewhere else, like practicing his blocking against a cement wall, preferably without a helmet on?
“Watch where you’re walking, nerd,” he ground out, still acting like an Alpha Male.
Wonderful, my summer vacation was about to be ruined by this Neanderthal. Oh, wait, it had already been messed up by some psycho killing my best friend, but I didn’t think it could get any worse. “Sorry, Jim, I didn’t watch—”
“I could see that,” he smirked. “So where are you going, the nearest internet café or software shop?”
Actually, nowhere in particular, but try telling him that. “I was just taking a walk.”
“No girlfriend with you?”
He seemed disappointed. What did bringing Robbie into the equation have to do with anything? “She’s busy, so what’s it to you?”
Jim stepped back and folded his massive arms across his chest. His muscles rippled as he did so and knowing him, it was only a matter of seconds before he glanced at his arms or legs and flexed said body part. Sure enough, he did, rolling his fist around and watching the muscles of his forearm undulate. He then broke off his body love to favour me with a reply. “Nothing, just curious is all. You usually have your chick bodyguard with you. Anyway, don’t you have a game going on somewhere with your nerd buddy?” He snapped his fingers, and the sarcasm emerged. “Wait, I forgot, your nerd buddy’s gone. Too bad, so what’re you going to do now?”
What a prime tool! Attempting to get a decent response out of him, I said, “Don’t you care Simon’s dead? I mean, the guy just got buried, and you don’t care.”
A headshake confirmed his lack of empathy. “Nope, don’t care at all. He was a nerd, like you. Anyway, that’s all fantasy. You want reality, get out on the football field or get into the weight room and work out.” This wasn’t the time for an argument, but all the same, I didn’t feel like letting it go.
“Suppose I’m not interested in that. Suppose I like games. What difference does it make to you?” Funny thing he mentioned fantasy. Apparently, he forgot about hitting me up for some software on the last day of school. “You’re into games, too.”
A blank stare greeted my reply. The wheels of conceptual thinking turned slowly in this one. “Yeah, I game, but it’s still a fantasy. It doesn’t rule my life.”
Statement given, he pushed past me and went off on his merry way, leaving me to stare at the ground. Deep down I knew he was right. It was a fantasy. Simon had gone searching for perhaps the ultimate fantasy, but for him, it had turned into a nightmare. The nightmare had now made its way into the daylight.
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June 20th, 2017
Standalone or series?
Pretty self-explanatory, but I'll expand on it a bit. When I started writing not so long ago, I did only standalones. Prior to writing Catnip (a series of five novels) I never thought about writing a series. However, one of my fans--yes, I actually have fans!--Sara Beth Linnertz, gently nudged me to write a sequel. So I did, and finally ended up writing the series.
The question is, should you? Some novels beg for a sequel--think of Harry Potter--while ot...hers, such as The Fault In Our Stars, should be standalones. Why, you may ask? With standalone novels, the situation presented is generally resolved in a HEA (Happy Ever After) or HFN (Happy For Now) scenario. I did that in Twisted. Charlie/Angella and Sharon end up together, and while their future is somewhat uncertain, there is love and commitment and that counts for a lot. I'd taken them as far as I wanted to take them, and that was that.
In a series, there is room to grow, mainly because if all the characters are in place--and there are a LOT of characters in the Harry Potter novels--then it's much simpler to expand on their own stories, flesh them out, and give them more depth over the course of three or more books. Then there are the spinoffs and tangents, and Ms. Rowling has been masterful in creating the Potterverse.
If there is a key, it's the fleshing out process. You have to make the characters grow. You do that by challenging them. Up the ante. Have them suffer a loss or heartbreak. Make them lose. If they always win, then what's the point? Life doesn't work the way it does in comic books. It's tough, hard, nasty, and most of all, unfair. So have your characters experience that. While I never plan that far ahead, I do think that while writing a novel if there is room for another. I don't know until I reach the end if I'll ever write a sequel. Really, that's half the fun.
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January 18th, 2017
Every damn word...
When I write a novel, I always imagine myself talking to someone and telling them a story. In that story, it has a message, but I never preach. Preaching, to me, is THE cardinal sin in writing. It's a sure way to turn someone off. If you want preaching, get religion.
Before you brand me a heretic, let me say that I have nothing against religion per se, but to me, that shouldn't be the novel's thrust, unless your novel deals specifically with it. If there's a message, then it should be shown and not simply told. Always strive for honesty in the characters and their situations, no matter how odd or otherworldly they may be. Make your characters real, and the readers will respond favorably.
Of all the novels I've written, Twisted remains my personal favorite. It's not my best in terms of narrative, but it is in overall humor and action, along with the Catnip series and the Nightmare Crew trilogy. Okay, well, all of my novels. Why? Because I meant every damn word. If I don't believe in something, then why write about it?
A passage from the novel, where Charlie Matthews, the MC whose mind is stuck in a woman's avatar (Angella of Avernon, and yes, it's a fantasy novel!) is fighting against the evil king. Throughout the novel, he rebels against the idea of being a woman, simply because he's not used to it. Compounding his problem is the fact that he's fallen in love with Sharon, who is also stuck in the game. He (as Angella) wonders if it's right for two women to be together, and then learns that love IS where you find it, no matter who it's with.
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Clapp turned around and regarded her and then me. He gave a shrug as if to say nothing either of us did would change the outcome, and then warmed up by slashing the air with his sword in a series of graceful moves. "You will die here, Angella of Avernon. You will die most horribly and then I will kill your love. Prepare yourself for the end."
"Bring it."
He did, and our weapons clashed in the center of the room. He was good, and in spite of his bulk he moved quickly and effortlessly slashed away my strokes. In turn, I managed to parry whatever he tossed at me. We battled back and forth, jumping over the bed, flipping off the walls, rolling and lunging and doing our best to not only outfight each other, but also to outthink each other.
Then something happened. He got faster, much faster, and his sword moved in a blur, almost too fast for my eyes to follow. My skills, implanted or not, simply couldn't keep up with his, and he knocked away my weapon time and again. Each time it fell from my hands, he stood there, hands on hips, and laughed. "Woman, you are a fine opponent, but you are no match for me." He then directed me to pick up my weapon by pointing to it with his sword. "Let us continue."
I was getting a little sick and tired of this pig knocking my sex. "Woman or not, I'm still going to kick your ass!"
"I will oblige you, abomination," he said, and his sneer got even deeper.
We went at it again and it took everything I had in me just to keep him off. He slashed away my sword once again and this time his blade cut deeply into my shoulder. Fire flashed through me and I screamed in pain. As always, my injury started to heal immediately. I took a deep breath and Clapp backhanded me sharply across the face. The blow caused my mouth and nose to bleed. As I staggered, he snorted in disgust and walked a few paces away. "Have you learned nothing from this conflict, woman?"
I spit a small river of blood on the floor, and more truth came from my mouth. "I've learned one thing. It isn't polite to hit a lady."
He then charged at me, arms open and sword high which left his midriff exposed. I hurled my weapon like a javelin and it went right through his stomach, jerked him off his feet, and impaled him against the far wall. A soft sigh escaped his flabby lips and his head lolled. Angella--one, scumbag king--zero, and swiftly I went over to Sharon's side.
"We're finished here, girlfriend," I said and tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
She gave me a weary smile. Then her eyes widened with shock and she frantically pointed at the wall where the king hung. "Charlie, he's not dead yet!"
Oh, crap, thanks Blue. I should have figured the computer wouldn't let its creation get beaten so easily. In these scenarios, the bad guy always came back. The unholy ruler pulled the sword out of his stomach and tossed it to me. No blood. "You are good, Angella, you are very good, but I will slaughter you now as I slaughtered your family!"
He quickly morphed into something larger, fearsome, a bearlike creature with six arms and three legs. He didn't need to use a weapon as every limb ended either in a sharp blade or some kind of studded mace. "Shall we continue?"
The monster came at me and gracefully slapped away all my thrusts. His multiple weapons repeatedly slashed me in non-vital spots, and he laughed as he did so. "You are but a woman, Angella, and should be put in your place. Your family has been put in their place--in the ground--and it is time for you to join them!"
My breath came heavily and his words made me rage inside all the more. Family, I didn't have one anymore. I'd lost Martin, the only kin I'd ever really known outside of my own parents, and Big Blue had been responsible for it all. As for being a woman, well, right now I didn't want it any other way, and as ridiculous as my next statement sounded, I meant every word. And it didn't come from a computer download--it came from me. "We're not done yet. This woman is still standing!"
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It is this last line that 's the most pertinent. Charlie has come full circle in his journey, and now accepts who he was and who he has become, and he's comfortable with it. And I meant every word I wrote, mainly because I had to be true to my character. So for what it's worth, never worry about what others might think or say. Write what is in your heart....and mean every damn word of it.
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January 14th, 2017
Where is your book going?
This little ditty today is not about whether or not you write a good book. That goes without saying. The question is: Where are you going to market it, and how are you going to market it?
The first thing to consider is your promotion campaign. I am traditionally published, so readers have to understand that my novels have their price set by Amazon as well as suggested by the publisher. Prices have to be fairly competitive. Given the choice, most readers would rather pay the lowest price around or get it free. I don't blame them. Cheap is good and free is best. Everyone wants something for nothing. This is basic human nature and it hasn't changed much over thousands of years of recorded history.
So when you write that novel of yours, the first thing you have to decide is whether you want to do a giveaway, give out 'X' number of freebies or not. And this is a double-edged sword. There is no guarantee that anyone who does get a freebie will like it, or will review it, or will tell their best buddies or mates or SO's or neighborhood friends or schoolmates et. al. about it. Many recipients simply take the book and run. Many more don't bother reading it. This is just how it is, so keeping that in mind, the choice to give something away is yours. If you do, I would recommend you do it for a limited period.
Second, should you do a giveaway or even if you don't, where will you market it? Most writers use multiple social sites such as Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter, Pinterest (for pics) and a couple of other sites. I have to admit that I've had mixed success with using social sites for networking. On Facebook, I've had a lot of positive responses and likes, but those don't sell books! Sad, but true.
The same deal is with Twitter and CoPromote, which uses Twitter. I've had a lot of retweets, and I've done the same for those who did for me. This is only fair, and I don't mind doing my good deed, as I believe it engenders good feeling among writers and potential readers. I've seen a lot of good books through retweets I've done, and some have said the same about me and my novels.
At the same time, I've also had a number of people buy my novels through word of mouth, so that is something in and of itself, but all the same, my sales remain low. Why? I really don't have the answer. Many of my friends think it's the price. However, one other thing to keep in mind is that I'm also in a very competitive market--YA Fantasy--and I have to buck up against other authors who have lower-priced books. This ain't a rant; it's just stating fact. Authors who write romance and horror novels have told me the same thing.
Finally, if you're going to promote on the social sites--and this is a biggie--follow up the books that are given out with requests for reviews. No guarantees on this, but I see no problem in asking. After all, the reader DID get a freebie, and it doesn't take very long to write a review. Some people won't, so don't villify them. This is what will happen, but if you don't ask, you won't know.
As for those who've bought your books, send them a thank you mail and maybe a snippet of your upcoming novel as a way of expressing gratitude. Then keep it going. Again, it may not increase sales, but it will generate good feelings among your readers, and that may influence them to buy another novel of yours.
I don't pretend to have all the answers. I wish I did. All I can do is to keep writing, make my novels as good as they can be, and keep my presence known on the social sites I use.
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January 4th, 2017
On why author support is necessary
Why author support is necessary...
On writing. As an author, I'm always concerned with writing a good story. That's my primary goal. I know, I know, you're thinking "Hey, he wants to sell his stuff, he's after the casssssssssshhhhhhh!"" Well, not far off the mark, but to my way of thinking, if you write a good story first, then readers will want to read it. If they want to read it, chances are they'll buy it.
Yes, rather naive in this day and age, but basically, that tenet holds true. Word of mouth along with social media--Twitter, Facebook, and other sites--can help, but the bottom line is you have to write something that resonates with the public.
On readers.
Keep your readers happy. If you turn out good stories, build your following of readers who enjoy your stories, they will be more inclined to share their views of your story and the sales will come. Maybe not as fast as you'd like, but they will come. So that means paying attention the criticisms in the reviews and acting on them. If, for example, only one person criticizes a certain part of your novel and no one else does, then I'd be inclined to let it go as an anomaly.
OTOH, if three or more people point to the same shortcoming, then use that and write better the next time around. As well, keep in touch with your readers. That means thanking them on the social sites. I always do, even if the review is three stars. Why? They bought the book, took the time to read it and leave a review, so the least you can do is to thank them. That's not only polite, it's good business. No "one and done" for me. I keep in touch with all my readers and personally thank them. That's the right way to go about things, I feel.
On writers.
Let's face it, there is competition among writers, especially among those who write in the same genre. I'd be lying if I didn't say I was the least bit jealous of other writers in my genre (YA/Fantasy) who have achieved a tad more success than I have. However, I keep in mind the notion of fairness. They worked for it, they got it, and that's all there is to it. If sales don't come my way, well, that's how it goes. There really is no room for jealousy or anger. Yes, I've read stories by some authors that were utter junk and yet sold--no, no one on this forum!--but again, that's how things go.
By the same token, some writers who have "made it" (i.e. selling well) sometimes forget about those who've supported them in the past. About two years ago, I was on a writer's forum and a writer had just won a fairly prestigious contest. Said writer had written a pretty decent novel, had enlisted support for the novel, and I willingly gave it. Upon winning the award, said writer divorced their significant other, shunned the other writers who'd formed a support group, and basically said they were a god and everyone else was dirt beneath their feet.
Well, I was always taught to be nice to those on the way up, because you'd meet them on the way down. Some writers forget that. So for what it's worth, support your fellow writer. Not by buying their books necessarily, but being there for them, offering a review should time allow, and spreading the word. I share posts from other authors, and they share mine. It costs nothing, save a few seconds, but it does mean a lot.
Until next time, keep on writing.
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October 10th, 2016
The cinematic effect
In a few of my novels, particularly the Catnip series, a couple of the reviewers mentioned something they called the 'cinematic effect'. In short, they said reading those books and others was like reading a movie in a book, if that makes any sense. In terms of making sense, it makes perfect sense to me, because that's how I intended those novels to come off. I say this not with arrogance but with certainty. It's a technique--nothing new, by the way--I've ...tried to perfect over the few short years I've been writing. Simply put, through dialogue and narrative, I try to create a moving picture for the reader, using a great deal of action.
So how did I arrive at this earth-shattering creative idea? (Yes, I'm being sarcastic). It all goes back to Blade. Yes, Blade, the movie with Wesley Snipes as a vampire killer. I saw it in the theater and liked it. A few months later, I was in a bookstore and read the novelization, based on the movie. I usually never bothered reading those kinds of books, but something made me pick it up and read it. For what it was, not bad. It provided a little more insight to his character, gave some good portrayals of battles and vampire slayings and it was a fun read.
Jump forward to Batman Begins. Same deal. Saw the movie, loved it--"I'm Batman"--and read the book. Again, the novelization of the movie added more background to the character of Bruce Wayne and R'as al Ghul. I guess both novels stuck in my mind because I started writing something in 2010, about a year and a bit after my mother passed on. I 'saw' an idea in my head and decided to write about a movie yet unmade. That's how I see all my novels, anyway, as movies yet unmade. I wrote, it became The Tower, and while it sold only a few copies, it started off my adventures in writing.
Since then, I've put out over twenty novels, and each one is a movie yet unmade. I can honestly see Twisted, the Catnip series, Star Maps, and the Nightmare Crew trilogy being made into movies. Okay, enough shilling over. How to do it? Think of a movie. It has minimal narrative. It has a lot of action and action determines character. Additionally, the movie has gestures, sound and special effects. Sounds basic, right? So...I simply think of those things and then flesh out the narrative more (and hopefully, better). That's the cinematic technique in a nutshell. I'm still working on it...and hopefully you'll choose a novel of mine and see what it's all about.
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October 7th, 2016
How not to get shafted, 101
This is an article I originallly wrote on Facebook and copied to Goodreads. Just so there's no misunderstanding...
Every single day, I go on various writing forums and read tales of woe about authors being taken in by unscrupulous publishers. In some cases, they ended up paying thousands of dollars for books that never went anywhere.
In other cases, they had to pay publishers and editors to get their manuscript ready because the publisher didn't provide editing services, which to me is nothing short of madness. In both cases, they got screwed.
So, the question arises of how not to get shafted. The unscrupulous publishers, the vanity presses and/or the fly-by-night presses that don't do dick for you, they're banking on your desperation to get your book out there. So many writers have been screwed this way, they've turned to self-publishing, and that's another matter to be explored in a future post.
Here is my advice, for it's worth on the open market.
One: ALL money should flow to the writer. It doesn't matter if it's ten bucks or a thousand. It's called Yog's Law (I have no idea how that name originated and am too lazy to Google it) but it states that the writer should NOT have to pay for anything IF they sign with a legitimate press. The publisher should provide an editor, a cover artist, and at no time should the writer have to pay a dime.
So it behooves the writer to check the contract. If at any point the contract states the writer has to pay the publisher for editing and/or cover services, run!
Two: I mentioned the word "legitimate" above and with good reason. There are a multitude of presses out there and sometimes it's hard to discern which one is good and which isn't.
So...check out Preditors and Editors. A good secondary source is Piers Anthony's Internet Publishing. Both sites are reasonably up to date in their listings and I have used both in the past. I shall continue to do so.
Be aware that even legit presses can go under. It happens. Nothing is a guarantee, not anymore. However, should a decent press fail, then they should revert ALL rights back to the author, no questions asked.
As an aside, recently I asked a publisher to revert the rights of a novel back to me. It took a while, mainly because the owner's health hasn't been too good as of late--neither has mine, by the way--so I didn't hold that against him. He was most gracious and we parted on good terms. That to me is the best way to do business and I would still recommend his press to anyone wishing to publish with them.
Three: Ask those out there who have been published who is good--in their opinion--and who isn't. The amount of information on the Web can be overwhelming at times and there are conflicting opinions. If in doubt, ask a trusted friend. Preditors and Editors used to read contracts over and see if they were a decent deal. The man who did that for me in a couple of cases has unfortunately passed away, but perhaps they still do it. I'm not sure.
At any rate, if you rein in your enthusiasm and take a step back, chances are you'll make the right choices. As with all things, keep writing and never give up hope.
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October 3, 2016
44 Odd Things You Don’t Know About Me:
I got this list from Mirren Hogan who got it from someone else. It's fun to do!
Do you like blue cheese? Yes. I like feta much more, though.
Last concert? Can't remember. It was in my thirties.
Do you own a gun? No.
What is your favorite flavor of ice cream? Chocolate, anything chocolate.
Do you get nervous before Doctor visits? Not really, as I'm usually too sick to care.
What do you think of hot dogs? Thanks for mentioning that. Now I'm hungry. I want one loaded up with mustard, pickles, ketchup...NOW!
Favorite movie? Too many to count. Next!
What do you prefer to drink in the morning? Tea or water.
Do you do push ups? Yes, I exercise, although no one could ever accuse me of being Mr. Olympia.
What’s your favorite piece of Jewelry? I never wear jewelry. I don't even wear a watch.
Favorite hobby? Watching movies, writing.
Do you have A.D.D.? No.
What’s the one thing you dislike about yourself? Pretty much everything.
What is your pet’s name? Don't have one. Do children count?
Name three thoughts at this moment. 1. I need to use the bathroom. 2. I have an idea that needs to be written down. 3. Chocolate ice cream.
Name 4 drinks you drink regularly? Water and tea. That's pretty much it.
Current worries? Too little money, no permanent job, low sales.
Current annoyance right now? This book I’m working on.
Favorite place to be? Home.
How do you bring in the New Year? I spend it with my wife and children, usually at home.
Where would you like to go? Guam...I love it there!
Favorite TV show? Nothing now.
Do you own slippers? No.
What color shirt are you wearing right now? Black.
Do you like sleeping on satin sheets? I'm not telling!
Can you whistle? Yeah, but not very well.
What's your favorite color? Black.
Would you be a pirate? Aye.
What songs do you sing in the shower? Nothing. My neighbors call the police when I do sing.
Favorite girl’s name? Angela.
Favorite boy’s name? Nothing, but my son's names are Kai and Ray. They're good.
What’s in your pocket right now? Probably lint...and receipts!
Last thing/person that made you laugh? My wife!
Best toy as a child? Major Matt Mason....wire arms, busted him up in a year, bye bye Major Matt.
Worst pain you ever had? Probably a heart seizure when I was 33.
Where would you love to live? Guam.
How many TV’s do you have? Two.
Who is your loudest friend? My friend Reiko. She's loud, funny, and very opinionated.
How many dogs do you have? None.
Does someone trust you? Maybe.
What book are you reading at the moment? Nothing. I'm too busy editing. I did read Crimson Fire recently, by Mirren Hogan. It was very good.
What’s your favorite candy? Anything chocolate.
What’s your favorite team? The Yankees.
Favorite month? None, really. Yeah, I'm boring. Deal with it.
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September 30th, 2016
GIMME GIMME GIMME...
Yeah, I know, sounds childish, but something a fellow author said got me thinking. This author mentioned freebies and giveaways and swag, so I wondered if there was truly any merit in all this. As an author who is always hoping for sales--like, who isn't?--this is an avenue worth exploring...or is it? The way I see it, to attract attention to your novel (or any product you're trying to sell), you can do one or all of the following:
Give away swag, give a ...free book via a giveaway on Amazon or on your own site, or provide excerpts online. There are more, of course, but these come to mind. So let's do a brief examination of each. Swag: For a book, it could be a Kindle, a keychain, pictures, digital covers, bookmarks....the list is endless. And it's not a bad idea. Hey, I'd love a free Kindle. Who wouldn't?
Downside: Cost to the writer, especially if shipping said items through the mail, time delay, winner's dissatisfaction. Yes, I've actually heard winners complaining when they got free swag. Sheesh...
Option two is the giveaway. Amazon runs 'em all the time. They do have the advantage of getting people to at least see your novel, and, hey, they get a freebie.
Downside: Costs you money. People may not read your book or even bother reviewing it. No, with a giveaway a review is NOT mandatory, but it does help and doesn't take the reader very long.
Three:: Excerpts. They do whet the appetite. They get people interested. And they are free.
Downside: People may not read them or not buy your book even after reading them. In all three cases, there is no guarantee that ANYONE will buy your book. None. It's worse for self-pubbers, as they have to pay for the cover, the editing (in some cases), promotional services (in some cases) and perhaps the ISBN number (I've heard conflicting reports on this) in addition to footing the bill for their own swag giveaways, should they decide on doing those. That's why some authors have said they are loathe to part with anything for free. Me, too. I've worked hard and long to write the best novels I can write; so say we all. I may not be the world's greatest writer, but no one can say I haven't busted my butt. And every writer out there will say the same.
However, in this day and age, to get you sometimes have to give. So I do...in a limited fashion. I don't blame Amazon or anyone else for setting up the giveaway deals. It's business. Same on doing swag, even though I won't go that route. I would like to think my novels are considered good enough to buy/read. Other readers may see the price and be put off by it. In the end, I'll keep writing. So should you.
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September 28th, 2016
Reviews...or how to go insane while waiting for one...
This is going to sound somewhat whiny, but bear with me, please. I've been thinking about this a long time and have wondered why getting reviewed is so difficult. Basically, once you've penned that bestseller of yours--or you hope it's a bestseller--you go three routes. One, you swap with another writer. Two, you send it off to friends who follow you and see what they say. Three, you send it to a review/blog service, some of which you have to pay for and some of which you don't. All three avenues have their pluses and minuses, so let's explore them.
Author swap. I've done this. I tend to read very fast, get the review done, give my impressions fairly--yes, subjective, isn't it always--and that's it. OTOH, waiting for the other person to reciprocate can be an exercise in patience and frustration. I've been stiffed more often than not, always with a BS excuse, and with the exception of a few cases, have given it up. For me, the aggravation simply isn't worth it. The main reason why, outside of the time factor, is that many other authors cannot handle being given less than five stars. I've had them bitch and moan and cry and then refuse to review my work. Wrote them off as facebook/goodreads friends. Just the way it goes. If you trust the other author, and they're cool with the review they get, then fine. If it's more of a business arrangement, quid pro quo as it were, prepare for disappointment.
Path number two: your friends. Well, you may get a dose of butthurt assuming your friends are honest. Said honesty can lead to friends becoming ex-friends. Additionally, Amazon, in all of its wisdom, may just connect the concept of you being friends on social sites and disallow their comments on its site. It's happened before and it'll happen again. So take care in who you ask.
Finally, we come to paid/unpaid review services, probably the best route to go. Considering I'm broke beyond broke, I go with unpaid. All they ask for is a freebie of the book and it's on. No guarantee of five stars, but if they're honest and fair, what more can you ask for? Paid...your choice, but the fiverr service (which I've heard of but have never used) has fallen into disfavor with Amazon for good reason: it's dishonest. This has been going on a long time, the practice of paying for reviews, that is. Nothing new...but it stinks all the same. Kirkus, the gold standard of review services, is honest, but paying hundreds of dollars for a review that might be less than what you were hoping for...again, your choice.
The key, if there is one, is to get other reviewers by word of mouth. Ex: you send your book to Mr. Allen. You don't know him. He is a reviewer, likes your work, rates it fairly, and then requests if he can send it to another reviewer. This isn't done that often, but it does happen. It tends to happen more between readers as opposed to reviewers. In any case, word of mouth is one of the best ways to go.
The one thing I've found is that good reviews do NOT necessarily lead to an increase in sales. I wish that were the case, as I'd be a millionaire by now! Many factors are involved in sales, mainly the book being good--duh--and also the price. A lot of people simply don't want to pay five or so bucks for an ebook. They'd rather go for the one-to three dollar route...it varies.
If there is any other key to increased sales--and this is for another day--it's to become popular on social sites and make your presence a favorable one. That...and writing a good book. Until next time, write on!
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September 27th, 2016
WHEN TO GIVE IT UP
No, not giving up writing. It's more to do with the idea. I usually have about three novels cooking at the same time. I work better that way, even though some people may think I'm spreading myself too thin. For now, it works for me.
However, there are times when a story I'm working on simply doesn't come together. Either the plot is too stale, the characters aren't totally relatable or...Lord help me...it's just plain bad.
Many writers run into the same problem, and perhaps their first inclination is to scrap the whole thing, delete it...send it to cyberheaven. The rationale is if it is that bad, then why bother continuing?
There are a number of reasons why you shouldn't, though.
1. There may be passages worthy of use. With a little tweaking, they may be usable in another novel. An example of that is my most recent novel, The Titans of Ardana, coming out next year. I had originally called it The Children of Endor, and had about fifty pages written. Those fifty pages, though, didn't really thrill me, but some parts--mainly about the eating habits and abilities of the Endorians--stuck with me, so I reused them in the present story and it worked.
2. Even if the story is crap, the idea may be worthwhile if, once again, tweaked. The dialogue, action scenes, some descriptions may not be total junk. So if they are salvagable, use 'em.
3. Writing something, junk or not, is a great mental exercise, not just in what to do, but also in what NOT to do. In that sense, no story is a true failure, as it keeps the writing thinking and their imagination firing on all (or most) cylinders. See bad in good and all that.
I'm sure other, more famous writers have had the same experience. They may not talk about their failures much, if at all, but they are smart enough to pick bits and pieces and pigeonhole certain ideas to be used later on.
For what it's worth, throw nothing away. Even if it's one good line, one good paragraph, that can help a future story achieve a level it couldn't have achieved otherwise.
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September 16th, 2016
ON PUBLICIZING YOUR BOOK
In the past, I've written about the pitfalls of using publicity services for aspiring authors. The vast majority say they'll tweet for you, send your novel off to blogsites, link it, facebok it...you name it, they'll do it. All for a price...
Now, to be fair, this IS a business. Some will do what they say they will. They will send it off to X, Y, and Z blogsites, they will tweet it X number of times a day, and some writers are satisfied while many others are not. That's the vibe I've gotten. To be honest, it was mostly negative. However, as of late, I have changed my mind somewhat, all due to a couple of comments a couple of the smaller publicity services mentioned on facebook over the past two days. In essence, they said (and I'm paraphrasing) "We will do what we say we will. We will try to plug your novel to the best of our ability. Exposure is all we offer. The rest is up to you, to luck, and to the market".
This...was a breath of fresh air. No BS. No guarantees. No sunshine blown up my shirt...and I appreciated it. They did not lie at all. They said they'd promo it. And that, to me, is the smartest thing they can say. In essence, that is all they can do. There is no way to know if a blogger or reviewer will actually read it. Moreover, there is no guarantee said blogger or reviewer will give it a good rating should they decide to review it. There is no guarantee that tweeting your novel will lead to more sales or making your name a household one. No guarantee...period.
So what can the struggling author do? The first rule is to write a good book. That is a given, yet many authors out there tend to overrate their value as writers. In other words, they think they're the next incarnation of Stephen King or Neil Gaiman. They're not. (Neither am I, just in case anyone is thinking I have delusions of grandeur). The next rule is to engage. Yes, engage on social platforms, such as on facebook, twitter, goodreads, and other social sites. Finding and chatting with fellow writers and readers can lead to contacts. No guarantees, but meeting like-minded individuals is so much better than working in a vacuum.
Finally, you have to keep at it. Lord knows how much sleep I've sacrificed. Any other writer will tell you the same thing. But consistency and persistence can lead you to more recognition. Again, there is no guarantee. The only guarantee is that if you don't do it, no one will know who you are. Bottom line: If you think a publicity service can help, if you can afford it, by all means use one. Just remember that it's not a panacea for hard work and engaging on your own end. And yes, keep writing.
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September 4th MUSINGS
Recently, I had the distinct honor of one of my novels, Beginnings, being chosen as the Book of the Month. Although I get no cash, it's a cool thing to have your work recognized. But does it really mean anything, you may ask. After all, does it translate to sales, more recognition...fame and money?
Truthfully, I doubt it. I take it for what it is: Someone liked my novel enough to promote it a little at their own expense and took the time to post up on it. This, to me, is what it's all about. I have no illusions about striking it rich in the writing game. Sure, from time to time I fantasize about suddenly getting hundreds if not thousands of sales, being offered a contract to turn one (or more) of my novels into the year's newest blockbuster, but that's all it is: a fantasy.
The reality is that I have to keep writing. Getting a movie deal much less garnering hundreds of sales is lightning in a bottle for the vast majority of writers. Writing, for most, is not a profit-earning game, and I am dubious of other writers saying they made X number of sales. Half of that is BS, as far as I'm concerned. Even so...very few make a living from this.
I derive my satisfaction from people liking what I write. If they're satisfied, if they enjoy my work and tell others about it, then that's good enough for me. Of course, should Hollywood call...I'd be more than happy to answer.
http://www.longandshortreviewsya.com/uncategorized/august-book-of-the-month-poll/#comment-5957
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August 11th WHY NO ONE IS BUYING YOUR SH!T
There's an excellent little primer on how to write by Steven Pressfield entitled 'Nobody Wants To Read Your Sh*t' and I found it a pretty worthwhile read. My review is on Goodreads, if anyone cares to view it. For those who've written a novel that isn't selling as well as they'd hoped--if at all--this little treatise is for you. I've been there, I'm still there, and I've managed to narrow down all the possibilities to three. There are other factors, of course, but these three stand out to me.
1. Your sh*t is in a crowded market. I write YA Fantasy, and many of my novels deal with aliens, vampires, zombies, action, and a whole lot of other things.
Sound familiar? It should. YA happens to be, if I'm not mistaken, THE most crowded market in literature, with perhaps the exception of romance and all of its sub-genres. So right away, if you write YA, you're up against a whole slew of talented, hungry writers, established writers, and if someone has the choice of reading The Hunger Games or Catnip #1 through #5 (written by yours truly), guess which one they're going to pick? Just the way it is, so deal with it.
2. Your sh*t is really sh*t. This is an opinion, so don't flame me for it. I've been reading a LOT of novels, mainly self-published ones, for the last year or two, and reading in a variety of genres. I've read and reviewed lesfic--yes, and written it myself--M/M (it's literature and the authors reviewed my stuff so fair is fair), action, paranormal, magic, fantasy, romance...you name it, I've read it. Guess what? The majority of the self-published books I've read, no matter which genre, have not been good, far more so than the traditionally published books in each genre.
Sure, there have been some gag-inducing traditionally published books out there. We all know which ones they are, but self-pubbing has a bad rep mainly because many authors do not format well, they ignore rules of grammar, overuse adverbs, toss in too much filler, etc. Plain and simple, what they've written is crap. For those self-pubbed writers who do follow the rules AND who have churned out a well-written novel, they often get lost in the shuffle, tossed in with the detritus of the bad stuff that's on Amazon and elsewhere. No, that's not fair. I could name a few self-pubbed novels in at least three genres that have caught my eye and I've given five-star reviews to, but those are rare.
And before anyone gets uptunded and says "Who the hell does J.S. Frankel think he is? Does he think he's the world's greatest writer?" I'm going to answer you. No, I'm not. I think I'm good, but I also know I can improve. That is, or should be, the goal of every writer. So while I'm not leading the pack, I'm doing my best to stay ahead of the curve. Again, this is just my opinion and feel free to disagree.
3. Your sh*t is expensive sh*t. This is the biggest one, along with luck. I don't know about other writers, but most of my novels sell for five dollars or so--that's ebooks--at the publisher. Amazon costs more, mainly because they set the price. I have zero to do with it. Believe me, if I could get the price to drop, then maybe more people would buy what I have. I don't know for sure.
However, the price is often a determiner in what people will do. Face it, if someone sees an ebook for five bucks and another one in the same genre for two bucks, guess which one they'll take, assuming they have never read the authors work before? If you said the cheaper one, congrats, you get a gold star. That's just the way it works. Everyone wants something for nothing. That's human nature. If they can't get it for free, then cheaper is better. It may mean they have to settle for a lower quality novel, but if they're happy, more power to 'em. For me, I'd rather pay a bit more and take my chances on a tradtiionally published novel that's been given a thorough editing process and has a handsome cover. Again, this is my opinion, so feel free to disagree...but do so nicely, please. Whatever you do, keep writing!
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August 7th, 2016 MUSINGS ON LIFE
It's been a while, so here are a few thoughts between pennings of my latest opus. On the eleventh of this month, I realized it would have been my mother's ninety-fourth birthday...it's been nine years, just about, and she'd be surprised and pleased at how tall her grandchildren have gotten. Time is a thief. So they say. It takes from you all that you love and all whom you love and leaves you only with your memories. Finally, it takes them, too.
Maybe there's a secret on how not to forget. It's cyber, it's paper and ink, it's celluloid. Record those memories and pass them on, for one day time will take them from you. However, your descendents will be able to see and read and feel them...so maybe they won't be forgotten after all...
May 30th, 2016
IS IT WORTH IT?
When you undertake a new project, whether it's writing a new novel, training for a contest, prepping for a new job, inevitably there comes a time when you ask yourself if it's all worth it. For me, I love to write. That often means sleepless nights, foregoing food (which in my case, is actually a good thing) drink, and the finer things in life. It also means working for days on end, preparing the best manuscript possible, submitting it, getting it publish...ed...and then finding out that, so far, you haven't sold many copies, if any.
And then discouragement sets in. This is normal, it's also inevitable, and there are times when you want to chuck it all. You want to quit, but then you have a talk with yourself and say "You pushed yourself to write the best book possible, you slaved away and sacrificed, and here is the end result of your hard work."
And you go on. You continue, regardless of the accolades you may receive, regardless of the lack of reviews promised (a contentious point, to be sure), and regardless of the drain on your finances. I cannot speak of how many times I got a book published and it failed to sell well or the reviews never came. Sure, it was disappointing--the understatement of the year--but I have continued on. My internal validation is that I have put out something worth reading. And I guess that will have to be enough.
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April 6, 2016
CRAFTING THE PERFECT VILLAIN
For every yin there is a yang, and it's an unwritten rule in the world of literature that the villain must be at least as strong as the hero. Physically, mentally or both, the villain has to be a match for the do-gooder. It wouldn't be much fun to watch a hero defeat a weak villain, would it?
Personally, I like to have my bad guys as realistic as possible. I very rarely make them sound like thugs i.e. "I'm gonna rip you a new one!" For one, that's not very interesting, and two, oftentimes writers will have their bad guys swear every second word. To me, that becomes mind-number after a couple of pages.
What I like to do is to give the villains a sense of "suave scumbaggery". I make them erudite, using full sentences and having them speak the Queen's English--almost. No contractions. It gives them a greater sense of menace, I feel.
Additionally, giving them personal traits--excessive attention to order, cleanliness, food, etc.--can show they love to control their little worlds. Order is what villains thrive on. And while they're on top, have them revel in their temporary march to godhood. Have them cackle, strut, preen...anything to make them more loathsome.
Then, when it's time for their demise or imprisonment, I have them cower and swear (a little) and sweat buckets. It makes the feeling that much more satisfying when they're defeated, utterly defeated, and have to beg for their lives. So leave the swearing to the underlings. Make your villains memorable in other ways.
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February 22nd, 2016
Newest novel out--Just Another Quiet Little Town...and here's the link! http://www.amazon.com/Just-Another-Quiet-Little-Town-ebook/dp/B01BT70EA8/ref=pd_rhf_dp_p_img_7?ie=UTF8&refRID=1WFF9H5ASDT2RXVMNTF2
Now, as for my topic today, let's SWEAR!!
SWEARING!
%&$)#'#"==$#&%
Okay, I said it. Now, to the hard part. Should you put swearing into your novel? It depends on the genre and the story itself, along with the characters you create. Personally speaking, I don't believe you need the S or F bomb to make a point, unless--and this is a big IF--your character is a foul-mouthed member of an organized crime group, uneducated, or just plain rude or extremely angry and/or frustrated. ...
Let's be honest. Most people swear. Not all the time, no, but they do. Stub your toe or tear your fingernail off--which recently happened to me--you'll say something and it won't be the Queen's English. I swear, yes indeedy I do, but all the time? No. The most pertinent question here is, should you have your characters swear? Here's my two cents. Short answer, if it's a kid's book, obviously not. If it's YA, yes, but sparingly and only when there's a dramatic moment or one of action or someone gets hurt or killed. If you have your MC or even a supporting character use potty mouth all the time, it becomes mind-numbing after a while, at least to me. As for adult-oriented books, again, yes, but only if it's part of the character.
A novel I wrote, What She Saw (lesfic paranormal--yes, I've written lesfic in the past, deal with it) had one character as a member of an organized crime group. Swearing was part of his personality, but even so, I made him a rather decent sort and he died nobly. Had he spoken like an Oxford professor, it would have seemed out of place.
The questions to ask yourself are really very simple. Does the swearing enhance the character or drive the scene? Does it advance the character's development in any way? Is it necessary, realistic or desirable? If you think so--and you're the author--then by all means leave it in. If not, work around it and it's quite easy. Instead of saying "F--ck you" you could simply have him or her say "Screw you" which ain't so bad, or, if it's part of the narravtive, have your MC(s) walk away, uttering a number of four-letter expletives.
That's what I often do--as in, "he walked away, spewing out invectives of the most colorful sort"--and only one person has ever complained that I used bad language. Just my two yen on all this. I'd leave you with an expletive as my sign-off...but that would be rude.
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A REVIEW
This is the first time I've ever posted a review on my blogsite, but it's long overdue. This is for TP KEANE, a talented YA author who has done ME a lot of favors in the past of pimping my work on Twitter and Facebook. She really wants to help others get their fifteen minutes, and I am very grateful to her for her assistance. The very least I can do is to provide a review, and when she offered to let me read an advance copy, I jumped at it. So here it is, straight from Goodreads.
I was gifted with an ARC of his novel by the author which has in no way influenced my opinion. On the other hand, I was also gifted with two million dollars which would make me write something nice about "John went to the store and bought some milk. The end."
On a serious note, though, Ms. Keane's debut novel, The Paladins of Naretia, is a wondrous read. Although I'm not and never have been into magic and wizardry, this novel is more of a character study than anything else, a battle between destiny and freedom of will, and a look into a soon to be doomed kingdom.
The story concerns Olorin, an aged wizard, his adopted son, Aramus, and the queen of Naretia, Aria. It seems that Aramus has a demonic father, Dantet, who seeks to rule on Earth, and Aramus knows of his heritage and tries to fight against it. Can he, is the question. Meanwhile, Olorin frantically searches throughout the vast lands for the ingredients to aid Aramus in ridding himself of the curse and runs up against various mythical monsters, ogres, dwarves, elves and more, all in his quest to save his son from going over to the dark side.
Ah yes, the obligatory Star Wars reference. Cue Darth saying "Come over to the Dark Side, Luke, for I am your true father." And in the hands of a lesser author, this would have been obvious. However, in Ms. Keane's capable fingers, she's written about a character fighting against almost impossible odds to stay in the light instead of descending into unrelenting darkness and evil.
In a separate but binding story, we have Aria, nicknamed the Blood Queen (and she is a cold-blooded, bloodthirsty individual, with good reason, in a way) following her own destiny. It all culminates in a winner-take-all battle, or in this case, loser lose all. I won't spoil the ending, but suffice it to say that if Ms. Keane writes a sequel, there is more than enough information to draw on for an exciting continuation.
What I liked most about this novel were the characters. All of them are sharply drawn, particularly Olorin, Aramus and Aria, but they are capably matched by a cast of colorful and no less interesting supporting characters, which lends depth to the novel. The action scenes are nicely done, the bloodletting is there but not overly graphic, and the detail is rich.
While there are a few hitches in the narrative--misuse of adverbs, a few typos here and there, and a couple of small info dumps--the power of the story, and the speed of the narrative as well as the richness of the characters, drew me in from page one and never let up.
Highly recommended, and kudos to Ms. Keane for writing a superb story.
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February 4th, 2016
RANT AND RAVE
This is the first time I've ever done this, but it needed to be done. A while back, I was surfing YouTube and found a site--one of many--telling you how to download free ebooks. Never mind they shouldn't have been there in the first place, the person on this site was giving advice on where to go and what to do.
Color me appalled. While I'm by no means the world's greatest YA Fantasy writer, this got me so agitated that I had to reply. In essence, I wrote sites like those were hurting writers. I also added that if those books were in the public domain, then there was no problem. What I didn't like was the piracy going on. Here's what one miscreant decided to say in reply.
"stfu. All books should be free with a donation option. Knowledge should not be kept away."
Brilliant. Thanks, buddy, for showing me education in North America has gone the way of the dodo. Starting a sentence with "stfu" gives me an idea of what kind of person you are. So allow me to reciprocate.
If and only if the novel in question is in the public domain, then go for it. I'd do the same. If it's free, then why not? However, many sites are promoting piracy, and in essence are stealing revenue from the pockets of authors who labored long and hard to turn out a quality product.
If you were a writer, you'd get this. I'm going to assume you're a high school student with no lunch money and who thinks the world belongs to him. Sorry, sonny, life does not work that way.
Why should books be free? If they were, then there'd be no publishers out there, only people running presses and computer services to format the novels. This is a business as well as an art, and if you had a half a brain, you'd understand that.
Your idea of a donation is naive at best. How much would you be willing to donate? Most people wouldn't give a dime. It's human nature to want something for nothing, and so writers would starve--and most already are. This is a product we are developing, and your rationale is flawed at best.
Here's an example, you might be able to relate to. Go to a doctor when you're sick with the flu and say "knowledge shouldn't have a price tag on it" and then demand the doctor and hospital treat you for free. They'd boot you out. You're demanding the doctor give you his/her knowledge and expertise and time for free and you don't want to pay for it. Shame on you. Shame on your parents for raising an infant with an entitlement complex.
So no, I don't give my novels to pirate sites and hope someone will buy them or send me money because they liked them. I do give out freebies to reviewers and hope for a review. Once I give out said freebie, what they do with it I have no control over. They may sell it to a pirate site or not, but on my end, this is a business and a service as well as a labor of love. If you don't want to pay, then don't buy. It's really simple.
Writers, the best, the worst, and those in between, labor for their craft and figure they'll be compensated somewhere down the line if their product is good enough. Pirate sites take away that freedom and toss the writer into a supply-me pile and that's all.
I'm not asking for the world, Herbert. I'm asking that people be fair. And that's why I rail against people like you who demand my craft be given away for nothing. Have a nice day...but I kinda doubt you will.
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January 27th, 2016
A sample of The Titans of Ardana
The Titans of Ardana is a YA Fantasy with all the trimmings and trappings of an action story, romance, aliens...and a lot of chocolate...
“I’m still sort of new to all this, but do Earth people kiss whenever they want?”
She would have to ask me, the dude with zero experience in the area of romance and relationships. “Uh, we kiss whenever we feel like it, if we really like someone.” It seemed like the safest and most honest answer.
“Oh good,” she said. “We don’t have holidays on Ardana like you do, but I understand the idea of Christmas.”
In a sudden move, she grabbed me and kissed me on the lips. A rush of heat capable of igniting a burnt-out star enveloped my body, and I felt incapable of moving. Then again, I didn’t want to. “How was that?” she asked after she’d released me.
Saying it was great would have qualified as the understatement of the almost-ended year. “Fine, it was fine.”
Dana nodded her head in a most solemn manner. “I liked it, but if we’re really into someone, we ask them to touch our nodules.”
Touch her what? Oh wait, she was talking about the pearl bumps around her waist. “Those are—”
“Erogenous zones,” she said with a dead serious expression on her face. A moment later, she blushed. “I’ve never asked anyone to touch me there, but,” she lifted her eyes to meet mine, “if you want to, I’m up for it.”
That sounded like the most unromantic yet romantic come-on I’d ever heard. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Asking her why had to be the ultimate in stupidity, but she gazed at me with what I took to be total honesty. “I’m asking you because I think you’re cute. You’re decent, you do the right things, and I was in your mind, remember? We connected, and I’ve never felt strongly enough about anyone to connect with them. I saw most of what you’ve seen and know most of what you’ve experienced. I know goodness when I see it.” A slow smile accompanied her statement. “So, if you want to, my answer is yes.”
Okay, if you say so…
Dana lifted her blouse, and then took my hands and gently guided them to her waistline. “Put your forefinger on the nodules at each side of my waist,” she instructed.
Following her suggestion, I carefully touched each bump and heard her gasp. “That…was intense,” she murmured as she leaned against me. “Now if you kiss me, it will be complete.”
“What will?”
“Us.”
It was just one word, but for me, it signaled a new beginning. I hadn’t celebrated this holiday in a long time, but finding a girlfriend was the best Christmas present anyone could have every wanted.
I lifted my head to meet hers, but a popping sound made me start and a second later, a scream sounded.
Twisting my head around, a large man in a toga stood before us. With muscles that would have made a professional bodybuilder cry and a face that could have sunk a thousand ships, he made for one fearsome foe. It was one of the Elite Guards, and in his hands he held a whip with metal barbs on it. I had no desire to feel the burn.
“You,” he grated in Dana’s direction. “You are the one I’ve come for. I have come for your head. Prepare to die.”
Hadn’t Dana just finished telling me Saldar would be sending someone else in a few days? Wrong again, and this dude would have to ruin the perfect moment. He raised his weapon and right now the concept of goodwill on Earth and peace to all men flew out the window.
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January 22nd, 2016
A Sneak Peek at The Menagerie, coming soon from Finch Books!
This is from Chapter one...
Glancing at the clock, it read nine-thirty, and the sky was full of bright stars. Good time to stargaze, she thought, as she got dressed in a fresh pair of sweats and a hoodie. As she limped out the door, down the hallway and past the nurse’s station, one of the nurses called out, “Karen, you’re not supposed to go outside!”
“I won’t go far.”
It was only to the forest. She’d scout around, figure out what was making that noise, and come back. Moving slowly, her leg paining her, she entered the forest and crept forward slowly, feeling her way around until her eyes could adjust to the dark.
There…up ahead, something lay on the grass in the middle of a clearing, something white, round…and with five legs. It had five legs.
It had five legs? What is going on here?
Cautiously, she moved over to the white thing and got her first good look at it. Roughly the size of a Frisbee with five slender legs, it lay on the ground and moaned piteously. It had two eyes, two slits for a nose and tiny, shell-like ears. To her, it resembled a cross between a starfish and a manta ray. “What is this?” she whispered. “This is not…”
Her voice trailed off when she saw something metallic up ahead of her. It looked like a ship. “Oh, crap…” she whispered.
It didn’t look like a typical UFO—no round shape and bright lights, and no sounds of five-toned music. Roughly the size and shape of a jet plane, the side panel was open and she wondered how it could have landed here without a sound and with no one seeing it. It was a clear night. Surely someone must have seen it.
Still… No, it was sitting here and this white thing had just shown up and how did it get here and it was still moaning and she had to call the police…
Crap, what was she supposed to do? Murmuring, “Okay, okay, calm down,” she advanced on the creature, her gaze nervously flicking back and forth from the white thing to the ship.
As for the ship, it gave off a faint hum, and while she was studying the details, the white semi-starfish thing raised its head and moaned piteously. This was just too unreal…but she couldn’t leave it. Maybe if she got it back on the ship, someone would take care of it. Yeah, that was the plan.
“Hey, I’m here, okay?” she said, and gently touched the side of the creature. It felt warm, its body firm, and she picked it up and cradled it in her arms. “I’ll take you back,” she murmured.
It immediately fell silent and cuddled up to her. Its eyes, large and purple with gold specks, shone in the darkness, and for a second she had the absurd notion that this creature thought she was its mother.
Her thoughts of the absurd changed when the ship’s hum gave way to a faint whine that got higher the closer she approached. “This…is not good,” she murmured, her fear growing.
Still, she couldn’t put the creature down now, not when the ship was so close. Just a few more yards, she thought, just a few more. Reaching the ship, she deposited the critter inside and it sat there, blinking at her.
A sudden click made Karen stop dead in her tracks. It came from inside the ship, oldest trick in the book—number one—and she’d fallen for it. The creature had been bait!
“Crap,” she muttered, and started to back out. Too late, though, as a blast of yellow fire came hurtling toward her at light speed and hit her point-blank in the chest. On the way down to the ground, she wondered why this had to happen.
Car accidents were one thing, but getting blasted by an alien? This was too weird. She felt her face hit the ground, and with the last of her strength, turned over on her back to look at the sky. Then the stars faded from view and blackness settled over her.
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January 19th, 2016 CHOOSING YOUR REVIEWER
Choosing your reviewer sounds like a no-brainer, doesn't it? You slave away on your novel, you pour your heart and soul into it, and then you not only facebok the living daylights out of it, you also use the other sites and then beg your friends to read and review it. Sound familiar? It should, as that's what most writers do when they're starting out. You have to get recognized first, and after you make it (i.e. become one of the elite) then the reviewers will come to you, but that's jumping ahead. Okay, so choosing your reviewer. Here are a few things I've learned. I'm no expert, so take what I say with a gram or a hundred tons of salt.
1. Choose the reviewer who reviews in your genre. You'd be surprised at how many people toss a book at a review site, only to be told "We don't review erotic novels on YA sites". Know your genre and then move accordingly. There are lists out there of who's going to review what, and it doesn't take very long to see who's going to take a look at your novel.
2. Check to see what kind of criteria they use. Some are very strict with checking grammar, tense usage, formatting, et. al. and for my money, the stricter the better. You may not like people harping on every mistake, but in the long run, even though you'll take your lumps, you'll come out a better writer. Some sites will pick at the slightest thing. I've had people mention a lack of an apostrophe--one!--in my novels, and while I could have blamed the publisher, that was on me. I should have checked. It's a minor point, but it showed me that I had to be perfect. And yes, I still make punctuation mistakes...I'm a lot better now, though.
3. Be prepared to wait. Reviewers, contrary to popular opinion, do have lives and live them accordingly. If it means waiting a couple of months, then you decide. If you have to wait up to six months. then fuggadaboutit. It ain't worth the aggravation. So check and see, but whatever you do, do NOT browbeat them and say "You've had it for two weeks. Why aren't you reading it?" My answer would be, "They've got a life!" So there it is.
4. If, having done all that and they agree to read it, take the criticism with grace. I've had my share of good to excellent reviews along with a couple of stinkers. I've never written back to writers of the stinky reviews and yelled at them--as some writers have done--for panning my book. So don't do it. It diminishes you as a person and word will get around. So be gracious, punch your Bo-Bo doll at home, and keep going.
5. If you do happen to get a good review, thank the reviewer. A simple "I appreciate you taking the time to review my book" will suffice. That serves three purposes. One, it makes you look good. Two, it stays with the reviewer and they may be more receptive to reading your work in the future. Three, I feel it's the right thing to do. They've given up their time to do you a favor, so you should take that into consideration. If you feel so inclined, give them a shout-out on a social site or three. Again, word will spread and that's a good thing, in this case.
6. Paying for reviews. If you have the cash and you think Kirkus (which is considered the gold standard of review sites) is your match, then go ahead. Be warned, though. Paying X number of dollars does not guarantee a good review OR sales. For what it's worth, go through the non-paying sites first. If you get a lot of good reviews and you have the cash, then it's up to you. There it is. Keep writing. Keep up the good words.
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January 14th, 2016
WHY TRY SOMETHING NEW?
If it ain't broke, don't fix it, that's the old adage. And by and large, that holds true, no matter what product you're putting out. However, there are always exceptions, and the one time you do give a new product a shot, you might be surprised.
In terms of novels, while I can't speak for anyone else, I have had reviewers and readers write "this is the first novel I've ever read of J.S. Frankel and I was pleasantly surprised" or words to that effect. I've also had them say they'd read--and better yet, buy--my other novels, and that's always a bonus.
Taking a chance on something new is always a bit of a mind bender. It's hard to break away from the tried and true. I've felt the same way myself. As a sci-fi fantasy geek, I grew up reading Heinlein, Niven and Pournelle, Bradbury, and all the other greats of the post-war era to the mid-70's. I grooved to their beat, loved the style and the stories...all of it.
However, recently I've also had the chance to read other authors such as N.K. Jemisin, John Green (not my genre, but excellent writer, anyway) Veronica Roth and a few more. It showed to me if to no one else that one should try to read something new.
That's why I'm penning this little treatise, not so much as a plea to sample my novels--which is always nice--but to ask readers to give something new a shot. If you don't like it, then that's off your to-read list. But you may find yourself pleasantly surprised and have a new writer to follow.
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January 10th PATIENCE, PILGRIM...PATIENCE
When you've just penned your latest work and want the world to know about it, what's the first thing you do? Facebok it, of course. Then you twitterize, link up, insta-doodle it...the works. Then, being the enterprising soul you are, you send it out to the bloggers, writers, and friends you hope willl review it fairly for you. If you get an advanced copy, you can start the process earlier, but some of us aren't so lucky. Whatever, you send it out... and wait.
And wait, and wait some more. And during that waiting period, you eventually go from "fidgeting stage" to full out "gnash-your-teeth, why haven't you reviewed my book yet" stage. Which is normal. While we all want to have our work reviewed ASAP and have it up on Amazon or Goodreads or social sites, a healthy dose of patience is needed. Please realize the people you've contacted have lives of their own, perhaps their own books to write and review, and yours has to be put in order. I'm not the most patient person around, but I recognize that everything is part of an ordered system which is highly individual.
OTOH, if someone takes over six months to review your stuff or keeps putting you off, then it's time to cut that person out. On a personal note, I usually finish reading a book in less than ninety minutes. Speed reading does help...glad I took that course when I was ten. The review doesn't take very long, either, but all the same, not everyone will be that fast. So patience, pilgrim, as you make your way to literary glory. You may have written a great novel...but unless you have a street team of loyal minions to spread the word or unless you're signed up with the Big Six, then you'll have to wait and continue to dream about your next big thing.
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January 5th, 2016
CASEY AT BAT...
Much as I'd like to write about baseball--another love of mine--this post is about going it alone. As writers, we stand, or rather, sit, and wait for the ideas to strike. In many ways, we are like the batter in the box waiting for the pitch. The nerves are there, jangling, the sweat flows, the anticipation of whether the pitcher will throw a curve (a metaphor for life if ever there was one) or a heater. We are there, just us, against the world.
Writing is the... loneliest profession around. (I'm excluding those partner combos such as Niven and Pournelle who were so great together). We sit and think and muse and finally cobble something together which we think will be good. And when it's done, we present it to the world and wait for an opinion. (Yes, reviewers, this is aimed at you as well!) It isn't easy, so why do we do it? I can't speak for anyone else and won't, but I see writing as a way of interpreting my vision of the world as it is. Everyone's views will be slightly to extremely different, which is why writing IS so varied and exciting. Never mind the execution of the work in question; it's the thought that counts.
And so, we are here at our keyboards, waiting for that pitch and doing some pitching of our own. We sit and dream and muse and sweat and swear and hope and pray...and at the end of the day, should we get that metaphorical 'hit' (a perfect sentence, paragraph or hopefully, a chapter) then we wait for our next turn at the plate. We're up there, like a bodybuilder on stage, us, alone, and digging in.
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November 29th
DOING WHAT THEY DID
On writing, a lot of wannabes including yours truly have often been told to look at the old-timers who came before us and learn from what they did. Well, I did some checking. Kinglsey Amis liked to futz around in his house, drink, read the newspaper, drink some more, and then got to writing. It didn't hurt him any. William Faulkner stayed drunk most of the time, didn't hurt him any, either, although it eventually killed him. Ernest Hemingway got potted a LOT...and ended up killing himself.
So, should you get wasted and then write? That sounds like the moral of the story, but it ain't. What those writers had going for them was a whole lot of talent, a relatively small market, and loyal readers. And face it, back then you had to be talented or you ended up driving a truck. Nothing against truck drivers...they do a valuable, difficult, sometimes dangerous and always worthwhile service. But my point is, if you couldn't make it as a writer, you had to do something else.
The other main point is you cannot look at what those people did in that bygone era. It's a mistake, although a natural one, to say "Hey, I'll write a bestseller and be on easy street." While some writers undoubtedly emerge from nowhere and get that fat contract, ninety-nine percent do not. You have to work, work a lot in many cases, and there's precious little time left over for writing if you have a family and children, disabilities, or are just plain broke, which I can relate to big-time.
The market has also changed radically. With the advent of digital publishing and self-publishing, you have a lot more competition. Never mind that a lot of the books out there in the self-pubbed AND traditionally published world are utter crap, you still have to contend with about ten million other writers hoping to get noticed the same as you.
So the takeaway message here is simple. One, work at your craft. Two, develop your talent. Three, keep working. The old-timers could get away with it mainly because they were ridiculously talented and the market was fairly small. They still had to write well--natch--but they had far less competition. They also had more support groups which were sort of clannish, to be honest (my opinion) and they had the willing readers. There were fewer genres in which to work. And people just weren't into writing like they are now. Reading yes, but thinking they could make a go of it as a career or even a nicely paying hobby? No.
The other message is since this is the digital age, use it to your advantage. Get on those social platforms inasmuch as your schedule allows. Make those contacts. Build your following. If you're good enough, you'll get noticed.
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October 22nd, 2015
GETTING YOUR MOJO BACK
Mucho mojo.We all want it, few have it, even fewer can ever obtain it...or can they? I think anyone who puts in the work can achieve that writing mojo they crave so badly, but there are times when you lose your enthusiasm and your productivity suffers. Is it irreversible, have you hit the dreaded writer's block? Tune in tomorrow... Or read on.
Thing is, we all lose motivation from time to time. So how to get it back is what this l'il ol' piece of writing is about. Here are some suggestions, none of them carved in stone.
1. Take that break. Go for a walk, talk to your neighbors, relax in the library, have that drink (one!) watch that movie. Don't go near your computer. Make the break no longer than two days, though. After that, you'll find a reason to not do work.
2. Watch videos, anything visual to get you going. Humans are visual creatures. We see and hear various things and we experience emotions along with that. Music vids always give me ideas.
3. Read a book not in your usual genre of reading. As well, read a different author than you usually read. Why? It can expose you to a new and different style of writing and yes, you can pick up ideas. It doesn't mean copying. It does mean seeing how they (the authors) approach their topic and the style they use.
4. Get some sleep. Like most writers, I'm more than a little sleep deprived. I generally go to bed after midnight and I'm up before six, and that does not a happy person make. In fact, it makes for a very grumpy person, so getting your rest can recharge your mental/creative barriers.
5. Last, but not least, if you're stalling out, write something different than you usually do. I don't know about everyone else, but I always write at least two different paths my MC's can take. If I'm stalling, I take them down one path for a couple of chapters and see how it plays. If it's smooth, I continue. If not, I go back to where I stalled and check out what's behind Door Number Two. It's okay to get a little OCD about your writing. Just don't overdo it.
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October 10th, 2015
WHY SHOULD I REVIEW?
It's a perfectly valid response when someone says you should review another author's work. It's an emotional response to be sure. No one wants to be told that they MUST do something. We all have our own lives and our own problems and we need to deal with them first. So I would qualify this statement by saying "If you have the time." Too often when I've given my work out to be reviewed I got nothing in return. No word, no notice...zero. They got their free...bie and I got bupkis. And yes, it did piss me off as I'd gone into the whole exchange-for-review deal with honest intentions. It saddened me others did not feel the same way. To those people, I say good luck to you. We're done here and that's that.
At any rate, the whole review thing is out there for a number of reasons.
One: the reader already got a freebie. (Sometimes they do buy the book, but more often than not it's given out for the express purpose of having it reviewed). So all they have to do is invest their time and a little thought in writing up the review.
Two: it provides feedback for the author, both positive as well as negative. In the past, I've gotten very fine reviews as well as a few stinkers, and even if I didn't agree with the stinky reviews, at least the reviewers were as honest as they could be. So there it is. Getting a review can help the author iimprove their craft--and it goes without saying that the author must work at their craft in order to improve. It's very hard to be objective, but a good review will (or should) give the author pause for thought and maybe they'll take the steps to write something better the next time around.
Three: let's get financial. Reviews do spur sales to a certain degree, and I'd be lying if l said I wasn't concerned with making money off the sales of my novels. What author isn't concerned about that? Very few, I imagine. So in this case, the review can help the author somewhat. No guarantee, but it might. Finally, it helps the industry to thrive as a whole. Readers read, perhaps buy more books, and profits go up for the booksellers, both major as well as indie. Writers also benefit, not just from sales, but also from critiques which in turn helps them to improve their technique. Ultimately, that helps the cream rise to the surface. (I'll leave out what else floats) More than that, ideas are exchanged, views given, and in society free speech and giving views is a must and helps to keep that society vital and moving forward. So if you can spare the time to read and review something that another author has labored on for a long period of time, please do so. You won't regret it.
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September 20th, 2015
REVIEWS: BEGGING, ASKING, WANTING
Since I began my writing journey and posting about my novels on facebook and other social media sites, I've run across messages from various authors--mainly indie, but also some from those who work for publishers--about asking for reviews. The gist of those posts is, we've worked long and hard on our manuscripts, all we're asking for is a review before we die, etc.
And I have no doubt it's true. I can only vouch for myself: I HAVE worked long hours to make my stories the best they can be. And I have sacrificed food, sleep, and a social life (to an extent) working on what I love. However, there are a number of things to keep in mind when requesting a review.
1. The market is glutted. What with all the established writers who work for the larger publishing houses, the newer and smaller digital/paperback presses, and the indie writers who publish on Amazon, Smashwords, and other indie platforms, the situation becomes even more chaotic. So in order to make your views known, you have to post up a lot and ask. If you think it was hard enough for the writers thirty years ago to get noticed, multiply that by a factor of twelve and see what comes up.
2. No one, but NO one, is obligated to give a review. They're under even less obligation to go out and buy your book. So telling them, in essence (as I've read in some posts) to review a freebie given out simply won't work. Asking nicely helps, but again, no one is under any hammer to write up a review. You have to take what you can get.
3. Having good reviews may not necessarily translate into higher sales. Yes, seeing four and five-star reviews on Amazon may--MAY--influence some people, but overall, I've found that a dicey proposition at best. In my own case, my rankings are so-so to decent, but by no means outstanding. Sad, but true. Why? Many reasons, but the bottom line is if people aren't interested, me telling them "LEAVE A REVIEW" ain't gonna cut it.
Similarly, paying a review company such as Kirkus (which is generally regarded as one of the best go-to companies for getting noticed) to give you a review may not help matters that much. If the review is so-so, then how will that help sales? Answer: it won't.
4. Time. It takes time to read a book, think about how to tell the writer as well as the audience what you liked or didn't like about it, and meanwhile the author is champing at the bit and thinking "Hurry up, I've got other books out there and I want to know NOW!"
Sorry, again, life doesn't go according to your schedule. Reviewers often aren't paid, they have their own lives and maybe their own books to write. So you have to practice patience.
I wish I had the answer to all this. The only thing I can say is that you have to keep writing, ask potential reviewers to take a look at what you've written, say thank you for taking the time to look at my work wherever possible be it a positive or negative review (better still, say nothing at all if it's negative) and shoulder on. Improve your craft. Work harder and smarter. And never stop.
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September 14th, 2015
GETTING PAST THAT BLOCK...
Or getting over mental constipation, if you like, whichever comes first.
We've all had it from time to time. I have, and I'm sure even the most famous writers in days of yore sat at their desks with their inkwells and blank sheets of paper--think Shakespeare in Love--or their typewriters or nowadays, their computers--wondering what to do next.
If you can't think of what to do next, here's my version of invoking Writer's Ex-lax. First, reread your story. Think about where your characters have gone and what they've done. Once you come to the point where your story has ceased to move its literary bowels, you should be able to figure out what everyone is going to do.
Second, if you can't, write out a few scenarios. You know, A.B and C, and take your characters in a different path. If you think that's the right path, continue your story.
Third, take a break. Go for a walk, listen to music, watch TV or a movie, or best of all, take a nap. You'd be surprised what can happen and what ideas flow if you let them, and with that, see number four...
Last (but not necessarily least)... invoke what I call the "cinematic eye". By that, I mean think about your book as a version of a movie not yet made, adn play out the parts in your mind's eye. That's how I started, believe it or not. I thought of an idea, said to myself "Wouldn't that be a cool movie?" and then 'saw' the book take form.
From there, I wrote it down and I do that with ALL of my novels. I specialize in YA action and paranormal stuff, but even with my latest, Picture (Im)perfect--which is essentially a romance--I saw the action happening along with the dialogue. Silly as this sounds, it's my own way of coping with mental damming and it does work. Give it a shot. You have only your mind to free and that story to write.
August 27th, 2015
How much research is enough?
How much research is enough? That's what someone else asked and it got me thinking. How much IS enough? To my way of looking at things, just enough to give the basics of what you're writing about but not so much as to overpower the reader.
Let me explain. A lot of this depends on the subject matter. If you're writing about a true-life experience, such as a famous person, an incident or a political event, then the more research the better in order to obtain a balanced view of ...what happened and who this person was.
You need to look at various accounts, who wrote them, who's worthy of using as a reference and who isn't, and how much should be included in the text. Again, you and your editor (if you're lucky to have one) should be the best judges. You don't want to drown your reader in a sea of facts. You DO want to give them the essentials and--here's the important part--weave your story around those details.
As an example, in an earlier novel of mine, Twisted, the action takes place in medieval England (a computer construct) circa 1430 A.D. and I remember referencing no less than ten different sources on what they ate, what the castles looked like, how they wore their hair (an important point, as the novel involved a gender switch) and how they dressed. The average reader probably wouldn't check things, but there's always at least one person who's a stickler for details--correct details--and I didn't want to be called on it. (Happy to say that no one has--yet).
At the same time, I didn't go overboard. I consider my style, such as it is, very spare. I don't use too much detail, just give enough to allow the reader time to form a mental image of where the characters are and what they look like, and let their imagination take things away.
So there has to be balance. Too much detail, you end up boring most readers. Not enough, and they'll yell "Where's the beef?"
Give them the beef...but no fat.
August 20th, 2015
What to do after you''ve written your first book?
The standard question in writing goes as follows: "I've written my book, sent it out for review, I'm waiting for replies, so what do I do now?"
Answer: Write another one. While Harper Lee got away with writing To Kill a Mockingbird and didn't do anything else outside of penning a few articles (and shelving Go Set a Watchman for decades) most other writers have to work, improve their style, and get their name out. The best way, IMO, of getting noticed, is to keep writing. It c...an be in the same genre or an entirely different one. It's up to you to test the waters.
I started out writing YA action/adventure and have kept at it. Along the way, I've dabbled in YA Lesfic--which I've never regretted doing--and written one adult potboiler, but for the most part I've continued my YA craze, glutted market or no. And I've learned that the more I write, the more my style, such as it is, improves. I'm fortunate that I've never lacked an imagination. This year alone I've had no less han seven novels published, and next year, I'm looking at another six or so at least. The trick is to balance what you write with how you advertise things...and that's a whole other article which I'll try to explore the next time I write something here.
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Everything I learned in life I got from Star Trek
I was around seven when I first saw Star Trek, the original series. It was a revelation to me. Prior to that, I'd watched Lost in Space and while I liked the music, the show was so cheap, so bland, I couldn't really get t. It wasn't until later on that I realized why. It had color, as in people of color. It was the first multi-racial show on television where black and Asian people weren't stereotyped. They acted well, did their parts justice--although I always thought they should have had more lines, but everyone bitched that they didn't get enough lines or screen time--and acted like regular people.
My parents, while not S/F buffs, watched the show with me. They liked it because of the message it promoted. Racial tolerance, especially in the turbulent nineteen-sixties. It's a message that seems to have been forgotten today in many parts of the world. And these days, what with all the racial and religous bigotry, not to mention how the LGBT set is treated in many cases, it would be a wise idea to revisit the precepts that Star Trek managed to lay down without seeming heavy-handed.
I don't pretend to have all the answers, and I think that I might be a little too idealistic, but all the same, we do have the ability to go where no person has gone before. We can become decent people. All we lack, sometimes, is the will.
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uly 8th
Great Expectations?
Great expectations? Uh, yeah, maybe...
A lot of authors, once they've penned their first novel, have the dream of going on to literary fame, being recognized by John Q. Public as being the hottest person in existence, and buying a small island in the Caribbean with their newfound bestseller profits and kicking back with a few mai-tais.
If you say so, hoss. The grim reality is that while you may have indeed written a fine book, getting the public to read it is a chore. A pain. A lot of asking and emailing and hoping and getting no replies. The grim reality is that while it may have garnered good to great reviews on Goodreads, Amazon, and even Kirkus, there's absolutely NO guarantee it'll hit the big time and be turned into the next Hunger Games smash hit. The grim reality is that you probably won't make a lot of money from it.
So what do you do, tear up your notebook, smash your computer, curse out the world for failing to recognize your genius...what? Tell me, for the love of all that is good and holy, tell me!
Okay, step one. Step two, write another book. Step three, write a third book. And in between writing stints, network. Push the blog reviews if you can. Tweet. Participate in online writing forums if you have the time. And keep writing. What with all the authors around these days, traditional as well as self-published, you can't always count on being "good". You also have to be lucky. I can think of at least three poorly written novels that have hit the bestseller list. Their grammar was atrocious, their characters poorly defined, and their stories...urk. Think I just popped a blood vessel...but whatever, those novels sold. Why? Many reasons, most of which would take too long to explain. But the point is, they are there and you are here, as am I. And I'm still writing. You?
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July 6th
Happiness is a...
New book. Star Maps came out about two weeks ago, and yes, I'm happy with it. A nice story, it's garnered four very decent reviews thus far. Thing is, it's hard to get people to review it! You can offer...but will everyone take you up on it, will they review it, and will they be nice and fairly objective about it? Who really knows...and does it help sales? I honestlly can't tell you if it does or not.
I think a lot of it comes down to luck and not just savvy marketing. I do the facebook and blog thing, get the ARCs out...I haven't been compared to Veronica Roth or John Green, not yet. Still, Star Maps is a novel I can be proud of, and just to prove it, here's a little excerpt. This is from early on in the novel where Grace reveals herself to Carl Thornton, our seventeen year-old protagonist. Remember, I'm on Facebook--Jesse Frankel or at J.S. Frankel--AUTHOR, so let me know what you think!
Julie stared at me in the same way someone would examine a particularly ugly breed of bug—with revulsion. “There’s nothing to talk over,” she spit out. “I didn’t see anything. If you want to be locked up with the other crazies, go ahead. Not me.”
Pushing me aside, she strode out of the room. Hey, thanks for understanding and have a great day. Grace’s face remained expressionless, but a hard quality appeared in her voice that I hadn’t heard before. “She’s got a real problem. I’ve gotta go. See you.”
She disappeared out the door while I went to my locker. Thirty seconds later, a cry of terror came from the far end of the hallway. “C’mon,” someone said and motioned with his arm.
We tore down the corridor and stopped outside the girl’s washroom where a crowd had already formed. Julie emerged, her face totally white and body shaking like a leaf in a storm. “What’s going on here?” a teacher demanded.
Julie suddenly began to shriek. “I saw me again, I saw me, I saw me…”
A chorus of voices broke out with students pointing their fingers and yelling names, but in the end a teacher came over to take Julie’s arm and gently guided her in the direction of the nurse’s office. Seeing someone lose it may have been the highlight of the week, but it signaled to me, if to no one else, something weird was going on.
Eventually the crowd dissipated, but before leaving the door to the washroom opened just a crack. Julie, or someone who looked just like her, stood there, smiling…
“Hey, coming through!”
Another girl brushed by me and motored on inside. The door closed, but the image remained engraved in my mind, the image of another Julie. In a sudden stupor I walked outside to try and make some sense of it all…
“Hey, there you are.”
Startled, I turned around. Grace stood there, a somber expression on her face. “Come with me,” she said after grabbing my hand in a vicelike grip and hauling me outside and over to the bleachers. Once there, she got right to the point. “You saw me before, didn’t you? I mean, after Julie came out of the girl’s room.”
Her answer came out very matter of fact…as she idly twisted the end of her hair. The ends were red…not black. Wait a minute… “Yeah, I did.”
The somberness disappeared as Grace’s mouth started to widen in a smile. “Look at me,” she said. “What do you see?”
Oh…crap, I’d just entered another dimension where nothing was what it seemed to be. My voice came out in a croak. “Uh, I see a pretty girl…who used to have black hair…and who’s got some red in it?”
Her grin broadened another inch as she looked at her hair. “Oh, yeah, my bad,” she said with a gleeful tone.
This couldn’t be happening…but it was. “What’s going on?”
Her grin got even wider. “You mean you haven’t figured it out?”
Gulping down air, I tried to think logically in order to keep my body from shaking. My voice still shook, though, and I said, “Grace, you’ve always had black hair. Now it’s red—sort of. Julie said she saw her double a few days ago, and she probably saw the same thing just now, right?”
“She did. Go on.”
Forcing my mouth to move, I said, “It’s also freezing out here and you’re not shivering. So tell me I’m crazy. It’ll make things easier.”
By way of an answer, she took a few steps out from the bleachers to scan the immediate area, and returned to drag me further inside. “Look,” she said as her voice sank back to its normal low, quiet level. “We haven’t known each other long, but you’re sort of cool, and I can relate to someone who likes stargazing.”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“Watch,” she interrupted. In a millisecond, her hair turned entirely black and she shifted her form into a carbon copy of…me. After that, she quickly assumed the forms of Julie, Kirsten, and finally, Mr. Ramsey. “I don’t like doing guys,” she said as she morphed back to her original Bo-Peep form. “It’s too hard to hold the shape for long.”
Watching this, my body began to shake even harder. “Oh, holy crap, you’re—”
“Yeah, I’m an alien,” she responded in a matter of fact voice as if this kind of thing happened every day of the week. “Get over it. We exist.”
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June 25th, 2015
Paid by the page?
Recently, Amazon has decided that those writers who use Kindle and Kindle Unlimited will be paid by the number of pages that their readers read. As I understand it, this applies only to the self-published group that uses those services. If this turns out to be true, guess what's going to happen?
Oh wait, you already know, don't you? Writers will end up padding their novels and the quality will go down. Self-pubbing already has a bad enough rep as it is. I have to admit, while I've read some drek in traditionally published books, there is far more in self-published novels. (To be fair, I've read some really top-quality self-pubbed works, too, and by NO means do I consider myself to be the world's greatest writer).
What I don't understand is Amazon's mindset. They want more readers, yet they're forcing writers to alter their approach to writing a quality book. This, to me, makes zero sense. As a reader, I often look at the first chapter of the novel and then decide yay or nay-nay. I also look at who the writer is. However, if the subject matter is of interest to me, then I'll take a chance. With this system, though, I think that the reader will feel cheated if they get past a great first chapter and then read fluff. And for a writer who pours their heart and soul into writing the best book possible, they may also feel cheated by the reader not finishing the book.
All in all, I just can't understand what Amazon wants to do. I wish they'd reconsider.
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June 19th, 2015
Rankings! (Yeah, that again)
One of the cardinal rules for a writer is that they should never look at their rankings. Unless you're J.K. Rowling or Stephen King (or another well known and famous writer) then looking at where you are is an exercise in major depression waiting to smack you upside your head. You can see the good in bad, so as an example, I did just that. Here's a copy of Amazon's latest info on one of my novels. This is the Kindle Version of Twisted, a YA gender-switch action comedy with a touch of romance. Ostensibly, it's been placed in the Gay/Lesbian category, but really, it's more gay-friendly than anything else.
Here are the numbers:
Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #1,292,456 Paid in Kindle Store (See Top 100 Paid in Kindle Store) .zg_hrsr { margin: 0; padding: 0; list-style-type: none; } .zg_hrsr_item { margin: 0 0 0 20px; } .zg_hrsr_rank { display: inline-block; width: 50px; text-align: right; }
- #702 in Kindle Store > Kindle eBooks > Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual & Transgender eBooks > Science Fiction & Fantasy > Science Fiction
- #11864 in Kindle Store > Kindle eBooks > Literature & Fiction > Action & Adventure > Science Fiction
- #23071 in Books > Literature & Fiction > Action & Adventure > Science Fiction
- So while being roughly 1300000 is nothing special, many writers tend to think that, hey, I'm #702 in the Kindle Store! That's special. Is it? I honestly can't say. If people are buying my book AND they like it, so much the better.
More numbers: 11864 in the Kindle Store in some sub-categories. And then there's the number 23071 in books in the Action/Adventure/S/F category.
So what does it really mean? It may have nothing to do with you being a good writer or not. It may have everything to do with being lucky, getting more advertising out, and hopefully, people wanting to take a chance on what you've written. Overall, to ME, it means writing more books and writing them BETTER.
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June 16th, 2015
On setting things up
If I've learned anything in the past four years I've been writing, it's that there is still more to learn. One of the main things is the hook. Some publishers want the first five pages to have a hook, others say seven to ten. From what I can figure out, it's better to have it earlier than later.
It doesn't have to be major. You don't have to give away all your plot points. What you do have to show is some kind of conflict. It can be an argument--so there's dialogue at work here--or some kind of action. It can be a physical fight, a reaction to a fight (as I did in Lindsay Versus the Marauders), the aftermath of a fight (which I did in Arcana, a novel I'm still working on), the reaction to something that someone said or something else, but there has to be the hook, the 'something' that draws the reader in.
This also brings in the idea of prologues. Some publishers hate them. Others love them. Me, if they serve a purpose, then I use them. I think that I employed them rather well in Catnip and Catnip 2. There is also a prologue in #3, and in Star Maps, a novel that's going to be released on the 22nd. For other novels, I went right into the story and took it from there. Your choice, but if you hook the reader early on, there's a chance said reader will want to continue. And that's a good thing.
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June 16th, 2015
Upcoming plans, links, and if you're all interested...
Advertising is part of the business model for writers these days, and I guess that I'm no different. People need to see where you're at. So, keeping that in mind, here are a few links. I have a passel of books coming out in the next few weeks/months, so here are the names and links, just in case. Upcoming titles are: Star Maps, Lindsay, Jo and the Well of Nevermore, Catnip 3, The Menagerie, and perhaps Picture (Im)perfect. Check out the information below!
To my facebook page. I write under the pen name of J.S. Frankel. Check out my real name--Jesse Frankel, at https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100007640056961 and my author's page--J.S. Frankel--AUTHOR--at https://www.facebook.com/pages/JS-Frankel-AUTHOR/1458667077729037?ref=aymt_homepage_panel
If anyone wants to reach me for a comment or subscribe to my facebook page, this is where to find me. I promise to answer ANY PM's (if they're nicely worded :) ) and help out any writer as much as I can. I'm still learning, too, but if I can help anyone along the way, no problem!
Twitter--which I don't use much-- @JessSFrankel. DON'T ask me what my middle name is. State secret. :D
And here's my Amazon.com page. http://www.amazon.com/J.-S.-Frankel/e/B004XUUTB8/ref=dp_byline_cont_book_1
Now, for the publishing companies I'm with.
Regal Crest. The Lindsay/Jo Trilogy can be found there, along with Twisted, at http://regalcrest.biz/
Devine Destinies (the mainstream imprint of Extasy Books). The Catnip Trilogy, along with Death Bytes and the upcoming Mr. Taxi and Picture (Im)perfect, can be found at http://www.devinedestinies.com/
Lazy Day Publishing, home of Star Maps and (maybe) The Nightmare Crew, can be found at http://www.lazydaypub.com/
Finch Books, which is a new concern launching in the next few months. They will be publishing The Menagerie, but their link still isn't up yet, so check out the parent company--Totally Bound. https://www.totallybound.com/
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June 7th, 2015
About Caitlyn Jenner...
This is a piece I wrote on Facebook a couple of days ago.
In the past, I never really questioned what being white, male and straight was. It was something I was born into. And perhaps it did give me an advantage, although I'm not sure that it really did. I'm not wealthy, famous or even noted for anything special other than having written a handful of novels, but there it is. I don't think of myself as being anything other than what I am. When I wrote straight YA, no one blinked. When I wrote my first lesfic novel, a few eyebrows went up, a few jibes were made, but most people got the idea that I was writing about an idea, so it was cool. Even now, when people find out that I've written a novel with a trans woman in it as one of the main characters, most people don't question what I do.
However, if there is something that is perceived as being different from the norm, then all of a sudden some people get what I call the "ootsies", that very uncomfortable feeling of being confronted with that which is different or what they perceive to be different. And often that difference is perceived as being bad. And this is wrong. When Caitlyn Jenner came out as being what she was and is, people were shocked, jokes were made, hate was spewed by some...and this is all wrong. She is what she is. I have no love for the Kardashians, but this was Jenner's choice, not anyone else's. And those who deride Jenner's decision are missing one vital point. They have zero right to judge her for being wrong. There IS no wrong. There is only her decision which she will live with, for better or worse.
People are different. Get used to it. When you get right down to it, there ain't a whole lot of difference between us. Sure, on the surface we look different, sound different, and think differently, but under all that we are people. We live, we laugh, we love, and eventually, we die. Judge someone on their character. You may not feel comfortable at first, but that is your problem to work through. For me, it's far better to die happy, full of decency and enter my house justified than to live unhappily and die full of hate.
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June 1st, 2015
Writing about what you don't know
In the past, many writer-bloggers have preached to the world to write what you know best. As a guy, white and cisgender straight, in the past, I always wrote about what I knew best: YA, M/F relationships and action. That's what I found out I was pretty good at. However, somewhere along the way, I decided to branch out. No special reason why. I just had ideas and went with them. And I thought about something. Should writers write about subjects they know nothing about? My answer is yes--and it's tricky.
This falls into two categories. The first is what I'd call lack of knowledge. Not a very fancy name, I'll admit, but it serves. It means that if you know nothing about, say, physics or psychology, then you have to research those subjects and somehow work them into your novel in a meaningful but not overexplanatory manner. As an example, in my YA novel, Twisted (a gender-switch story) I had to research medieval clothing (particularly women's clothing), hairstyles, manners of speaking, and the basic layout of castles. (I had no idea of what a 'garderobe' was, but now I know :) ) And it worked. The novel has a factual base yet it is also a fantasy. And I think that any writer can do the same.
Where it gets tricky is when you tackle a subject that you cannot know anything about. In my case, it's lesfic. I make no apologies for writing lesfic. I'm working with an idea and attempting to do it justice. As I'm straight and male, I cannot possibly understand what a lesbian feels or has experienced. I know this. Yet I've written four novels detailing such a story with lesbian characters and have attempted to be as respectful to the subject as I am capable of.
I have run into trouble with some individuals who take exception to a male writer writing about what they perceive to be--and rightly so--their turf. I've been accused of "mansplaining" ( a term which I learned a relatively short time ago) and being disrespectul. In my case, neither is true. I admit to being opinionated. Who isn't? Perhaps at times I do go overboard, but I've noticed the same thing about some other women writers. However, it's their opinion...I don't have to agree with it, but I also don't get bent out of shape over it.
As for being disrespectful, that charge, in my opinion, is leveled at me by those who've never bothered to get to know me or have read my work. "I'll never buy anything written by a man" declared one person on Facebook. "I'll never accept you or anything you write" declared another some time back. To that I say: If you don't want to read what I've written, then don't. It's a free country. No one is forcing you. But if you're dismissing my work just because I'm a man, then you may be shortchanging yourself.
I honestly think that if a subject is approached with respect and care, then any writer can write about said subject. How good the novel is depends on the writer's skill. After all, there are plenty of lesbian writers. Are all of them good? No. Are all the gay male writers good at writing M/M books? No. So the skill aspect should not be dismissed. Having the experience helps, no doubt. And it does give a certain advantage in this area.
However, I would posit that if the subject is approached with care and respect, then the finished work should at the very least be looked at. Judge not the gender or orientation. Judge the work. The LGBT set has been given a raw deal over the centuries. Some in their ranks think it only right to give the straight set the same raw deal. Fair enough. But by doing so, they may be missing out on something worthwhile reading. And I would daresay that the straight set should be just as much, if not more, openminded.
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May 7th, 2015
Happy endings?
Recently, I finished the last novel in the Catnip Trilogy as well as the Lindsay/Jo Trilogy, and they both had somewhat bittersweet although happy endings. I think that happy endings are ingrained in the North American consciousness, although other cultures enjoy closure in the positive sense as well. However, audiences in movie theaters like to see the guy get the girl, love to see the villain defeated, justice be served, and so on. We want that and if we don't get it, we feel that we've somehow been cheated. So the question arises, should you put in a happy ever after ending or at the very least, a hopefully happy ever after ending?
To that I'd answer it all depends on the novel you're writing. If you have your hero/heroine about to die of a terminal disease--see John Green's The Fault in Our Stars--well, you know that people are going to die. You know that they can't beat their disease, yet you silently cheer them on to the bitter end. And you say to yourself, "Screw you, death. At least I got some happiness in." So there it is.
If you are going to kill a hero off--not necessarily the main character(s) but perhaps, a faithful sidekick--then my feeling is that you can do it dramatically as I did with Doug the Dog in Catnip (he died horribly but nobly) or quickly and offscreen as it were, as I did with Xeefa in Lindsay, Jo and the Tree of Forever (Lindsay/Jo #2). You have to see how it plays. In this sense, you're not only the writer, but the director. This is a cinematic as well as reading experience, as you are seeing the action in your head and translating it to paper for all to read. The image should be powerful and lasting. If the reader experiences the visceral, the raw, and the emotional that you've created, then you've done your job.
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May 2nd, 2015
Getting Political
I very rarely get political. I prefer to leave that to the politicians, although if you go by their records, perhaps your five year-old child would do a better job. Whatever, here's my thought for the day. Of all things, it's about the topic of gay marriage. So here you go, NSA, take it away!
From what I've been reading, the Supreme Court is divided on the issue of gay marriage. Here's my take as a straight dude who's been married for almost seventeen years. Put up any excuse you like that gay unions are bad and I'll call BS on it. Excuse number one is that it will cause the downfall of civilization. Sorry, no way on that. If being gay was all it took, then civilization would have crumbled centuries ago considering homosexuality is as old as the hills.
BS excuse number two. It will cause children to become confused over their gender identity and perhaps grow up gay. It is, as they say, to laugh. I do think that at first children might wonder why they have two mothers or two fathers, but if you raise them with love and understanding--as all children should be raised--then it won't become an issue. It shouldn't, really. Being gay isn't something learned. It's what you're born as. Same with being transgender. You are what you are and there is no shame in that. Shame is a concept used by religious leaders to make you feel bad about what you are. And shame on them for doing so.
BS excuse number three. It's favoring a minority who are ostensibly protected by the Constitution. If that were true, then gays would already have the right to marry and not have to fight for the right to do so. So no, if they're not accorded EQUAL rights to marry anyone they want, then the Constitution is not doing its job. Or rather, the politicians aren't.
It always makes me wonder that gay soldiers can serve in the armed forces, fight and perhaps die for their country's freedom, but they don't have the freedom to marry when they return Stateside. Where's the logic in that?
So to the Supreme Court judges, not that you're going to read this, but on the offchance that you do, I hope that you'll do the right thing. Gay marriage changes nothing. It causes no crime in and of itself, it provides business opportunities, and it won't cause the country to go to hell in a handbasket. The pols are doing a nice job of that all by themselves, thank yuh verra much. As a friend of mine put it so eloquently, "they have to right to be miserable the same as straight people". Sort of sums it all up, doesn't it?
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April 14th
On Committing Oneself
To commit or not to commit, that be the question (with apologies to Billy Shakespeare or Francis "I want some" Bacon). :D
When doing something, whether it's training, writing, creating...there is a tendency to hold back. This tendency arises, partially, I feel, out of fear, and partially out of uncertainty. It is a natural thing to hesitate, but that can be overcome in time with self-belief and actually doing what you set out to do. Goethe made the same observation centuries ago, and more than likely other great thinkers and writers came to the same conclusion before him.
For me, once I have started a project, there is no turning back. There are moments when, yes, I wonder if I'm on the right (write) track, whether it will be good enough for publication, but as I see the novel in my head like a movie playing itself out on the silver screen, I cannot and will not stop the process. For better or worse, the project must be seen through. This is what every writer, from the neophyte to the seasoned pro knows, and the latter knows much better than the former, having already gained the experience of penning one or more novels.
So once your butt is comfortably seated, commit yourself to doing what you envisioned doing. Be bold, dare to dream, watch your characters grow and live and breathe. Do not hold back, for there are many failed writers who had great ideas but never acted upon them. Act upon your dreams and make them a reality.
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April 12th
ON BUILDING A DECENT CHARACTER
If there's one thing I hate in novels, it's the Mary Sue-Gary Lou kind of character. You know the type, the cute one, the nice one, the one who's got the biggest smile, the person that everyone likes, the one who can do no wrong...
They're the first to go in the zombie apocalypse. They probably don't even do cardio. :) If there's a word to describe them, then I'd probably use "puke". I hate characters like that. NO one in real life is that nice and decent all the time. NO one...and the world is actually better for it.
"So how do I make them realistic and yet likeable?" you may ask. So glad you did. My personal feeling--and this is nothing new, by the way--is if you want to build a decent character, think of what they have to go through during the course of your novel. Think of the trials, physical and mental. Think of how they overcome their weaknesses. Being vulnerable doesn't make you a wuss...it makes you human. Frailty, like it or not, is part of the human condition. But that doesn't mean you have to be weak all the time.
So what do you do? You challenge them. Set out their mental and physical blocks and have them work through them. Have someone close to them get hurt or die. See their pain, feel their pain. Make them real. Life is not all roses and unicorns and sunshine. (I could do with the sunshine, but as for unicorns...)
If you can build a character that experiences some or all the crap you've gone through in your life (or may still be going through) then you've won half the battle.
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April 4th
Go beyond what you know
Going beyond what is necessary. Today's little theme. If you want to grow as a person, you have to stretch beyond the boundaries that either society imposes or those boundaries which you impose upon yourself. It doesn't matter if you're writing a story, training for a personal best or attempting to move up the corporate ladder. You have to try something new in order to advance. As the saying goes, "if you always do what you've always done, you'll get what you always got."
For me, it's all about the writing. In the beginning--not so long ago--I focused on doing first-person YA, straight characters in action stories, because that's what I knew best. Male lead, strong female co-lead...it worked. But I thought to myself one day, if I want to improve as a writer, I have to go beyond what I've always done. A fellow writer suggested that I try writing from a woman's POV. "Think of it as a challenge," she said. "If it doesn't work, at the very least you can say you tried."
And Lindsay Versus the Marauders was born. Initially, I wondered if it would work. A straight guy writing from a young lesbian's POV. Would it be accepted, would it work? It did, and I'm glad I did it. If women writers, most of whom are straight (or so the statistics say) can write M/M stories, then why can't a guy write F/F stories? If the subject is approached with respect, then why not do it? Admittedly, it may seem unusual, but then again, it's all about the idea, first and foremost. Go beyond what you know. Stretch and grow. My two yen for the day.
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April 2nd
Editing or as it's better known, savaging your manuscript...
Writing is half the battle. Coming up with the idea, getting your thoughts down in semi-coherent fashion, making sense of that which is senseless...in other words, writing the novel that you want to see. You sit and type and ponder and type some more. You envision. You create. But what happens when it's all said and done?
Get ready for war! This is the time when you attack that sucker, cut and rip and chew up and spit out the parts not needed...it's called (I believe) "killing your darlings"--and for good reason. Them words ain't needed. And here comes the much-anticipated moment of existential angst. "But I worked so hard and slaved and sweated and sweated some more over this. I LOVE this part!"
I'm sure you do. Me, too, with my own work. The thing is, though, you have to keep the meat and trim away the fat. One of my editors, Patty Schramm, who is also a writer and a terrific judge of what's good and what ain't, told me very succinctly, "If it doesn't advance the story, then get rid of it." Another editor, Laura McNellis, who worked with me on Catnip 2, said the same thing. Here endeth the lesson.
One of the best ways I know--and this happens before I send said manuscript off on submission and keep my fingers crossed--is to read the dialogue and narrative aloud. If it sounds clunky or stumbles, then I stop, fix it or delete a passage, and go on. Sure it's time consuming, but your manuscript will be, I feel, better for it. I still keep a backup of the original hanging around, just in case. Once your editor gets a hold of it, they'll end up changing stuff, anyway, but first and foremost, this is what you must do in order to get that flow you want so much in your work. Kill what is not necessary. If it doesn't advance the plot, if it doesn't round out your characters, then off to cyberheaven it goes.
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March 24th
Badmouthing or critique?
It's an unwritten rule in the publishing world that you should never badmouth another writer's work, no matter how dreadful it may be. The reasons for keeping a level head are many, but two standouts immediately come to mind. One, other writers and critics may go all gangsta on you--Karma being what it is. Two, you ain't perfect yourself. So unless you've been proclaimed the best writer in the known universe, then hold thy poisoned pen and think about what you're writing first. Being honest is one thing. Being mean-spirited and calling the writer's orientation, thinking, family, and pets into question--and I have seen this in the past--is not the way to go about things. You're there to look at the work in question, not cast aspersions on them, their lifestyle, or what they're purportedly thinking.
As for critiques, what to look for? Here's my list, feel free to disagree...but do it nicely, please. :)
1. Is the grammar, punctuation, formatting, etc. as perfect as possible? I realize there is some room for variation on the Chicago Style, but often, especially with indie publishers, I see incredibly poor usage of grammar, tense, punctuation, and so on. So for writers--me, too--check thine style. If your publishing house is on the ball, then they'll catch the errors and tell you what to fix. They won't change your style, but they will make suggestions (if they're good enough) on what to fix.
2. Does the story flow well or does it drag? Are the characters relatable in many ways or at least somewhat likeable? Granted, there are some occasions when you can't relate. I'm a guy, straight, and when I've reviewed lesfic novels in the past--hey, I write them, too--I had to put aside my lack of experience in that realm of human relationships and focus on the characters and their situations. Orientation should not be a factor--good writing should be THE factor.
3. Did the story leave you satisfied or wanting more? If it left you dissatisfied, then say why, but again, do it nicely.
4. When you leave a critique, did you give your honest impressions or did you just toss in something in order to get it done? Did you include too many plot points or spoilers? Including a couple here and there--if they didn't make the story better--is, in my opinion, acceptable. Including every plot point and spoiler is not. Readers don't want to read every single point there. They want a critique, not a page-by-page breakdown. So critique wisely.
5. For writers, this is a MUST, which is why I'm CAPITALIZING it. DON'T respond to bad reviews. Even if the writer of said critique is full of it, even if their review makes you want to punch your bobo doll...don't. It invites bad karma and will brand you as a sorehead.
Follow these basics and you can't go wrong. And write about it. Feel free to contact me for a review. I'll be honest. In the end, that's all we can be--and should be.
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March 17th
Movie sequels, the good, the bad, and the not needed
Much has been made of the recent spate of superhero movies coming out of Hollywood. Admittedly, I'm as geekish as the next person. It's a thrill to see my favorite superheroes and heroines (not many yet, but hopefully, there will be) in action. However, is it too much of a good thing? And why is it that sequels and reboots sometimes don't do well?
Reason one: Freshness. Sequels, while they do make money, are often not as good as the original because they have lost their initial appeal. Case in point, Superman (1978). "You will believe a man can fly." Well, for over forty million bucks they made Christopher Reeve (RIP) fly. And it was a damn fine film. Superman II was a lot of fun, but in tampering with the love story--he gives up his powers in order to bed down Lois--it alienated some fans and critics. While it was by no means a bad film, it just didn't measure up to the first. As for #3 and #4...the less said, the better.
Want something more modern? Ironman 2. Personally, I liked it, liked the way the script went--Tony Stark faces mortality--again--and Mickey Rourke was excellent. But it became a bit of "what can you show me now?" And a lot of fanboys and fangirls weren't so keen on it, either.
Reason two: Expectations. This ties into reason #1. Fans, justifiably so, want to see their heroes take on the traditional bad guys/girls. When they don't get what they want...see Ironman 3. I was expecting The Mandarin, the REAL Mandarin. Fake out time! I still enjoyed the movie, but son, I wuz a little disappoint.
Reason three: Reboot. "Not again!" And this carries a lot of weight. You can either do it right or do it wrong. Batman Begins did it right. MOS--dumped on by a lot of people--did it mostly right (IMO), but Superman Returns, much as I liked it, and Bryan Singer's direction was fine, really gave us nothing new. It was good, not great. And today's theater-goers want great. Avengers--great. Avengers 2--probably great. Superman/Batman: Dawn of Justice...verdict's still out. So while I'm up for a reboot, Hollywood, you've got the talent, you've got the CGI, get the right script!
My opinion for the day...
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March 17th, 2015
Well, here we are...again
First off, Catnip 2: Rise of the Transgenics, is out, but not on Amazon yet. When it is out, I'll share it here as well as on Facebook. Here's the link for Devine Destinies, where you can read the excerpt. Love this novel, kudos to the fabulously talented Carmen Annette who designed the cover (she also did the first Catnip as well as Death Bytes) and Laura McNellis for her stellar editing and good humor. Thanks also to Birgit for her input--timely and most welcomed. And thank you, Jay Austin, for formatting the whole thing and getting it done!
http://www.devinedestinies.com/Rise-of-the-Transgenics/?keyword=Catnip
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March 15th, 2015
Why ain't I popular yet?
This is a common refrain amongst writers. Just last week, a Facebook friend of mine lamented the fact that his novel--which I read, by the way and thought it a good read--hasn't been selling. Well, join the club. If I've learned anything about writing and the writing biz, it's the following:
1. You have to write, write well and keep writing. As I said in a previous blog entry--God, I sound so modern--unless you're Harper Lee or Margaret Mitchell or J.K. Rowling, lightning ain't gonna strike. You have to write, make your presence known, and gain a following. That takes time.
2. You have to market. That means using whatever social tool available to spread the message that your work is worth reading and buying. You also have to engage--ENGAGE--on those platforms. Just saying that you've written the next big thing isn't going to get you readers much less anyone who will look at your work.
3. You have to improve. It's a given that many writers will have an innate advantage in some areas of writing. Some are very good at setting up the action scenes (I like to think that I'm good at this) while others have a knack for funny/clever/witty dialogue. Others sport flowing narrative. Very rarely will you find someone who's damn good at all three. When you do, read that writer's work and take note of HOW they set it up. Then start writing, think, and get better.
4. Don't obsess over sales. I know it's a natural thing. I do it, too. Just the other day I was thinking aloud "If I sell only 35000 copies of this, I can put my kids through high school." Let's face it, EVERY author hopes to make money from what they write. Anyone who says otherwise is just kidding themselves. At the same time, though, if you focus on the money angle and SOLELY on that, you're gonna get a rude awakening. So write well, keep writing, and improve. If I've said this before, it's deja vu all over again. Get that work out, hope for the best, but don't quit your day job.
5. Luck. You need it. No question. I've read novels that, in my opinion, were excellent, yet they never sold many copies. Why? The market is a fickle beast. Some great novels simply get swallowed up or discarded because the readers of the big names think those novels by unknowns are second-rate knockoffs. Well, some of them are, but a lot aren't. And with all the books being written and published or self-published, sometimes it's a matter of luck and time before your catches on.
Keep writing. Keep posting. Keep on keepin' on.
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March 10th, 2015
Has it been that long?
Has it been that long? Yes, I shall answer myself, it has. What happened, you may ask? One, I got busy. My children are growing, my body of work is growing, and I'm getting older. Turned fifty-three, old and yet not so old in the writing game.
Decided to get a couple of more books out. Catnip 2 should be out by April, Lindsay, Jo and the Tree of Forever by August, and have three more on submission. Oh yes, and What She Saw should be out in December. It all takes time, and for what, you may ask? I ain't getting any richer, but I never got into writing to get rich. It would be nice, but right now, unless I'm very lucky, it's just a pleasant hobby, something I enjoy, and it keeps my mind active.
Facebook is fun. Joined last November, met a lot of nice people online. In no particular order, Fab Sara, Emily Smith, Beth Zervos, Emily Akiyama, Aaron Small, Philip Nork, Jr., Bill Umphres, Steven Hamilton, Kimberly, Dana, Paula, Wendy and Linie, Michelle W. and Jenny M....and too many more to mention. Also ladies from the lesfic club--yeah, I'm the straight guy that writes lesfic, deal with it--and some other movie and comic book addicts.
One thing I do get a lot of--SPAM mail. It's always from the faux-bag designers or those who advertise running shoes. Guys and gals, get a clue. I ain't gonna buy your stuff! So stop spamming me, already. I don't have any extra cash to burn.
Miss a few people I used to communicate with on another forum. They've moved on, not a word from them, no harsh words between us, but maybe they have their own lives and I don't factor into that. Too bad. Just the way it is.
November 17th, 2014
On Publishing and Getting Noticed
A writing acquaintance of mine lamented that she'd not achieved the status she hoped to achieve with her novels. Now, this person has been published at least three times that I know of, and her books, if Amazon carries any weight, have gotten good to really good reviews. (I define "good" as three stars or more. I'll leave aside other interpretations of the ranking system for now).
What I've learned is this, and it's what every writer should follow.
1. You're not going to become an overnight success. Yes, J.K. Rowling came from nowhere and achieved tremendous success with her Harry Potter series. Good for her. She deserves it. But even though she did it, that's lightning striking in a bottle. For the rest of us, it means slogging your way through submission after submission, rejection after rejection, and keeping at it until you've achieved something. Or not.
2. "Take bad with good." Sounds like something Yoda would say, but it's true. For every good experience there will be a bad one, and for every good review--if you're lucky enough to get them--there will be a bad one. I've experienced both, and that's all part of the writing game. Accept criticism (unless it's personal and vicious) and learn from that.
3. Jumping in at #3 is a continuation of #2. Keep learning, Read. Write. Think about your characters, plot hooks, dialogue...keep it as fresh and interesting as possible. There are no really new ideas out there, only the twists on them that make them fresh and accessible to the readers. Strive for excellence every day and with every word you write.
4. Don't give up. I've been published a few times and I'm happy with that. No huge money yet--if ever. But that won't stop me from trying. It shouldn't stop you, either, no matter what you do.
5. Have fun. Live life. Writing is, to me, the coolest thing you can do, bringing characters to life and sending them on their journey. At the same time, though, don't lose sight of the life you have. If you have family, friends, school, a job...never neglect them. Your writing will always be there. But what really counts is the people and things in your life that make your life complete. Make time for them and when it comes to your writing, they'll make time for you.
October 5th, 2014
Well, here we are...
I ask myself every day of the week, what I can write about, will it have an impact, and will it ever help anyone along the way. And I answer: I do not know. I DO know that writing is central to my life and has been for a long time. I hope it always will be. So to that end, here's a tiny list of happenings.
1. The sequel to Lindsay Versus the Marauders which is entitled 'Lindsay, Jo and the Tree of Forever' will be released October 31st. It promises to be even better than the first, lots more action, and ends with a bit of a cliffhanger in the setup for the finale in the trilogy which is coming out next year and is entitled 'Lindsay, Jo and the Well of Nevermore'.
You can tell I love making titles. I also love doing chapter titles. For my novel Twisted, I entitled one chapter 'Enter the Dragoon' and only my editor, publisher, and some of the adult readers got it at first. What, you don't like Bruce Lee?
2. Finished the rough version for an adult--yeah, I'm trying to branch out--thriller entitled What She Saw. I'm not saying it's got aliens...but it's got aliens. And romance, and a lot of nasty things going on. And it is a hell of a ride. So when that's done, it's time to search for a publisher.
3. Submitted a couple of novels, Star Maps and PIcture (im)perfect, to agents and publishers. We shall see. Loved writing both stories, but it ain't what I think, it's what the publishers/agents think. So there it is.
And now...FACEBOOK! I finally joined, and meeting a lot of people online is pretty cool. Lots of things to get excited over, connections for novels and advertising, and that's cool, but there is a dark side to everything. People can get strange in a hurry. And it is not pretty to see. A couple of the glam girls (bikini models, TV-wannabes and such) closed their accounts because of the harassment they received. This is unfortunate. They must have known the risks, but all the same, these people are young, just starting out in life, and shouldn't have to take the crap they did. I can only wish them well.
Finally, a shout-out--not that many people (if any) will ever read this--but Dawn Carter is a totally awesome human being. Her and Jeanne Assam are two very worthy people I've met online. Both very helpful and kind. I'd love to meet them one day. Also, to Andra, a great writer, friend, and confidant, and a special shout-out to Beth, a great friend who inspired me to write Picture (im)perfect.
That's all for today. More...when next I decide to come up with something semi-interesting to talk about.
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August 26th, 2014
A little more desperation...
Branch Rickey, the great innovator in baseball once said "If things don't come easy, there is no premium in effort. There should be joy in the chase, zest in the pursuit."
This, to me, sums up the writing game and other endeavors as well. You must try hard. Not only that, you should be take joy in the journey, but at the same time, be desperate to succeed. Taking joy is a given, but at the same time, you must also want to succeed. Who in life does not want to improve at their craft? This is what the successful writer must do, to write in the same way an alcoholic wants a drink. You must learn to desire it more than anything, and you must own that desire and channel it into something creative and worthwhile.
It has been said that out of every hundred writers who start a novel, less than one finishes it. Whether it's a good novel is really irrelevant. You must want to write, and want to finish. Running low on energy is a given. We are only human. Yet, in our capacity to think, we have an advantage over our animal counterparts, and that is a virtually limitless imagination. If you are desperate enough to succeed in finishing that great work of yours then you will use every ounce of imaginative effort at your disposal and make that extra push to finish things. To do less than that is to cheat yourself.
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Well, it has been a long time and there's news, news, news! As a quick recap, Twisted was published in March of 2014 by RegalCrest.biz, and Lindsay Versus the Marauders came out in June. Catnip, my newest YA novel, is out now, digital only, courtesy of DevineDestinies.com and available on Amazon.com, Barnes&Noble, and other fine digital venues. Let's hope they all sell! I've been very busy writing and editing three other novels, so I've had little time to update what I have.
A fellow writer, Shayla Mist (and a really fine writer, too!) has asked me to answer a few questions about my novels. These questions come from Debbie McGowan, author of contemporary fiction. Her current titles include the series "Hiding Behind the Couch", "Champagne" and "Checking Him OUT". (Just in case, her homepage is http://www.debbiemcgowan.co.uk)
As for the questions from Ms. McGowan, they are as follows:
1. What are you working on now? ME--I'm currently editing two YA novels, "Star Maps", a story about UFO's and what they really are, and "Picture (im) perfect" which is the story of a young man and his relationship with a transgendered girl. The latter is more of a character study than anything, but it's got humor, romance, and a good (but not preachy) message. Editing really sucks, that's all I'll say. While I love the writing process, editing simply blows, but it's a necessary evil.
2. How does your work differ from others in its genre? ME--I think that I handle action scenes extremely well, and I'm not afraid to tackle difficult issues. With Lindsay Versus the Marauders, I had a lesbian MC and while that's nothing unusual, I think I differed from the other writers who talk about the angst involved in coming out. Lindsay is already 'out', but when she meets her soulmate, Jonephra, she finds an inner strength she never had before. With Twisted, I pulled a gender switch, but had the young man stay in the woman's body. Thirty years ago, doubtless any writer would have done that. Picture (im) perfect deals with a transgendered character and that's not easy to do.
3. Why do you write what you do?ME--I enjoy writing YA. A lot of kids, particularly boys, don't read enough, and since I love action and adventure more than anything, this is my way of not only fulfilling my own fantasies through my novels but also making them accessible to others. Also, I simply enjoy going through the thought processes a teenager might have.
4. How does your writing process work? ME--I don't make it too complicated. I think of an idea, put my butt in the chair, and start writing. Like the great Ray Bradbury said, let the story write itself. I just try and keep the action going and let that determine what the character(s) will do. I tend to keep my main MC's solitary, though, and that helps with the writing even more.
I'd like to say a sincere "Thank you" to Ms. McGowan for allowing me to answer these questions and be featured in her blog, and also to Shayla Mist for critiquing my novels and providing valuable feedback. Check out their novels for great reads!
Now, next week there will be posts by two authors, Ms. Dawn Carter who is on Facebook under her name and who is a terrific writer, and also R.T. Driver who has just released his debut novel, Isaac Comett: My Life as a Shard Knight. He can be reached at http://rtdriver90.tumblr.com/.
I think both writers will give valuable insight to the writing process, and I wish them all the best.
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GOLDEN WEEK AND WHY DO I PUT UP WITH THIS?
Is it April already? Time for Golden Week which usually runs from April 29th to May 5th with a couple of work days interspersed. It is the time of year when families move cross-country in a mad dash to get away from where they live in order to find some peace and quiet, only to find that other families have the same idea.
In other words, they ain't gettin' away with anything. One, it costs the proverbial arm and leg to go anywhere in this country, put up with high prices, screaming kids, and harried parents who really don't care if their spoiled kids scream because they're ON VACATION and who cares if they inconvenience someone else?
Ugghhh....
This year, I've decided to not go anywhere, mainly because I have zero money and both my boys are involved in baseball. So I get to stay home, teach English, and write in my spare time, all the while hoping that my high BP won't go so high.
Lovely news on the Twisted front. Still selling, and received a few good reviews on Amazon.com, Goodreads, Fallen Angel, and Manic Readers, courtesy of readers like Yawatta Hosby, Teresa Eick, Shayla Mist (Andra) and others. It's always nice to get a few good reviews and I'll hope for more in the future.
Finished Picture (im)perfect (story about a guy and his transgendered girlfriend) and am searching for more 'bite' to the story. It's good, but too predictable. Needs more work, but I like it so far. We shall see.
Baseball season is underway, the Yankees are winning (although the Angels destroyed them yesterday, and I love my team. Strange for a Canadian to say that, but I grew up watching the Yankees and my mother was American, so there it is.
Still waiting
March 11th, Japan time, and I'm tired as anything. Twisted came out on the seventh--available at www.regalcrest.biz and amazon.com--and I've been blogging and sending e-mails ever since. A friend of mine did me a favor and asked me to write a blog for her website at manicpixies.com. It was entitled "The Other" and it detailed my experiences trying to write from a woman's point of view, specifically for Lindsay Versus the Marauders which was a blast to write, by the way. It was not easy, but that's part of the process.
From now on, I have to blog more, send out more copies of Twisted to those who are interested--and they can leave a message for me here or at [email protected] I'll send them an ARC. Caution: this is NOT the same as a real e-book, as there are disclaimers included and the formatting is somewhat off. That's how the publisher intended it to be. But the real copy is fine as far as I know. I've already made a few sales and to those who bought it--THANK YOU!
Until next time, as the saying goes. Back to writing now.
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April sixth, Japan time. What to title this today? How about "THIS COMPUTER HATES ME AND WILL NOT LET ME TYPE WHERE I WANT TO?"
No? Okay, let's just call this 'Reflections on being published'. Yeah, that sounds good.
So far, it's been a trip. I've been fortunate enough to have connected with a few other writers and prospective readers, and that's always a good thing. As I listen to the spring wind howl outside--cold today, uncharacteristically so for April in Osaka--it strikes me at far I've come with my writing and far I still have to go. Being published IS cool, but if people don't read it, well, what can I do to convince them that my stuff IS worthwhile.
Blogging. Have sent out a number of ARC's plus hard copies to those interested.
Writing about it here, tweeting, Linked In, you name it.
That's about it, really. My wife isn't one for Facebook. Some privacy must be kept, yes? But I think I'll have to give it a shot.
As for other projects, Master Fantastic is in the hands of Dr. Ken Atchity, agent extraordinaire, so I hope he'll consider me worthy. Also a shout-out to Dr. Warren Woodruff, writer of the Fuddle series of YA novels and a terrific writer in his own right as well as being a good friend. And, of course, my sister Nancy D. Frankel, maker of quality jewelry and editor fantastic. Thanks, Sis, for always being there when I needed you.
Back to writing now. Picture (im)perfect is done, but needs more work, and that's what I'll be doing all day. Until next time, write hard, write on, and as a friend of mine, Ms. Yawatta Hosby would say, keep smiling!
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February 16th, waiting on edits, have the megasorethroatfromhell thing going on, and it hurts to live. Seriously, I rarely get sick, and I thought I was lucky.
Fat chance of that. The high blood pressure threw me for a loop. I've more or less adjusted to the meds, but they continue to play hell with my sense of reality at times. In the morning, I always feel a sense of disassociation, if that's the correct word to use, as if my mind is somehow outside my body and I'm looking down on everything. It doesn't last very long, but it is disconcerting. Needless to say, I won't be driving fast or handling complex nuclear reactor type equipment any time soon.
Things that tend to piss me off.
1. Bad service in a restaurant. I don't care if it's a coffee shop or a five-star deal, if the service staff cannot handle a request, they don't deserve to be working there. Period.
2. Hacking with your mouth open. Lordy Lord, why is it people have such trouble with this concept? Hand over mouth, polite thing to do, end of story. But no, people want to share what they have. In Japan, there's an old expression--"doh-byo ai awaremu"'--I think that's it--which means "misery loves company". People who're sick love hacking and sneezing and coughing on everyone else. Hey, let's get sick together!
Go away. Just...go.
Back to bed now. God, I hate being sick, but better than not being altogether, to paraphrase an ancient Chinese philosopher.
Now the hard part begins...
February 11th in this part of the world. I've already sent off my edits of Lindsay versus the Marauders to my editor, and I have to wait for them to get back to me. No biggie, as I have lots of other projects to work on. Star Maps, a novel about UFO's and what they really mean, is pretty much done, but as always, new ideas seem to emerge out of nowhere. What I had before was a 'safe' novel...no suprises. I want surprises, I want laughs and pathos and everything in between.
I also want some ice cream right now even though it's winter, but I can't. Too much sodium and sugar. Everything in Japan is laced with salt, it's like the people here run on MSG and beer.
Fighting off a nasty cold at the moment, have two other projects on submission, and I shall hope for the best.
On achieving success
It is now 2014, january 9th my part of the world, and over the past two weeks I've found out a couple of very uncomfortable truths about people. One, they hate being corrected in public, two, they are not often aware of being wrong or wrong-headed (and I'm just as guilty) and three, they let a little success go to their heads.
Not worth naming names, here, but I found out that a friend--a person I thought was a friend--got promoted recently and scored some success. Naturally, I wished her well, but soon found out that my well wishes were not received well at all. In fact, through a mutual friend, I found out that this person with the newfound success has let it go to her head and now only corresponds with those in her 'Inner circle of light' as she calls it.
Simply put, it all comes down to her thinking that she's the top cheese. I was more than a little suprised at the change. We do not work at the same job nor do we even share an office, but her attitude change really shocked and then saddened me. All my efforts to engage her in conversation have failed and I guess I can put an end to that friendship. I wish her well, but will have nothing more to do with her.
As for everything else, the first edits on Lindsay versus the Marauders have just been completed and I'll be sending them off to my editor soon. I've also got more work to do on some other projects.
The last thing this time around is to mention the subject of high blood pressure. I was diagnosed with it last year in December, and after a particularly nasty moment when it went up to 160/110, I knew something had to be done. I'd always had low BP before, and now...on meds. Reduce weight, cut down on salt as much as possible. It sucks, but I don't want to contemplate the alternative. So FWIW, people, get your B checked regularly, even if you exercise and don't drink much or don't smoke. Regular checkups can save your life.
Hello Halloween!
October 31st, and how it's celebrated in Japan.
It isn't, outside of a few decorations in the various shops and restaurants. Tomorrow, all those decorations will be taken down and soon, Christmas decorations will go up. Commercialism rules here, don't ya know.
A friend of mine, Dr. Warren Woodruff, was kind enough to pass on my manuscript, Master Fantastic, to his manager. I don't know what will happen with it, but I do have hopes. Have just finished the rough draft of Just Another Quiet Little Town and now off to editing...which I hate. It's a necessary evil, and at times I wish I had better skills at handling syntax, but this is what I've got to learn if I want to be successful.
As for the outside world, the World Series is officially over and the Bosox can celebrate. They earned it, and I say this as a lifelong Yankee fan (even though I was born and raised in Toronto). Congratulations to them and I'll hope for good things for my team next year.
September 25th, 2013
Haven't been here for a long time. Life does get in the way and a lot has happened. In terms of writing, the edits for Twisted and Lindsay versus the Marauders have been completed, and now all I have to do is wait to see what the powers-that-be at Regal Crest Publications say. The covers are simple, yet effective, and I like both ot them. Will see if I can get them up here for everyone to take a looksee.
Master Fantastic has been subbed to an agent and a publisher, so I have to wait--hate the waiting game, but what else can you do? Otherwise, Osaka is the same as it always is, my home with my wife and children. Can't think of too much else to write for now.
Haven't been here for a long time. Life does get in the way and a lot has happened. In terms of writing, the edits for Twisted and Lindsay versus the Marauders have been completed, and now all I have to do is wait to see what the powers-that-be at Regal Crest Publications say. The covers are simple, yet effective, and I like both ot them. Will see if I can get them up here for everyone to take a looksee.
Master Fantastic has been subbed to an agent and a publisher, so I have to wait--hate the waiting game, but what else can you do? Otherwise, Osaka is the same as it always is, my home with my wife and children. Can't think of too much else to write for now.
Recently, I had my first novel published. It is entitled 'The Tower' and is available from Untreedreads.com and other fine retailers in the e-book publishing business. It Is a Young Adult novel and a story about growing up in a very unusual situation. It has all the elements of a great read; check out the excerpt at Untreedreads and you'll see what I mean.
Today, being Tuesday, July 12th, I got to work on my latest novel. I have not thought of a title yet, but it is definitely another fantasy novel. No dragons, no fairies, but it does have a few vicious rabbits and will have a very unconventional ending. Only about seventy pages so far but it's coming along nicely.
Wednesday, and it is hot out. The newest work is coming along slowly and will be a bit shorter than I anticipated, but I prefer quality over quantity and I can only hope the publishers will as well. I have about thirty more pages to get down and then the revision process will start. That will be the hardest of all.
Saturday, July 16th, and the writing process continues. One thing I learned about e-publishing is the different attitudes some publishers have. Some of them do not want multiple submissions while others don't care. While I can understand why certain publishers wish to retain their authors and don't want them to go to another company, by keeping this policy in place, I think it does a disservice to those writers out there who want and need exposure. If this is to be a free-market affair, then I think that writers should be allowed to submit to whomever they please. Naturally, submitting hither and yon does not necessarily guarantee one a contract; far from it. However, I feel that it does increase one's chances of being accepted by some publishers out there who are looking for fresh, new approaches to the various subjects we all know and love. Just my thoughts on this hot and sticky evening.
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Now we've entered August and I've been away for a while. Writing my newest story has taken up a lot of my time in addition to working, so haven't had much time to post. What I'd like to post now is about gratitude. It is a simple concept but one that is largely overlooked, I feel, in today's society. It can take many forms, such as a gift, a card, or a kind word. In my case, my gratitude for many things will have to take the form of a number of simple "Thank you's" to all the people who've helped me on my journey. First off, a thank you to my parents. They are both gone now; my father passed away in 1985 and my mother at the end of 2007, but they taught me about honesty, education, appreciating the finer things in life, and being good to people. I just wish they could have lived long enough to see me become a published writer.
Another thank you goes to my older sister Nancy Dana Frankel, who is an accomplished artist, jewelry maker, and writer in her own right. She was the first person to look at my manuscript for 'The Tower' and always offered valuable feedback. I trusted her sense of judgment then as I do now. She has always been honest with me and her wisdom is always greatly appreciated.
I am also thankful to my publisher, Untreedreads,.com, the owner, Jay Hartman, and his chief editor, Ms. KD Sullivan, for accepting my novel and giving me my chance. I do not know how many copies of 'The Tower' have been sold and in a way, it does not matter. What does matter is that they have given me the opportunity to express myself. I can only hope our relationship will continue.
I am grateful to many of the members of bodybuilding.com, a training forum I joined about three years ago. In no particular order, here are the names that come most to mind: Paula, Dee, Sara, Brian, Eomrat, Hoch, Lucifer, and Kim. There are too many others to think of at the moment. To them, as well as to Madoka Anzai, Tamiko, and Yuko, I think you all, along with those of you out there who've bought my novel. My appreciation knows no bounds.
Finally, I would like to thank my wife Akiko for her support in allowing me to monopolize our computer every day and most of the evenings. She is a wonderful person and I'm glad I married her. I'm also thankful I have to great children, our sons Kai and Ray, who've given me so much joy for the past eleven-plus years. I'm sure I'll think of others people to thank in the future, but for now, I am just grateful I can get up, train, work, and write.
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Haven't been around in a while. My family and I moved to a new place, so we're still unpacking. No writing desk yet. As I type this letter, I'm sitting on the floor in a very uncomfortable position and all of my writing will have to be done this way until such time as I can afford a desk! On the good-news front, I am on my first re-edit of 'Demi-World' and it should be done by Sunday, and 'Dance with the...' has also been accepted. These two Young Adult books will be published by NoBoundariesPublishing and I will do my best to make them both readable and enjoyable. Also a big shout-out to Sarah Beth who sent me a very nice comment. Get writing, Sarah! I really like your blog site and you have chosen a couple of very fine books to read.
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It has been a while! Today, November 10th, dawned cool and rainy. Went to work, did a few classes, and now hard at my other "job"--writing. Demi-World is still in the process of being checked over by Patricia, one of the editors at NoBoundaries, while Dance with the... will have to wait for a bit. The other good news is that Threadweaver is done, submitted, and hopefully, will be accepted but I'll just have to wait and see.
Right now, working on "WINK" which is another novel questioning the existence of why we're here. Not to get all metaphysical or religious--I'm neither--but I think eveyrone has has these thougths at least once in their lives and I decided to write in a little story around it. I'm going to keep it short--maybe 111 pages, single-spaced--or around 175 or so at 1.5 spacing. Sitll can't get the hang of the conversion thing yet so I let my computer figure it out all. Me, I just write.
Speaking or writing, back at it!
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December 5th over in the land of the rising yen and just finished two more novels, both in the YA genre. 'Threadweaver' is the first--submitted, and hoping for a positive reply--and 'WINK' has also been submitted. Both were fun to write and touched on a few issues which are rather dear to my heart--mainly human rights and individualism, along with finding out your place in the world. I teach a lot of young people and they tell me their problems, fears, hopes for the future, etc. and I think back to when I was a student, having had the same fears and anxieties myself. It's not an easy situation to counsel them and I don't know if they'd take my advice, anyway. If they listen, then that's half the battle.
On another note, a young lady recently read The Tower and asked me how she could become a writer. My answer: Write! Write about something near and dear to you, something you know well and can spin a good tale about. I've always been into the idea of parallel worlds, superheroes--even at my age!--and the concept of we're not alone in the universe. As wonky as it sounds to some, I'm not alone, for there are a lot of people who think we aren't alone, either. So I write about those things, write something positive, and if there's any message I can give--if someone cares to read it--it's this: You matter. You count for something. You are not worthless even if at times you think so. You have to have the courage of your convictions, even if it goes against popular opinion. Just make sure you think things through and see both sides, but if you have to act, then do so wholeheartedly, don't regret taking that road, and learn from any mistakes you might make along the way. Simplistic? Most definitely. But it works more often than not. Now, off to counsel Dr. Phil. (Joke)
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Happy New Year to everyone! As I write this, it's January first on this side of the world--Japan---and my latest "epic" Demi-World has just been published with NoBoundariesPublishing! It is another Young Adult/Fantasy tale and is also a fast-moving read. (Doug, if you read this, thank you for your comments on The Tower. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!). I have a lot of people to thank for getting Demi-World out there. First, I'd like to thank the owner of NoBoundaries, Judy Sipics, for having enough faith in me and giving me the contract. I would also like to thank Patricia M. Bates for her invaluable help in helping me edit Demi-World and making it better. Ms. Bates is a fine writer in her own right and has given me great counsel along the way and I look forward to working with her on future projects, mainly 'Dance with the...' (another Young Adult novel) and the sequel to Demi-World, which is tentatively titled 'Demi-World 2: The Rise of Goliath' which will hopefully be out later on this year).
There are others to thank as well and those who know me from other forums will recognzie their names: Paula, Dee, Chris (hiya, Hoch!) Sara, Brian, Doug, Lucifer, Kim, and many more. Once again, I thank my wife Akiko for letting me monopolize the computer and thank my two children, Kai and Ray, for all their support and love. I couldn't have done it without you. My best wishes to you all and may 2012 be a great one for each and every one of you.
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January 2nd, 2012, and as I type this, my latest novel, On a Wing and a.... Is in the works. I've already gotten about forty pages down and have around eighty or so to go, which amounts to around 90000 words, give or take a few. Some people have asked me "Where can I find your books?" and I have already provided links, although I'll do so again. For The Tower, the primary source is Untreedreads.com, and for Demi-World, go to NoBoundariesPublishing. In both cases, they can be found in the Young Adult section. They can also be found at Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble, Bookstrand (for Demi-World) and probably some other sites, but if you're interested, it's best and cheapest to go to the main publishing sites. The price is fair, I think, commensurate with what other booksellers offer.
I did forget to thank one other person, and that is Alexia561, who gave a very nice and balanced review to The Tower. Alexia, if you ever get around to reading this, my sincere thanks. Hopefuly, this year Threadweaver will be published along with WINK, and I do hope that the sequel to The Tower will be put up, along with the sequel to Demi-World. Writing is a process of thinking, learning, research--yes, I did a lot of research for Demi-World, believe it or not--and more writing. It is a never-ending battle for a good story, a joy and never a chore, and something I'll always enjoy.
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There are a couple of other people I have to thank for Demi-World. The first is Mr. Piers Anthony and I am still kicking myself for not thanking him earlier for his website (PiersAnthony'sInternetPublishing). He's been kind enough to answer my questions and I value his opinons, always served up with a wry sense of humor. One more shout-out to Audrey who was kind enough to announce me on Facebook to the cyber-world. If any "Tweeters" want to follow me or just send messages, you can find me on Twitter @JessSFrankel. Hope to hear from you! Now, back to my scheduled novels! Made some progress with On a Wing and a... and have done about half of my revisions for Demi-World 2: The Rise of Goliath. We shall see.
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Back to writing, as usual. Demi-World has only been out for about two weeks but is doing well. DW2: The Rise of Goliath is done with the first set of revisions and now I'm off to do my second round. DW2 will explore the further adventures of Harmon and his girlfriend, Shina, and this time, there are a few more surprises in store for the Demi-World crew, a trip abroad, and a lot more heartbreak for our protagonist. Also working on a slightly different novel, tentatively named 'On a Wing and a....' and that is about sixty pages done. I'm looking at around one thirty-five at the most, which translates into slightly over two hundred when set out 1.5 spaced. Formatting was never my thing but that's what the publishers want....
And now, back to the writing/revision board!
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January 21st. LIfe does get in the way at times, doesn't it? Got a few more pages done with my most recent works and my older son comes walking in with a busted finger due to misreading a bunt attempt. Take one for the team! So much for playing the next two weeks.
This is the year I'm going to try to find an agent. I think I stand a better chance of getting a paperback deal (one book or multiple ones) if I'm fortunate enough to find someone who believes in my work. Money, while nice, is not really an issue (although we all hope to be rich and famous!) but really, I just want to be a good writer. Not just someone who's popular, but good as well, good in the critical sense of pacing, flow, character development, and so on. I want to do it all and be known for it all. My goal--one of them, anyway--for 2012.
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Life throws a few curves at times. 'Threadweaver' has been picked up by Keith Publications and hopefully, I'll get some feedback on the manuscript soon enough. 'WINK' still needs more work so that's what I'm doing now, in the midst of battling a very bad cold. Wife is sick with the flu and my older son just got over it last week. I do wish my publisher would pick up the sequel to The Tower--no word yet and I'd hate to go to another publishing agency but it appears that it may have to be done. Pity. We shall see. Back to WINK and may the good edits follow!
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March 3rd, Japan time. On being rejected. Yes, it sucks big-time. I have sent out a number of queries and submissions to various publishers and been rejected before and I will be again. For anyone who bothers reading this, take heart. Even the best writers have had manuscripts rejected, even the successful authors out there. They have also had books published which were not up to their previous standards, or so the critics and general public said. So even though it bites getting the "NO!" response from various agents, I am undeterred in my quest. I just have to get better and I will. It is all a learning experience and I invite those out there to come along for the ride.
Okay, mini-rant over. Weather has finally gotten warmer here--still cold at night, though--and I've been hard at work revisiing two of my latest, WINK, and Death Bytes, both YA novels. Fun stuff writing both and I will get them published--yes, IMO, they're that good and worthwhile reading. Anyone wants a few pages as a sample, write in and ask and I will do my best to accomodate you.
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Well, the submission process continues. This is the year I've been meaning to get an agent. I love writing e-novels but I also want to move into the paperback market. I think it's only natural. To that end, have contacted a number of agents and agencies and submitted 'Death Bytes' plus query letters and we shall see what happens. I also got word my publisher--No Boundaries--will be shutting down soon, so that means I have to find another home for Demi-World. It's a good story and the sequel is even better. Again, hate to use the oft-used phrase--we shall see. Back to revising my latest opus.
The weather has turned warmer here as of late so I shall be taking more walks and jogs to see the world outside. Love writing, but even the mind needs to take a break every now and then as does the body.
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May's end. Has it been that long? Yes, I do believe it has. Today's little excerpt has nothing to do with writing and everything to do with viewpoints. Get ready for another mini-rant 'cuz I'm about to let fly! Today's little diatribe is against the self-righteous left-wing element I see on various writing forums. (Okay, I lied; this rant is sort of about writing). I recently joined a writer's forum in order to read viewpoints different from my own. For the record, I'm slightly right-wing in the sense of being free-market, laissez-faire capitalist in nature. When someone on this forum wrote in we should be paying higher taxes for the welfare state, I gave my two yen's worth, opposing it as I did not want to be in charge of someone else's life and have no one in charrge of mine.
You should have read the s**tstorm that erupted! I got accused of being a fascist, a sociopath (I don't know where the dip who wrote that comment got that idea from) and worse. It seemed every left-winger around crawled out of their nooks and cranny's to toss in their ha'penny's worth of ideas. From my POV, spending more on social programmes which have failed miserably in the past is NOT the answer. While there has to be some balance between the haves and have-nots, stealing from Peter to pay Paul is not the answer. The Wall Street protesters seemingly want everything their way but they don't want to work for it. Just for the record (again) I happen to be among the group of '99%-ers' but you won't see me carrying a signboard or a picket sign and screaming for money. No one said life was fair. It isn't. It never was an never will be. If my father were alive (he passed in '85) and if my mother were alive (she passed almost five years ago) they would both say "GET A JOB!" and I agree. I'm too busy writing and working in order to protest.
Okay, rant over and next time for the aspiring wannabe writers like yours truly, I'm going to write about my own (at times) bitter experiences and detail the steps you can take so as not have your novel suck. I think I'll entitle it "How not to write a sucky novel" which is hardly original but it's as good a title as any.
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As promised, here I am again after an absence. Just a quick update. The publisher I had with Demi-World failed so that novel has been withdrawn from publication which doesn't make me happy. As bitter as I was at the time, I realized one thing: even if the publisher fails it doesn't mean I sucked. These things happen. I put it behind me and that's all there is to it. Many publishers like to talk the talk but not walk the walk. I can only write my best, but when some publishers tell me I have to do most of the work in pubbing my stuff and they just put it out and not tout it, well, there's only so much I can do. 'Nuff said.
Now, as for how not to write a sucky novel, here's my thoughts on all this.
1. Make sure you know your subject. I don't care if it's about sports, fairy godmothers, space, or anything else, know what you're writing about so it can sound plausible. If it's non-fiction, get your facts straight but if it's fiction, keep it consistent.
2. Stick to one POV. I prefer to write in first-person while others stick to third-person POV's but whatever you do, be consistent. Most editors hate switching back and forth between two first and third-person accounts and while it can be done, it's rather difficult to pull off.
3. 'That' and 'was'. Every editor I've worked with has told me about this and while there are times when you can't avoid using those two little words, try to limit them.
4. Keep the pace fast. Editors hate having novels which drag and I'm also guilty of doing this. Don't. Keep the pages fresh, keep the suspense high, and keep the reader interested at the end of each chapter as to what will happen next.
5. Spell correctly. 'Nuff said.
6. Should you curse? I do in my novels every now and then but ask yourself this: Is it necessary? You could say "A string of four-letter words ran through my head" or you could say "Shit!" but many editors don't like the four-letter stuff. If it's necessary to the emotional content of the story, then swear away. But for the most part, and this is just my opinion, it isn't necessary.
7. Most inportant, love your characters. Even the bad guys; love them all. Make them live and walk and breathe. Imagine what they do or say, and imagine what the other characters do and say to and with them. Become the characters--all of them. It's hard for me as a man to imagine what a woman can feel but I always give it the old college try. If your characters are as 3D as you can get them, then you will be a writer, my son.
Until next time, I'm back to writing. I have Master Fantastic, WINK, and Death Bytes all on submission and yes, I have hopes for all of them, specifically Death Bytes as I really enjoyed penning it but I love all three. Right now, working on 'Mr. Taxi' and am up to around 42000 words, aiming for around 65000-plus. Hop on; it'll be a fun ride.
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Been a while and just finishing up edits for another book, tentatively called 'Fun and Games' although I know the title will change somewhere down the line. A real twist on the gender bender theme. We'll see how it turns out.
Olympics, what can I say? Canada's performance is pretty much what I expected--poor--and who gives out medals for trampoline, anyway? Glad Canada won but is this a sport? Same deal with beach volleyball. I like looking at women as much as the next guy does but medals for this? Get serious.
Seriously, though, the performances in most of the other sports have been nothing short of brilliant. Very impressed by the Chinese gymansts, weightlifters, and swimmers, although the charges of doping will probably rear their ugly head. Also very impressed with the show Great Britain is putting on. They're doing their country proud. Finally, if anyone out there is interested, here's the first chapter of 'Master Fantastic' for the world to see--and any publishers who are interested!
Master Fantastic
By J.S. Frankel
Beginnings
One year ago, age seventeen, wintertime
“Bro, wanna see a trick?”
The question came from
Rory Muldoon, my best friend. We stood at our lockers, me fiddling with the
lock, and I listened for the faint click which signaled its opening. Out of all
the hundreds of students rushing by, I always knew when he’d come around. His
voice, sharp and sort of whiny, sounded so different and distinctive from
everyone else’s. He repeated the question and mentally sighing, I knew what he’d
do next.
It had to be another trick. Rory and his magic had been
alternately thrilling and boring the living hell out of me ever since we met in
the first grade. I had to admit, of all the people I’d ever seen perform—and I’d
only seen a few—Rory’s abilities put him in ‘mad skills’ territory. I knew it,
he knew it, and he wanted everyone else to acknowledge it in the worst way.
“C’mon, say it, say it, bro!” he’d urge and then I’d give him the answer he
wanted.
“You’re the best around.”
“Damn right.”
He’d nod at himself in an ‘I’m-the-man’ way and
while it was funny no one at our institution of knowledge disagreed. Every year
he performed his little act on stage at the annual talent festivals. When we
were small, everyone clapped and said “Cool!” When we got older, the ‘cool’
comments changed to “How did you do
that?” and truthfully, I could never figure it out.
“A good magician never reveals his tricks,” he’d say to
everyone. We always wondered just how he did it. Yeah, okay, you had to give him
props because he knew his craft, but it would have been nice if he’d given us
all a clue, especially me, his best and only friend. I learned a long time ago
not to ask questions about how he could do the impossible. I just accepted the
situation for what it was. “Just a minute, bud,” I answered. “I’m getting my
books out. Gotta cram for the exam next week,
y’know?”
Just coming back from New Year’s vacation, school turned
nasty again in the sense we had to study. My Christmas break holidays—just ten
days—were over, I had to do a ton of homework, clean up around the house, and I
didn’t get to do any partying which sucked. Other kids got lucky as they had a
lot more leeway in their personal lives or the smarts to do what they liked. Me,
I had to study just to make average grades and it bit all the
way.
Things were starting to look up, though. The bell rang
ten minutes ago which signaled our release from education. Even so, freedom had
to be the most relative thing in the world. Today being Thursday, the previous
six hours felt more like a jail sentence than study. Tests in geometry, science,
and then chemistry—they all sucked. As soon as I walked out of here then the
whole grind of study would begin again. “Class is over,” our homeroom teacher
intoned. “Remember, you have your tests next week and those of who need help can
see me after….”
I zoned out the rest of the teacher’s speech. Time to
make my escape! Yeah, let’s hear it for freedom—“FREEDOM”—like the Scottish guy
said in the movie. Freedom for the other kids meant partying hearty, swilling
down the beer and toking up, something I never got into. I didn’t even drink.
Yeah, call me straight edge but that’s how I
rolled.
Knowing Rory, he’d probably shut himself up in his
basement and practice doing tricks the entire forty-eight hour grace period. I’d
been to his house numerous times—we lived only five minutes from each other—and
his basement was filled, I mean absolutely filled, with books on magic,
levitation, bowls of sand and water, special boxes, rings, and all the
paraphernalia magicians used in their acts. He always showed me a new trick when
I went over but after a while it got sort of boring. A cool dude, yes, but with
a one-track mind.
As for me, I had to study. I planned on going home, go up
to my room and stay there. It gave me an excuse to get away from my Uncle Frank,
the man who’d been making my life miserable for a long time. Gathering my books
up, I did my best to leave the drab white walls of the classroom behind only to
hear the teacher’s voice. “Paul, Paul Coleman!” Wonderful, my one chance of
freedom shot to hell. What did she want now? Oh, wait, I already
knew.
“Yes, Ms. Graham?”
She had a file open on her desk and was looking at it intently with her index
finger on some numbers. Chances were she’d mention my grades and sure enough she
waved me back to her position while the other students made their getaway. A
couple of them gave me sympathetic looks but basically, they didn’t care. They
had their own problems and their own lives and I’d have to deal with it on my
own. I’d been dealing with a lot worse things for a long time so I could handle
this.
The teacher, short and
middle-aged with a pinched and angry face, tapped the file and picked it up to
show me the scores. Hard not recoil a little from the C’s listed there. I saw
only one ‘A’ score in English and a ‘D’. I didn’t bother looking at the subject
but figured it had to be important. Well, at least I didn’t have to worry about
English. You had to be good at something. She then shut the file with a soft
snap of air and put it on her desk again. “Paul, you’re slipping in Geography
and Science. You know your grades aren’t too good. You are aware of that, aren’t
you?”
Tell me about it. Of
course my grades bit. I hadbeen
hitting the mathematics and chemistry books, mainly because of my dream of
getting into a semi-decent university. The University of Oregon had very high
standards, and I had to ace every subject, period, end stop. The only thing I
was good at happened to be English Literature. I was sort of counting on a
scholarship, mainly because my kind of student—read ‘impoverished’—wouldn’t get
in on funds alone. I needed cash and needed it
now.
“I’m doing the best I
can, Ms. Graham.” Gave her my most winning smile but she knew my excuse amounted
to BS and nothing more. Worse, I
knew it, and abruptly cut my smile down to a friendly
grimace.
She didn’t focus her
attention on my smile. Instead, she flicked through the file again, pursing her
lips and shaking her head slightly. Finally, giving out a soft sigh, she put it
down and stared at me. “Paul, you’re a good student and I’m aware of your
situation at home. If you….”
“Thanks for your
concern, ma’am. I’ll make it.” She would have to mention my home life. None of
her business, really, but she was
trying to help. Problem was, no one could help me and no one really gave a
damn. I’d handle it. I’d done it before and would do it again. “May I go
now?”
She gave me a brief
searching look and then nodded. “Yes, I’ll see you in class
tomorrow.”
Yes, she would. Going
outside I cut through the crowds of other students, went to my locker and
stuffed my books inside. Then, reconsidering things, I pulled them out again.
Ms. Graham was right, I had to study more if I ever wanted to escape this
crap-ass existence and…
“Hey, Paul, you wanna
see something?”
Rory’s voice came
again insistently, like a mosquito whining in my ear. No, I really didn’t but
knew from experience he’d keep at me until I gave in. Closing my locker and
spinning the lock, I turned around and saw Rory there, a grin on his skinny
face. He had a large two-quart plastic bottle of Coke in his right hand. He
always had to have something to drink and he chugged from the bottle before
pulling out something from his pocket. It was a pack of cards.
“What do I want to see?”
A few girls walked by, tittering about the “tiny guy” and
the “big guy” and truth be known, they were right. Rory stood barely five feet
three inches and weighed less than most girls our age did, with a hatchet-like
face, an extremely long beak, and the body of an eight year-old. Compared to
him, I looked like a god. I’d already reached my adult height of five-ten and
weighed in at around two hundred pounds.
When I looked at myself after showering up, had to admit
it, not bad at all. The mirror showed the same reflection every morning, a guy
with short brown hair, gray eyes, and average features along with a slightly
crooked nose, the result of getting smashed in the face by a bat during baseball
season last year. Not exactly prime stud which every girl out there seemed to
want but not Porky Pig, either. Rory must have missed the message somewhere
along the line. “What is it, Rory?” I
repeated.
My best friend uncapped the bottle, drank half of it down, burped loudly, and then put the
bottle on the ground. “I got a new trick so you gotta pay attention.”He pulled
out a coin and flipped it finger over finger, made it disappear, and then pulled
it out of my ear which he did not appreciate as it came out covered in ear wax.
Frowning, he showed it to me. “Do the other ear and I’ll
be grateful forever,” I told him.
Rory laughed at my joke and wiped off the ear junk, stowed the coin in his pocket, and did a few
other sleight-of-hand maneuvers which got everyone’s attention. A few more
students stopped by to witness all this and they got a kick out of the free
show. Our talent festival was coming up very soon so I guess Rory wanted to get
in some extra practice. He loved performing in front of a crowd. “Watch this,
Paul!” he ordered. “I’ve been working on it for a long time.” He took three
pencils out of his pocket and handed them to me. “Notice anything special?” he asked.
Shaking my head, I told him no. He then tossed the pencils in the air and instead of falling to the
ground they spun in a circle at a high speed. This had to be some kind of
hologram working, except I didn’t see any machines or cameras. No one could do
stuff like this! I waved my hand around the pencils and came up with nothing but
air. “Impressive, right?” he gloated.
Yeah, pretty sweet, even though I wanted to go home and
get to studying. Susan Beckmann, blond and gorgeous, came walking up in the
other direction, caught my eye and gave me a nod. Having a girlfriend was also
pretty sweet. We started dating two months ago and things seemed to get better
every day. We had a plan to go to the prom this year, and after…
“I got more of these tricks. You wanna see me do
something else?”Rory’s question interrupted my thoughts of being with my lady.
Susan smiled, gave me a wave, and turned away. No biggie; I’d call her later on.
Did I want to see another trick? Not really, but him being my best friend, I figured I should
humor him and see what he had. We first met at the age of six, just entering
elementary school, and because he was a shrimp the bigger kids liked picking on
him. Sticking up for him out of pity, I had my share of fights, not because I
enjoyed fighting. I didn’t. But Rory couldn’t hit back and needed a friend and I
became his friend in need. After I’d whipped most of the first and second
graders, they left us alone. We’d been best buds ever since.
“So show me already.”
Rory obliged, took the cards out of the pack, and in the
somber tones of a master magician performing before a crowd, he asked me to pick
a card. I did, and then he spread them out in a fan shape in one hand with a
flourish. “Okay, now stick your card in and don’t let me see it.”
Fine, card in, and let me guess what would happen next.
My bud then shuffled the deck expertly, tossed a few of the cards in the air and
made them dance just like he’d done with the pencils, and then reassembled the
deck again. Pretty neat trick and I didn’t see any wires. He then reached in and
picked out the card I’d previously selected. “Is this it?”
He’d chosen the ace of spades. “The ‘death card’,” he said with a smile. “I got it right, right
bro?”
A momentary feeling of something overtook me and then left. Superstition…it was just superstition
and nothing else. He’d gotten the right card and even though I didn’t really get
off on magic, the stunt with the pencils and now the cards really intrigued me.
“That was sweet!” I said admiringly. This was the first time I’d ever seen
anything like levitation. “How’d you do it? Does the card have a special bump on
it or something? And how did you make those pencils and cards fly? I didn’t see any wires.”
Rory shook his head and intoned his mantra again. “A good magician never reveals his tricks.” He put
the cards away and then motioned with his head. “Let’s get going.” Rory didn’t
really have any interest in girls and considering he stood a few inches below
them, safe bet he wouldn’t be seeing any action any time soon. On the other
hand, I hadn’t seen much action—yet—but Susan always gave me the look, the shake
of her head, we’d shared a few kisses and yeah, my time would come. “Let’s
book,” he said again, grabbed his bottle, took another long slug, and then
pulled on his jacket.
We took our time going home. Both of us lived on the same street, about a twenty-minute walk from
our school, R.C. Cora High. Honestly, it didn’t have the best academic rep in
Portland but then again, most of the kids I went to school with didn’t have much
in the way of a future. The vast majority came from low-income households. Their
folks had the mindset of ‘if we could do it on a high school education, you can,
too’ but to me, it meant shutting out reality. These days, you needed a
university degree to be considered for any job which paid serious coin and
that’s what I’d been after.
My parents had died from cancer within a year of each other when I was five. Losing them both sucked because A) I didn’t understand
the concept of death and B) it meant someone I didn’t know would have to look
after me. The social services people insisted someone from my family do the
taking-care-of-the-poor-kid thing, and my Uncle Frank fit the bill. I’d have
rather gone to a foster family but then again who said life was
fair?
Frank didn’t have it in him to be a guardian. Other kids had decent relatives and I got saddled with
the black sheep from my father’s side of the family. I’d met him only once
before at my mother’s funeral. He came in, crocked to the max, staggered over to
the grave, mumbled something which no one caught, and then spent the rest of the
time knocking back the Scotch or going to the toilet. No wonder my father never
spoke to him. Then my father got sick a year later and died. Once more, Uncle
Frank came to the church pissed to the gills, mumbling about how unfair life
was. After the service was over, he asked me, “Guess you’ll need someone to look
after you, right kid?”
Frank, older than my father by three years, had what you’d call a ‘checkered past’. A high school dropout, twice divorced, he’d never
held a steady job in his life, and spent most of his time on welfare getting
government handouts due to a bad back injury he’d suffered three weeks into a
job some years back.
He got the injury allegedly due to lifting a thirty-pound box over his head but I couldn’t see it. His ‘injury’ had healed but since he
didn’t feel like working, he’d somehow convinced a doctor to sign reports saying
any heavy lifting or physical labor kind of job was out of the question.
Receiving his monthly handouts from the government, Frank spent the bare minimum
of them on buying food while spending the max on playing the horses at the local
racetrack. He also bet on college football games through a bookie named ‘Flea’,
and drank when he wasn’t watching television which turned out to be most of the
day.
He didn’t bother cleaning up, so guess who had to do it?
I learned to get up extra early in the morning and run the vacuum cleaner over
everything, do the wash, and toss the garbage out. Our house needed repairs so
I taught myself how to hammer and saw. Even though my fix-it jobs looked pretty
sad, they kept the cold wind out come winter. Some life for a six year old, but
that’s how it stood. Like everyone said, you do for you and I’ll do for me.
Deal with it. I dealt.
I did a few things to make extra money, starting from the age of
eight. Paper routes, working in a grocery store, doing deliveries for
shut-ins—they all helped line my pocket a little. Frank took most of it at first
which made me wonder if he wasn’t using it to spend on his habits. “I’m saving
it for you, kid,” he’d tell me.
“Show me the books.” Yeah, even from that age I’d learned the value of a dollar. As the old saying
goes, if I had any money then I’d value it.
Frank shook his head and took out three bank books, flipping them open to show me the latest deposits. Yeah, the money was there.
“You satisfied now, Paul?”
“Okay.” Still, it was my cash. I’d been saving all this
time but also knew it wouldn’t be enough, hence the hopes for a scholarship. A
distant dream, yes, but one I clung to. There had to be some way of getting out
of this place and saving money was the key to it
all.
“You’re still thinking about your uncle?”
“What?”
Rory repeated the question. He always seemed to know my innermost thoughts. Why, I didn’t know,
but Rory had an all-too-rare quality about him: he listened. Most of the other
kids couldn’t be bothered to tune in to your problems—always a ‘kthanksbye’ kind
of thing—but he did. Rory came from a good family, his folks had been friends
with mine, and when my mother and father died, Rory’s mother offered to take me
in. I refused mainly out of pride and because I didn’t want to impose, and at
the time I figured my uncle would do the right thing. How wrong I’d been and now
it was too late to accept their invite.
“I don’t feel like talking about it, Rory. I got my problems so I’ll deal, all right?”
He backed off and nodded. “It’s cool, man, but I spoke to my mother the other day and the offer
still stands. We got an extra room and it would be okay with her and my
dad.”
For a moment, I wavered, half-thinking if I took him up on the offer, things would be okay. His
folks, while no richer than my uncle, always treated me as one of their own.
They came across as being really cool and it would have been great to be with
people who cared about me…but then my sense of stubbornness took over. No, I’d
have to handle this myself. “I appreciate it and all, but I can’t.” A simple
denial and I wondered if I’d regret my
decision.
“No sweat, Paul. But think about it, bro?”
We walked along the streets in silence, I inhaled the cold winter air, and then my friend suddenly pulled me into an
alleyway. “I gotta take a leak, man!” He was desperate. His legs quivered as he
desperately contracted whatever muscles he had downstairs in order to stop the
yellow river dam from breaking. The dude had to pee which left me standing in
the entrance acting as lookout and hoping some passerby wouldn’t think I was
some kind of a perv. Great, like anyone wanted to see a seventeen year-old kid
splash his piss against a dirty wall?
Rory hastily zipped down his fly. I didn’t want to watch so I turned my back on him and tried to
think about the homework tonight. Behind me, Rory let out a satisfied “aah” as
he began the process of emptying his bladder. Fine, do your business, ‘cuz I
have to get home and start in on the text catch of the day. Then I’d call Susan
and we’d hook up on the weekend, see a movie, take a walk somewhere quiet…whatever.
Nervously shifting from one foot to another to warm myself up, I looked up at the sky. Portland
didn’t get much snow but it was still cold and the skies were gray with a very
light sifting of white stuff on the ground. Getting home would take another ten
minutes, so hurry up Rory and finish what you’re doing! “Are you almost done?” I
called out, feeling ridiculous.
“Yeah, Paul, I’m still going, gimme a second!”
For such a small guy, he must have had a bladder like a watermelon. I could hear the steady stream
splashing forcefully against the side of the wall and wondered how anyone could
hold so much liquid. Me, I could hold it forever and now I didn’t have to go, just had to go home.
My uncle would be waiting, probably holding a bottle of Johnny Walker in one hand and the sports
section of the Portland Gazette in the other. Most likely he’d be
drunk—again—and while he never hit me, he always had the look in his eye like
he wanted to. A short and fat man approaching the early side of fifty, his
attitude consisted of three things: anger, drunken anger, and sleepiness. He
also didn’t give a damn whether I went to school or not. “You want to study—okay
with me. You want to do drugs—do ‘em. Just let me watch my shows and don’t get
caught.”
Great advice, Uncle Frank, you’re such a wonderful guardian. Behind me, Rory let out a satisfied
sigh which interrupted my unhappy thoughts about my relative and I heard the
yellow river stop flowing. “Thanks for waiting, Paul.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it.”
Rory joined me and then squinted at the sky. Something large and dark was approaching our position
and it didn’t look like a bird. “What is that thing?” he wanted to know.
Wondering the same thing myself, I strained my eyes in order to get a better look. Definitely not a
bird, it looked almost like…like, oh, hell! “Rory, get your ass out of there!”
I took off down the street but Rory seemed to be paralyzed by indecision and stayed rooted to his
spot, staring in shock at the rapidly approaching thing. It looked like a demon
from some third-rate horror flick except this was not a movie and we weren’t
part of a cast. The thing had to be around seven feet in height, with long,
misshapen leathery wings twice the length of its body, and a face only a mother
fug-ugly monster could have loved.
Rory didn’t make a move. He just stood there like a scared rabbit caught in the headlights of an
oncoming car. I ran back to help my friend but the thing moved faster. It came
in with a burst of missile-like speed, hitting my buddy like a runaway truck and
smashing him to the back of the alley. A solid brick wall lay at the end so no
way anything could go through it. Rory’s body hit the wall and made a sickening crunching sound.
Running back inside, I got a better look at the thing which had just obliterated my friend. The
demon-thing straightened up, a grin on its face. It didn’t look human but at the
same time, it didn’t look like my idea of a demon. It looked more like a cross
between a lizard and a dog, with the high, pointed ears a Doberman might have.
It also had a long, pointy snout, greenish-red scales, and reptilian eyes,
bright red, and glowing.
The thing’s body scared me even more than its face. The skin looked like aged leather which had
been left out in the sun too long, but things erupted from hundreds of tiny
little holes in its wings and torso. They looked like parasites waving around
and each one of them had little teeth. It was too damn gross for words. I didn’t
want to look and yet I couldn’t look away. The skin on my body, especially my
back, immediately started to itch and it couldn’t have come at a worse time.
The damn creature bent down and started chewing on Rory’s stomach. Blood erupted into the air and
all over the thing’s face. When it opened its pie-hole a little wider, a full
set of very sharp looking teeth appeared like a whole row of canines but much
longer. “You’re next.” The voice sounded deeper than deep, dripped with evil and
holy shit, this thing wants to kill
me!
Rory was still alive and screaming in agony. The monster didn’t rip Rory’s guts out like I thought it would. Instead,
it let loose a scream, a sound so high, hard, and loud, it shattered some of the
bricks in front of it. The sound caromed off the wall and hit me in the face.
The wave of sonic disturbance happened so quickly, so powerfully, I felt
something pop in my right ear and the world suddenly went silent on that side.
Perforated ear drum…it happens when you
dive too deep or a bomb goes off near you…
The monster then looked at Rory and screamed again, the sonic waves blasting my friend’s body in
two. Rory cried out once more, a high, shrill sound, and his head lolled to one
side. An opaque gas escaped from his torso and the thing stood over top of him,
inhaling the gas—Rory’s soul, or maybe just the vapors from his body—like a
smoker inhaling the smoke of a fine cigar. It hesitated for a moment as if
savoring the smell of a fresh kill, and its hesitation gave me a
chance.
“Goddam you, you killed my best friend!” I tried running into it,
hopefully to knock it off balance, but the thing slammed me on the left side of
my head, smashing straight into my ear and flinging me against the wall. Another
pop went off in my left ear and while the sounds of silence didn’t actually
come, I heard almost nothing except the demon’s heavy breathing. “Who are you?
What are you?”
“I am called ‘Hekla’,” the thing answered. I could barely hear it, what with the blood
running in my head and out of my ears, but the name—‘Hekla’—got branded in my
brain from that point onward. “You dare attack me?!”
Yeah, I dared. This rotten piece of garbage wanted to torture me before it ate me! Nothing in the alley except an old two-by-four, so
picking it up, I slammed the demon on the side of its head on a very large,
triangular ear and it howled. “You like that, you shit-eater?! You like getting
hit on the ear, too?” I hit the damn thing again and again and the creature
roared in pain. Nice to know demons could be hurt.
It still had a lot of power left over, and with a quick movement it grabbed onto the board and wrenching it away from me, crushed
my weapon between its talons. Oh, screw
me, I’m dead. It then advanced upon me slowly, predator versus prey, and I knew who the prey was.
“You will not come between me and mine!” it said, and
then the monster cracked me on the jaw, sending me hurtling back to Rory’s body
lay. It started towards me and since there I couldn’t run anywhere and had
nothing to defend myself with, I waited for the end.
Where in the hell did this thing come from and why did it want me? I’d been too shocked at seeing my best bud get eaten—Jesus, all the
blood from Rory’s body would have filled six large beer kegs—and when the thing
got within three feet of me, it stopped suddenly. The long ears on its reptilian
head pointed straight up and they twitched as if hearing something. Then it
whirled around and withdrew its talons. “No,” it cried out, “I’m not ready yet!”
It wasn’t ready to do…what? The thing didn’t answer me, just stood there, and then an opaque
opening in the air formed, came out of nowhere, and a wind began to rise. The
creature howled in rage and reached out for me but the gravitational pull of the
hole or whatever force was behind it proved to be too much and the thing got
yanked inside…and then the portal closed up, the wind dying back to normal with
only the cold air remaining.
Oh, man, it just vanished, like it had never come in the first place. I remained in the alleyway
along with the corpse of my best friend. Rory had been savaged beyond belief. I
heard nothing, nothing but silence and the roar of blood in my ears but saw the
police cars and the ambulance coming and knew the rest of the day wasn’t going
to get any better…
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Today being the middle of September (more or less) just a few notes on being alive. Had a health scare a while back and am slowly working through it. Have continued my writing as well, finished off Twisted and submitted it, and still trying to find a home for Mr. Taxi and Death Bytes. They will find their place, surely.
The weather has gotten noticeably cooler in Osaka at night, but still pleasant. Am not looking forward to the advent of winter. Being from Canada people think "Oh, you must be used to the cold!" and my answer is always the same: "Yeah, but I still don't like it."
End of story.
Other musings. It never fails to amaze me how many are so willing to defend the Muslims when they riot over someone posting something nasty about Mohammed. Yes, I've seen that video on YouTube and it's incredibly stupid, amateurish, and wrong-headed. No doubt. It's also nothing for anyone to get needlessly bent out of shape over. For decades--centuries, in fact--some Muslims have demonized Christians and Jews in their writings but it's perfectly acceptable to them to do so. Just seems to me they should be able to take a little criticism without going ballistic, even if said criticism is not directed at their prophet. That's all I'll say on this, as I dislike mentioning politics. My blog isn't left or rightwing in nature and I want to keep it that way.
Back to revising my manuscript and will get around to working later on this evening. I love writing, but teaching pays the bills!
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October 19th. The waiting game continues. Submitted three novel--Twisted, Mr. Taxi, and Death Bytes and have yet to hear back and hope for only positive things. The waiting would tax the patience of a saint...but I'll have to become one in order to keep this going. In the meantime, have been working on another novel--Stand-in--and it's done but the proofing has to be finished and I want it to be perfect.
The Yankees also lost the playoff to Detroit which cheeses me off no end even though I like a few of the Detroit players. NY just played pathetically. They barely beat Baltimore--and some of their fans on the MLB forum really ought to be locked up--and couldn't get anything going against the Tigers. Kudos to the Tiggies for winning but the Yankee front office has got a lot of fixing to do this offseason.
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December 16th, the year of the Mayan...or not. Been very busy writing and working and have some good news...maybe.
Did sell Death Bytes---at eXtasybooks.com. Thanks Tina! It's undergoing editing as I write this, so perhaps next year. The site is mainly erotic literature but they are getting into Young Adult fiction and Death Bytes does have a little sex in it (won't spoil the surprise!) so it's all good. It's a hell of a good read and can't wait to see it out in e-book and book (POD) form.
Threadweaver--at KeithPublications.com. It should be out by Christmas but I'm willing to wait until the new year as I want the editing done right. WINK will also be with the same company.
Fun and games became 'Twisted' and I signed the contract last with with Regal Crest Books (check out regalcrest.biz). I loved writing Twisted and I have to thank Jenna Talachova in part for her inspiration. Jenna, you may never see this blog but if you do, THANK YOU! I also want to thank the owner of Regal Crest, Ms. Cathy Bryerose, for believing in me. I'll do my best on the edits and Twisted will probably be out in March of 2014 or maybe earlier. We shall see. Cathy is very busy with her current authors and I want to make a perfect book as I want all my novels to be perfect.
Have two other novels on submission, Master Fantastic--see first chapter above--and Mr. Taxi. Naturally, I loved writing them both. Again, we shall see. Am currently editing Stand-in, a novel about the seamier side of superhero life. It's pretty much finished and I'm trying to cut it down to around 70000 words. All of the above novels are for Young Adults but adults might want to read them as well. I occasionally incorporate names from my friends at bb.com....Hoch, Dee, and I can promise that two of the more 'prominent' members will be 'guest stars' in the works listed above...only in the nicest way, of course!
Cold weather setting in, very windy here but no snow--yet. My area of Osaka usually gets very little. Children will be off school soon, time for the winter holidays...but I still have to work and I still WANT to write.
On a personal note, the shooting in Connecticut was a horrific event. As the father of two young boys, my heart goes out to the parents of those children who died for nothing. I have no words to adequately express my grief, my shock is so great. Parents out there, if you love your children then hug them and tell them you love them. I was fortunate my parents did with me. That is all I can think of for now.
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Well, it's 2013, I'm 51, and unless my math is off the Mayans were wrong. If, on the other hand, you don't live to read this blog in the next twenty minutes, it means the Mayans were right and I'm an idiot. Whatever. Math was never my strong point. Or astronomy. Or cooking. I'm not sure how they're interconnected but one day I'll figure it out.
What I'll never figure out is why some people buy into the doomsday cult. There are a lot of things on this pretty planet of ours worth exploring, namely pizza, a few drinks of fermented beverages (if you're into that sort of thing) the New York Yankees, and a lot of movies, too many to name for the moment. I did, however, watch Mysterious Island last night, New Year's Eve. This is the 1961 verson with the great Ray Harryhausen effects and it's become a sort of ritual every year. Why, I don't know, it just is.
I think it's the same reason I watch Superman, mainly because of the possibilities both movies present. Superman represents the possiblities of us becoming better due to an alien helping out on this world. Mysterious Island represents what mankind could do if it just controlled its baser instincts. For a kids movie, it's rather dark and pessimistic, but I still enjoy the stop-motion effects after all these years. CGI IS great, but stop-motion seems to have a life all its own.
I see my twenty minutes is up. Time to take a shower. If you don't hear from me again, maybe the Mayans were right.
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January 29th, a gray and cloudy day. Well, the Mayans were wrong. What shall I write about today? Oh, yes, the weather. It sucks. It's been cold and rainy in Osaka as of late, my younger son is home from school today (classroom lockout due to the flu) and my older boy is off to junior high, playing baseball.
As for the political scene, what more needs to be said? I won't get into who I favor, but I will make an observation and those that read this blog--all one of them--can take this with a huge barrelful of salt. Writer's forums are inherently left-wing, at least the creative side of writing. That ain't necessarily a bad thing in and of itself, but when they dream up ridiculous excuses to justify modifying behaviour, then it makes me want to regurgitate what I've had for lunch all over my computer. Writer's forums tend to be anti-gun--more on that later--anti-Israeli in tone, pro-government intervention and subsequent control, and all about human rights--even if it infringes on other's rights.
Guns. They're a fact of life. An unhappy fact, yes, but there they are. In the light of the recent Sandy Hook massacre, we've had a lot of people write in about limiting all gun sales. My views, in plain English, are as such. If you limit them, then that means overturning the Second Amendment in the US constitution. I'm very sure the framers of that wonderful document never envisioned Uzis or AK-47's, but then again, how could they have? I also see absolutely ZERO need for someone to have an arsenal at home. A shotgun and/or a pistol is sufficient enough--along with a lot of training and even more common sense--to deter anything but a full-scale zombie invasion, and last I heard, no zombies had been sighted. Common sense is also in short supply.
The point is this. While the massacre was horrifying beyond words, the leftist argument always goes if there were no guns it wouldn't have happened. To that, I cheerfully say "BS". People who want to kill others will always find a way. It's a sad fact of life but true. If not a gun, then a knife, or a bomb, or chemicals (Sarin attack in Yokohama years back). Taking away guns may be a start, but where there's an evil will, there is always a way. The only thing you CAN do is try your best to guard against it. Other countries such as Switzerland, recent nut attack notwithstanding, have had very few guns deaths. Germany has very strict laws and no one seems to mind. But changing the mindset of Americans will take some doing...and I don't think the criminals are going to give up their ways all that quickly.
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April sixth, and hellooooooooo, world! I have not been here for a long time! Been busy writing, and have completed the 'Lindsay Trilogy'--Lindsay versus the Marauders, Lindsay, Jo, and the Branch of Forever, and Lindsay, Jo, and the Well of Nevermore. The last one is still very rough, but the first two are complete and LVTM is on submission with a couple of very fine websites.
Rainy days always put a damper on things and today is no exception. My allergies suck, too, so I'm on pills which make me sleepy--and these are the OTC kind!--but they're the only thing that stops the nose rockets from coming out in projectile form. Sucks to be sick, but as a Chinese philospher once said, being sick is part of life. Where there is no life, there is no sickness. Sage advice and I'll take it.
Warmer weather on the way I hope, and with it, the coming of Ironman3 AND Superman: Man of Steel. Looking forward to both. Back to writing now, and I'm determined to get the best out what gray matter I have left. (I blew most of it out into twenty boxes worth of tissues).
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April 23rd and I have some NEWS TO ANNOUNCE TO ANYONE WHO READS THIS BLOG!
First off, Death Bytes will be out on May 1st or thereabouts. Released by ExtasyBooks.com, it's an action-packed YA novel, a story of life after death, and an exploration of what the human consciousness really is. Sam Benson iis seventeen, dying of ALS, and his consciousness is placed inside a computer. Reconstituted in his human form--or his memory giving him human form--he meets Ariel, the daughter of the doctor/software designer who placed him there. At first they do not get along, but then find they have no choice but to coexist as they are the only two of their kind and also a very powerful virus--codenamed Merlin--is out to crash the entire Internet. If the Internet goes, so do they. Fleeing from Merlin, the young couple desperately seeks a way to stop Merlin from carrying out his threat.
Second announcement is that I have sighed a contract with Regal Crest Publishing to have Twisted published next year (in March) and the first novel in a trilogy, Lindsay versus the Marauders, published in July by the same press. I can see that I'm going to have to spend a lot of time writing and editing!
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Yes, Death Bytes should be out on May 1st. Still in the process of revising Lindsay versus the Marauders--slow going. Baseball cutting into my writing. Both my children still play, so I try to attend their practices or games when not teaching or spending time on the computer. Today being Saturday the 27th of April--just a couple of days until Golden Week starts in Japan--have to work all day. Lots of things to do and not enough hours in the day to do them! (Sigh).
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Well, it's May 2nd in windy and cold Osaka, and my hayfever is acting up. Trying to generate the buzz about Death Bytes and I got the final copy yesterday. Great cover, and if I only knew how to upload it I would. Same for Threadweaver and The Tower. Still working on the cover for Twisted. Cathy Bryerose (my publisher and the owner of Regal Crest) sent me a couple of samples and they look good. Hard to get an image of a young man looking at the mirror and seeing a blond goddess staring back at him. You'd think someone would have already come up with that concept, right? Not yet...
New novel is tentatively entitled 'Catnip' but will work on it. Too many things to do now, and not enough hours in the day.
MAY 12th--CONTEST TIME!
In celebration of the publication of my newest novel, Death Bytes, a YA Fantasy, my publisher, ExtasyBooks.com and their sister company, DevineDestinies.com, have allowed me to give away FIVE (5) FREE---yes, FREE!---PDF files of the novel. This contest will start from May 14th (Tuesday) at noon and will run until noon on Thursday the 16th until noon. The contest rules are simple: NAME FIVE YOUNG ADULT NOVELS DEALING WITH DEATH AND THE AFTERLIFE. (A good example would be The Lovely Bones). Please tell me the titles of the novel and their author's names and contact me at [email protected].
I hope to hear from a lot of people. Remember, "death is not the end."
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Well, it's the day after D-Day over here and Death Bytes is still selling well. Congratulations to the lucky winners of the contest and I hope you enjoy your books! Give me some feedback when you can. I'd really appreciate it. DevineDestinies.com (mainstream venture of ExtasyBooks.com) has been pretty good to me and I appreciate their help.
Other novels on submission--Master Fantastic, Mr. Taxi, and Catnip--wait and see. I'll start on the editing of Twisted next month, and probably go to the edits of Lindsay versus the Marauders in September or October, so I'm really excited to start the process.
Summertime here is one of baseball games for my two sons, 13 and 9 (almost ten) and maybe a vacation if I can afford one.
Once more, here's a collection of links to my novels, just in case.
THE TOWER which can be found at UNTREEDREADS.COM
DEATH BYTES which can be found at DEVINEDESTINIES.COM
TWISTED which can be found at REGALCRESTPUBLICATIONS.COM
LINDSAY VERSUS THE MARAUDERS which can found at the same press listed above.
For aspiring writers like me, also check out the following sites for tips and sources.
PREDITORS & EDITORS
HIPIERS.COM
Both of these sites have excellent resources for checkng out agents and publishers.
I'd also mention ABSOLUTEWRITE.COM, as they have a whole host of people who've been published, some of whom are very successful, and they've been kind enough to offer their insights and brag a little (just kidding!) on HOW they did it, not to mention giving tips on how to plot, show and not tell (my bane at times) and more. Worth a look for all of these links. Until next time, keep cool. Osaka gets mighty hot at this time of year!!
June 25th.
BLOGGING IS HARD!! For the past three weeks I've been writing to almost every blogsite in the known universe asking (I hope nicely!) if they'll review DEATH BYTES, my latest YA novel. Some said yes, some said no, and some have said nothing at all. I wish I could write my own reviews--well, I could, but that wouldn't be very honest, now would it?--but I can't, so I have to rely on the booklovers of the world.
Currently working on two novels, On a Wing and a... which is more adult-oriented (but still with a bit of whimsy to it) along with another YA novel entitled What the Gods Allow. Both are going well, and the latter is up to around 36000 words, with a projected length of 60000. We shall see. Hot and humid in Osaka this time of year and thank goodness for electric fans. Now, back to writing myself into a wet and smelly pile of wannabe writer...
Today, being Tuesday, July 12th, I got to work on my latest novel. I have not thought of a title yet, but it is definitely another fantasy novel. No dragons, no fairies, but it does have a few vicious rabbits and will have a very unconventional ending. Only about seventy pages so far but it's coming along nicely.
Wednesday, and it is hot out. The newest work is coming along slowly and will be a bit shorter than I anticipated, but I prefer quality over quantity and I can only hope the publishers will as well. I have about thirty more pages to get down and then the revision process will start. That will be the hardest of all.
Saturday, July 16th, and the writing process continues. One thing I learned about e-publishing is the different attitudes some publishers have. Some of them do not want multiple submissions while others don't care. While I can understand why certain publishers wish to retain their authors and don't want them to go to another company, by keeping this policy in place, I think it does a disservice to those writers out there who want and need exposure. If this is to be a free-market affair, then I think that writers should be allowed to submit to whomever they please. Naturally, submitting hither and yon does not necessarily guarantee one a contract; far from it. However, I feel that it does increase one's chances of being accepted by some publishers out there who are looking for fresh, new approaches to the various subjects we all know and love. Just my thoughts on this hot and sticky evening.
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Now we've entered August and I've been away for a while. Writing my newest story has taken up a lot of my time in addition to working, so haven't had much time to post. What I'd like to post now is about gratitude. It is a simple concept but one that is largely overlooked, I feel, in today's society. It can take many forms, such as a gift, a card, or a kind word. In my case, my gratitude for many things will have to take the form of a number of simple "Thank you's" to all the people who've helped me on my journey. First off, a thank you to my parents. They are both gone now; my father passed away in 1985 and my mother at the end of 2007, but they taught me about honesty, education, appreciating the finer things in life, and being good to people. I just wish they could have lived long enough to see me become a published writer.
Another thank you goes to my older sister Nancy Dana Frankel, who is an accomplished artist, jewelry maker, and writer in her own right. She was the first person to look at my manuscript for 'The Tower' and always offered valuable feedback. I trusted her sense of judgment then as I do now. She has always been honest with me and her wisdom is always greatly appreciated.
I am also thankful to my publisher, Untreedreads,.com, the owner, Jay Hartman, and his chief editor, Ms. KD Sullivan, for accepting my novel and giving me my chance. I do not know how many copies of 'The Tower' have been sold and in a way, it does not matter. What does matter is that they have given me the opportunity to express myself. I can only hope our relationship will continue.
I am grateful to many of the members of bodybuilding.com, a training forum I joined about three years ago. In no particular order, here are the names that come most to mind: Paula, Dee, Sara, Brian, Eomrat, Hoch, Lucifer, and Kim. There are too many others to think of at the moment. To them, as well as to Madoka Anzai, Tamiko, and Yuko, I think you all, along with those of you out there who've bought my novel. My appreciation knows no bounds.
Finally, I would like to thank my wife Akiko for her support in allowing me to monopolize our computer every day and most of the evenings. She is a wonderful person and I'm glad I married her. I'm also thankful I have to great children, our sons Kai and Ray, who've given me so much joy for the past eleven-plus years. I'm sure I'll think of others people to thank in the future, but for now, I am just grateful I can get up, train, work, and write.
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Haven't been around in a while. My family and I moved to a new place, so we're still unpacking. No writing desk yet. As I type this letter, I'm sitting on the floor in a very uncomfortable position and all of my writing will have to be done this way until such time as I can afford a desk! On the good-news front, I am on my first re-edit of 'Demi-World' and it should be done by Sunday, and 'Dance with the...' has also been accepted. These two Young Adult books will be published by NoBoundariesPublishing and I will do my best to make them both readable and enjoyable. Also a big shout-out to Sarah Beth who sent me a very nice comment. Get writing, Sarah! I really like your blog site and you have chosen a couple of very fine books to read.
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It has been a while! Today, November 10th, dawned cool and rainy. Went to work, did a few classes, and now hard at my other "job"--writing. Demi-World is still in the process of being checked over by Patricia, one of the editors at NoBoundaries, while Dance with the... will have to wait for a bit. The other good news is that Threadweaver is done, submitted, and hopefully, will be accepted but I'll just have to wait and see.
Right now, working on "WINK" which is another novel questioning the existence of why we're here. Not to get all metaphysical or religious--I'm neither--but I think eveyrone has has these thougths at least once in their lives and I decided to write in a little story around it. I'm going to keep it short--maybe 111 pages, single-spaced--or around 175 or so at 1.5 spacing. Sitll can't get the hang of the conversion thing yet so I let my computer figure it out all. Me, I just write.
Speaking or writing, back at it!
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December 5th over in the land of the rising yen and just finished two more novels, both in the YA genre. 'Threadweaver' is the first--submitted, and hoping for a positive reply--and 'WINK' has also been submitted. Both were fun to write and touched on a few issues which are rather dear to my heart--mainly human rights and individualism, along with finding out your place in the world. I teach a lot of young people and they tell me their problems, fears, hopes for the future, etc. and I think back to when I was a student, having had the same fears and anxieties myself. It's not an easy situation to counsel them and I don't know if they'd take my advice, anyway. If they listen, then that's half the battle.
On another note, a young lady recently read The Tower and asked me how she could become a writer. My answer: Write! Write about something near and dear to you, something you know well and can spin a good tale about. I've always been into the idea of parallel worlds, superheroes--even at my age!--and the concept of we're not alone in the universe. As wonky as it sounds to some, I'm not alone, for there are a lot of people who think we aren't alone, either. So I write about those things, write something positive, and if there's any message I can give--if someone cares to read it--it's this: You matter. You count for something. You are not worthless even if at times you think so. You have to have the courage of your convictions, even if it goes against popular opinion. Just make sure you think things through and see both sides, but if you have to act, then do so wholeheartedly, don't regret taking that road, and learn from any mistakes you might make along the way. Simplistic? Most definitely. But it works more often than not. Now, off to counsel Dr. Phil. (Joke)
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Happy New Year to everyone! As I write this, it's January first on this side of the world--Japan---and my latest "epic" Demi-World has just been published with NoBoundariesPublishing! It is another Young Adult/Fantasy tale and is also a fast-moving read. (Doug, if you read this, thank you for your comments on The Tower. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!). I have a lot of people to thank for getting Demi-World out there. First, I'd like to thank the owner of NoBoundaries, Judy Sipics, for having enough faith in me and giving me the contract. I would also like to thank Patricia M. Bates for her invaluable help in helping me edit Demi-World and making it better. Ms. Bates is a fine writer in her own right and has given me great counsel along the way and I look forward to working with her on future projects, mainly 'Dance with the...' (another Young Adult novel) and the sequel to Demi-World, which is tentatively titled 'Demi-World 2: The Rise of Goliath' which will hopefully be out later on this year).
There are others to thank as well and those who know me from other forums will recognzie their names: Paula, Dee, Chris (hiya, Hoch!) Sara, Brian, Doug, Lucifer, Kim, and many more. Once again, I thank my wife Akiko for letting me monopolize the computer and thank my two children, Kai and Ray, for all their support and love. I couldn't have done it without you. My best wishes to you all and may 2012 be a great one for each and every one of you.
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January 2nd, 2012, and as I type this, my latest novel, On a Wing and a.... Is in the works. I've already gotten about forty pages down and have around eighty or so to go, which amounts to around 90000 words, give or take a few. Some people have asked me "Where can I find your books?" and I have already provided links, although I'll do so again. For The Tower, the primary source is Untreedreads.com, and for Demi-World, go to NoBoundariesPublishing. In both cases, they can be found in the Young Adult section. They can also be found at Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble, Bookstrand (for Demi-World) and probably some other sites, but if you're interested, it's best and cheapest to go to the main publishing sites. The price is fair, I think, commensurate with what other booksellers offer.
I did forget to thank one other person, and that is Alexia561, who gave a very nice and balanced review to The Tower. Alexia, if you ever get around to reading this, my sincere thanks. Hopefuly, this year Threadweaver will be published along with WINK, and I do hope that the sequel to The Tower will be put up, along with the sequel to Demi-World. Writing is a process of thinking, learning, research--yes, I did a lot of research for Demi-World, believe it or not--and more writing. It is a never-ending battle for a good story, a joy and never a chore, and something I'll always enjoy.
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There are a couple of other people I have to thank for Demi-World. The first is Mr. Piers Anthony and I am still kicking myself for not thanking him earlier for his website (PiersAnthony'sInternetPublishing). He's been kind enough to answer my questions and I value his opinons, always served up with a wry sense of humor. One more shout-out to Audrey who was kind enough to announce me on Facebook to the cyber-world. If any "Tweeters" want to follow me or just send messages, you can find me on Twitter @JessSFrankel. Hope to hear from you! Now, back to my scheduled novels! Made some progress with On a Wing and a... and have done about half of my revisions for Demi-World 2: The Rise of Goliath. We shall see.
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Back to writing, as usual. Demi-World has only been out for about two weeks but is doing well. DW2: The Rise of Goliath is done with the first set of revisions and now I'm off to do my second round. DW2 will explore the further adventures of Harmon and his girlfriend, Shina, and this time, there are a few more surprises in store for the Demi-World crew, a trip abroad, and a lot more heartbreak for our protagonist. Also working on a slightly different novel, tentatively named 'On a Wing and a....' and that is about sixty pages done. I'm looking at around one thirty-five at the most, which translates into slightly over two hundred when set out 1.5 spaced. Formatting was never my thing but that's what the publishers want....
And now, back to the writing/revision board!
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January 21st. LIfe does get in the way at times, doesn't it? Got a few more pages done with my most recent works and my older son comes walking in with a busted finger due to misreading a bunt attempt. Take one for the team! So much for playing the next two weeks.
This is the year I'm going to try to find an agent. I think I stand a better chance of getting a paperback deal (one book or multiple ones) if I'm fortunate enough to find someone who believes in my work. Money, while nice, is not really an issue (although we all hope to be rich and famous!) but really, I just want to be a good writer. Not just someone who's popular, but good as well, good in the critical sense of pacing, flow, character development, and so on. I want to do it all and be known for it all. My goal--one of them, anyway--for 2012.
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Life throws a few curves at times. 'Threadweaver' has been picked up by Keith Publications and hopefully, I'll get some feedback on the manuscript soon enough. 'WINK' still needs more work so that's what I'm doing now, in the midst of battling a very bad cold. Wife is sick with the flu and my older son just got over it last week. I do wish my publisher would pick up the sequel to The Tower--no word yet and I'd hate to go to another publishing agency but it appears that it may have to be done. Pity. We shall see. Back to WINK and may the good edits follow!
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March 3rd, Japan time. On being rejected. Yes, it sucks big-time. I have sent out a number of queries and submissions to various publishers and been rejected before and I will be again. For anyone who bothers reading this, take heart. Even the best writers have had manuscripts rejected, even the successful authors out there. They have also had books published which were not up to their previous standards, or so the critics and general public said. So even though it bites getting the "NO!" response from various agents, I am undeterred in my quest. I just have to get better and I will. It is all a learning experience and I invite those out there to come along for the ride.
Okay, mini-rant over. Weather has finally gotten warmer here--still cold at night, though--and I've been hard at work revisiing two of my latest, WINK, and Death Bytes, both YA novels. Fun stuff writing both and I will get them published--yes, IMO, they're that good and worthwhile reading. Anyone wants a few pages as a sample, write in and ask and I will do my best to accomodate you.
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Well, the submission process continues. This is the year I've been meaning to get an agent. I love writing e-novels but I also want to move into the paperback market. I think it's only natural. To that end, have contacted a number of agents and agencies and submitted 'Death Bytes' plus query letters and we shall see what happens. I also got word my publisher--No Boundaries--will be shutting down soon, so that means I have to find another home for Demi-World. It's a good story and the sequel is even better. Again, hate to use the oft-used phrase--we shall see. Back to revising my latest opus.
The weather has turned warmer here as of late so I shall be taking more walks and jogs to see the world outside. Love writing, but even the mind needs to take a break every now and then as does the body.
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May's end. Has it been that long? Yes, I do believe it has. Today's little excerpt has nothing to do with writing and everything to do with viewpoints. Get ready for another mini-rant 'cuz I'm about to let fly! Today's little diatribe is against the self-righteous left-wing element I see on various writing forums. (Okay, I lied; this rant is sort of about writing). I recently joined a writer's forum in order to read viewpoints different from my own. For the record, I'm slightly right-wing in the sense of being free-market, laissez-faire capitalist in nature. When someone on this forum wrote in we should be paying higher taxes for the welfare state, I gave my two yen's worth, opposing it as I did not want to be in charge of someone else's life and have no one in charrge of mine.
You should have read the s**tstorm that erupted! I got accused of being a fascist, a sociopath (I don't know where the dip who wrote that comment got that idea from) and worse. It seemed every left-winger around crawled out of their nooks and cranny's to toss in their ha'penny's worth of ideas. From my POV, spending more on social programmes which have failed miserably in the past is NOT the answer. While there has to be some balance between the haves and have-nots, stealing from Peter to pay Paul is not the answer. The Wall Street protesters seemingly want everything their way but they don't want to work for it. Just for the record (again) I happen to be among the group of '99%-ers' but you won't see me carrying a signboard or a picket sign and screaming for money. No one said life was fair. It isn't. It never was an never will be. If my father were alive (he passed in '85) and if my mother were alive (she passed almost five years ago) they would both say "GET A JOB!" and I agree. I'm too busy writing and working in order to protest.
Okay, rant over and next time for the aspiring wannabe writers like yours truly, I'm going to write about my own (at times) bitter experiences and detail the steps you can take so as not have your novel suck. I think I'll entitle it "How not to write a sucky novel" which is hardly original but it's as good a title as any.
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As promised, here I am again after an absence. Just a quick update. The publisher I had with Demi-World failed so that novel has been withdrawn from publication which doesn't make me happy. As bitter as I was at the time, I realized one thing: even if the publisher fails it doesn't mean I sucked. These things happen. I put it behind me and that's all there is to it. Many publishers like to talk the talk but not walk the walk. I can only write my best, but when some publishers tell me I have to do most of the work in pubbing my stuff and they just put it out and not tout it, well, there's only so much I can do. 'Nuff said.
Now, as for how not to write a sucky novel, here's my thoughts on all this.
1. Make sure you know your subject. I don't care if it's about sports, fairy godmothers, space, or anything else, know what you're writing about so it can sound plausible. If it's non-fiction, get your facts straight but if it's fiction, keep it consistent.
2. Stick to one POV. I prefer to write in first-person while others stick to third-person POV's but whatever you do, be consistent. Most editors hate switching back and forth between two first and third-person accounts and while it can be done, it's rather difficult to pull off.
3. 'That' and 'was'. Every editor I've worked with has told me about this and while there are times when you can't avoid using those two little words, try to limit them.
4. Keep the pace fast. Editors hate having novels which drag and I'm also guilty of doing this. Don't. Keep the pages fresh, keep the suspense high, and keep the reader interested at the end of each chapter as to what will happen next.
5. Spell correctly. 'Nuff said.
6. Should you curse? I do in my novels every now and then but ask yourself this: Is it necessary? You could say "A string of four-letter words ran through my head" or you could say "Shit!" but many editors don't like the four-letter stuff. If it's necessary to the emotional content of the story, then swear away. But for the most part, and this is just my opinion, it isn't necessary.
7. Most inportant, love your characters. Even the bad guys; love them all. Make them live and walk and breathe. Imagine what they do or say, and imagine what the other characters do and say to and with them. Become the characters--all of them. It's hard for me as a man to imagine what a woman can feel but I always give it the old college try. If your characters are as 3D as you can get them, then you will be a writer, my son.
Until next time, I'm back to writing. I have Master Fantastic, WINK, and Death Bytes all on submission and yes, I have hopes for all of them, specifically Death Bytes as I really enjoyed penning it but I love all three. Right now, working on 'Mr. Taxi' and am up to around 42000 words, aiming for around 65000-plus. Hop on; it'll be a fun ride.
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Been a while and just finishing up edits for another book, tentatively called 'Fun and Games' although I know the title will change somewhere down the line. A real twist on the gender bender theme. We'll see how it turns out.
Olympics, what can I say? Canada's performance is pretty much what I expected--poor--and who gives out medals for trampoline, anyway? Glad Canada won but is this a sport? Same deal with beach volleyball. I like looking at women as much as the next guy does but medals for this? Get serious.
Seriously, though, the performances in most of the other sports have been nothing short of brilliant. Very impressed by the Chinese gymansts, weightlifters, and swimmers, although the charges of doping will probably rear their ugly head. Also very impressed with the show Great Britain is putting on. They're doing their country proud. Finally, if anyone out there is interested, here's the first chapter of 'Master Fantastic' for the world to see--and any publishers who are interested!
Master Fantastic
By J.S. Frankel
Beginnings
One year ago, age seventeen, wintertime
“Bro, wanna see a trick?”
The question came from
Rory Muldoon, my best friend. We stood at our lockers, me fiddling with the
lock, and I listened for the faint click which signaled its opening. Out of all
the hundreds of students rushing by, I always knew when he’d come around. His
voice, sharp and sort of whiny, sounded so different and distinctive from
everyone else’s. He repeated the question and mentally sighing, I knew what he’d
do next.
It had to be another trick. Rory and his magic had been
alternately thrilling and boring the living hell out of me ever since we met in
the first grade. I had to admit, of all the people I’d ever seen perform—and I’d
only seen a few—Rory’s abilities put him in ‘mad skills’ territory. I knew it,
he knew it, and he wanted everyone else to acknowledge it in the worst way.
“C’mon, say it, say it, bro!” he’d urge and then I’d give him the answer he
wanted.
“You’re the best around.”
“Damn right.”
He’d nod at himself in an ‘I’m-the-man’ way and
while it was funny no one at our institution of knowledge disagreed. Every year
he performed his little act on stage at the annual talent festivals. When we
were small, everyone clapped and said “Cool!” When we got older, the ‘cool’
comments changed to “How did you do
that?” and truthfully, I could never figure it out.
“A good magician never reveals his tricks,” he’d say to
everyone. We always wondered just how he did it. Yeah, okay, you had to give him
props because he knew his craft, but it would have been nice if he’d given us
all a clue, especially me, his best and only friend. I learned a long time ago
not to ask questions about how he could do the impossible. I just accepted the
situation for what it was. “Just a minute, bud,” I answered. “I’m getting my
books out. Gotta cram for the exam next week,
y’know?”
Just coming back from New Year’s vacation, school turned
nasty again in the sense we had to study. My Christmas break holidays—just ten
days—were over, I had to do a ton of homework, clean up around the house, and I
didn’t get to do any partying which sucked. Other kids got lucky as they had a
lot more leeway in their personal lives or the smarts to do what they liked. Me,
I had to study just to make average grades and it bit all the
way.
Things were starting to look up, though. The bell rang
ten minutes ago which signaled our release from education. Even so, freedom had
to be the most relative thing in the world. Today being Thursday, the previous
six hours felt more like a jail sentence than study. Tests in geometry, science,
and then chemistry—they all sucked. As soon as I walked out of here then the
whole grind of study would begin again. “Class is over,” our homeroom teacher
intoned. “Remember, you have your tests next week and those of who need help can
see me after….”
I zoned out the rest of the teacher’s speech. Time to
make my escape! Yeah, let’s hear it for freedom—“FREEDOM”—like the Scottish guy
said in the movie. Freedom for the other kids meant partying hearty, swilling
down the beer and toking up, something I never got into. I didn’t even drink.
Yeah, call me straight edge but that’s how I
rolled.
Knowing Rory, he’d probably shut himself up in his
basement and practice doing tricks the entire forty-eight hour grace period. I’d
been to his house numerous times—we lived only five minutes from each other—and
his basement was filled, I mean absolutely filled, with books on magic,
levitation, bowls of sand and water, special boxes, rings, and all the
paraphernalia magicians used in their acts. He always showed me a new trick when
I went over but after a while it got sort of boring. A cool dude, yes, but with
a one-track mind.
As for me, I had to study. I planned on going home, go up
to my room and stay there. It gave me an excuse to get away from my Uncle Frank,
the man who’d been making my life miserable for a long time. Gathering my books
up, I did my best to leave the drab white walls of the classroom behind only to
hear the teacher’s voice. “Paul, Paul Coleman!” Wonderful, my one chance of
freedom shot to hell. What did she want now? Oh, wait, I already
knew.
“Yes, Ms. Graham?”
She had a file open on her desk and was looking at it intently with her index
finger on some numbers. Chances were she’d mention my grades and sure enough she
waved me back to her position while the other students made their getaway. A
couple of them gave me sympathetic looks but basically, they didn’t care. They
had their own problems and their own lives and I’d have to deal with it on my
own. I’d been dealing with a lot worse things for a long time so I could handle
this.
The teacher, short and
middle-aged with a pinched and angry face, tapped the file and picked it up to
show me the scores. Hard not recoil a little from the C’s listed there. I saw
only one ‘A’ score in English and a ‘D’. I didn’t bother looking at the subject
but figured it had to be important. Well, at least I didn’t have to worry about
English. You had to be good at something. She then shut the file with a soft
snap of air and put it on her desk again. “Paul, you’re slipping in Geography
and Science. You know your grades aren’t too good. You are aware of that, aren’t
you?”
Tell me about it. Of
course my grades bit. I hadbeen
hitting the mathematics and chemistry books, mainly because of my dream of
getting into a semi-decent university. The University of Oregon had very high
standards, and I had to ace every subject, period, end stop. The only thing I
was good at happened to be English Literature. I was sort of counting on a
scholarship, mainly because my kind of student—read ‘impoverished’—wouldn’t get
in on funds alone. I needed cash and needed it
now.
“I’m doing the best I
can, Ms. Graham.” Gave her my most winning smile but she knew my excuse amounted
to BS and nothing more. Worse, I
knew it, and abruptly cut my smile down to a friendly
grimace.
She didn’t focus her
attention on my smile. Instead, she flicked through the file again, pursing her
lips and shaking her head slightly. Finally, giving out a soft sigh, she put it
down and stared at me. “Paul, you’re a good student and I’m aware of your
situation at home. If you….”
“Thanks for your
concern, ma’am. I’ll make it.” She would have to mention my home life. None of
her business, really, but she was
trying to help. Problem was, no one could help me and no one really gave a
damn. I’d handle it. I’d done it before and would do it again. “May I go
now?”
She gave me a brief
searching look and then nodded. “Yes, I’ll see you in class
tomorrow.”
Yes, she would. Going
outside I cut through the crowds of other students, went to my locker and
stuffed my books inside. Then, reconsidering things, I pulled them out again.
Ms. Graham was right, I had to study more if I ever wanted to escape this
crap-ass existence and…
“Hey, Paul, you wanna
see something?”
Rory’s voice came
again insistently, like a mosquito whining in my ear. No, I really didn’t but
knew from experience he’d keep at me until I gave in. Closing my locker and
spinning the lock, I turned around and saw Rory there, a grin on his skinny
face. He had a large two-quart plastic bottle of Coke in his right hand. He
always had to have something to drink and he chugged from the bottle before
pulling out something from his pocket. It was a pack of cards.
“What do I want to see?”
A few girls walked by, tittering about the “tiny guy” and
the “big guy” and truth be known, they were right. Rory stood barely five feet
three inches and weighed less than most girls our age did, with a hatchet-like
face, an extremely long beak, and the body of an eight year-old. Compared to
him, I looked like a god. I’d already reached my adult height of five-ten and
weighed in at around two hundred pounds.
When I looked at myself after showering up, had to admit
it, not bad at all. The mirror showed the same reflection every morning, a guy
with short brown hair, gray eyes, and average features along with a slightly
crooked nose, the result of getting smashed in the face by a bat during baseball
season last year. Not exactly prime stud which every girl out there seemed to
want but not Porky Pig, either. Rory must have missed the message somewhere
along the line. “What is it, Rory?” I
repeated.
My best friend uncapped the bottle, drank half of it down, burped loudly, and then put the
bottle on the ground. “I got a new trick so you gotta pay attention.”He pulled
out a coin and flipped it finger over finger, made it disappear, and then pulled
it out of my ear which he did not appreciate as it came out covered in ear wax.
Frowning, he showed it to me. “Do the other ear and I’ll
be grateful forever,” I told him.
Rory laughed at my joke and wiped off the ear junk, stowed the coin in his pocket, and did a few
other sleight-of-hand maneuvers which got everyone’s attention. A few more
students stopped by to witness all this and they got a kick out of the free
show. Our talent festival was coming up very soon so I guess Rory wanted to get
in some extra practice. He loved performing in front of a crowd. “Watch this,
Paul!” he ordered. “I’ve been working on it for a long time.” He took three
pencils out of his pocket and handed them to me. “Notice anything special?” he asked.
Shaking my head, I told him no. He then tossed the pencils in the air and instead of falling to the
ground they spun in a circle at a high speed. This had to be some kind of
hologram working, except I didn’t see any machines or cameras. No one could do
stuff like this! I waved my hand around the pencils and came up with nothing but
air. “Impressive, right?” he gloated.
Yeah, pretty sweet, even though I wanted to go home and
get to studying. Susan Beckmann, blond and gorgeous, came walking up in the
other direction, caught my eye and gave me a nod. Having a girlfriend was also
pretty sweet. We started dating two months ago and things seemed to get better
every day. We had a plan to go to the prom this year, and after…
“I got more of these tricks. You wanna see me do
something else?”Rory’s question interrupted my thoughts of being with my lady.
Susan smiled, gave me a wave, and turned away. No biggie; I’d call her later on.
Did I want to see another trick? Not really, but him being my best friend, I figured I should
humor him and see what he had. We first met at the age of six, just entering
elementary school, and because he was a shrimp the bigger kids liked picking on
him. Sticking up for him out of pity, I had my share of fights, not because I
enjoyed fighting. I didn’t. But Rory couldn’t hit back and needed a friend and I
became his friend in need. After I’d whipped most of the first and second
graders, they left us alone. We’d been best buds ever since.
“So show me already.”
Rory obliged, took the cards out of the pack, and in the
somber tones of a master magician performing before a crowd, he asked me to pick
a card. I did, and then he spread them out in a fan shape in one hand with a
flourish. “Okay, now stick your card in and don’t let me see it.”
Fine, card in, and let me guess what would happen next.
My bud then shuffled the deck expertly, tossed a few of the cards in the air and
made them dance just like he’d done with the pencils, and then reassembled the
deck again. Pretty neat trick and I didn’t see any wires. He then reached in and
picked out the card I’d previously selected. “Is this it?”
He’d chosen the ace of spades. “The ‘death card’,” he said with a smile. “I got it right, right
bro?”
A momentary feeling of something overtook me and then left. Superstition…it was just superstition
and nothing else. He’d gotten the right card and even though I didn’t really get
off on magic, the stunt with the pencils and now the cards really intrigued me.
“That was sweet!” I said admiringly. This was the first time I’d ever seen
anything like levitation. “How’d you do it? Does the card have a special bump on
it or something? And how did you make those pencils and cards fly? I didn’t see any wires.”
Rory shook his head and intoned his mantra again. “A good magician never reveals his tricks.” He put
the cards away and then motioned with his head. “Let’s get going.” Rory didn’t
really have any interest in girls and considering he stood a few inches below
them, safe bet he wouldn’t be seeing any action any time soon. On the other
hand, I hadn’t seen much action—yet—but Susan always gave me the look, the shake
of her head, we’d shared a few kisses and yeah, my time would come. “Let’s
book,” he said again, grabbed his bottle, took another long slug, and then
pulled on his jacket.
We took our time going home. Both of us lived on the same street, about a twenty-minute walk from
our school, R.C. Cora High. Honestly, it didn’t have the best academic rep in
Portland but then again, most of the kids I went to school with didn’t have much
in the way of a future. The vast majority came from low-income households. Their
folks had the mindset of ‘if we could do it on a high school education, you can,
too’ but to me, it meant shutting out reality. These days, you needed a
university degree to be considered for any job which paid serious coin and
that’s what I’d been after.
My parents had died from cancer within a year of each other when I was five. Losing them both sucked because A) I didn’t understand
the concept of death and B) it meant someone I didn’t know would have to look
after me. The social services people insisted someone from my family do the
taking-care-of-the-poor-kid thing, and my Uncle Frank fit the bill. I’d have
rather gone to a foster family but then again who said life was
fair?
Frank didn’t have it in him to be a guardian. Other kids had decent relatives and I got saddled with
the black sheep from my father’s side of the family. I’d met him only once
before at my mother’s funeral. He came in, crocked to the max, staggered over to
the grave, mumbled something which no one caught, and then spent the rest of the
time knocking back the Scotch or going to the toilet. No wonder my father never
spoke to him. Then my father got sick a year later and died. Once more, Uncle
Frank came to the church pissed to the gills, mumbling about how unfair life
was. After the service was over, he asked me, “Guess you’ll need someone to look
after you, right kid?”
Frank, older than my father by three years, had what you’d call a ‘checkered past’. A high school dropout, twice divorced, he’d never
held a steady job in his life, and spent most of his time on welfare getting
government handouts due to a bad back injury he’d suffered three weeks into a
job some years back.
He got the injury allegedly due to lifting a thirty-pound box over his head but I couldn’t see it. His ‘injury’ had healed but since he
didn’t feel like working, he’d somehow convinced a doctor to sign reports saying
any heavy lifting or physical labor kind of job was out of the question.
Receiving his monthly handouts from the government, Frank spent the bare minimum
of them on buying food while spending the max on playing the horses at the local
racetrack. He also bet on college football games through a bookie named ‘Flea’,
and drank when he wasn’t watching television which turned out to be most of the
day.
He didn’t bother cleaning up, so guess who had to do it?
I learned to get up extra early in the morning and run the vacuum cleaner over
everything, do the wash, and toss the garbage out. Our house needed repairs so
I taught myself how to hammer and saw. Even though my fix-it jobs looked pretty
sad, they kept the cold wind out come winter. Some life for a six year old, but
that’s how it stood. Like everyone said, you do for you and I’ll do for me.
Deal with it. I dealt.
I did a few things to make extra money, starting from the age of
eight. Paper routes, working in a grocery store, doing deliveries for
shut-ins—they all helped line my pocket a little. Frank took most of it at first
which made me wonder if he wasn’t using it to spend on his habits. “I’m saving
it for you, kid,” he’d tell me.
“Show me the books.” Yeah, even from that age I’d learned the value of a dollar. As the old saying
goes, if I had any money then I’d value it.
Frank shook his head and took out three bank books, flipping them open to show me the latest deposits. Yeah, the money was there.
“You satisfied now, Paul?”
“Okay.” Still, it was my cash. I’d been saving all this
time but also knew it wouldn’t be enough, hence the hopes for a scholarship. A
distant dream, yes, but one I clung to. There had to be some way of getting out
of this place and saving money was the key to it
all.
“You’re still thinking about your uncle?”
“What?”
Rory repeated the question. He always seemed to know my innermost thoughts. Why, I didn’t know,
but Rory had an all-too-rare quality about him: he listened. Most of the other
kids couldn’t be bothered to tune in to your problems—always a ‘kthanksbye’ kind
of thing—but he did. Rory came from a good family, his folks had been friends
with mine, and when my mother and father died, Rory’s mother offered to take me
in. I refused mainly out of pride and because I didn’t want to impose, and at
the time I figured my uncle would do the right thing. How wrong I’d been and now
it was too late to accept their invite.
“I don’t feel like talking about it, Rory. I got my problems so I’ll deal, all right?”
He backed off and nodded. “It’s cool, man, but I spoke to my mother the other day and the offer
still stands. We got an extra room and it would be okay with her and my
dad.”
For a moment, I wavered, half-thinking if I took him up on the offer, things would be okay. His
folks, while no richer than my uncle, always treated me as one of their own.
They came across as being really cool and it would have been great to be with
people who cared about me…but then my sense of stubbornness took over. No, I’d
have to handle this myself. “I appreciate it and all, but I can’t.” A simple
denial and I wondered if I’d regret my
decision.
“No sweat, Paul. But think about it, bro?”
We walked along the streets in silence, I inhaled the cold winter air, and then my friend suddenly pulled me into an
alleyway. “I gotta take a leak, man!” He was desperate. His legs quivered as he
desperately contracted whatever muscles he had downstairs in order to stop the
yellow river dam from breaking. The dude had to pee which left me standing in
the entrance acting as lookout and hoping some passerby wouldn’t think I was
some kind of a perv. Great, like anyone wanted to see a seventeen year-old kid
splash his piss against a dirty wall?
Rory hastily zipped down his fly. I didn’t want to watch so I turned my back on him and tried to
think about the homework tonight. Behind me, Rory let out a satisfied “aah” as
he began the process of emptying his bladder. Fine, do your business, ‘cuz I
have to get home and start in on the text catch of the day. Then I’d call Susan
and we’d hook up on the weekend, see a movie, take a walk somewhere quiet…whatever.
Nervously shifting from one foot to another to warm myself up, I looked up at the sky. Portland
didn’t get much snow but it was still cold and the skies were gray with a very
light sifting of white stuff on the ground. Getting home would take another ten
minutes, so hurry up Rory and finish what you’re doing! “Are you almost done?” I
called out, feeling ridiculous.
“Yeah, Paul, I’m still going, gimme a second!”
For such a small guy, he must have had a bladder like a watermelon. I could hear the steady stream
splashing forcefully against the side of the wall and wondered how anyone could
hold so much liquid. Me, I could hold it forever and now I didn’t have to go, just had to go home.
My uncle would be waiting, probably holding a bottle of Johnny Walker in one hand and the sports
section of the Portland Gazette in the other. Most likely he’d be
drunk—again—and while he never hit me, he always had the look in his eye like
he wanted to. A short and fat man approaching the early side of fifty, his
attitude consisted of three things: anger, drunken anger, and sleepiness. He
also didn’t give a damn whether I went to school or not. “You want to study—okay
with me. You want to do drugs—do ‘em. Just let me watch my shows and don’t get
caught.”
Great advice, Uncle Frank, you’re such a wonderful guardian. Behind me, Rory let out a satisfied
sigh which interrupted my unhappy thoughts about my relative and I heard the
yellow river stop flowing. “Thanks for waiting, Paul.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it.”
Rory joined me and then squinted at the sky. Something large and dark was approaching our position
and it didn’t look like a bird. “What is that thing?” he wanted to know.
Wondering the same thing myself, I strained my eyes in order to get a better look. Definitely not a
bird, it looked almost like…like, oh, hell! “Rory, get your ass out of there!”
I took off down the street but Rory seemed to be paralyzed by indecision and stayed rooted to his
spot, staring in shock at the rapidly approaching thing. It looked like a demon
from some third-rate horror flick except this was not a movie and we weren’t
part of a cast. The thing had to be around seven feet in height, with long,
misshapen leathery wings twice the length of its body, and a face only a mother
fug-ugly monster could have loved.
Rory didn’t make a move. He just stood there like a scared rabbit caught in the headlights of an
oncoming car. I ran back to help my friend but the thing moved faster. It came
in with a burst of missile-like speed, hitting my buddy like a runaway truck and
smashing him to the back of the alley. A solid brick wall lay at the end so no
way anything could go through it. Rory’s body hit the wall and made a sickening crunching sound.
Running back inside, I got a better look at the thing which had just obliterated my friend. The
demon-thing straightened up, a grin on its face. It didn’t look human but at the
same time, it didn’t look like my idea of a demon. It looked more like a cross
between a lizard and a dog, with the high, pointed ears a Doberman might have.
It also had a long, pointy snout, greenish-red scales, and reptilian eyes,
bright red, and glowing.
The thing’s body scared me even more than its face. The skin looked like aged leather which had
been left out in the sun too long, but things erupted from hundreds of tiny
little holes in its wings and torso. They looked like parasites waving around
and each one of them had little teeth. It was too damn gross for words. I didn’t
want to look and yet I couldn’t look away. The skin on my body, especially my
back, immediately started to itch and it couldn’t have come at a worse time.
The damn creature bent down and started chewing on Rory’s stomach. Blood erupted into the air and
all over the thing’s face. When it opened its pie-hole a little wider, a full
set of very sharp looking teeth appeared like a whole row of canines but much
longer. “You’re next.” The voice sounded deeper than deep, dripped with evil and
holy shit, this thing wants to kill
me!
Rory was still alive and screaming in agony. The monster didn’t rip Rory’s guts out like I thought it would. Instead,
it let loose a scream, a sound so high, hard, and loud, it shattered some of the
bricks in front of it. The sound caromed off the wall and hit me in the face.
The wave of sonic disturbance happened so quickly, so powerfully, I felt
something pop in my right ear and the world suddenly went silent on that side.
Perforated ear drum…it happens when you
dive too deep or a bomb goes off near you…
The monster then looked at Rory and screamed again, the sonic waves blasting my friend’s body in
two. Rory cried out once more, a high, shrill sound, and his head lolled to one
side. An opaque gas escaped from his torso and the thing stood over top of him,
inhaling the gas—Rory’s soul, or maybe just the vapors from his body—like a
smoker inhaling the smoke of a fine cigar. It hesitated for a moment as if
savoring the smell of a fresh kill, and its hesitation gave me a
chance.
“Goddam you, you killed my best friend!” I tried running into it,
hopefully to knock it off balance, but the thing slammed me on the left side of
my head, smashing straight into my ear and flinging me against the wall. Another
pop went off in my left ear and while the sounds of silence didn’t actually
come, I heard almost nothing except the demon’s heavy breathing. “Who are you?
What are you?”
“I am called ‘Hekla’,” the thing answered. I could barely hear it, what with the blood
running in my head and out of my ears, but the name—‘Hekla’—got branded in my
brain from that point onward. “You dare attack me?!”
Yeah, I dared. This rotten piece of garbage wanted to torture me before it ate me! Nothing in the alley except an old two-by-four, so
picking it up, I slammed the demon on the side of its head on a very large,
triangular ear and it howled. “You like that, you shit-eater?! You like getting
hit on the ear, too?” I hit the damn thing again and again and the creature
roared in pain. Nice to know demons could be hurt.
It still had a lot of power left over, and with a quick movement it grabbed onto the board and wrenching it away from me, crushed
my weapon between its talons. Oh, screw
me, I’m dead. It then advanced upon me slowly, predator versus prey, and I knew who the prey was.
“You will not come between me and mine!” it said, and
then the monster cracked me on the jaw, sending me hurtling back to Rory’s body
lay. It started towards me and since there I couldn’t run anywhere and had
nothing to defend myself with, I waited for the end.
Where in the hell did this thing come from and why did it want me? I’d been too shocked at seeing my best bud get eaten—Jesus, all the
blood from Rory’s body would have filled six large beer kegs—and when the thing
got within three feet of me, it stopped suddenly. The long ears on its reptilian
head pointed straight up and they twitched as if hearing something. Then it
whirled around and withdrew its talons. “No,” it cried out, “I’m not ready yet!”
It wasn’t ready to do…what? The thing didn’t answer me, just stood there, and then an opaque
opening in the air formed, came out of nowhere, and a wind began to rise. The
creature howled in rage and reached out for me but the gravitational pull of the
hole or whatever force was behind it proved to be too much and the thing got
yanked inside…and then the portal closed up, the wind dying back to normal with
only the cold air remaining.
Oh, man, it just vanished, like it had never come in the first place. I remained in the alleyway
along with the corpse of my best friend. Rory had been savaged beyond belief. I
heard nothing, nothing but silence and the roar of blood in my ears but saw the
police cars and the ambulance coming and knew the rest of the day wasn’t going
to get any better…
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Today being the middle of September (more or less) just a few notes on being alive. Had a health scare a while back and am slowly working through it. Have continued my writing as well, finished off Twisted and submitted it, and still trying to find a home for Mr. Taxi and Death Bytes. They will find their place, surely.
The weather has gotten noticeably cooler in Osaka at night, but still pleasant. Am not looking forward to the advent of winter. Being from Canada people think "Oh, you must be used to the cold!" and my answer is always the same: "Yeah, but I still don't like it."
End of story.
Other musings. It never fails to amaze me how many are so willing to defend the Muslims when they riot over someone posting something nasty about Mohammed. Yes, I've seen that video on YouTube and it's incredibly stupid, amateurish, and wrong-headed. No doubt. It's also nothing for anyone to get needlessly bent out of shape over. For decades--centuries, in fact--some Muslims have demonized Christians and Jews in their writings but it's perfectly acceptable to them to do so. Just seems to me they should be able to take a little criticism without going ballistic, even if said criticism is not directed at their prophet. That's all I'll say on this, as I dislike mentioning politics. My blog isn't left or rightwing in nature and I want to keep it that way.
Back to revising my manuscript and will get around to working later on this evening. I love writing, but teaching pays the bills!
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October 19th. The waiting game continues. Submitted three novel--Twisted, Mr. Taxi, and Death Bytes and have yet to hear back and hope for only positive things. The waiting would tax the patience of a saint...but I'll have to become one in order to keep this going. In the meantime, have been working on another novel--Stand-in--and it's done but the proofing has to be finished and I want it to be perfect.
The Yankees also lost the playoff to Detroit which cheeses me off no end even though I like a few of the Detroit players. NY just played pathetically. They barely beat Baltimore--and some of their fans on the MLB forum really ought to be locked up--and couldn't get anything going against the Tigers. Kudos to the Tiggies for winning but the Yankee front office has got a lot of fixing to do this offseason.
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December 16th, the year of the Mayan...or not. Been very busy writing and working and have some good news...maybe.
Did sell Death Bytes---at eXtasybooks.com. Thanks Tina! It's undergoing editing as I write this, so perhaps next year. The site is mainly erotic literature but they are getting into Young Adult fiction and Death Bytes does have a little sex in it (won't spoil the surprise!) so it's all good. It's a hell of a good read and can't wait to see it out in e-book and book (POD) form.
Threadweaver--at KeithPublications.com. It should be out by Christmas but I'm willing to wait until the new year as I want the editing done right. WINK will also be with the same company.
Fun and games became 'Twisted' and I signed the contract last with with Regal Crest Books (check out regalcrest.biz). I loved writing Twisted and I have to thank Jenna Talachova in part for her inspiration. Jenna, you may never see this blog but if you do, THANK YOU! I also want to thank the owner of Regal Crest, Ms. Cathy Bryerose, for believing in me. I'll do my best on the edits and Twisted will probably be out in March of 2014 or maybe earlier. We shall see. Cathy is very busy with her current authors and I want to make a perfect book as I want all my novels to be perfect.
Have two other novels on submission, Master Fantastic--see first chapter above--and Mr. Taxi. Naturally, I loved writing them both. Again, we shall see. Am currently editing Stand-in, a novel about the seamier side of superhero life. It's pretty much finished and I'm trying to cut it down to around 70000 words. All of the above novels are for Young Adults but adults might want to read them as well. I occasionally incorporate names from my friends at bb.com....Hoch, Dee, and I can promise that two of the more 'prominent' members will be 'guest stars' in the works listed above...only in the nicest way, of course!
Cold weather setting in, very windy here but no snow--yet. My area of Osaka usually gets very little. Children will be off school soon, time for the winter holidays...but I still have to work and I still WANT to write.
On a personal note, the shooting in Connecticut was a horrific event. As the father of two young boys, my heart goes out to the parents of those children who died for nothing. I have no words to adequately express my grief, my shock is so great. Parents out there, if you love your children then hug them and tell them you love them. I was fortunate my parents did with me. That is all I can think of for now.
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Well, it's 2013, I'm 51, and unless my math is off the Mayans were wrong. If, on the other hand, you don't live to read this blog in the next twenty minutes, it means the Mayans were right and I'm an idiot. Whatever. Math was never my strong point. Or astronomy. Or cooking. I'm not sure how they're interconnected but one day I'll figure it out.
What I'll never figure out is why some people buy into the doomsday cult. There are a lot of things on this pretty planet of ours worth exploring, namely pizza, a few drinks of fermented beverages (if you're into that sort of thing) the New York Yankees, and a lot of movies, too many to name for the moment. I did, however, watch Mysterious Island last night, New Year's Eve. This is the 1961 verson with the great Ray Harryhausen effects and it's become a sort of ritual every year. Why, I don't know, it just is.
I think it's the same reason I watch Superman, mainly because of the possibilities both movies present. Superman represents the possiblities of us becoming better due to an alien helping out on this world. Mysterious Island represents what mankind could do if it just controlled its baser instincts. For a kids movie, it's rather dark and pessimistic, but I still enjoy the stop-motion effects after all these years. CGI IS great, but stop-motion seems to have a life all its own.
I see my twenty minutes is up. Time to take a shower. If you don't hear from me again, maybe the Mayans were right.
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January 29th, a gray and cloudy day. Well, the Mayans were wrong. What shall I write about today? Oh, yes, the weather. It sucks. It's been cold and rainy in Osaka as of late, my younger son is home from school today (classroom lockout due to the flu) and my older boy is off to junior high, playing baseball.
As for the political scene, what more needs to be said? I won't get into who I favor, but I will make an observation and those that read this blog--all one of them--can take this with a huge barrelful of salt. Writer's forums are inherently left-wing, at least the creative side of writing. That ain't necessarily a bad thing in and of itself, but when they dream up ridiculous excuses to justify modifying behaviour, then it makes me want to regurgitate what I've had for lunch all over my computer. Writer's forums tend to be anti-gun--more on that later--anti-Israeli in tone, pro-government intervention and subsequent control, and all about human rights--even if it infringes on other's rights.
Guns. They're a fact of life. An unhappy fact, yes, but there they are. In the light of the recent Sandy Hook massacre, we've had a lot of people write in about limiting all gun sales. My views, in plain English, are as such. If you limit them, then that means overturning the Second Amendment in the US constitution. I'm very sure the framers of that wonderful document never envisioned Uzis or AK-47's, but then again, how could they have? I also see absolutely ZERO need for someone to have an arsenal at home. A shotgun and/or a pistol is sufficient enough--along with a lot of training and even more common sense--to deter anything but a full-scale zombie invasion, and last I heard, no zombies had been sighted. Common sense is also in short supply.
The point is this. While the massacre was horrifying beyond words, the leftist argument always goes if there were no guns it wouldn't have happened. To that, I cheerfully say "BS". People who want to kill others will always find a way. It's a sad fact of life but true. If not a gun, then a knife, or a bomb, or chemicals (Sarin attack in Yokohama years back). Taking away guns may be a start, but where there's an evil will, there is always a way. The only thing you CAN do is try your best to guard against it. Other countries such as Switzerland, recent nut attack notwithstanding, have had very few guns deaths. Germany has very strict laws and no one seems to mind. But changing the mindset of Americans will take some doing...and I don't think the criminals are going to give up their ways all that quickly.
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April sixth, and hellooooooooo, world! I have not been here for a long time! Been busy writing, and have completed the 'Lindsay Trilogy'--Lindsay versus the Marauders, Lindsay, Jo, and the Branch of Forever, and Lindsay, Jo, and the Well of Nevermore. The last one is still very rough, but the first two are complete and LVTM is on submission with a couple of very fine websites.
Rainy days always put a damper on things and today is no exception. My allergies suck, too, so I'm on pills which make me sleepy--and these are the OTC kind!--but they're the only thing that stops the nose rockets from coming out in projectile form. Sucks to be sick, but as a Chinese philospher once said, being sick is part of life. Where there is no life, there is no sickness. Sage advice and I'll take it.
Warmer weather on the way I hope, and with it, the coming of Ironman3 AND Superman: Man of Steel. Looking forward to both. Back to writing now, and I'm determined to get the best out what gray matter I have left. (I blew most of it out into twenty boxes worth of tissues).
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April 23rd and I have some NEWS TO ANNOUNCE TO ANYONE WHO READS THIS BLOG!
First off, Death Bytes will be out on May 1st or thereabouts. Released by ExtasyBooks.com, it's an action-packed YA novel, a story of life after death, and an exploration of what the human consciousness really is. Sam Benson iis seventeen, dying of ALS, and his consciousness is placed inside a computer. Reconstituted in his human form--or his memory giving him human form--he meets Ariel, the daughter of the doctor/software designer who placed him there. At first they do not get along, but then find they have no choice but to coexist as they are the only two of their kind and also a very powerful virus--codenamed Merlin--is out to crash the entire Internet. If the Internet goes, so do they. Fleeing from Merlin, the young couple desperately seeks a way to stop Merlin from carrying out his threat.
Second announcement is that I have sighed a contract with Regal Crest Publishing to have Twisted published next year (in March) and the first novel in a trilogy, Lindsay versus the Marauders, published in July by the same press. I can see that I'm going to have to spend a lot of time writing and editing!
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Yes, Death Bytes should be out on May 1st. Still in the process of revising Lindsay versus the Marauders--slow going. Baseball cutting into my writing. Both my children still play, so I try to attend their practices or games when not teaching or spending time on the computer. Today being Saturday the 27th of April--just a couple of days until Golden Week starts in Japan--have to work all day. Lots of things to do and not enough hours in the day to do them! (Sigh).
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Well, it's May 2nd in windy and cold Osaka, and my hayfever is acting up. Trying to generate the buzz about Death Bytes and I got the final copy yesterday. Great cover, and if I only knew how to upload it I would. Same for Threadweaver and The Tower. Still working on the cover for Twisted. Cathy Bryerose (my publisher and the owner of Regal Crest) sent me a couple of samples and they look good. Hard to get an image of a young man looking at the mirror and seeing a blond goddess staring back at him. You'd think someone would have already come up with that concept, right? Not yet...
New novel is tentatively entitled 'Catnip' but will work on it. Too many things to do now, and not enough hours in the day.
MAY 12th--CONTEST TIME!
In celebration of the publication of my newest novel, Death Bytes, a YA Fantasy, my publisher, ExtasyBooks.com and their sister company, DevineDestinies.com, have allowed me to give away FIVE (5) FREE---yes, FREE!---PDF files of the novel. This contest will start from May 14th (Tuesday) at noon and will run until noon on Thursday the 16th until noon. The contest rules are simple: NAME FIVE YOUNG ADULT NOVELS DEALING WITH DEATH AND THE AFTERLIFE. (A good example would be The Lovely Bones). Please tell me the titles of the novel and their author's names and contact me at [email protected].
I hope to hear from a lot of people. Remember, "death is not the end."
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Well, it's the day after D-Day over here and Death Bytes is still selling well. Congratulations to the lucky winners of the contest and I hope you enjoy your books! Give me some feedback when you can. I'd really appreciate it. DevineDestinies.com (mainstream venture of ExtasyBooks.com) has been pretty good to me and I appreciate their help.
Other novels on submission--Master Fantastic, Mr. Taxi, and Catnip--wait and see. I'll start on the editing of Twisted next month, and probably go to the edits of Lindsay versus the Marauders in September or October, so I'm really excited to start the process.
Summertime here is one of baseball games for my two sons, 13 and 9 (almost ten) and maybe a vacation if I can afford one.
Once more, here's a collection of links to my novels, just in case.
THE TOWER which can be found at UNTREEDREADS.COM
DEATH BYTES which can be found at DEVINEDESTINIES.COM
TWISTED which can be found at REGALCRESTPUBLICATIONS.COM
LINDSAY VERSUS THE MARAUDERS which can found at the same press listed above.
For aspiring writers like me, also check out the following sites for tips and sources.
PREDITORS & EDITORS
HIPIERS.COM
Both of these sites have excellent resources for checkng out agents and publishers.
I'd also mention ABSOLUTEWRITE.COM, as they have a whole host of people who've been published, some of whom are very successful, and they've been kind enough to offer their insights and brag a little (just kidding!) on HOW they did it, not to mention giving tips on how to plot, show and not tell (my bane at times) and more. Worth a look for all of these links. Until next time, keep cool. Osaka gets mighty hot at this time of year!!
June 25th.
BLOGGING IS HARD!! For the past three weeks I've been writing to almost every blogsite in the known universe asking (I hope nicely!) if they'll review DEATH BYTES, my latest YA novel. Some said yes, some said no, and some have said nothing at all. I wish I could write my own reviews--well, I could, but that wouldn't be very honest, now would it?--but I can't, so I have to rely on the booklovers of the world.
Currently working on two novels, On a Wing and a... which is more adult-oriented (but still with a bit of whimsy to it) along with another YA novel entitled What the Gods Allow. Both are going well, and the latter is up to around 36000 words, with a projected length of 60000. We shall see. Hot and humid in Osaka this time of year and thank goodness for electric fans. Now, back to writing myself into a wet and smelly pile of wannabe writer...