Bruce Blake's Blog, page 15

Anjie Haarte: To Delete Or Not To Delete

A a writer, one of the most difficult tasks we have to perform is surgery. No, we are not removing the odd appendix in our spare time to pay for editing and covers (though that’s not a bad idea), but we are removing scenes that don’t contribute to the greater good of the novel. Most of the time, it’s more painful for us than it is for the novel. This week, author Anjie Haarte shares one of her deletions and why she decided to make the cut.

To Delete or not to Delete

I write by the seat of my pants. Hmmm, didn’t I say that already on this tour? Okay, I promise this post is not about that. Actually, it is about how that sort of writing leads to me using the delete button a lot. I wrote An Unexpected Desire a chapter a week for the story blog. Somewhere along the line, I ended up writing in a scene from “The Vow”, except the character didn’t lose her memory in a car accident; it was choked out of her. Yep, you read right, she was strangulated until oxygen no longer ran to her brain and she went into a coma that caused her to lose a period in her memory. Then she went back with her previous lover, which in that story was the one who used her to get up in her career. Then they whisked off to Trinidad and Tobago where they ended up in a fight that left the main character hanging from the balcony of a hotel on top of the cliff. Here is a look at a piece of that scene:

“Before Fiona realized it, she had been grabbed by her hair and wrenched into the room. She felt her body being swung from the door to the other end of the room as she cried out from the pain of her hair being pulled. Nyasha reached for the bedside lamp and headed towards Fiona who was standing a little way from the glass sliding door of the balcony.

“What are you going to do with that, electrify me?” Fiona asked as Nyasha threw the lamp at her. She ducked to avoid it and moved quickly out the way ending up in the doorway to the balcony. When she rose up she didn’t get enough time to react as Nyasha plunged at her and grabbed her by the neck forcing her to take steps backward. Soon her body was pressing against the rim of the balcony ledge as Nyasha tightened her grip on her throat. Fiona looked into Nyasha’s face and saw her eyes were red with fury and she gritted her teeth as she tried to channel all her strength into the act of strangling Fiona. Fiona reacted by kicking out her knee at Nyasha and in one movement Nyasha bent over to avoid the knee and gave Fiona one hard push against the chest that sent her over the balcony. Fiona quickly grabbed onto the ledge, screaming for her life as she did. Nyasha was thrown back into the balcony colliding into the furniture as Fiona was now hanging from the balcony, with only her fingers grabbing on to the edge.”

Why did I delete those scenes from the novel? Because I wanted it to be a romance novel and that just didn’t seem to fit into anymore. Yes, I went to Trinidad for a weekend and researched exactly where these characters would be staying and what moving around Trinidad is like. I also researched the condition that occurs when lack of oxygen in the brain causes one to lose their memory, it is called: Cerebral Hypoxia.

So, I continued to do my edits along the line of the romance novel, the two women meet, fall in love, deny it, a misunderstanding arise that cause them to face their feelings and in a few more words they are together. But, that doesn’t sit right with me. Sure I want it to be hot and steamy; I want it to show the romance between the characters but can I honestly live with deleting a scene that shows the true intentions of this character. The character continues to tell me that she isn’t the goody goody person I am writing about and that she has ulterior motives and I SHOULD NOT DELETE THEM. What am I to do?

The plot keeps feeling wrong, like it isn’t complete or interesting enough without that cliff hanger scene so I SHOULD NOT DELETE THEM.

So what do I end up doing? Do I delete the scenes because they don’t fall into what a romance novel is about? Or do I keep them and be true to the story?

I guess you’ll have to wait for the book to be released to find out.

Anjie Harrte: Romance with some Caribbean flavour

Anjie Harrte is a twenty nine year old mother of one who resides in sunny Guyana, South America. Sometime between running a small business, having a full-time job and being a mother and partner she finds time to pursue her passion for creating stories. Anjie dreams up stories of contemporary fiction splashed with some romance, a little dose of murder or an ounce of suspense and sometimes when no one is looking she dashes in a little twist. When she isn’t doing any of that, she is decorating a cake, knitting a chair back or sewing her latest design. Anjie even finds time to lurk around and stalk people and pages on facebook and you too can stalk her if you like at https://www.facebook.com/pages/Anjie-Harrte/  or you can follow her on twitter @anjieharrte or keep updated with her writing at http://authoranjieharrte.blogspot.com/

 

 

Crown of Ash by Steven Montano – Release Day!

Eric Cross and his team have been to hell and back, but their journey isn’t over yet.

Marooned in the remote criminal city of Blacksand, the only way for the mercenaries to get home is to help a local crime boss protect his territories from the Ebon Cities.

To complicate matters, Danica Black is also being hunted by The Revengers, a powerful band of corrupt prison wardens, while Cross himself is trapped in the Whisperlands, a realm of darkness controlled by a cadre of evil mages known as the Shadow Lords.

The team will battle their way through corroding wastelands and deadly vampire outposts, but even their considerable skills might not be enough to save them from the cruel machinations of the Shadow Lord’s mysterious master, a malevolent creature who has manipulated their destinies right from the beginning…

Return to the world of The Black in Book 4 of the BLOOD SKIES saga!

Crown of Ash is available on Amazon.com and Smashwords!

Catch up with the rest of the series on Amazon.com!

About the Author

Steven Montano is a full-time accountant and the author of the Blood Skies series.  He enjoys dark music, depressing cinema, cooking, hiking, and spending time with his crazy family.  He lives in Washington, where he desperately prepares for the vampire apocalypse.

Visit Steven’s official website, bloodskies.com

On Today’s Blog: The Ellie Mack Attack!

I’d like to welcome to the blog Ellie Mack, a terrific writer and all around good sport (something one needs to be to agree to an interview here…you’ll see). Let’s see what’s going on in Ellie’s world.

For my readers who might not have met you yet, tell us a little about yourself and your work, Ellie.

I was born a poor black child – no wait, that was Steve Martin. OK, that probably dated me now didn’t it?

Me, too. The Jerk is a classic. Seriously though, forget your lack of rhythm and tell us more about you.

Let’s see I have a BS in cartography/ geography. ( I studied rocks – they don’t bleed. Both my sisters are nurses and I’m needle-phobic.) Formerly I worked for the US Defense Department as a target analyst – don’t ask. I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.

I retired to start my second career as a mother. The first one paid well, but the second has some great benefits. Somewhere in there I decided to pursue my own dreams of writing. Shortly after I lost my mind, I think.  I’m currently a mortgage loan officer in my day job, world-changing author on the night shift, Lara Croft in my imagination.

I just celebrated my 27 th wedding anniversary. ( I was a child bride honestly *fingers crossed) I have two teenage daughters that are gorgeous. I’m a fabulous cook – do you think I’d look like this if I weren’t???

I write humor, romance, erotica, YA, and random things on my blog. I’m defying my age – it’s a lie, I can’t really be that old.

I think we are all older than we’d like to admit; I find it difficult to believe my son is about to turn 18. In preparing for our interview, I read the bio on your blog and you describe yourself as an all or nothing person of extremes. What’s the most extreme thing you’ve ever done?

Most extreme? I’d have to go with natural childbirth of a 9 pounder with no drugs. Yes, you heard me, no drugs. No epidural, just me and the pain. I was more afraid of the needles than the pain. It was a long, long labor, not some quick affair either. Twenty one hours of labor, three hours of pushing. I can’t think of anything else that compares. It’s also my reference point when I feel like wimping out on stuff. Like when I want to quit after ten minutes on the elliptical because it’s ‘too hard’. My Nazi muse kicks in yelling “Oh yeah? You want to quit? You wuss! Just for that you’re going an additional ten minutes added on to the 30.” I hate her at times.

Gulp. I’ve participated in births and just watching was almost too painful for me, the elliptical trainer should be nothing for you. But since you brought up exercise, and by connection, sports, here’s an important question every author should be asked:  You’ve been chosen captain of a 3 on 3 basketball team and you have to pick two writers for your team. Who do you choose and why?

First of all who in their right mind chooses a short curvy girl as captain? Hmmm, let’s see. If you’ve read my blog you may have read my interpretations of rules. Soooo . . .

I will choose Martin Reaves and Bruce Blake because well, you’re tall and athletic. We huddle, I tell you the plan. The whistle blows, shoes squeak on the polished floor. I lift my shirt flashing my boobs causing the other team to stare helplessly (Women have such power with these, it’s awesome!) as you and Martin race down court. You shoot, you score! Next play, the bend and snap as Martin goes in for the lay-up!

Two minutes left on the clock, I feign a trip, landing “helplessly” on the court in front of two of the other team’s players. My face flushed, breathing heavy, my chest heaving – You race in for the final basket – we win with two seconds left on the clock.

Women never play fair. We play to win!

I’ve got the height, but I’m only an average basketball player at best. I do like your game plan though; anything that involves bare breasts is alright in my book. Speaking of books: what book have you read that everyone else liked, that you should have liked, but didn’t? Why not?

Hmmm, good question. I don’t know if I can answer that one. I will say however that I’m not one to give into pressure for the latest book. Fifty Shades of Gray? Have no desire to read it. Fanfic gone horribly wrong. The author didn’t even get the BDSM right, from what I’ve heard anyway.

I did a whole series of posts on my blog pertaining to Harry Potter. Ironically, a simple statement that I’d never read it prompted many comments on the blog and my pm’s on Facebook telling me how ridiculous I was. I never read them. At the time I had other things to read, and was thoroughly involved in two series by my favorite authors. Harry was YA kids novels. I sort of missed that whole phenom there. Meanwhile, I was on the edge of my seat with Mackayla Lane and Jericho Barrons as well as following the MacKeltars. Also I was eagerly following Dirk Pitt and Al Giordino in their adventures. There’s only so much a girl can read, right? Oh, and there’s the abyss I fell into following Jamie Frazier and Claire’s antics through time.

If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t read Harry Potter either, but don’t tell your blog followers–I don’t want them posting nasty stuff over here. I have the same excuse for not reading them: there always seemed to be other things to read, and now that I’ve seen all the movies, I don’t feel the need…the need to read. It sounds like you do quite a bit of reading. If you were a character from any book you’ve read or written, who are you most like? Who would you most like to be?

LOL! You ask the tough questions, don’t you?

It’s why I get paid the big bucks.

Most like? I have no idea really. Possibly Georgia Nicholson grown up. My life is like a Carol Burnett show rerun. My comedic tales come from personal experience – seriously. I’m a walking stand up routine. I don’t know if any of your readers would even be interested in them but Louise Rennison has this series of books, all about Georgia Nicholson. The first one is Angus, Thongs, and full frontal snogging. They are YA books and are hysterical. I love humorous books.  

Who I would like to be? Lara Croft! I could kick butt and take names, without smudging my eyeliner or lippy, then find the treasure and save the day. Stop over in Paris for a quick lunch before the next hair-raising adventure.

Great! I recently saw there’s a movie version of Angus, Thongs and... on Netflix here in Canada. I’ll watch it with my daughter sometime. What’s your favourite piece you’ve written? Why?

To date, I’d have to say Kiss of the Dragon. It was one of those brilliant flashes of lightning inspirations. There are underlying things within it that I’m curious to see if readers will pick up on. You know, see if they can connect the dots. I tend to make elaborate plot twists. There are no straight rivers in my writer’s mind, but more like a bunch of meandering streams that eventually tie together into the main channel (geography reference there – I can’t help myself, it’s a geek thing.)

I love the characters, they just sort of showed up fully developed begging me to tell their story. Who was I to say no, right?

You write some pretty racy stuff over at Storytime Trysts. What does your family/people you know think about/feel about this?

My kids are under age. They are not allowed to read it. My sister-in-law, and three nieces were avidly following it and begging me for the completed book. I haven’t really shared that information with too many people outside of the writing community. I wrote that as a challenge to myself to improve – ahem – those scenes.

Did you read any of it? What did you think about it?

I read a little bit…it was really good, but I had to stop. I was sitting in a coffee shop at the time and it made me blush, and then it made me…well, stop. I was in the coffee shop because that’s where I like to write. Tell me about your writing habits. Do you have any particular place/times/rituals you engage in?

I get the hubs and kids off to work and school and get my second cup of coffee and fire up the computer. I turn on the computer, check my email, do my mlo job, then stare numbly at the screen for an hour or so. This is usually when I open Facebook. It’s not that I don’t have anything to write – I’m simply not a morning person. Sometime around 8 I go to the gym. By the time I’m back home at 10, I have sufficient blood flow and caffeine to be fully functional.

By 1030 I’m usually writing my blog, and/or my WIP, and/or my Storytime blog, and/or a nonfiction article. I’ve crashed my computer many times for having too many tabs open at one time. It’s an older computer and it’s cantankerous. It’s not broke yet so I still use it.

As to place – I do my best writing sitting in the floor with my laptop on my coffee table. It’s my actual work desk. When I’m sitting in the nice leather chair at the computer desk, you know a real official desk I feel like I should be all businessy, and don’t really tap into the creative parts of my brain.

I’ve also typed in bed, on the sofa, in the car, at the table, and done a lot of handwriting as well. I think best with pen and paper, but I’m learning to shift that to using Scrivener.

Who wouldn’t sacrifice this guy?

Rituals? Well, I take some candles, salt, my black robe, a chicken . . . no. The only ritual is coffee in the morning, my stack of handwritten notes beside me on the floor, tunes playing in the background or in my earbuds, and a stack of reference and research books on the table behind my laptop. Well sometimes I do burn candles, I like vanilla or the apple cinnamon ones.

 

Sounds like you’ve done it just about everywhere, Ellie (see the clever romance/erotica tie-in there?). I notice that you live in a town called Festus. I’m from the west coast, so I’ve never heard of it. What is Festus like?

Ever been to hell? Yeah, just outside of that past nowhere. Small town USA. I live across from a horse farm, I have to drive fifteen minutes to get to the grocery store. It’s scenic, rolling hills of the Ozark Plateau, normally lush green woods but we are currently in a drought. It’s located south of St. Louis ( I know, people are like Festus? Where in the world is Festus?) along the Mississippi River. I’ve been to the West Coast, it’s nicer. I’ve been to the East Coast, it’s nicer as well. Trust me the Mississippi river cannot compare to any ocean. Think redneck America and you’re getting close. Gee, is it obvious that I want to move from here?

Festus is an unusual name for a town. What is the strangest place name you’ve ever encountered?

Festus was originally called Tanglefoot. It was a one saloon town along the Camino Real back in the wagon days. The town was renamed because of bar fights and shootings – true story. They picked the name from the Bible. Festus was a Roman official.

Other strange names? There’s a town by Lake of the Ozarks called Roach. You have to wonder, do they have a bug problem or a weed problem? On the way to Panama City we drove past a town called Wank. That ones pretty funny! More locally there’s a little town – population like 500 called Ware. It’s on Y highway, just past lake Wen. Think about it, it will hit you in 5, 4, 3 . . yeah.

That’s a good one. The strangest I’ve heard is a place in the province of Alberta called Head Smashed-in Buffalo Jump. Gotta love those Albertans. Here’s a classic interview questions for you: You’re trapped on an island and you can have 3 non-writing items and one food item. What would they be?

Yummy

Mmm, chocolate. I’m a chocoholic myself. I once tried to stop eating it and made it about a month before my family performed an intervention. Apparently I was a little grumpy without it, so they baked me a big, rich chocolate cake with chocolate icing and made me eat it. That was a good day. If you could live one day of your life over and over again like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day, what day would it be? 

Honestly I’ve got no answer for this one. Can’t think of any day I’d want to live over and over. Possibly a few I’d like a do over, or like to undo. Oh wait, a day that I won a cash prize! I won $500.00 If I repeated that day over and over again, just think of the bank account I’d have after a year!

$500 would be good, but that chocolate cake would tempt me. Okay, last question then I’ll let you get back to writing: If you had the choice, would you rather be sucked dry by a vampire, have your brains eaten by zombies, or have a werewolf shred you to pieces? Why?

ROFLMAOTRDMF!!!

If the zombie ate my brains, then I would become a mindless zombie, without a brain. A stupid zombie. I’d rather be Alice. Alice kicks zombie butt. Can I choose Alice as an option?

Who’s the vampire? Is it Erik Northman? How long will he take to suck me dry? Can I set the time? Can I have him stretch it out over a very long time? Take just a little each day over say two, or three months? Is he going to make me a vamp or just kill me? You know in some vampire stories the vampires toy with their food like a cat before closing in for the kill. Maybe my vampire wants to keep me around for a while before the kill.

Werewolf – is it Alcide? If it’s Alcide I’ll choose this one. As long as I don’t end up looking like the female version of Werewolf in London, a decaying mess in my human form. How long is Alcide going to take to ravish, I mean tear me to shreds? At what point do I lose consciousness from the ravaging? Is it one of the werewolves from Underworld? How long before I transform? Will I gain superhuman strength like they do?

I could write some pretty heated scenes with these prompts, you know that? Can I use these?

 

Geez, I thought that was a question about choosing an unpleasant death, but it seems to have gotten you excited, Ellie. I think maybe the vampire/werewolf/zombie books I read and the ones you read may fall into different genres, despite their similarities. It’s the little differences that make us unique. When I think vampires, I think horror; you think sex. It’s probably a good thing it worked out that way…I don’t type well enough with one hand to write erotica.

Thanks so much to Ellie Mack for playing along. Ellie, you’re welcome to stop by and post anytime. And let me know whenever you’re up for some 3-on-3 basketball–I’d be happy to be on your team.

About Ellie Mack

Ellie Mack lives in a small town near St. Louis, Missouri. She graduated from Southeast Missouri State University with a BS in geography/cartography. She has worked for Department of Defense, county government, as a substitute teacher, and various other jobs. Her hobbies include reading, bicycling, playing Tombraider, and Dance games such as Dance Dance Revolution, and Zumba. Between being a mother to two teenage girls, a wife, homemaker, and a mortgage loan officer, Ellie writes paranormal romances.

Ellie’s first erotica piece is appearing on http://storytimetrysts.blogspot.com/

Ellie’s blog can be found at: http://quotidiandose.wordpress.com/2012/05/25/passion-2/

 

Guest Post: Doug Simpson

This week I am happy to welcome back to the blog Mr. Doug Simpson.

EDGAR CAYCE’S FIRST MIRACLE READING

 BY DOUG SIMPSON

This is the second article in a series of three articles about the early years when Edgar Cayce was uncovering and attempting to understand the unusual psychic abilities he had apparently been blessed with. If you have not previously read the first article, titled Edgar Cayce’s Earliest Psychic Readings, I respectfully recommend that you first read that article. It can be accessed on the website where you are now located.

After Edgar Cayce realized in 1901 that he could give medical readings, he proceeded with much reticence and caution because he truly did not understand how he was able to diagnose medical problems he had never heard of, after going into a self-directed hypnotic trance.  His primary concern was that he might harm or cause the death of some innocent person. Most of his earliest readings were for family members, friends, or residents of Edgar’s hometown of Hopkinsville, Kentucky, who had caught wind of his unusual, unexplained abilities. Approximately twenty-one months after Edgar had given his first psychic reading for his lost voice, he was put in contact with a well-to-do Hopkinsville resident by the name of Charles H. Dietrich, whose almost-six-year-old daughter Aime had regressed from being a bright two year old into a yet-undiagnosable state of arrested mental development and constant convulsions.

With the assistance of Al Layne, a Hopkinsville amateur hypnotist and unlicensed osteopath at the time, an initial reading and a few follow-up readings for fine tuning, were given to diagnose the cause of and remedy for Aime’s unexplained condition. The notes from these readings were retained by the Dietrich family but at some point in time they were lost or thrown out. Years later, after Edgar began retaining copies of his readings, he asked Charles Dietrich for a letter for his files outlining Aime’s medical problems and their resolution, and the grateful Charles responded with a detailed sworn affidavit, which has been carefully tucked away in the Edgar Cayce files since 1910.

REPORT OF READING 2473-1

R1. 10/8/10 Father’s affidavit:

Edgar Cayce Jr. [Letterhead] [DS: Edgar's father's name was Leslie, so he was not truly Jr.  Leslie had a brother named Edgar, and when the local post office got tired of delivering mail to the wrong Edgar, Edgar inherited the Jr. notation to keep the post office happy.] Psychic Diagnostician

Hopkinsville, Ky.

Cincinnati, Ohio

State of Ohio

Hamilton County S.S.

Personally appeared before, Gerrit J. Raidt, a notary public in and for said county, C. H. Dietrich, and after being duly sworn, deposes and says that:-

Aime L. Dietrich, born January, 7th, 1897, at Hopkinsville, Ky., was perfectly strong and healthy until Feb.1899, when she had an attack of La Grippe, followed by two violent convulsions, each of twenty minutes duration. Dr. T. G. Yates, now of Pensacola, Florida, was the attending physician. Convulsions returned, at irregular intervals, with increasing severity. She would fall just like she was shot, her body would become perfectly rigid, the spells lasting from one to two minutes.

This went on for two years, or until she was four years old. At this time, she was taken to Dr. Linthicum in Evansville, Indiana, and Dr. Walker, also of Evansville, was consultant physician. They said a very peculiar type of nervousness was all that ailed her and proceeded to treat her accordingly, but after several months treatment, with no results, the treatment was stopped.

In a few months, Dr. Oldham [D.O.] of Hopkinsville, Ky. was consulted and he treated her three months, without results. Later he took her for four months more treatment, making seven months in all, but without results. She was now six years old and getting worse, had as many as twenty convulsions in one day, her mind was a blank, all reasoning power was entirely gone.

March 1st, 1902, she was taken to Dr. Hoppe of Cincinnati, O., who made a most thorough examination. He pronounced her a perfect specimen physically, except for the brain affection, concerning which he stated that only nine cases of this peculiar type were reported in Medical Records, and every one of these had proved fatal. He told us that nothing could be done, except to give her good care, as her case was hopeless and she would die soon in one of these attacks. At this period our attention was called to Mr. Edgar Cayce, who was asked to diagnose the case. By auto-suggestion, he went into a sleep or trance and diagnosed her case as one of congestion at base of the brain, stating also minor details. He outlined to Dr. A. C. Layne [Al C. Layne, D.O.], now of Griffin, Ga., how to proceed to cure her. Dr. Layne treated her accordingly, every day for three weeks, using Mr. Cayce occasionally to follow up the treatment, as results developed. Her mind began to clear up about the eighth day and within three months she was in perfect health, and is so to this day. This case can be verified by many of the best citizens of Hopkinsville, Ky. And further deponent, saith not.

Signed- C. H. Dietrich

Sworn to and subscribed before me, on this eighth day of October, A.D. 1910

Gerrit J. Raidt, Notary Public, Hamilton Co., O.

It would be a gross understatement to say that the Dietrichs were thrilled, not beyond words, but rather into a state of everlasting praise for the talents of one Mr. Edgar Cayce, Jr.   Mrs. Dietrich went to the local press with her story, and Edgar’s fame spread far beyond the Hopkinsville area.  Aime went on to graduate from college at the top of her class.

Edgar would never forget the Aime Dietrich case, and it did wonders for his faith in his mysterious talents.

Doug Simpson is a retired high school teacher who has turned his talents to writing. His first novel, a spiritual mystery titled Soul Awakening, was published in the United States in October of 2011, by Book Locker. Check it out at http://booklocker.com/books/5754.html . It is available in print and eBook format through most book stores. His magazine and website articles have been published in 2010 to 2012 in Australia, Canada, France, India, South Africa, the United Kingdom, and the United States. His website is at http://dousimp.mnsi.net .

© Doug Simpson 2010.

Edgar Cayce Readings © 1971, 1993-2009 by the Edgar Cayce Foundation.  Used by Permission, All Rights Reserved.

 

 

99 Cents? $2.99? More?

That’s not me, but it is my car.

I’ve been doing a little research over the last couple of weeks, using myself as the guinea pig (apologies to out of work guinea pigs everywhere).

It began on July 19 when I made my urban/dark fantasy novel On Unfaithful Wings free through the KDP Select program for three days. This isn’t the first time I’ve done this; in fact, it’s the third. I’ve had pretty fair success with the select program, with each yielding an average of about 9000 free downloads, bit this time, there were two things different.

#1 – I released the second book in the Icarus Fell series, All Who Wander Are Lost, a couple of days before.

#2 – I put both books on sale for 99 cents for the remainder of the month after the promotion.

In the ten days following the promotion, I sold a total of 312 books between the two titles, easily my best month as an indie author. On Unfaithful Wings rose as high as #2 in the dark fantasy category, briefly hit the top 100 in contemporary fantasy, and made in appearance in the mid-4000s overall on Kindle. All Who Wander also sold well, but I don’t have ranking stats as it was fresh out of the box and hadn’t settled into its categories yet.

As those of you who have published to Kindle likely know, at any price point under $2.99, the royalty rate drops to 35%, meaning each sale was worth about 30 cents to me after delivery costs were deducted. 312 sales at 30 cents royalty on each works out to $93.60 in earnings.

I held off sending my letter of resignation to my day-job boss.

On August 1, I put the price of each book back to their normal level ($2.99 for Unfaithful, $3.99 for Wander), which bumps the royalty rate back to 70%.   In the first ten days of the month, the two books have sold 56 copies combined (I have left any borrows of Unfaithful under KDP’s prime lending program out of all figurings). At a royalty of $2.07 for each $2.99 title sold and $2.71 for each $3.99 title, total earnings in the first ten days are $138.96.  To make the same at the 99 cent price point, I would have had to sell 438 copies.

So here’s the give and take of it all: at the higher price point, I’m making more money, but my rankings are dropping.  At the lower price point, I was  making less, but my books were more visible. So which makes more sense? Earnings or exposure?

There are, of course, some unanswered questions: did putting the price up slow sales, or is that an inevitable eventuality of running a free promo? As my rankings dip at the higher price point, will sales continue to be enough that the 70% royalty rate keeps me earning more than the lower price point would have? And the big question: if I didn’t drop the prices after the promo, what would sales have been like?

I don’t have answers to the questions (if you do, feel free to comment below), but I am willing to further experiment. I’ll be doing another free promo on August 24 and 25. This time, I won’t ne adjusting the priciing post-promo, so we’ll see if there is a difference in sales after. Keep your eye open here for results 10 days later.

An Excerpt from Catrina Taylor’s Birth of an Empire: The Beginning

One of the great pleasures in doing this blog tour has been not only getting to know other writers, but getting to experience their work. Today, Catrina Taylor is kind enough to share an excerpt from her novel Birth of An Empire: The Beginning. Enjoy!

 

I want to thank the talented Mr. Blake for hosting this excerpt of my novel today. I also want to take this time to thank you, for taking a moment to read what comes after my note. As is the case for every author I know, Xarrok is like one of my children, and giving birth was an incredible joy. It has been an indescribable adventure alongside active and lively characters, in a universe of intense struggle. It has been fun to write. In this excerpt you’ll get to meet one of the two main characters of the Birth of an Empire series, in his native environment – battle. He is leading his team into the heart of a Ven attack and doing so with his typical recklessness. It will be exciting to hear your thoughts on the excerpt.

~Catrina Taylor~

Creator of Xarrok

Find her at

http://xarrok.com or on facebook at http://facebook.com/xarrok

Birth of an Empire: The Beginning – Chapter 2

Yatrell woke up to a sharp searing pain in his mind. Alarms were sounding loudly around him. Angrily he muttered, “Ven.” He reached under his pillow and pulled out his weapon. Without taking time to dress, he entered the minds of those under his command to ascertain where they were. Most were also just waking. He projected to them, ~I am being telepathically attacked. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to communicate this way. Assemble in the common area, now. Pietro not uniform, just the weapon.~ Quickly he moved to the common area, wearing only shorts, t-shirt, a holster and he carried his weapon in hand. He was surprised that he had no resistance, aside from the clear telepathic attack. As he waited for his team he took note of the rattling of the ship and then the sudden but brief quiet before the relocator transportation lights started appearing all over.  He yelled loudly, “We’re being boarded. Get here now!”

Anara was next into the common area. She wore her uniform pants and a tank top. She had two small projectile weapons in hand, one directed energy weapon in a holster on her hip and an assortment of small bladed weapons strapped to her. Standing nearly at Yatrell’s height, she was intimidating to anyone standing against her.

“You slept with those on didn’t you?” He grinned and gestured to her arm where one of the bladed weapons was strapped.

“Yep. Well, some of them. Can’t be too prepared.” She turned and saw three more of their team coming into the common area. “So we’re waiting on Pietro?”

A tall man with sandy color hair and hazel eyes nodded, “Yea, the kid isn’t getting how fast he has to move.” A relocator light appeared right in front of the man, who quickly drew his projectile and fired as soon as the Ven appeared solid. The head of the smaller alien splattered across a table behind him. “One.”

Anara shook her head, “Canith, you’ve got a long way to go to catch up.” The men in the room chuckled, knowing they hadn’t kept pace with her in several of the last number of battles. She turned to Yatrell in a serious tone, “We can’t wait for the kid. We need to move out.” Quickly, she switched one projectile for the energy weapon in her holster.

Yatrell nodded, “You’re right. You take these guys and head toward the armory. I’ll get the kid and we’ll meet you there. Make sure you collect as many of our people as you can on the way. Get them armed and ready to return the gesture.” One of the men started to speak up regarding the order, but Yatrell just glared at him and he thought the better of it.

Anara nodded and gestured for the team to follow her out of the room. As she moved with the other three out of the common area, another relocator light appeared. This time it was wider than the previous, relocating multiple Ven into their path. She stood with an energy weapon in one hand and a projectile in the other. She smiled as seconds later she took out two of the Ven. “Two.” She looked over her shoulder as her team took out the rest. “Good. Time to clean house. Let’s move.”

Yatrell heard the noise but turned away from where his team exited and toward the quarters section. He knew if he didn’t retrieve the kid, Pietro might not handle his first battle on their ship. As he moved through the halls, the power cut out. Everything remained dark for several seconds before a relocator light appeared in front of him. As the Ven man appeared inches in front of Yatrell, he was prepared. Yatrell reached out and clutched the throat of the Ven, then shoved him up against the bulkhead behind him. The Ven struggled and Yatrell gripped harder, taking the much shorter man off his feet. Yatrell tried to focus in an effort to read him, but he couldn’t get through the psionic block. The searing pain in his head forced him to relent. In response to this growing and intensely painful headache he took pleasure in watching the Ven invader gasp for his last breath.

He dropped the body and stepped over it, continuing toward Pietro’s quarters. As he walked, the halls became illuminated by a dull red light from the emergency systems. When he was only steps from Pietro’s door, the ship shuddered again and then everything near him went silent. More focused than before, he quickly found himself outside the young man’s quarters. Through the silence around him, he heard the fight inside Pietro’s room. Yatrell reacted. Quickly he input his override codes and enter the room. Upon doing so, he looked at the young man pinned beneath a Ven woman. She had a dagger to his throat. Yatrell growled, “Get away from him.” The woman sneered, looked Yatrell right in the eye as she slit the teen’s throat.

Pietro made one last kick, pushing the Ven woman off him. He then stumbled for two or three paces before collapsing, blood pouring out of his neck and coating the floor.

Yatrell looked at Pietro, unable to help him as he took his last gurgled attempt for air. The Ven woman then jumped on Yatrell, pushing him back into the hall, hard against the wall. With a dagger stuck in his abdomen he glared at her, “Ven bitch.”

The female soldier leaned against him and with furious intensity she growled, “The weak will serve us or they will die.” She twisted the dagger as she spoke. “You, I like dead.”

With a grunt, Yatrell shoved her off him. In one motion he yanked the dagger from his side and threw it at her. The blade pinned her to the wall through her arm. As she struggled to break free, Yatrell walked up to her and stood inches from her face, “You like to attack children do you?” Before the woman could speak again, he pulled his own weapon from his side and fired at her, leaving a sizable hole in her body.  He took pleasure in the moment she slumped over and died.

Seconds later another bright light formed nearby and deposited two Ven men at his side. Before Yatrell could react, one man attacked him. He was pushed to the ground with a thud. Stunned for a moment the Ven soldiers began to pummel him. Angrily, Yatrell reached up and dislodged a small band around one of the Ven’s head. The intensity of the telepathic attack lessened just enough for him to notice. “So that’s how you do it.” A smug expression quirked at the corners of his mouth, before he pushed the soldier off of him. The second Ven soldier growled something about his mate being pinned to the wall, then punched Yatrell between his kidneys almost stopping his lesser heart. Flinching from the impact, Yatrell ripped the band from his head and pushed him toward the woman’s body. As he rid himself of the second Ven attacker, the first grasped him from behind and lifted him over his head, dropping Yatrell backwards onto the deck hard. The second man then jumped on Yatrell with his mate’s dagger in hand and tried to force it into the Dentonian’s chest. Yatrell pushed the man’s hands back and countered with a punch and twist that moved the man into his teammate. Both Ven toppled to the ground. In that moment, Yatrell moved quickly to recover his own weapon. The Ven regained their footing in time for Yatrell to pull the trigger of his firearm and kill the second Ven soldier, before turning on the first and doing the same.

Without another thought, Yatrell moved to his feet again and started toward the armory. He encountered several more Ven along the way, but made it with almost no further injury. When he entered the armory there was a cluster of Dentonian forces retrieving weapons and assignments from the Captain. Yatrell approached asking the Captain, “What’s next?”

Before looking at Yatrell the Captain began, “Take Gamma and Kappa teams to protect the Engineers restoring the coil reactor. The systems outside engineering will remain offline as long as we don’t have full power. We need the coil reactor back online to take out those ships.” He turned to hand Yatrell a fresh weapon and then paused when he looked at him, “Man! You look like you engaged Turaant Level Ven alone.”

He shrugged, “Who knows, maybe I did. It’s not like they mark their ranks clearly or something.” Then before the Captain could respond further, Yatrell walked off to meet with his team. When he found Anara and the others locking their weapons into active cycles, he ordered Canith to get Kappa team together. Without hesitation, Canith moved off to assemble Kappa team. Yatrell turned to Anara explaining, “We won’t have much time to move. They are appearing everywhere, as expected. They have no discretion.” He ran through his fresh weapon and waited for the assigned reinforcements.

Anara looked at him for a moment. She noticed how his blood and sweat drenched shirt clung to his side. She hesitated before speaking, “Pietro didn’t make it?”

“No.” Yatrell took his assigned weapons and ranking vest from Set, his third, and looked back at Anara, “I’m fine Lieutenant. It’s just a flesh wound and the bleeding has stopped.” His attention turned to Canith when he approached with Kappa team. “Good. Let’s go. We need to move fast. There is no telling what will come at us.” He pulled the vest over his chest, covering the dagger wound but not before the Kappa team leader noticed.

“Yatrell, you can’t lead with that wound. I’ll get them down there, you go to medical.” The Kappa team leader, Masterson, stepped forward and Lieutenant Cree stopped him by placing her hand on his chest. He stared at her with disdain, but she didn’t move.

Yatrell snapped his eyes to the other Lieutenant Commander and in a tersely he spoke, “You will remember your orders, Lieutenant Commander.” He fastened the vest, strapped his weapons into place and put his small gun into a holster. “Let’s move out.” Both teams fell into rank and position behind him as they left the armory. They moved swiftly through the halls onto a mobile lift, killing every Ven soldier that appeared in their path. Once on the lift they readied their weapons, expecting engineering to be under siege as is typical of a Ven attack. The combined Dentonian team had operated as a strike team before, usually out ahead of the main wave.  This time they were moving into the heart of the battle, without back up. The intensity was clear on each of their faces.

The corridor the Dentonian teams had to cross was the widest on the ship. It was large enough to allow significant portions of the ship’s engines to come on board already assembled. Now, instead of engine parts, it was Ven soldiers that cluttered the corridor. Instead of large silver and black components being hovered over by engineers, it was short aggressive soldiers seeking technology and subordinates. Lieutenant Commander Jae and his team had no intention of allowing the Ven success.

Before they got off the lift, Yatrell stopped it and spoke to his team, “The themis grenades are the fastest choice. Don’t hesitate with them. We already know what they will do and we need to answer in kind.”

The other Lieutenant Commander scowled at him, “What are you talking about? We can’t use those in close quarters or on this ship! If we have one missed toss, we’re done.”

Canith and Set began to prepare their grenades when Anara spoke up, “It should clear them fast.” Then she began to count and prepare her own.  “Set your counts to milliseconds.”

“We don’t have options, Masterson. At best, you’re looking at a hundred of those creatures outside that door. There are eight of us. You tell me what other choice we have and I’ll take it, but I can’t think of one.” Lieutenant Commander Jae spoke with a firm tone and prepared the two grenades he had on him.  Lieutenant Commander Masterson remained silent and readied his primary firearm.

The defense team stepped out of the lift and into the vast engineering corridor.  The eight man team was staring at the backs of more Ven than any of them wanted to count. Masterson stepped forward and knelt out of the way of those behind him. Anara threw the first grenade well over the Lieutenant Commander’s head.  It bounced and rolled through the feet of the Ven crowd.  She whispered, “And…” A moment later a flash of light was followed by the sound of bodies being singed and a small handful of Ven evaporated into tiny specks of dust before finally disappearing into the air.

Once the first grenade went off, all of the nearby enemy soldiers turned and opened fire on the small strike team. Materson, already in position, began firing and cutting down the numbers while the rest of the team threw their grenades and slipped back into the lift for cover. Quickly the Ven numbers thinned out. By the time the Dentonian force ran out of themis grenades, they could see gaps in the crowd before them.

The command came loudly, “Close the door.” Yatrell continued to fire at the Ven as his team fell deeper into the lift and the doors slid shut. Once everyone was inside the lift he grinned. “I think that went well.” He gestured to Anara, the smallest in the group, “I’ll lift you through the hatch. To the left is one of the maintenance tubes. Climb in there and move along the sides. Every opening, drop or throw another grenade. It doesn’t matter what kind.” He looked at the rest of the team with him, “Set, Canith and Seth go with her.” Yatrell began to lift them up and out of the lift’s hatch.

“That side ends before engineering.” Masterson spoke up as he looked at his team. “Everyone’s already thrown at least one theimis and we don’t have an inexhaustible supply.”

“No we don’t, but there are other weapons on all of us that can be used, along the openings.” Yatrell chuckled, “Anara alone is a walking arsenal.” He gestured to his second in command and the numerous weapons she carried. “They will drop and make a run for the door. We’re going to clear the way.” Set was the last from the first group out of the lift and into the tube.

“How? You can’t put four people out against a hundred, or however many are left after the assault.” Masterson asked with frustration evident.

“I have no intention to. You and your team are going into the other tunnel. It’s ventilation and, like the maintenance tube, it has a few openings. It’s also a bit larger. Should make moving easier. You can repeat the same process and help to clear the distance between here and engineering. Yes, you’ll have to drop out, but that drops out much closer than the other tunnel.”

Lieutenant Commander Masterson nodded to his team, who were already preparing to climb out of the lift, “What are you going to do?”

“What I normally do. Something unexpected.” Yatrell grinned. When the banging on the door began he started to help the other group out of the lift and Masterson turned and reached down for Yatrell’s arms and helped him out of the lift as well. Yatrell began removing the various grenades he had on him and activating the ones set on a timer before dropping them into the lift.  “We won’t be using this one for a while after this.” Masterson followed his team into the ventilation tunnel on the other side of the shaft. Yatrell looked up, “I’ll see you in engineering.” The men nodded to each other before Masterson disappeared into the system and Yatrell began to climb, fast.  One deck up and he got out of the lift shaft. Just as the door closed behind him, the explosion from the lift rattled the deck and door enough to knock Yatrell from his feet.

Dazed but able to stand, Yatrell quickly tried to reach out to the teams telepathically, to make sure they were alright. Instead of reaching them, he was greeted by an intense and debilitating pain. He stood and staggered for several steps before he pushed through the pain.  He moved down the now empty hall and stepped passed two Dentonian bodies. The man that was face up was someone he was familiar with and he found himself mumbling, “Rix.” He remained diligently aware of his surroundings, expecting to see a Ven relocation light. Nothing came as he made his way to the small arsenal in the deck’s weapons locker.  Quickly, he pulled out a small bag designed to attach to his belt and filled it with two different grenade types. He then grabbed the other armaments that he could strap to himself. He moved to the end of the hall, stepped into a vertical maintenance shaft, and he climbed down. As he passed the maintenance tube between decks he could hardly hear his people, so he moved faster.

At the bottom rung he pulled one of the themis grenades out of the pouch and set the timer, but didn’t activate it. Then he pulled another out and jumped down the last half length.  He turned and found himself not two lengths from the nearest Ven. Four stood in front of him, each with a cocky grin on their face. He tossed the first grenade toward them and they scattered. He then activated the other and threw it not far from the base of the ladder and climbed fast back up it. He took a laser blast to his leg and projectile to his vest, but climbed no slower. By the time he reached the top the second grenade exploded, clearing his path below.  He made his way back down the ladder and onto the engineering deck.

Lieutenant Commander Jae looked to his right when he heard a clatter to the ground. Masterson and his team were about to emerge from the tunnel before Anara and her team. “Masterson, get everyone into engineering.” Then, Yatrell turned toward the other tunnel one last time, still not seeing the side open. “I’m going to draw their fire.”  Without further thought, he moved in the path of the weapons’ fire. As he did, he tossed another themis in one direction and bowled over one of the larger Ven soldiers near the opening. Quickly he pinned the solider and slammed his fist hard into the Ven’s face. Hearing it crack he reached for the Ven weapon and turned it on the crowd, rapidly closing in.  The beam streamed through one Ven body and pierced the ones behind him as well. As he fired several fell with a single shot. When it warmed in his hand, he tossed it at the oncoming attackers. Feeling a hard crack between his shoulder blades, Yatrell leaned forward and yanked the band from the head of the Ven he had pinned.  As he did, he noticed the Ven bleed down the sides of his head.

Then, Yatrell looked up at the crowd of weapons facing him.  Without a thought, he grabbed the nearest Ven energy weapon and played with the settings. One Ven woman kicked him hard while he did. He was pushed off of the Ven he pinned as the energy weapon made a high pitched whine. Suddenly, the Ven moved away from him and as far back as they could. All of the Ven moved, except the one he had previously pinned to the ground. Quickly Yatrell shoved the weapon through the abdomen of the solider and took off for the engineering door, just seconds after his team made it in.  The explosion shook the floor beneath them and Yatrell commented, “Someone is going to hate me tomorrow, for that.”

The Dentonian defense team didn’t waste a moment. They moved together and took advantage of the short window Yatrell had bought them.

The lead engineer smirked when he noted who it was leading the defense team into his section, “Well, if it isn’t Lieutenant Commander Jae. Welcome to the engineering core and coil repository. Now get your sorry backsides all the way in here and take up defense. We need to get this online already.”

“Aye sir.” Yatrell chuckled . In unified movements, the team took up positions around the engineering door and began to hold off the invaders as the onslaught began again. When he stood in position, his back against the half wall, he was able to get a clear view of the entrance. With his focus on the Ven trying to push into engineering, he called to the engineering Commander, “How long will this take?”

The commanding engineer called back to Yatrell, “Ten minutes if we can focus and not have to kill something.”

“Understood.” Yatrell then fired, killing another of the Ven soldiers as they attempted to push their way into the section, “Let’s hold ‘em off. Engineers need ten and then we play clean up.” The team fiercely held the door, keeping the Ven out of engineering.

After a few minutes, the engineers announced that the coils were charging. Hearing this motivated the defense team to start to push out of engineering.  As the room filled with a sharp, high pitched whine, the Ven began to fall back. Shortly thereafter the lights came on and power returned throughout the ship. The ship shuddered hard and lurched forward then backward again as the weapon fired. When the ship stuttered and shifted it sent Yatrell over the railing and onto the deck below him. He landed with a thud loud enough to make his team fall back to his previous position. Stunned he blinked and stared up at the coil as it returned to a normal functioning state. From his back he watched the coils start to turn and light up again, and the engineers on that level moved toward him.

Anara looked over the side and called down, “Ah… You ok down there?”

After several moments Yatrell realized he was spoken to and called up, “Uhmm… I think so.” And then the room went black.

Joseph Eastwood: Plotter or a Pantser? Choose Your Side!

In the world of writing, we authors try to break ourselves down into two groups, perhaps in case there is some sort of war, that way we will know who’s on whose side. The categories are plotter and pantser. A plotter is a writer who maps out their story, knowing where it will go every step of the way. A pantser is one who, perhaps with no more than a vague idea, sits down and writes to see where the characters and the germination of an idea will take them. I am somewhere in the middle, kind of like Switzerland, but let’s find out where my guest, Joseph Eastwood–author of Lumen, the first book in the Blood Luminary series–slots himself in when the big battle begins.

Plotter or Pantser?

I am a plotter. I love to plot and plan my stories. I also have schedules, and if I miss it then it screws up my whole day and throws everything out of sync. I cannot pants at anything, and although sometimes I try when I do my flash fiction pieces, I just can’t, I also plan them to an extent, and I always have to know where it’s going or where it’s got to get to.

I think that pantsing is a great skill, I think it means that you can make mistakes, and look back and think, well, thank goodness I didn’t plan any of that, and it’s even better if it’s good, because you’re just like “yeah, it was all spur of the moment writing,” and so you feel better.

I’d like to think that I wasn’t the only person who felt like they could do with a little bit of both in their life. Pantsing has its pros, it also has its cons, and the same goes for plotting. A pantser might write a book in 20 days, especially if they’re just reeling it all off and trying to make as much sense on page as it does in their head. This can be a bad thing especially when they give it a read through and realise that there are some plot holes and errors. Now, with plotting, you do just that, you plot, and you try and stop holes in the plot from occurring before they work their way into the book.

So I guess what I’m saying is that I would like the spontaneity of a pantser, and if I had that, mixed with my already overplotting self, I figure that I could get more work done. As one of the cons to plotting is how time consuming, well, how consuming in general plotting can be, not only to time, but also just to yourself, I find myself waking up in the middle of the night and I have ideas that need to be written down and need to be put into my story in one way or another. A pantser may get the same urge especially when they’re in the midst of a huge write, because being a writer isn’t a hobby, it’s actually the most consuming thing ever.

Is it strange that I’m a plotter with dreams of one day possessing some of the skills of a pantser?

Are you a plotter or a panter? Or the same as me? Or the opposite?

 

About Joseph

Joseph Eastwood is the eldest of five siblings. He lives and grew up in Lancaster, England, where he also attends the University of Cumbria, studying English Literature and Creative Writing.

He has always had a giant creative connection in his life, from drawing and writing to having an eclectic taste in music and reading a wide range of books, which he hopes reflects in his own writing. He also loves watching sci-fi, supernatural and fantasy based TV shows and films. Among some of his favourites are Supernatural, The Vampire Diaries and True Blood. As well as those he loves dramas, like The Good Wife and Desperate Housewives.

Joseph is either busy doing edits and writing or trying to get some university work done. He lives for creativity, striving to be different and thinking up new hoops for his characters to jump through.

Links

http://www.josepheastwood.com/ – Blog

https://www.facebook.com/josephswriting – Facebook page

https://twitter.com/#!/Joe_Eastwood – Twitter

About Lumen

Lumen is the first in the four-part Blood Luminary series following the characters, Daniel Satoria, Jac Lister and Mia Crosgrove.

Daniel, like all other adolescents on Templar Island is going through the final transition that will allow him to manipulate the bonds of energy and do more than just tamper with his own biological form. 

After a near-death experience he is accepted into Croft’s Academy, the only private school on the island and for someone like Daniel to gain access to such teaching is a privilege, and they won’t let him forget it. He tries to fit in, but that’s when things take a turn for the worst, and everything he once knew can’t be possible any more. He doesn’t know who to trust or what to believe.

 

SOON TO BE RELEASED!

Add to Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13219801-lumen

Baggage – a Guest Post by Linda Bolton

My wife, like most women, has a purse. She carries it with her every where she goes and, over time, things collect in it: receipts, tissues, mints from a restaurant visit, business cards, etc. Once in a while, she empties it (usually on the dining room table), purging it of the things she no longer needs. Our lives are very much the same; things collect, we carry them with us. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could empty it out on the dining room table sometimes and get rid of the things we no longer need?
Linda Bolton guests this week.

Baggage

One of the greatest challenges I have found in dating over forty is the baggage everyone carries with them. How does your baggage affect your life and choices?

You might be thinking to yourself, “I don’t have any baggage” or “My baggage isn’t affecting my dating life”. Are you lying to yourself? Of course you are! We all have baggage. It directly reflects the choices we make in our relationships. Think about it…How many times do you compare someone to your past relationships? How many times does a response you make to a situation remind you of ‘old times’? Is your baggage holding you back? Is fear of repeating the past keeping you from going forward? How do we get out of this rut?

I know I have been asked many times what do I want…out of life, in a relationship, for my future. I always look back and compare it to my past. This is what I don’t want, this is what I’d like to have, etc. How particular am I? Do I honestly know what I want? Are my decisions based on my baggage?

I have a dear friend who loves telling allegories:

You’re standing on a river bank. The water is rushing past you. A bear is coming to eat you. You can’t swim, but there’s a floatie on the bank. It’s not a new floatie. It has a few patches but looks sturdy. Which do you choose? The bear (fear of the future) or the raging river (life and a future) with a slightly used floatie (a friend) to assist you?
You may think the answer is obvious but if you have very heavy baggage from your past the choice may be difficult to make. Do you trust the floatie to get you through? Have you ever had a floatie you can depend on? Or do yo let the bear eat you to avoid a possibility of drowning? What if the floatie is exactly what you needed and the ride down the river ends up being fun? Which do you choose? The choice is yours.


Linda Bolton is an aspiring contemporary romance writer.  She is looking for a publisher for her first book, Perfect.  While working on a future projects Linda can be found:
On Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/linda.bowersbolton
and http://www.facebook.com/lindaboltonauthor
On Twitter at http://www.twitter.com/#!/lindalou42 
Her romance blog at http://www.lindabolton.blogspot.com

An Excerpt From: All Who Wander Are Lost

To mark the release of All Who Wander Are Lost, the second book in my Icarus Fell series, I will be offering the new book for only $0.99 until July 31. For anyone who can’t afford it, or wants to be sure it is worthwhile to spend that much on a book, here’s a sneak peek of what to expect.

Despite the footsteps I’d heard, Marty and Todd stood only a few paces behind the murderous priest. They looked like overweight dancers from the set of Michael Jackson’s Thriller video, with decaying flesh hanging from their cheeks and pus oozing out of more places than my stomach could bear counting.

“Hey guys, looking good.”

I went to stand but Father Dominic planted his foot squarely in my gut. Air whooshed out of my chest and I crumpled to the ground gasping for breath. Marty made his angry face and took a couple of steps forward like he wanted to add his size twelve to my midsection but the priest extended an arm to hold him back. I’d rarely felt thankful for anything that bastard did, but I extended him the courtesy this time, though I wouldn’t have told him so, even if I possessed the ability to speak.

“Leave him,” Father Dominic grated. “I had you bring him so I could make him pay for what he’s done.”

To put an exclamation point on his words, he kicked me again. The sliver of thankfulness I’d felt melted back into the pool of hatred I carried in my belly for the man. I promised to get back at him by groaning and drooling on myself.

Marty backed off a step and the three of them stood staring at me like I was some sideshow attraction at the local freak show. Slowly, I unfolded myself from the fetal position the priest’s kicks put me in and clawed my way to kneeling while remaining wary of Father Dominic’s feet. This wasn’t the first time he’d kicked me—that distinction dated back to my childhood and had been renewed a few months ago—but I was determined to see it afforded a good chance of being the last.

While I was distracted watching for kicks, he reached out, grabbed the front of my shirt with both grubby hands, and hauled me to my feet. He stood a few inches shorter than me but still lifted me high enough the toes of my shoes scraped the ground.

“It seems like you’re still upset with me, Father.”

In answer, he shook me and showed his teeth.

“It’s not my fault. I didn’t make you kill anyone.”

“If you’d taken my soul like you were supposed to, none of this would have happened.”

His statement was a finger-poke to an open wound. If I’d done my stupid job, he wouldn’t be here, Beth, Tony and the others wouldn’t have been here, and neither would I.

Neither would Trevor.

The priest glanced over his shoulder at his two disheveled minions lurking behind him.

“Go find something else to do. Leave Icarus to me.”

“Ric. I really prefer you call me Ric.”

He shook me hard, rattling my back teeth together and leaving me a little dazed. As my eyeballs settled themselves back into place, I watched Marty and Todd slouching away. I raised my hand and waved bye-bye, but they weren’t looking.

Father Dominic lowered my feet back to the ground and pulled my face close to his, then opened his mouth to speak. His breath smelled like Hell. I clenched my teeth and pulled my face back in readiness for his tirade, or perhaps a head butt to the face.

“Take me back.”

I blinked twice rapidly and shook my head to clear it. Instead of swearing, cursing, calling me names or verbally degrading me, I thought I’d heard him say ‘take me back.’

“What?”

“I know why you’re here.”

“Wish I could say the same thing.”

“You’re here to rescue souls sent to Hell because of you. I’m one of those souls. Take me back.”

His grip on my shirt front loosened and he backed away a couple of steps. The expression on his face changed from leering menace to a look of desperation, longing.

“After everything you did to me, I’m supposed to be your salvation?”

For a second, he looked like I’d punched him. For years, I’d often wished I had, but I resisted the urge—it seemed like there might be better ways to hurt him right now.

“This could be your own salvation, Icarus.”

He added a sibilance to the last letter of my name, highlighting the fact that he refused to call me Ric—one more reason to leave the bastard rotting away in Hell, like he deserved. I didn’t regret letting Azrael take his soul because of what it meant to him, only because it caused harm to others.

I stepped closer, feeling like I possessed the power now. I had what he wanted.

“Forget it. You got what you deserved.”

“Icarus. Please.”

He grasped the front of my shirt again, but this time with no violence in the action, only pleading.

“You have to take me to Heaven.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Please.”

He released my shirt and sank to his knees looking up at me, clenched hands held in front of his chest.

Begging.

I suppressed a smile.

“Please take me.”

I made a show of rubbing my chin, considering my options. I shifted from one foot to the other, scratched my head, then went back to my chin again.

“Heaven, huh?”

“Yes, please.”

“And you think you deserve to go to Heaven?”

“I am God’s servant.”

“And God’s servant kills people?”

“That wasn’t my fault.”

He looked over his shoulder like a man expecting someone behind him, listening in. I glanced around, too, but there was nothing but flat plains for miles in every direction—no way for anyone to sneak up and eavesdrop.

Paranoid bastard.

“He made me do it.”

“Who?”

I had a pretty good idea who he meant, but I wanted him to say it.

“Who made you do it?”

The priest shook his head and dropped his gaze to the ground. He may have whispered something but, if he did, it was too quiet to hear.

“Tell me and I’ll think about saving you.”

He shook his head harder, refusing to speak the name. What’s the big deal? I knew Azrael was behind it; he’d orchestrated Father Dominic’s murderous rampage to steal my soul back from Mikey.

Why won’t he just tell me?

“What’s the big deal? Why won’t you just tell me?”

Being afraid of the archangel in life, I understood, but when you’re already in Hell, how much worse could it get? Not for the first time, I wondered if more was going on here than I realized.

Father Dominic’s shoulders trembled and I thought he might be crying.

“Are you crying?”

He raised his eyes and glared at me, the tears on his cheeks shimmering in the red-orange light. The muscles in his jaw bunched and released, bunched and released.

“Take me with you.”

His voice was low and firm, lacking the begging tone smothering it a moment before. He lowered his hands, held them at his side clenched into fists. He didn’t stand.

I looked him directly in the eyes and saw the hatred he felt for me burning deep inside them. Pictures of me as a child being punished, degraded, abused seemed to flicker across their bloodshot surfaces. The look on my face must have given away the fact I’d seen them dancing in his irises because the bastard smiled.

Fuck you.

“No.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “Burn in Hell.”

The priest jumped straight from his knees to his feet like a child might have been made to do in P.E. class. I snapped into a fighting stance, ready for him and looking forward to kicking his ass all over Hell, but he disappointed me. Instead of coming at me, fists flailing, he threw his arms up in the air, hands open, fingers crooked. I stared, confused. For a second, nothing happened except for Father Dominic looking melodramatic, then the ground trembled beneath my feet.

An earthquake in Hell? A Hellquake?

Probably not terribly unusual but the timing to go along with the warped priest’s gesture threw a scare into me. I stumbled back a step out of surprise and Father Dominic repeated the gesture. The ground shook harder. I looked around, frantic, searching for the nearest doorway under which to cower like we’d been taught as kids but, of course, there were none. There was nothing at all.

Until the rock walls rose out of the ground.

They pushed straight up toward the sky, each looking like a daisy growing in the spring, filmed in time-lapse photography on the nature channel. I blundered in a rough circle, buffeted back by the rock walls on all sides. They rose up twelve feet, fifteen feet, twenty, their sides sheer and smooth like unpolished marble. The rumble of rock grinding against rock rattled my eardrums and I threw my hands against the sides of my head to protect them.

Above it all, I heard the priest cackling like the maniac I’d always known him to be.

When the ground’s reverberations ceased, I stood hunched with my hands over my ears for a few seconds, waiting to see if the ground would quake again. It didn’t, so I lowered my hands and glanced around.

I wasn’t surrounded on all sides, but close enough. The gray clouds roiled above my head, a misty whirlpool in the sky. A stone hallway stretched out before me, the demon-priest standing twenty feet away, leering at me, yellow teeth exposed, black eyes gleaming.

“What have you done?” I attempted to sound unconcerned. I didn’t. I wasn’t.

“You should have agreed to take me back.”

“What have you done?”

The maniac smile clung to his face like a baby gorilla hanging on to its mother for dear life and, to really piss me off, he threw in an equally maniacal laugh. It did the job.

I lunged forward, legs pumping as my feet churned and slipped in the fresh scree created by the growing rocks. They found purchase after a second and I shot forward, determined to tackle the priest and show him how I really felt, in case I’d missed making it obvious up to this point. Dominic’s evil smile broadened and he tensed, readying to receive whatever I threw at him. I decided on a roundhouse punch.

My fist looped forward and, at the last second, the priest waved his hand and the air in front of him shimmered then went opaque. My fist and face ran into the freshly minted rock wall at approximately the same instant and I fell back on my ass, dazed.

I lay on my back, watching the ugly sky as a trickle of blood ran down the side of my face from a nose I wouldn’t need a doctor to tell me was broken. At least it distracted me from my throbbing hand. When the world stopped spinning, I saw Father Dominic perched atop the wall, staring down at me. With some effort, I climbed to my feet, though I must have looked like someone fresh off the Mad Hatter’s teacup ride at Disneyland.

“What did you do?”

The priest spread his arms, gesturing at the area around me.

“Take a look,” he said. “I think you’ll find I’ve done a fine job.”

I did as he said and glanced at the walls on all sides of me. The one I’d run into was solid, but the others all had openings. A long passage ran from one; the second had a short corridor which took a hard left and went out of sight; the third ran for fifteen feet finishing in a dead-end. It took a few seconds for my addled brain to clear enough to realize what I saw.

A labyrinth.

“That’s right, Icarus. A labyrinth. A maze. There’s a way out, but it might take you eternity to find it.”

He stood on the top of the wall towering twenty-five feet over my head, looming, laughing.

“I was your last chance. You’ll never get out of Hell now, priest,” I said feeling silly and impotent shaking my fist at him.

“Neither will you. Bet you wished you had wings now, don’t you, Icarus?”

He jumped down to the opposite side of the wall, laughter trailing after him. I gritted my teeth and clenched my fist then cringed at the pain both caused. After a few deep breaths, I opened my mouth, intending to make fun of the priest for screwing up his mythology—the labyrinth was on Crete, a maze meant to keep the minotaur for King Minos. Nothing to do with Icarus. The words burbled near my lips when I remembered my own readings: Daedalus built the labyrinth—Icarus’ father.

I hate Greek mythology.

If you haven’t got the first book yet, On Unfaithful Wings will be free for your Kindle July 19-21. You know that’s worth paying!

All Who Wander Are Lost – Available Now!

July 17, 2012

The first Icarus Fell novel by Bruce Blake, On Unfaithful Wings, has been a huge success, with over 20000 copies downloaded since its release and a 4.5 star rating with 31 reviews. Here’s what people are saying about the first in the series:

“Bruce Blake’s On Unfaithful Wings is a great urban fantasy novel. I love good character development in a story’s protagonist and Blake nails it with Icarus Fell. I found myself rooting for him from the get go and laughing out loud at some of his observations.”

“On Unfaithful Wings was an impressive first novel. All of the characters were interesting and engaging, but in particular the main character and his struggle to reconcile with his new identity/job. This is one of those stories that stays with me long after I read it and I’ll be on the lookout for more from this author.”

“I have to say it is absolutely wonderful how many amazing indie authors I seem to find with the talent to write and entertain on the same level as most traditionally published authors. This is book is another one. I highly recommend it as a very good read, and I should also make note here that this is the first book in a series for which I will happily read and review the minute the next book is released.”

“I can honestly say I am a Bruce Blake fan and I can’t wait to read the second book in this amazing series and see what happens to Icarus Fell next!”

Well, the wait is over! Sometime in the wee hours this morning, the second Icarus Fell novel, All Who Wander Are Lost, hit the shelves at Kindle. The second volume of exploits finds our unlikely hero, Icarus Fell, feeling guilty about the souls sent to Hell because of his lackluster performance as a Harvester. Determined to get them back, Icarus manages to endanger everyone he cares about, alienate a couple of angels, and risk his own soul on a dangerous trip to Hell with a beautiful guardian angel he’s only just met.

Here’s a sample of the action:

We crossed the nave, passed the unscathed altar where Father Dominic had threatened my son’s life a month before, and stopped at the base of the still-standing wall. I pulled up beside her and gazed at the blackened stone. When she didn’t do anything, I touched the stone wall, found it as solid as ever.

“I don’t get it.”

She didn’t respond, surveying the wreckage around us instead. After a moment, she strode to a charred but mostly whole pew and picked it up like it weighed nothing. She brought it to where I stood and propped it against the wall beneath the stained glass Virgin Mary.

“Ready?”

“You asked me that already. The answer’s still: not really.”

She shrugged, smiled, and started climbing, using the pew as a ladder to the window. When she reached the top, she stepped onto the window ledge and motioned for me to follow. I breathed deep, gathering my nerves.

Do I really want to go to Hell again?

The answer was no, I didn’t want to. I had to.

I struggled my way up the charred pew with less dexterity than Piper but made it to the top. She offered her hand and helped me onto the ledge, a bolt of electricity and a wayward lustful thought shooting through me. I shook free of her touch.

We stood there a few seconds, inches from the miracle window, and I wondered what the people gathered on the sidewalk watching for miracles would think when we burst through the glass. But when she took a step toward it, the glass didn’t break. Instead, her foot passed through it as though she stepped through one of those seventies beaded curtains. Bit by bit, she disappeared.

I hesitated.

Piper was gone, vanished through the window like Alice through the looking-glass. I could have turned and left; I wanted to. I looked back at the pew leaning against the wall, at the debris-strewn church, and started to turn, but a sound stopped me. A voice.

The voice of a woman.

Was it one of the miracle-seekers crying out to the Heavens? Piper prompting me to follow? Maybe it was Beth Elton calling for help all the way from Hell.

I drew a fortifying breath and my foot went through the window like it didn’t exist, then my hand, my arm, and finally my torso and head. The chilly night disappeared, replaced by searing pain, confusion, agony. I saw the people standing on the sidewalk for a second; the murmur of their prayers thundered in my ears, the light of their candles blinded me. Then they faded from view. A pressure mounted in my head, threatening to over-inflate it to the point of bursting.

And then blackness overcame all.

Until the end of July, pick up All Who Wander Are Lost  for the special price of only $0.99, and watch for On Unfaithful Wings free from July 19-21.