Nerine Dorman's Blog, page 87

Introducing Eye of Solitude

Today I welcome Daniel of Eye of Solitude, a UK-based doom band that has recently given me the wicked thrills with their album Sui Caedere. This has got to be one of my best finds for the past year, and I'm a huge fan. Their music is perfect for me when I'm writing and need sounds that are atmospheric and bone-crunchingly dark and heavy at the same time.

Daniel, you've got exactly 16 words to tell someone who's never heard of Eye of Solitude before, let alone doom metal: go!

Doom death with inhuman vocals, heavy fucking riffs and soul crushing melodies.


Textured, layered... Your music suggests a sonic landscape laden with despair. How has your sound evolved since you first laid down tracks?

We have evolved enormously since The Ghost, our debut full length.The music has taken on higher levels of composition,firstly, and with that, elements like atmosphere, both on record and live, riffage, approach towards the public etc, have been increased, exploited and analyzed carefully for a good interpretation on both sides, the band and the public.

Where would we be without the public and vice-versa? Haha! We try to create a good atmosphere, even though the textures and layers on the album are very hard to reproduce live, but so far everything went extremely well, we are very happy with the live sound, we are happy with the record sound, so I guess I couldn't wish for more than just to expand our horizons even more.


I have to ask about the Sui Caedere cover art, which makes me think of a Max Ernst painting. Can you elaborate a little more on your choices of visuals? And perhaps also share a little about the album's particular underlying themes.

The artwork has been created by Giannis Nakos of Mortal Torment from Greece. He's a very close friend and a fantastic artist, he actually made the first half of the front cover in just one night! That was amazing,coming to work in the morning and finding out a whole bunch of artwork files in my inbox.

Right, the cover is a bit tricky to explain, it resembles a hung angel, in a desolated kind-of background.

I would call it a typical sort of artwork for a band that plays what we play without falling into a stereotypical asset specific to bands.

It represents the highest form of divinity close to a deity. And just like all divinities,they should be pure and free of negativity and such, and yet it commits the deadliest sin in history. Sui Caedere is Latin for killing oneself. Suicide is one of the worst sins,but suicide can be interpreted in oh so many ways.

We would like to leave the listener to decide what they understand by suicide.

And the question that most musicians hate to answer... What's your musical background? Who got you excited about music before you knew you had to create your own? Who're you listening to now?

Haha, no worries. My background varies from classical music to brutal death metal, to shoegaze and cascadian black metal, post metal, post rock and so on.



The other boys in the band have their own influences, but we do have quite a few in common,which makes us understand the music better and feel it with the same intensity. In my opinion, this is the best things that can happen to a band. having more in common means a better collaboration, a better perspective and a better congruence when it comes to writing the music.

For my readers based here in South Africa, what's the metal scene up to in the UK? Which bands do you share the stage with?

There are quite some things happening in the UK right now. Recently we participated at Doom Over London, where we have supported Ahab, Officium Triste, Faal, Indesinence and others, that was truly amazing!

In the past we have shared the stage with the likes of Saturnus, Esoteric, Decemberance and so on...so things are going well for the UK (doom) metal scene.

In the future we hope to share the stage with other great bands worldwide,there are sooooooo many of them out there!

Go check out Eye of Solitude on ReverbNation, Facebook, or on the Kaotoxin Records site.

Jess Harris, Author and New Publisher #guest

Today I hand over my blog to an old writing buddy of mine, Jess Harris. But he explains everything below, so I'll shurrup now...



Nerine and I have been friends since 2007, when we started critiquing each other’s work on critters.org (a very rewarding experience for me.) She published one of my early stories on “Toad’s Corner,” which was my first international publication. I have long been fascinated with her artistic vision, and am delighted to watch her career develop. So, right up front I want to say thank you, Nerine, for giving me a few lines of your blog today to talk about something very dear to me.

For some, thirteen is a lucky number, but lucky or not, 2013 will be a transitional year for me. I was profoundly saddened when SNIPLITS closed. Not only did SNIPLITS provide me with my first pro sale, it was a wonderful place for new writers to have their work listed alongside established and celebrated professionals. Many SNIPLITS stories went on to win major awards, and some excellent authors got their start there. SNIPLITS’ tragic closing was the goad I needed to do something I’d been thinking about for some time: start a new publication for the express purpose of giving voice and exposure to under-appreciated writers.

To that end, I am opening Mustang’s Monster Corral (MMC) to original fiction. Duotrope has just listed us as a new paying market, and by this time next year, we expect to be a qualifying market for both Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA) and Horror Writers of America (HWA.)

Initially, we are paying one cent (US) per word, but according to our business plan, we expect to increase to pro rates (5 cents per word) in about six months. We are publishing flash-length stories (1 000 words or less) almost exclusively, and will probably stay with that model for some time. MMC’s fiction theme is the antagonist. Good monsters go a long way toward making good stories. (All you fans of Nerine’s work surely appreciate the importance of a good monster!) We talk about other things as well, but “monsters” (broadly defined) interest us the most.

Personally, I love the flash-length story, which happens to be the fastest growing format in fiction. I expect this is due in part to the microscopic attention span of the average television-saturated persons of our age, but it is also because a reader with a smart phone or tablet can fit in a flash story anytime, anywhere. For me, the attraction comes from my admiration for writers who can be simultaneously succinct and poignant. There is the famous if somewhat apocryphal account of Hemmingway winning a bet by writing a story in under 10 words - “Classified: Baby Goods: For sale, baby shoes, never worn.” Whether or not he really wrote that particular example, it is a fine reminder of how few words we truly need to offer a tale. Writing with extreme economy is its own skill. I also think short-shorts are a great fit for an anthology. Like many people, I like to read before I turn out the light. I can read flash fiction for two minutes or twenty without ever leaving a story unfinished. I intend to end each year by publishing an anthology of MMC’s 52 weekly stories, perhaps with a few more thrown in for good measure.

My vision is to see MMC putting the names of at least 52 writers a year into the hands of readers. I am also terribly excited about the prospect of helping writers get into organizations like SFWA and HWA, which can be an important milestone in starting a professional writing career.

I do not harbor any illusion that this will be a money-making venture for me, but there is a great difference between “money-making” and “profitable.” MMC is truly a labor of love: my love for short fiction (especially dark fiction) and my deep affection for all those who put dreams to paper. Upon the labors of such as these are built the foundations of civilizations, and make those civilizations worthy of survival. Writers and dreamers have also been the downfall of many tyrants. Indeed, the profits of a venture such as this are immeasurable, in every sense of the word.

If you, dear reader of this blog, have a short-short story with an intriguing monster (no matter how you define the word) please stop by Mustang’s Monster Corral at monstercorral.com and click on “SUBMIT TO MONSTER CORRAL.” I look forward to hearing from you.

Thanks again, Nerine, for propping up my soap-box for a moment.

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BIO: 
In addition to corralling monsters, Jess Harris is a published author of short stories, with two novels nearing completion. He sometimes suffers from SOS (Shiny Object Syndrome.) He is a reasonably well travelled military officer, and is insatiably interested in nearly everything, past, present and future.

Not all Gloom and Doom… A Moment with Tunes of Dawn

My mate Carrie Clevenger has a habit of turning me onto new music. This is one of the many reasons why I absolutely adore her. One of the bands she introduced me to last year was a German outfit called Tunes of Dawn, and I am once again forever grateful for this new musical adventure. Then again, any band that covers the immortal Gloomy Sunday gets a serious kick-ass badge from me. So, naturally, I had to track frontman and bassist Hagen Schneevoigt down so we could shoot the breeze a bit. And at the end of this interview there will be a question you can answer by commenting on this blog (leave your name and email address so we can pick a winner). One lucky sod will win Tunes of Dawn goodies.

Now, over to Hagen…

I had to know what prompted the band to cover Gloomy Sunday. After all, there’s a bit of an urban legend attached to the song that suggests folks commit suicide after listening to it. The band plays on this theme in the music video.

Hagen responds: “Well, we always liked that song. And the legend is true. Gloomy Sunday was written by Hungarian musician Rezs Seress in 1933. It’s about how he lost his big love. It was said that many people attempted suicide after listening to it. We liked that story very much, even if it’s a sad one. But the song fit perfectly into the world of Tunes of Dawn, and so we did the cover.”

Watching that Gloomy Sunday video, and listening to the band’s music in general, it’s clear there’s quite a bit of a homage to Type O Negative, and perhaps even hints at Rammstein in more lyrical moments, even.

Hagen says: “Well, of course Typo O Negative is an influence. We always loved this band. But, in general, we have so many influences, like old Black Sabbath, Elvis and all the classic rock stuff. It goes from classic, jazz to pop and, of course metal. We all have different tastes, so in every song is a bit from everyone’s personal taste. But the main inspiration is life and all its up and downs. We prefer the sad and melancholic things. But always with a glint in the eyes.”

So, to poke at those wonderfully "sad and melancholic things" I had to ask Hagen one of my favourite questions: What songs from your past, do you look to for inspiration?

He responds: “It’s very hard to say ’cause there are so many beautiful songs we would like to do. Just to mention a few... two would be definitely Type O Negative: Love you to Death and Anesthesia.”

Then, the question I throw at all my vic— erm, interviewees… Now, you’re in a situation where you need to explain to someone who’s never heard of your music and who you are, and you have EXACTLY 16 words to do so...

Hagen says: “We are painting tragic but hopeful light with music, where others only paint shadows and darkness.”

Nice! Now, if Hagen had to pick one Tunes of Dawn song that really encapsulates what he thinks the band is all about… the lyrics, the choice of arrangements for the instruments. Why must listeners care about this song?

Hagen says, “If I must pick one, I would pick A Warm Sigh at 6°. The lyrics range between past, present and future. From sadness, hope and romance. From life, death and to dreams. Musically it is one of the more heavy songs, even it is not that fast. The melodic line and heavy guitars combined makes the song powerful, I think. We are better creating songs like that, than faster ones.”

Bands’ first-ever live shows often result in unintended hilarity. Whether this is due to Random Acts of Chaos or the wicked sense of humour belonging to the Heavy Music gods, we’ll never know. Hagen relates his own experiences with Tunes of Dawn: “Our first live show ever took place in June 1994. We were so excited, we did not dare to drink a single beer. Instead we drank lots of energy drinks by mistake. But at least everything went good. We still have some video footage of that show. Mostly we are laughing our asses off, because we look like teenagers playing death metal.”

Tunes of Dawn back in 1994LOL, so they must have been like a bunch of Energizer bunnies on stage… But beyond musicians behaving themselves well, like musicians… The audience is also capable of behaving strangely. Hagen elaborates: “Well, strange things happen almost every time, more or less. But I remember one very funny thing back in 2008 when we had our record release show in Berlin. Some people made a huge banner out of underwear, about 10x4 metres. They took everything off that banner and threw it on stage. So the whole stage was covered with bras and panties and so on. It must have been about a 100 items.”

Undergarments aside, but staying with the clothing industry, as for what lies ahead, Hagen concludes: “At the moment we are doing a song for the Berlin-based designer Kilian Kerner for his new collection 2013. We will also perform the song at the Mercedes Benz Fashion Week this month. Furthermore we are currently writing new songs for our next album. The release is planned for fall this year.”

Now, be awesome little minions and go check out the Tunes of Dawn website here where you’ll find all their social networking links and more (go check out that music video already, will you?).

As for the question, name one Type O Negative song you’d love to see covered. (Answer by leaving a comment with your name and email address where we can contact you.)

Metallic Dreams by Mark Rice #review

Title: Metallic Dreams
Author: Mark Rice
Publisher: Horned Helmet Publications, 2010
Link

Metallic Dreams doesn’t just tread on your average person’s sensibilities. This novel turns the volume up full blast and goes in with a raging boner. You have been warned. Mark Rice taught me some incredibly colourful language, and I will *never* quite be able to look at Polyfilla in the same way. “Not for the faint-hearted” is possibly the understatement of the year, and I consider myself fairly open-minded but there were even a few scenes that sent my eyebrows shooting way up my forehead.

But, since I hang around with musicians and have in the past played in an assortment of metal and goth bands, I thoroughly enjoyed this music-themed romp, despite the (very) offensive content and excessive vulgarity. So, well done there, Mr Rice. You’ve succeeded in giving me the nasty giggles of horror.

Then, for anyone who’s ever loved metal or for those who don’t know much but would like a bunch of awesome suggestions, Metallic Dreams lives up to its title, and takes music-lovers on a journey of remembering the greats. Rice’s appreciation of the genre is abundantly apparent, and from the perspective of a fellow fan, I enjoyed his observations. So another huge-ass disclaimer: if you don’t like metal then for the love of all that’s unholy DON’T read this book.

Most of all, Metallic Dreams does not take itself too seriously, which saves it at the end of the day. Yes, the humour is crude and often outrageous, but it marries up well to the latter-day Faustian theme as we follow the doings of Spark and his Blood Brothers.

The only thing that detracted from the overall effect was the actual length of the book. It’s way too long, and loses some of the impact due to its drawn-out nature. By the time I reached the halfway mark, I was quite exhausted, and found that I could only handle a chapter at a time with each sitting. That being said, what ameliorated the pacing issues were the characterisations and the seemingly unrelated routines. The plot is convoluted, and gives the sense of a journal rather than what one would expect climax-wise in standard fantasy. So, yeah, it’s not great, but if you’re reading this in episodes, like I did, it doesn’t bother as much.

Overall, this is an incredible, playful orgy of bloke-geared humour. Sex, drugs, metal and violence is all wrapped up with an infernal ribbon. And I’ll say it again. You’ve been warned.

Saving Gabriel by Zoe E Whitten #excerpt

Recently I beta-read Saving Gabriel by Zoe E Whitten, and when she let me know that the title was released, I was more than happy to have her over here. Today she's sharing an excerpt, and if angels and YA fiction are your thing, then you're probably going to dig this. 

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Blurb:
Gabriel is a fallen guardian angel who assigns himself to hard luck cases despite being banned from heaven. When his current ward, Rosalinda Fernandez, is targeted for a soul harvest by another fallen angel, Gabriel is tasked by the archangels to investigate the real purpose behind the plot. All he has to do is keep his ward safe without falling in love with her. There's just one small problem: after years of watching Rosalinda grow into a proud young woman, Gabriel is already deeply in love. Even if he can expose the plot surrounding Rosalinda, will Gabriel's growing relationship with her lead to damnation for both of them?

Excerpt:
Rosalinda
As I crossed the lot, I wished I could call my mother to get a ride. But she was busy at work, being a card dealer at Caesar’s Palace. She couldn’t leave work for any reason, and even if she could, she’d have to ride a bus to find me. I’d catch pneumonia before she showed up, so it made sense to find a bus and make it home before she did.

Once I got to the dark entrance, I dug in my bag and took out my phone. It was about the nicest thing I owned, a touch screen Android phone that let me listen to my music and snap pictures whenever the mood struck me. We couldn’t afford a good plan, so I couldn’t use it to chat online like some of my friends at school did with theirs. But nobody teased me when I took out this phone, something that couldn’t be said with the monochrome hand-me-down brick that Mom “gifted” me in my freshmen year of high school.

When I opened my email app, the white background lit up with added light, and I turned the screen out toward the door to search for the address. I found the faded lettering that confirmed this had been a Circuit City, and the address below it. But I didn’t read the address before I noticed the pair of bare feet at the fading edges of my phone’s meager light output.

I raised my head and tilted the phone up, the light barely strong enough for me to make out a pair of legs clad in dark jeans. The man inside those skintight jeans took a step forward, making it easier to see his rippled bare stomach. His skin was dark brown, almost black in the inky darkness surrounding him. The light from my phone bounced off of his skin as if he were oiled down.

He took another slow step toward me as my gaze met his, and I gasped when his mouth split in a wide, lewd grin. I realized I’d just gotten away from a potential date rape with a boneheaded boyfriend and walked into another rape from a homeless guy.

I fumbled with my bag with one hand, the other still keeping the phone on the smiling man. I had to admit, he didn’t look homeless. His skin was clean, though perhaps a little slick with sweat. Given how cold it was, I guessed this oily sheen meant he was on drugs. Which explained why his pupils were so dilated, I couldn’t find his irises.

He was taller than me, and despite my bulky frame, he was also heavier. Worse, all his bulk was made of muscle. No muffin top or beer gut on him, just taut abs wound tight like steel springs. If this guy was homeless, he had to be using all his daily spare change collections on a gym membership and protein shakes.

My probing fingers found my wallet and I took it out. “I don’t have much money, but you can have it.” I didn’t want to sound scared, but my voice wavered all over the place.

The man chuckled. “I don’t want your money, Rosalinda.”

How did you know my name? I thought, but my mouth wouldn’t work to form the words. I was so scared, I couldn’t move. Then it occurred to me that I’d heard him though the glass door, but his voice wasn’t muffled. It was so illogical, like something that might happen in a dream.

The man reached out to push the door, and it swung open with a quiet hiss from the pneumatic pump. The door was locked. It must have been locked for years, but it just opened for him. At the back of my mind, I heard a voice yelling that this had to be a nightmare and I needed to wake up now.

The grinning man laughed again, a low and wicked rumble that sent ripples of fear down my back and wet my skin in a cold sweat. “I have no interest in your body for any reason either, so you don’t need to worry. I’m just here for your soul.”

Okay, that’s a line I’ve never heard before. My panicked thought made the man laugh, and I gasped, terrified that he could somehow read my mind.

I thought to run, but as I stepped back, the grinning man snapped a hand out to grab the front of my shirt. He yanked, and even knowing what was coming and resisting him, I was slung to the ground so fast I hit the pavement and rolled over twice. My panicked mind insisted that I was way too big to be tossed around this easily.

My phone slipped out of my hand, and I guess it landed screen down because everything got real dark real fast.

I came up on my feet, ignoring my pain and taking off at a full run. Behind me, I expected to hear slapping footfalls catch up to me. But there was no sound made before two hands connected with my shoulder blades and shoved me to the ground again.

I whimpered and rolled over, looking up at my smiling attacker. I could only see his brilliant white teeth, and even the whites of his eyes were impossible to find under his flared brow ridge.

In the shadow-pitched darkness, I barely recognized the outline of another man behind my attacker when a blade sprung out of his chest and his grin vanished.

The shining blade rose, seeming to reflect more light than I could find in the surrounding area. Black blood exploded from the growing wound, spraying me in a gruesome misty shower.

A thick drop splattered on my cheek, and I hit my limit for shocks. I drew in a breath and screamed, and then I got up and ran for my life.

At first, I thought the whooshing sounds were from my blood rushing too fast through my veins. My panicked panting had taken on a loud wheeze, and my stomach clenched with every step, threatening to revolt the moment I stopped to catch my breath. I’m not opposed to lifting weights or doing a few laps in the pool to keep my not-so-dainty butt from getting any bigger, but my body is not made for running, and just then it was punishing me for making a sudden unplanned effort at a marathon sprint.

I’d taken off back across the lot, crossed the road, and poured on extra speed to cross the vast expanse on unused land. Far off in the distance, the porch lights of a residential block twinkled like stars. They were my haven, my sanctuary to escape whatever crazed killer was hot on my heels.

I was no closer to safety when the whooshing noise got much louder. Horror filled my veins with ice once I recognized the sound wasn’t coming from me.

A chill wind struck my back, and I looked over my shoulder. My voice croaked in a dry-throated shout when I saw the outline of a man with giant wings swooping down on me.

I tripped on my own legs, and I was dropping to the ground when strong arms closed around my waist. I doubled over in this unbreakable embrace, crying out again when my feet left the ground and we rose into the sky. My eyes bulged as the twinkling porch lights grew smaller rapidly, and my stomach finally gave up on threats and sent a hot stream of bile to burn my too dry throat.

I’d barely emptied my stomach when I heard a voice command Sleep.

Panic and terror slid off of my mind like discarded clothing, and my eyes closed. Even though my mind was shutting down, I had a few seconds to ponder why the voice in my head was so familiar.

#

Gabriel
Trying to look everywhere else but my work, I managed to clean Rosalinda and dress her in clean underwear and pajamas before I settled her back on her bed. I’d still seen more than I was supposed to, and my cheeks were bright red when I slipped the sheet over my ward.

She made a quiet whimper and snuggled her pillow, evoking a smile from me. Then, despite her almost adult size, to me she once again looked like the little girl I knew the first time I’d saved her from herself.

She’d grown so much from the first time I’d met her, looking more like one of our people than her tiny-framed mother. She’d added a bit of padding over her muscles thanks to a steady diet of junk food, but she was just as pretty to me then as she’d been when I first caught her. I leaned over and brushed her black hair out of her face, and my touch made her sigh in her sleep.

Healing her minor bruises took less than a minute, but my hand lingered on her cheek as I stared at her. Her light brown skin was flawless, and her round face trapped my gaze and made my chest hurt. If I had a human heart, it would beat faster at the sight of my ward.

Perhaps to some humans, Rosalinda seemed too plain, but I thought her wide nose and strong chin made her look unique in a world obsessed with lean cheeks, thin noses, and pointy chins. I liked her thick eyebrows, unplucked and allowed to grow into their own natural curved shape. I liked her plump lips, never adorned with more than some waxy balm to keep them from chapping. To the human boys who courted her, she was just okay, but to me, she was a flawless work of art, a real gift from God who no one else seemed to appreciate.

As I sat there watching her sleep, a soft glow of color raised on her cheeks, giving her the appearance of a cherubim indulging in a happy daydream. She was so pretty to me that I wanted nothing more than to lean over and lay kisses on her cheeks and lips.

But the law was the law, and Rosalinda was as forbidden to me as the gates of heaven were. Acknowledging this hurt, and my smile melted into a frown as I stood up.

Covering Rosalinda with a blanket, I took her stained clothing and the now stained washcloth into the bathroom to clean everything in the tub. While I worked, my mind whirled at what I’d done. It was true that Israfel had broken the law, and had I not killed him, an avenging angel would have arrived shortly to dispatch him to hell. But that angel would have let Rosalinda die, and I could not let that happen.

I sensed the arrival of the angel before I saw him. My kind feel instant revulsion at the presence of angels. Their connection to heaven fills them with a positive energy that we had long ago been denied, and it hurts to feel that loving radiation and not be able to contain it within ourselves.

However, I did not feel any negative reaction. Because of my continuing acts of rebellion, I’d been hounded by angels so long, I’d overcome my aversion to them. So I continued working at scrubbing blood from Rosalinda’s shirt as if I were still alone, waiting for the angel to speak.

“It’s not like you to attack one of the fallen, Gabriel,” Michael said, condescending as ever. “You normally prefer policing human criminals.”

“I’ve committed no crime to require your presence,” I said, keeping my voice even.

“That’s not entirely true. You know how we feel about your interest in the child.”

“I’m simply doing my job,” I said.

“Your were fired from your job.”

My face tightened in an annoyed wince at the flat tone of Michael’s voice, but I covered it up with a slack expression quickly. “You dismissed me from my post. I chose to remain self-employed.”

“Still, killing Israfel in front of—”

“She’ll wake up tomorrow and think it was a dream,” I insisted. “I’ll leave no evidence to convince her it was real.” Michael said nothing. “It’s not like I could wait for you to save her. The archangel council stopped respecting her kind long before I fell from your favor.”

“I suppose that’s fair.” A long pause followed, but Michael hadn’t left yet. I refused to look at him, to acknowledge his presence or my anger at him, still fresh from his betrayal despite all the centuries that had passed since that dark time.

Michael drew a long breath, an affectation that irritated me because angels don’t need to breathe. “Still, it does seem odd, doesn’t it?”

“Doesn’t what?”

“Israfel said he’d come for the child’s soul. I understand your decision to jump in and play the hero for your ward once again, but had you not interfered, we could have learned why Israfel needed her as a sacrifice. We might have learned what his motivation was and planned our affairs around him. But you killed him without seeking a confession, and now we have a mystery.”

“What mystery?” I snapped, unable to bite my tongue.

“The mystery of whether Israfel was acting alone. If he wasn’t, it seems probable that the child’s life is still in danger.”

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If you’re curious to see more of Rosalinda and Gabriel, the ebook Saving Gabriel is available on Amazon for mobi users, and Kobo and my blog bookstore through Gumroad for epub readers.

What Makes a Great Beginning by Jessi Gage #guest

Well, I'm officially back from leave, so I'll start kicking up the notch with my blogging again. Today I welcome fellow Lyrical Press author Jessi Gage over. She's chatting about how she starts her stories as well as celebrating the release of her novel, Wishing for a Highlander. Welcome, Jessi!

As for how I start my stories, hahaha... Just ask some of my betas who stop me from giving way too many botanical and architectural references... LOL! What can I say? My inner travel writer needs to be reined in from time to time.

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Thanks so much for having me, Nerine! I'm so excited to be here. Not only do I love your blog and the authors your highlight, but today is very special to me. It's release day for my very first novel, Wishing for a Highlander (Lyrical Press), a new beginning, if you will.

I'll give a blurb for Wishing for a Highlander in a bit, but first, I wanted to talk about beginnings of a different sort, story beginnings.

When you open up that fresh document and start clacking the keys on a new story, how do you introduce compelling characters and build a convincing world without bogging the action down with back story?

How do different authors tackle the start of a story?

How do I?

My stories always start with a scenario. In paying attention to other authors' descriptions of how they come up with story ideas, I've noticed I'm not the only one who often envisions a single scene and has a story take root from there.

That first imagined scene is usually vivid and full of character and action, but it is often a poor place to start the story on the page. I often need to work backwards to get to a point where the action logically begins.  I've heard this called the Inciting Incident (Candace Havens' online workshop). Inciting incidents can be anything from action packed drama to a subtle turning point in the character's life or way of thinking. The inciting incident draws a clear line between everything that happened before in the character's life and what happens after THIS STORY begins.

Many books I've read start with an action-packed inciting incident. This style of beginning is well suited to fast-paced works and sets a tone of action, action, action. One story that comes to mind that opens with this kind of beginning is Thea Harrison's Dragon Bound. With this first in a series, Thea does an amazing job of throwing the reader into the action with just enough hints of backstory peppered in so we know why her heroine is on the run.

Action-packed inciting incident is just one example of a way to begin a story. There are countless others. A method I tend to prefer is establishing a bit of character and world before tossing the character into the fray. This can work well if the character is doing something interesting or unexpected and if the inciting incident occurs quickly, hopefully on the first page.

There are countless other ways to begin a story. If you're a writer, how do you like to start your stories? Do you find it challenging to get into the action while establishing a world and characters? If so, what strategies do you use to overcome those challenges?

Thanks again, Nerine, for having me today! Below is my blurb on Wishing for a Highlander, out today with Lyrical Press and half-price there all month! I hope your reader's will peek at my beginning (get a free sample on any e-reader using the buy links below ) and see if I've hit the right balance.

BLURB
While examining Andrew Carnegie’s lucky rosewood box, single-and-pregnant museum worker Melanie makes a tongue in cheek wish on the artifact--for a Highland warrior to help her forget about her cheating ex. Suddenly transported to the middle of a clan skirmish in sixteenth-century Scotland, she realizes she should have been a tad more specific.

Darcy, laird in waiting, should be the most eligible bachelor in Ackergill, but a cruel prank played on him in his teenage years has led him to believe he is too large under his kilt to ever join with a woman. He has committed himself to a life of bachelorhood, running his deceased father's windmills and keeping up the family manor house...alone.

Darcy's uncle, Laird Steafan welcomes the strangely dressed woman into his clan, immediately marrying her to Darcy in hopes of an heir. But when Steafan learns of her magic box and brands her a witch, Darcy must do what any good husband would--protect his wife, even if it means forsaking his clan.

WARNING: A pregnant museum worker, a sixteenth-century Scot, and a meddlesome wishing box.

EXCERPT
Size might have its advantages when it came to fighting, but those few boons fell far short of making up for the problems it caused. Being the biggest and the strongest had gotten him into far more trouble than it had gotten him out of. Swallowing his regret for how careless he’d been with her, he sought to determine whom she belonged to, whom, saints forbid, he might owe.

“Whose wife are ye, then? Not a Gunn’s or I wouldna have had to rescue you from one.”

“I’m not married,” the lass said. “And thank you for the rescuing, by the way. I can’t believe I dropped the dirk. Stupid.” She shook her head.

His heart warmed at her thanks. He didn’t hear many kind words from the lasses and would take what he could get, even from a dishonored woman who had caught a bairn out wedlock. Oddly, he didn’t think poorly of her. Whether it was her worried brow, her guileless, soft mouth, or her vulnerable size, he had not the heart to condemn her.

He didn’t even mind so much that she found him distasteful for his size, although talking with her now, she didn’t seem overly upset to be in his arms. He endeavored to keep her talking, keep her distracted from her disgust.

“Ye never answered my first question,” he said. “Who are you? And where are ye from if ye’re no’ English?”

“Ugh. I don’t know. Is there an answer that won’t get me burned at the stake or locked up in a ward for the hopelessly insane?”

Like most things out of her mouth, that had been a peculiar answer. “Ye could try the truth,” he offered, slowing his pace since he heard Archie’s voice not far off.

“No,” she said flatly. “I couldn’t. At least not the whole truth. How about we just go with my name, Melanie, and with the honest fact that I’m a long way from home and I have no idea how to get back.” Her green eyes pierced his. “I’m afraid you might be stuck with me, Darcy Keith.”

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(Title is 50% off on Lyrical Press's website for the month of January. It will be featured on Lyrical's front page, though, so clicking this link should get you close.)

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Dark Soul 2 by Aleksandr Voinov #review

Title: Dark Soul 2
Author: Aleksandr Voinov
Publisher: Riptide Publishing, 2011
Link

This volume of the series consists of two short stories that progress the two main story arcs presented in volume one. In Dark Whisper, Silvio engages in a bit of telephonic play with his former lover and patron, Gianbattista. Although this is a vignette rather than anything else, it clearly illustrates the relationship between the two men, and the mixture of conflicted love. In Dark Night, Stefano’s troubles with the Russians take a more serious turn, and it’s time for him to take serious steps to protect his holdings when he is given the first taste of a very real threat.

I can’t begin to say how much I absolutely adore Voinov’s writing, and in these two stories he continues to explore the dynamics between sex, power and danger, and often how these complement each other within the complex relationships between people.

Nothing  is straightforward, and the bonds of obligation tie characters to their past as much as they affect their relationships in the future. As much as Silvio is attracted to Stefano, it is clear that he still feels for Gianbattista, and that chemistry still exists between the two. Stefano might find Silvio more than just a little bit beguiling, but he still loves his wife.

Voinov continues to take readers along a path that leads into the dark underbelly of the Italian mafia, as I’ve never considered it before. Looking forward to the next installment. Check out volume one here 

Blackfeather first draft done

I so seriously need to get a less sucky title for this novel, but jawellnofine, I finished the manuscript in the wee hours last night. Mainly in a fit of pique. See the pretty picture? That's all 189 pages printed out and the happy new red pen I bought to do the job. Our plucky griffin, Silas, will undergo the red pen. I'm trying something a little different with this novel and printing out the pages so  feel more inclined to edit the living hell out of the manuscript.

Oh, and yeah, I have to have this ready by January 14 since I'll be entering this into ABNA next year. 'Cos that's just the way I roll. Current state of the MS stands at 55 000 words. It will be interesting to see what it's going to look like once I'm done.

Now go forth and add my books to your TBR pile or, even better, leave a review for the ones you've already read and ping me the link on Twitter or Facebook.

Alabaster: Wolves by Caitlin Kiernan #review

Title: Alabaster: Wolves
Author: Caitlin R Kiernan
Publisher: Dark Horse Comics, 2013
Link

This is my first encounter with Dancy Flammarion, and possibly the first comic book I’ve read since I last read through the entire The Sandman series by Neil Gaiman. The artwork is well-executed and evokes the disintegrated landscape.

A drifter, Dancy Flammarion holds onto her religious background as a moral compass while she goes about slaying such monsters as she encounters. Much like Joan of Arc, this teenage girl is guided by a vengeful, fiery seraph which may or may not exist as a figment of her imagination.

In Alabaster: Wolves, written by Caitlin R Kiernan and illustrated by Steve Leiber, we join Dancy as she waits for the bus in an abandoned Southern town. Almost immediately she is beset upon by a young girl who’s a lot more than what she appears—and Dancy is pressed into a game of riddles that has dire consequences.

Abandoned by her angelic guide, Dancy must face a great evil, ultimately coming to terms with deeper issues, such as whether she acts on her own will or remains a pawn of others. I’m reminded of the quote of Friedrich Nietzsche: Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.

Who is the real monster? Dancy, or the creatures she kills? Either way, readers will be drawn into a world that hints at yet never full explains darker, blood-drenched mysteries. Not for the fainthearted, Alabastar: Wolves has tantalised me just enough to want to delve further into Kiernan’s creations. If you loved The Sandman, then go pick up this offering. It leaves you feeling somewhat scratchy behind the eyes, and piqued because you feel like you’ve only had a glimpse at a small fragment of the bigger story.

Manda Benson and The Emerald Forge #guest

Manda Benson was one of the very first authors I worked with and she's bringing out her special brand of SF or, as she terms them, technothrillers with Tangentrine Limited. Manda explores a possible futures that offer a somewhat dark diversion from our present. I cannot underscore enough how much I love Manda's writing, and I've got The Emerald Forge queued up as a soon-to-be read title on my list. 

But, over to Manda, who's taking over my blog today...

The Emerald Forge is the second book in the four-volume Pilgrennon’s Children series of technothrillers aimed at the YA age group and above. If I had to compare ideas in The Emerald Forge with other books, I suppose I could call it a near-future portmanteau of The Island of Dr Moreau (HG Wells), The Birds (Daphne Du Maurier), and Frankenstein (Mary Shelley). The book’s central plot is driven by the appearance of animals and alarming artificial creatures coming from somewhere to attack people.

In Pilgrennon’s Beacon Dana succeeded in tracking down her genetic parents, Jananin Blake and Ivor Pilgrennon. Ivor went missing at the end of the first book, whereas Jananin, the unwilling donor of the ovum Dana was conceived from, considered the revenge she’d set out to enact complete, and left to rebuild her life. The series sets the characters’ struggles against a backdrop of political upheaval, so the second book needed to continue Dana’s story as well as progressing this setting.

In The Emerald Forge, a year or two has passed since Pilgrennon’s Beacon. As a result of the events in the first book, democracy as we know it has fallen out of favour and a new form of government has risen to power, the Meritocracy. The Meritocracy is rather a complicated concept and I didn’t want irrelevant explanations forced into the book for the sake of it, so The Emerald Forge I suppose comes across as a sort of introduction to the idea via what’s going on in the background. The gist of it is there is no parliament and no politicians, and every law and matter to be decided upon is voted for by the Electorate, and the results handled by massive interconnected supercomputers called ANTs (Arrays of NeuroTechnology), but — and this is the crucial part — some people’s votes have more weight than others, depending on tiers calculated from their qualifications, how much voluntary tax they pay, and other matters used to determine how much they contribute to society.

Dana has been adopted by the foster parents she was living with in the first book, and in them she has a loving and supportive family. However, she’s still having problems due to bullies at school and puberty, and she has no closure on what happened to Ivor, and lives in hope he might still be alive. Jananin, an eminent scientist and Nobel laureate, has been elected as a Spokesman for the Meritocracy (a Spokesman is a prominent public figure chosen for their judgement and opinions by the Electorate to vote on their behalf at times of national emergency, when there’s not time for a referendum to be held on an urgent matter) and because of this, writings and speeches by her frequently appear on the Internet, television, and radio. This false proximity makes Dana’s relationship with and rejection by Jananin even more difficult for her.

At the start of the book, Dana and a boy are attacked by a construct — half beast, half machine — designed to resemble a wyvern, a creature from mythology. Dana succeeds in defeating the wyvern, and discovers it was being controlled by a remote signal. She needs somewhere safe to hide the wyvern, and tries to contact Jananin, hoping in addition she will get help finding out who made the wyvern and why it was sent to attack her. Unfortunately, this doesn’t go quite as she hopes, and she ends up trying to work out the mystery without Jananin. Dana’s biggest concern is that it was Ivor who made the wyvern and sent it after her, and the thought of this being evidence that he is still alive is worrying to her, although she longs to find out he isn’t dead. Around the same time, she’s also started being troubled by disturbing dreams about someone trapped in an abusive psychiatric hospital. She deduces that the wyvern came from the east, and travels that way to eventually come across an abandoned foundry, the ‘Emerald Forge’ where someone is carrying out very unethical experiments. Dana has to stop what’s going on in the Forge and find out why it is happening.

One of the major themes I’m trying to develop in this series, as it is aimed at young people, is putting across controversial topics and trying to give a balanced perspective. I’m concerned that extremist ideologies tend to target the young, people who don’t have a great deal of experience or theory to defend themselves with. The first book concerned itself in this respect with nanotechnology and genetic engineering. These scientific fields are frequently reviled as being wrong and dangerous by people with no real understanding of what they actually involve. Dana as a character was in an unique position as these technologies are an innate part of her and are the reason for her existing at all. A lot of tension in the book stemmed from Jananin and Ivor’s disagreement over what was unethical and what was permissible for the greater good, and I hope that encouraged readers to research these topics and develop more informed opinions.

In The Emerald Forge, the theme this time is animal experimentation. On the one side are ruthless people who will inflict all manner of suffering on animals that could be avoided, and use them as weapons for their own ends. On the other side are terrorists who think animals are better than humans, and that no person has the right to do anything that affects an animal, including owning pets as well as killing animals to eat or using them to test medicines and surgical procedures on. In the middle are people who want to know their dinner was reared and slaughtered humanely, and people like the police who use dogs and horses to help them do their job, and people who believe some animal testing is necessary for the greater good, as long as the animals are treated humanely. I hope this gets people thinking about aspects of this argument they might not have considered, and encourages people who might have already developed an opinion to perhaps re-examine it.

Significantly to me, The Emerald Forge was published on 12/12/12. This running joke started out with The Weatherman’s Niece on 10/10/10, mainly because the month and the day are the same, so people don’t get confused because of date-writing conventions, which vary internationally. Sadly, this is the last date of this format we’re likely to see in our lifetimes (the next will be 01/01/2101) so the joke ends with The Emerald Forge. As with the first book, I’d originally intended to include bonus material in the electronic version and had an idea for a piece of short fiction, but unfortunately there wasn’t time. The e-edition does have an ‘Easter egg’ not included in the paperback, though, and I may include more bonus material in a later updated edition.

I’m taking a break from this series for now to catch up on some other projects I write under different names. I hope to publish the third book in the Pilgrennon’s Children tetralogy, The Lambton Worm, some time in late 2014 or early 2015.

The first two books of the Pilgrennon’s Children series, Pilgrennon’s Beacon (978-0-9566080-2-4) and The Emerald Forge (978-0-9566080-7-9), are published by Tangentrine Ltd in paperback and electronic format.