Dale Ibitz's Blog, page 22

Welcome...Wednesday?...Meet author C.S. Splitter

Well, little pretties, it's not Wednesday, but we're welcoming author C.S. Splitter, author of the Crayder Chronicles, The Reluctant and his new release, The Willing.

Splitter is one of the funniest guys I know; he really comes up with some hilarious shit. I know I chuckled once or twice during the interview, so sit back and have a laugh or two as Splitter reveals some interesting things about himself and Tom Crayder.

If you could be any fruit, what would it be and why?

That's a dangerous question to ask a guy with my inappropriate sense of humor.

I am officially going to say pineapple. Sort of prickly on the outside with a tough husk, but sweet on the inside. I also like tropical climates, so that fits.

Or, a banana...

(Any inappropriate jokes are solely the responsibility of the reader and their own warped mind...)

Tom Crayder is not your typical hero. How did you come up with the idea of Tom? Is he based on someone you know?

Tom is based on a lot of people. Some are real and some are characters from TV shows and movies. He is an "every man."

Tom wants to be John Wayne or Clint Eastwood, but he ends up being a combination of Jack Tripper, Tim Allen, and Hawkeye Pierce. If you know who all of those people are, you watch too much TV! He would like to be the "cool guy," but he is just not equipped to make that happen.

I think that is part of the reason why so many people, men and women, can identify with him. He is like someone you know...maybe even you.

I believe that ordinary people can be heroes. The single mom who holds down two jobs to support her kids is a hero. That soldier who is scared to death but storms the beach anyway is a hero. The list goes on. Most heroes are not born, they are self-made because of the choices they make.

Now...that does not mean that Tom is always a hero. He does some very questionable things. He has weaknesses that get exploited and has his own opinion of right and wrong, law and justice included.

Those weaknesses also make him very real to people. At least that is what they tell me.

Along the way, he shows that his mouth sometimes works faster than his brain and he has a bad tendency to make jokes that are not appropriate to the situation. Personally, I can relate to that.

Do you plot your books, or do you write by the seat of your pants?

Yes!

I want to be the architect of my stories so I do a lot of outlining. I even write backgrounds on all of my characters so that they remain consistent and believable.

Then, about half way through the actual writing process, I start getting better ideas about how to get to the end of the story. The ending does not change, but how I get there does. Not to sound like one of those "artist" type writers, but I end up grooming the stories and trimming them.

I want to be an architect, but I end up being a gardener.

What was the first book that you read that inspired you to read and/or write?

The first book I ever read was "The Pokey Little Puppy." I fear I have taken on some of his characteristics as I have gotten older.

The first "real" book I ever read was "The Riddle Maser of Hed." That was the first time a book whisked me away to another world. After that, I devoured Pierse Anthony, Zelazny, Eddings, Cook, Tolkien, and other gifted authors.

It is interesting....I do not read the genre in which I write. I think I read one Clive Barker book way back and I read the first Patterson "Alex Cross" novel, but my favorite genre is fantasy. I used to read a lot of Clancy, but I stuck to the Jack Ryan character.

So much for writing what you know, huh?

These days, my favorites are Jim Butcher (Dresden Files) and Michael J. Sullivan. I also love the first three books that George R.R. Martin wrote in "A Song of Ice and Fire." The man writes beautiful prose and the story telling in those books saved fantasy for me.

If anyone influenced my writing, it was Glen Cook and his "Black Company" books. His characterization was unique and his were the first "gritty" fantasy books that I remember reading.

This question is directed to Tom: boxers or briefs?

Tom would tell you that briefs are too restricting. He would say that he is more of a free spirit and wears boxers when he has to wear underwear. Bow-chicka-wow-wow.

How did Tom learn the skills he needs to make it through some of the dangerous situations in which he finds himself?

Tom is faking it. Don't we all do that sometimes?

He grew up on TV and movies so when he finds himself faced with danger, you can almost hear his brain going through its files to figure out which boyhood hero he should be imitating. He tries his best not to show fear, but we know that is only a facade (facade is my word for the day).

As for the gun play, Tom likes shooting and practices often. I haven't revealed it yet in the books, but he competes in some competitions.

Tom has bad habits which include junk food. But, in "The Willing," we find out that he is actually trying to get into better shape for his new role in life. In the future, we are going to find out that he is taking self defense classes, too.

How does Tom keep such a cool head when his world crumbles?

Tom is a pilot. Now, I don't know what it is about pilots, but they always sound like they are in complete control of the situation.

Back the the late 90's, I was on a flight where the pilot came on the intercom and announced that anyone who felt the need to smoke could do so out on the wing. He also said, "In the event of a water landing—well, let's be honest, there is no such thing as a water landing—if we crash into the water and you survive, the person next to you may be used as a flotation device."

While a pilot could not get away with that today, it gave me complete confidence in his abilities because he was comfortable enough to joke about such unlikely events.

Tom thinks pilots are cool people. I don't know if that is true, but every one of them I have known acted "cool." Tom acts cool even though his brain is whirling.

Are we going to see more Lorena?

Lorena is a character that many people, including me, want to know more about. She is not the typical femme fatale. She is a real woman with a hard edge. She comes off as very hard hearted, but we start to see a different side of her in "The Willing,"

The third book is going to be Lorena's story. "The UnMasked" is planned for a June 2012 release and it will tell the story of how Lorena's character was formed and how she came to be involved with an organization that dispenses justice outside of a broken system.

What is the most important thing a good book must have?

I think the most important thing a writer can do is make the reader care about the characters. Strong characters were always the thing I looked for as a reader and that is where I start as a writer. Even my "good guys" are more than a little gray and some people do not like Tom at the beginning of the first book. But, as the reader gets to know him, they come to like him even if they do not agree with all of his decisions.

I take pride in turning questionable characters into favorites. Lorena is another good example of that because she starts out as a home wrecker who might even be a sociopath and, by the end of the second book, most readers have come to really enjoy her.

There is probably a lesson there about not judging books by covers and how that applies to people...

The second critical element to a good book is the story. The story has to be good and it has to have some surprises here and there to make the reader keep turning pages to find out what happens next. There are many theories about what makes a good story. I think that as long as you make the reader feel like they are "there" experiencing the story, you are most of the way to having a good story to tell.

In the thousands of books I have read, those with compelling characters and stories are the ones I remember most fondly. Writing styles and techniques might vary, but I think readers are more flexible on those points.

Tell us about "The Crayder Chronicles." Why should we read your books?

The books are full of action/adventure, thrills, suspense, and some mystery. There is also some humor mixed in there to keep things from getting too heavy. Two books have been published in the series thus far.

"The Reluctant" introduces us to Tom Crayder and centers around several moral dilemmas he faces. It asks the question: If you were asked to do something really bad for very good reasons, would you? Could you? (ok, that might be two questions...).

In the book, Tom must decide whether or not to become an instrument for delivering justice to bad guys who are beyond the reach of the law.

The second book, "The Willing," is really about the relationships he has developed and we learn more about some secondary characters we met in "The Reluctant." Lorena has a lot of "camera" time but we also get glimpses into Tiny, Jake, and other familiar faces. Some of those returning will surprise you.

Think of "The Willing" as "It's a Wonderful Life" meets "Deathwish." I know, that sounds funny...you should try writing it!

I am so thankful to my readers that I cannot adequately express it. "The Reluctant" went nuts on Amazon in January and reached #24 over all in free eBook fiction and #2 in both Action/Adventure and Contemporary Fiction. Did I take screen shots? You bet! My favorite has my book right there next to James Patterson's latest release and I have requested that the photo be displayed on my casket in the event of my untimely death.

I owe any success I have had, or will have, to the readers and those that have become honest to goodness fans. I put my contact information in the back of my books and love hearing from them!


Thanks for having me here, Dale! And thank you for taking the time to read and review my books.


But the fun isn't stopping now that the interview is over. You can tweet Splitter, check out his blog, visit his author page on Amazon, facebook him, and most important, check out his books!

The Reluctant:

Action, adventure, suspense, and thriller in one story told with a liberal dose of humor.

Tom's problems are not unique. His business is failing and his wife has to work too many hours to make ends meet. He is under some rather large financial pressures and wants more from his marriage and his life.

He finds his respite in the air as a private pilot. Unfortunately for Tom, he is behind on payments for his plane and is forced to take odd jobs from a local crime boss. Tom is no criminal, but the errands he is running are just slightly on the wrong side of the law and the money is almost good enough to allow him to make his plane payments.

Just as things begin to come under some semblance of control, he meets a woman who just might represent the adventure he seeks. He soon discovers that appearances, and beautiful women, can sometimes be deceiving.

"The Reluctant" is the first in the Crayder Chronicles series and yet is a stand alone story with a satisfying conclusion of its own.


The Willing:

Book Two in "The Crayder Chronicles"

How far would you go to protect your friends and family?

Tom Crayder is the All-American guy next door with a business, a wife, a son, a mortgage, and an expensive hobby. He is also a politically incorrect, wisecracking operative working for a shadowy organization dedicated to administering justice outside of a broken system. Not even his wife knows of his other life when she finds herself unwittingly involved in a drug war.

Strap in with Tom as he navigates his way through the strata of a drug cartel. Lock and load with Lorena, a hard-hearted assassin, as she lends her deadly skills to Tom's fight for his family. Sit back to watch Tom and Lorena figure out how to work together without killing each other.

Join the rest of the cast from "The Reluctant (Crayder Chronicles)" as they pitch in to track down the hitmen that threaten their associate.

Some mysteries are solved. Some questions are answered. Some live. Some die.

Splitter's Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/C.S.-Splitter/e...

SplittersWorld Blog: http://splittersworld.blogspot.com/

Facebook: http://www.amazon.com/C.S.-Splitter/e...

Twitter: @SplitterCS

Book Review: My Enchanted Life, by Laura Eno

My Enchanted Life
Laura Eno

18-year-old Emma Winslow is settling down for a rocking summer vacation in Georgia before trucking off to college. Except she never makes it. Instead, she finds that she's inherited a house in England, and once she arrives to check it out, it seems she may not ever leave.

This was a totally fun story filled with enchanted worlds and creatures and characters. There's a little bit of evil, a little bit of romance, and a little bit of betrayal. In short, a little bit of everything.

The characters are believable and likeable. Laura's drawn a picturesque world that glitters enchantingly. I like how the seemingly you-just-know-he's-going-to-be-evil characters don't quite turn out that way, characters you think you're going to love...you don't, and characters that you never really paid attention to...you should have. Nothing is quite as it seems in this enchanted world. Yeah, you gotta love that aspect.

I've said it before, but it's worth saying again.

I. Love. Surprises.

If I have one complaint, it's that the pace was a little frantic. This isn't a long story...and it should be. I would have loved if Laura drew the story out, took more time in drawing out scenes. In fact, some of the transitions between scenes were abrupt and could have been a little smoother.

Overall, very enjoyable story, with an ending not too predictable and wholly satisfying...with a peek into a sequel that I'll be sure to read.

Pic of the Day!

Pic of the Day!

Pic of the Day!

Sample Sunday: Fire in the Blood

So last week, Haley meets up with an old Earth crush, Ian, and she finds out that she has more than one reason to distrust Tuggin. Other than him being a cold-hearted Menta witch, it's Haley's fault that Tuggin's parents are dead.

Ruh roh.

Haley moves on, Tuggin-less.

Enjoy!

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


I didn't care anymore that I was sitting on a bed with a hall god. All I cared about was the dread feeling scorching my insides, as if a bomb had exploded in the pit of my stomach.

I leaned away from Ian. "Tuggin and Elana's parents are dead because of me?"

"It's okay." A lock of hair fell over my face, and Ian tucked it back. "I know this is hard, but you need to understand what's going on."

I tried to focus, but I wasn't sure I had enough brain cells left to get the job done.

"See, Tuggin and Elana's parents are the ones who kidnapped you."

"Oh. Wait. What? Why?"

"That's the question of the century. Anyway, they slipped through the gateway to Earth then were killed during an attempt to rescue you. Tuggin and Elana were taken in by that Menta group, and were brought up—trained—to feel nothing but hatred and a desire for power. They don't care about people…certainly not about you. They blame you for their parents' death."

My mouth dropped open, and I covered it with my hand. "Elana's my friend."

"Elana is incapable of friendship. The Menta camp took care of that."

I closed my eyes. No, no one could be that good of liar. I thought of Tuggin; he was a very good liar.

Ian went on. "Unfortunately, the people sent to get you back died too. That's when they lost track of you."

"Stop." I scrunched fistfuls of hair, punishing myself with pain. "Just stop talking because I don't want to hear it."

"Neither Tuggin or Elana care about you, but I do."

I blinked at him. Wha-huh?

Ian's liquid smile poured through his lips. "Go to sleep."

I gazed at his eyes, so deep, so gentle, so beautiful. He looked as though he moved through chocolate syrup, but every word he said was crystal clear in my mind.

My body felt as though it would suddenly cave in from exhaustion. "I really need to get some sleep."

I barely made it under the blanket when my eyelids closed. I wondered where we were going in the morning; the question never made it to my lips.

********************

The next morning, I sat on my bed with my head in my hands. People had died because of me, and the idea sat on my mind like a stone gargoyle. I'd never wanted Mom so much in my whole life. Maybe I didn't need those power stones to get Mom to remember me. Ian was on Earth and he remembered me, so maybe no one remembering me on Earth was just another one of Tuggin's lies.

"I bring morning meal," Tanner said with a grin when she came in with a breakfast tray.

I rubbed my eyes. How could she be so happy? Oh, that's right. She didn't have the weight of the dead on her head.

"I eat with you, hmm?"

"Whatever."

Tanner didn't seem to notice my pissy mood, chattering away while she ate. I nodded now and then, but didn't really pick up on anything that she said. My stomach resisted the runny eggs—but at least these were a normal color, like on Earth. I nibbled on a few nuts, and then pushed away the food. I couldn't wait to leave this dungeon. Maybe seeing the sun and breathing fresh air would do something for my mood.

"I'm done."

Tanner raised her eyebrows, but picked up the tray. "You dreth. I return for you."

After rubbing the cream on my face and feet, I packed the jar in my backpack. I slid the sandals Tanner had given me onto my blistered feet and wiggled my toes. Definitely better than shoes.

A little while later, Tanner and I padded through narrow tunnels, our footsteps muted by the dirt floors. Heavy beams supported the low ceiling. I kept any eye on them, not liking the creaking sounds they were making, or the puffs of drifting dust.

The tunnels were broken up with wide chambers, from which more tunnels sprouted. I had no clue how Tanner knew where we were going…each tunnel looked exactly the same. I was starting to feel like I was part mole.

We finally turned up a steadily rising tunnel. It leveled off, and we came to a dead-end where Tanner climbed up a ladder. She flipped up a trap door and sunlight knifed through the underground gloom.

Tanner scooted up and out of sight. I gripped the wooden slats and hauled myself up, the tender skin on my face stinging from the sharp sun. I blinked at the glaring sand, and Tanner handed me a cone-shaped hat and a long, thin cloth.

"Thith protect fathe. The thun thtrong."

"Thanks." I plopped the hat on my head, and its wide brim shielded my eyes. I let the sheer fabric cloth-thing slide through my fingers. I stared at the desert, and dread trickled into my gut like sand in an hour glass. I'd almost died out there.

Ian and an older guy approach with three camels tacked with bright red blankets and square-shaped saddles. They wore rope halters, and the reins were strung through wooden pegs pierced through their noses.

"I Hawkin," said the man. He came only to my shoulders, with the same red hair pulled into a tight ponytail as Tanner. "Ian take you home?"

I didn't know where home was; I'd forgotten to ask. Ian nodded once; so I copied him.

Hawkin gave me the reins to a camel. "You ride before?"

The camel studied me through its long lashes. "What about my sleipnir?"

"Sleipnir can't survive the desert," Ian said. "You'll need to leave him behind."

I felt a twinge over breaking my promise to Adrana about returning Sorrel. Another sharper twinge punctured my chest when I thought that maybe Tuggin would make her feel better over her loss. Not that I cared, of course.

Clearing my throat, I decided that even though the camel had fat ugly lips, his eyes were pretty. "Does he have a name?"

"He Flax," Tanner said.

"Daughters," Hawkin muttered, and then said, "Ian long been friend to our people. You be thafe with him."

Hey. Good news for once. Ian and Tanner wrapped their cloths around their necks and faces, and then hooked them to their hats.

"I thow you," Tanner said, taking the cloth from me and showing me how to wrap and secure it. "Thith called tharan. It protect you from the wind and thand."

"Works for me," I said.

"Peathe to you, Papa." Tanner kissed Hawkin on the cheek.

"Thafe journey, daughter." He tucked his hands into his robes.

"Ek, ek." Tanner tapped her camel's front leg with a stick, and the camel knelt.

"Here." Ian plucked a thin stick tucked under Flax's saddle, tapped his front leg, and said, "Ek, ek."

"Do I get on it like a horse?" I asked, eyeing the kneeling camel.

"Yup." Pointing to the hole cut into the front of the saddle he added, "Hold on to this handle."

I mounted.

"Tap his shoulder with your stick, and he'll get up," Ian instructed.

I tapped Flax's shoulder and leaned forward. When his back end rose into the air first, I flipped over his shoulder and hit the ground on my back. "Oof!"

Flax snorted and curled his upper lip. Tanner giggled.

"Sorry," Ian said, hauling me to my feet. "Camels stand on their back feet first so you want to lean back, not forward."

I ducked my head to hide my burning face.

"And you forgot to hold onto the handle."

"Right," I said. I mounted again.

"Lean back," Ian reminded me when I tapped Flax's shoulder with my stick.

I leaned back when Flax wobbled to his feet, and I was still on his back. I gave Ian a thumbs up.

"You're a quick study." Ian mounted his own camel. "Let's go."

The camels plowed through the sand. I swayed to the sideways rhythm, feeling like I was being rocked in a cradle. It was pretty relaxing, except for the hot wind touching my tender face and my skin burning where the saran didn't cover me.

"Talk to me, Earth-kin," Tanner said.

"What about?" I asked, spitting out the saran when it slipped into my mouth.

"Where your family? Did you leave friend behind on Earth? Ith Earth full of metal?"

It was tough work, trying to open my mouth as little as possible so the cloth wouldn't slip in when I talked. "No, Earth has plenty of nature left. My mom's still there, and I don't have any real friends. There was Elana, but turns out she was a liar. And there was her brother, Tuggin, who I hung out with a while." I shrugged. "Anyway, turns out neither were my friend."

On Earth I'd been ignored. Then came Elana, the first nice person I'd ever made friends with, and she'd only pretended to like me.

"Haley? You all right?"

I had new friends, a new home, a new destiny ahead of me. And though it was a crushing thought, I'd have to use the power stones to save the Eyid's harmony and say good-bye to Mom, let her go as if she were dead—I couldn't go home and that was a part of my life I would never get back. Maybe Ian would help me get over it. "I'm good."

No one talked much, and I spent the day watching the endless sand. The monotony was exhausting. Everything seemed so dead, and it made me think how close I'd come to being dead myself. The sun rested on the horizon like a flaming orange when Ian signaled us to stop. I hopped off Flax and stretched.

"Tired?" Ian asked me.

"Absolutely." I pulled the saran from my face. "This saran thing works pretty good, but it keeps getting in my mouth."

"It called tharan," Tanner corrected.

"Saran?" I asked.

"Tharan," Tanner repeated.

I lifted my hands and turned to Ian. "Isn't that what I said?"

"It really is called a tharan," Ian said with a wink.

********************

After eating a cold dinner of spicy dried meat, I sat on my blanket and watched the sun sink while Tanner snored softly nearby. The sun burned like a fireball, igniting the sky and sand. I shifted closer to the fire and stuffed my hands in my pockets, shivering when Ian came and sat with me.

"Cold?" he asked, laying his blanket over my shoulders.

"Not really."

"Do I make you nervous?"

"Of course not," I lied.

Ian chuckled.

"I forgot to ask where we're going," I said.

The corners of his lips twitched. "My home. I hope you like it enough to stay."

Things were definitely looking up. Smiling to myself, I watched distant lightning streak across the sky, like gnarled fingers trying to grab the stars. I shivered again. I'd seen lightning tear up a mountain and set buildings on fire. Could Tuggin see it, too?

"I love lightning, don't you?" Ian murmured.

I glanced at him. "I guess, in a destructive sort of way."

"There's power, energy, and strength. There's no other force on this globe that can match it." Ian looked sideways at me. "Except air, maybe."

A flicker of insight lit my brain, and I rubbed my palms on my pants beneath the blanket. Thinking back, I'd never heard Tuggin mention heat or lightning or anything to do with fire.

Ian smiled, very very slowly. "It's late. We should get some sleep."

I gave Ian his blanket back, and he left me to go to his own bed. When I closed my eyes, it was blue eyes, not green, that I thought about.

********************

Two days later, we left the endless sand and began to climb the Dry Hills. The camels' soft hooves made no sound on the rocks. My butt was totally sore, and I shifted in my saddle then dragged the back of my hand across my forehead. I felt gross and sweaty and longed for a cold shower.

"How much farther?" I asked Ian.

"We'll be there today."

My camel fell into step behind Ian's while we trudged up a hill. Ian paused at the top, and when I pulled up beside him, I turned my gaze to the horizon.

A stone tower jutted into the skyline, a line of gray rocks on the ground circled it. Clouds of smoke drifted in the air. Was that…?

As if sensing my unspoken question, Ian said, "Welcome to Ralos."

Pic of the Day!

Pic of the Day!

Pic of the Day!

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Pic of the Day!

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