Jamie Marchant's Blog, page 38

Reading the Dead: The Sarah Milton Chronicles, excerpt and review

Yesterday, we met author, J.B. Cameron. Today, read my review and an excerpt from his work. If you like what you read, please comment and buy the book.

Blurb
Reading The Dead - The Sarah Milton Chronicles is the first volume of a funny, thrilling, suspenseful paranormal detective series by author J.B. Cameron.

Growing up, Sarah Milton had three constants in her life – her passion for reading, her mother's love, and Anna Nigma, her irrepressible thirteen-year-old imaginary companion. Her only friend's sudden disappearance in the aftermath of her mother's unexplained murder shattered her world, leaving a void in her life that only justice for her parent's senseless death could fill.

Fifteen years later, Sarah – now a criminal profiler with the LAPD Violent Crimes Unit – finds herself hunting a very different breed of killer, a mysterious figure known only as "Raithe." Thwarted at every turn by a seemingly random string of murders, the detective finds inspiration from the unlikeliest of sources.

A fatal shooting unexpectedly reunites her with her imaginary friend, compelling her to doubt her very sanity. She soon discovers that the truth behind both Anna Nigma and the serial killer she's hunting is stranger than she ever imagined. Her investigation leads the reunited friends to the reality of a spectral world governed by ancient magic, where Sarah's innate ability to commune with the dead could prove to be the only means of stopping the latest slayer terrorizing the city of angels.

Follow Sarah and Anna as they take their first step on the path through the graveyard of their hidden past, a journey that will ultimately lead them to a showdown against a dark force with the power over life and death itself. Their way will be fraught with peril, take them to the brink of love and loss, immerse them in mystery and clarity, and perhaps even deliver them to the closure for which they both long. Protected against the coming storm by only faith and friendship, their uncertain future begins here...
Review


What happens when you mix a practical, no-nonsense LAPD detective with her childhood, imaginary friend? Find out in this funny, well-paced paranormal thriller. Sarah Milton fears for her sanity, but she discovers Anna Nigma is more real than she at first thought. The plot is fast paced, and the characters kept you engaged.  Anna Nigma is especially appealing, well-written and believable as a perpetual 13-year-old, and the interaction between the two main characters will kept your laughing. The writing is professional and polished. I highly recommend this book to paranormal or crime story fans and give it 5 stars.
Excerpt
Doctor Sandra Frost, M.D. owned an office decorated in early Brazilian rainforest. There were so many potted plants filling up her space that the rush of fresh oxygen produced in the room was dizzying. The constant temperature and natural light from the large window behind her desk made the greenery thrive around her. The only time she would close the blinds was when she was in the middle of a session. She probably figured that the darkness was more calming. All it meant to me was that I wasn't able to use the view outside as a distraction. I settled for re-reading her wall full of diplomas.
Frost was an older woman in her fifties. She was almost schoolmarmish in her business-like clothing and bun hairdo. She spoke with a syrupy, soothing lilt. Talking to her was like having a conversation with your grandmother.
At least, that was the intention for which she strove. She was a police psychiatrist, which meant that her expertise consisted of getting the strongest, most driven and independent personalities to open up to her like the contents of an unlocked safe. I saw through her act the moment that I walked into the room. The way her sharp eyes scrutinized every facial twitch and nuance of body language, there was no doubt in my mind. This woman was a shark. I needed to be extremely careful around her.
"So is there anything troubling you, Sarah?" she inquired casually from her chair - a stern-looking, high backed seat that looked far more comfortable than the one reserved for me.
She manufactured a pleasant smile for me as she patiently awaited my response, her pen hovering inches above the memo pad on her lap. Her manner of addressing me - using my name instead of my rank - was intentionally casual. It was her way of developing a rapport with her patients by keeping the discussion on a personal level. However, the look she gave me made me feel like a child caught doing something wrong.My eyes shifted to the space alongside her. Anna lurked behind her chair, spying over her shoulder at her notes. The girl had simply reappeared, despite what I thought would have been a crushing blow to our friendship, behaving as if everything that transpired in the elevator minutes before was just an act.
"Wow! This woman's penmanship is horrible!" she exclaimed. "I haven't seen writing this bad since the time we borrowed Tommy Babcock's notes in science class."
I blinked. "No," I answered the psychiatrist dourly.
"I see," she responded while jotting something down in her notes. "It would be all right if you were feeling conflicted right about now, you know. You've suffered a very traumatic experience. It's only natural if your emotions were getting the better of you. Have you experienced any strong feelings since the attack?"
"Is that an R?" Anna pondered.
"I'm... I'm just really happy to be alive right now," I offered, and even tried on a smile for good measure.
"Of course you are, dear. You're very fortunate." Frost wrote something else in her notes.
"She thinks you have danger insides," Anna revealed. "Seriously, who taught this woman to write?"
"I can tell that you're a very strong person. Would you say that control is important to you?" Frost continued her cross-examination.
I instinctively threw a look at Anna. She was too busy trying to make sense out of the psychiatrist's hen-scratches to notice. "I'd agree with that."
"So, as someone who likes to remain in control, how did finding yourself in a situation that was entirely out of your control make you feel?"
I shrugged. If there was a right answer to this question that would mean Frost clearing me for active duty right this instant, I wasn't seeing it. "I don't know," I murmured. "Scared, I guess."
"I see," she replied, taking a moment to observe me carefully with those icy blue eyes of hers. I was a mouse under the scrutiny of a hawk. "Perfectly understandable. It was a scary situation, wasn't it? Facing down two armed gunmen like that. Coming to terms with your own mortality. It must have been terrifying."
"Yeah," I agreed wearily. God, I want out of this room now.
"So what else?"
"What else what?"
Frost gave me another one of her carefully orchestrated smiles. I'm sure she meant it as a way to help relax her patients and put their minds at ease. All I saw was the expression a wolf might make upon spotting dinner.
"It's all right, dear. I can see how badly the experience has affected you, but you're safe now. You don't need to carry this burden alone. I'm here to help you get past your pain, but I need you to trust me. Can you do that for me?"
"Sure."
I shuddered. I think Hell just froze over. 
"Good. That's very good," she smiled and leaned back in her chair. Her smile looked genuine this time. In a way, it was actually a little creepier than her fake ones. "So, what else do you feel when you think about the events of that day? Tell me about your feelings towards the men who shot you."
"They're definitely off my Christmas card list," I joked.
Frost didn't react. She didn't smile, nor exhibit signs of exasperation at my flippancy. She simply continued to sit peacefully in her chair, observing me with her writing hand at the ready. I suppose mine must be a reaction that she experienced quite frequently, working as a police shrink.
My smile died down and I gave her the answer that she was obviously waiting for. "I'm angry with them, sure. They nearly killed me. I think I'm entitled."
"Go on." She wrote something else in her notes. Anna frowned at it and shrugged.
I nodded. "But I understand that they've already been captured, which is great news. It's a huge relief to know that they aren't still out there, hurting others."
"And what if they weren't apprehended? How would that make you feel?"
Careful, Sarah! I could see her pen getting ready to scribble something down in her little notepad. I was trekking through a minefield here. It was time for a change of course.
"Look, Doctor Frost," I started, leaning forward in my chair with my hands on my knees, "the truth is that I just spent the past two weeks on my back, reliving every moment of that horrible event over and over in my head. You're asking me about feelings that I've already worn to the nub from constant introspection. I've bled through the extent of my anger for my attackers, my terror at the prospect of dying under a mound of newsprint, even my grief and guilt over my inability to protect the storeowner from becoming a victim himself."I've analyzed the situation over and over in my head a million times while my body mended, and not once was I able to come up with a scenario that didn't end up in exactly the same way. It was the most frightening, awful experience of my life, only made worse by the fact that I could do nothing about it. As you said, it was out of my control."
That gave Frost some ammunition for her notes.
"We can discuss my feelings all day, but that won't make them genuine. The truth is that the only thing I have left is my relief that I'm still around to talk about it," I continued. "I feel like I've been given a second chance. This whole experience has just made me more determined than ever to go out there and catch the bad guys before they can do these sorts of things to anyone else."
Frost fell silent, considering my heartfelt plea. Anna and I both gaped at her.
"Sarah," she started in her calm, soothing voice, "in my capacity here, I've helped hundreds of officers just like you to overcome the rigors of their stressful jobs and any number of traumatic incidents in their lives. They've all gone on to become better police officers and better people, for having taken the time to deal with their issues. You want to know how many of them insisted at the beginning that there was nothing wrong with them and that they didn't need to be here?"
"I'm guessing probably all of them," I responded dejectedly.
"Correct. Now can you guess how often I took their word for it?"
"Never?"
"Correct again," she replied humorlessly. Then she added, "However, in your case, I might be inclined to make an exception."
I blinked at her in surprise. "What?"
"Yes!" Anna squealed.
"It's obvious to me that, despite your assertions to the contrary, you still have very strong emotions regarding the attack on your life. Your difficulty in talking to me about what happened is a clear indication of that fact," she said. "It's also clear to me that your fear isn't limited to just that single event. You've experienced some other trauma in your life that you're afraid to share with me, isn't that true?"
I forced myself to meet her eyes. I had trauma and issues pouring out my ears, but there was no way I would share that voluntarily. I remained silent.
She took my silence as affirmation and continued, "Just as you've managed to compartmentalize any troubling memories from your past, I suspect that you've already begun to lock away this latest trauma. Your achievements suggest to me that you are fully in control of your emotions and have been managing your psychological issues for some time now. Since childhood, I'd guess."
Damn. She's good.
Frost leaned forward in her seat. "It's important that you understand that you can only keep these things bottled up for so long, Sarah. Eventually, no amount of self-control is going to keep them in check. I want to help you to face your demons head-on. It's the only way that you'll ever find peace."
Doctor Frost stood and walked around her desk. After setting her pad down on the surface, she opened a large, thin book with a black cover. She scanned through her scheduled appointments until finding an opening that satisfied her. She marked something in the book and dropped the cover closed with finality.
"I'm going to provisionally reinstate you for active duty," she declared. "I believe that in the short term, returning to work will actually prove more beneficial to you than any other type of therapy."
"Provisionally?"
"I want to see you back here on a regular basis," she said. "I've scheduled an appointment for you next week at this same time. We'll see how you're faring then and reassess your duty status accordingly."
"Next week?" My heart sank at the prospect of having to endure this torture on an on-going basis. How on earth was I going to keep Anna's presence a secret every week? I'm sure the eagle-eyed psychiatrist couldn't have missed my constant scrutiny of nothing but empty space. Frankly, I was a little amazed that I wasn't already in cuffs, until the men with the white coats arrived.
She patiently awaited my answer with the same placid expression that she wore throughout the entire session.
"Fine," I sighed. "Next week." At least that bought me a seven-day reprieve. Maybe I could come up with some way to deal with the whole Anna situation before then.
"Good," she smiled. "I'll see you then."
We stood and shook hands. Her keen eyes remained glued to my face the entire time. Unbelievable,I thought. Even now that our time was up, she was still trying to analyze me.
"And remember, Detective, if there's ever anything you want to talk about in the meantime - anything at all - my door is always open."
I nodded, and even produced a faux smile of my own. I think it was painfully obvious to both of us by this time that if I felt the need to open up to this woman that badly, I'd probably cut my own tongue out first.

Guest author, J.B. Cameron

Today, our guest is J.B. Cameron, author of Reading The Dead: The Sarah Milton Chronicles. Come back tomorrow for an excerpt from his work. 
Tell us a little about yourself?
Having spent my entire life in New Brunswick, Canada, I have a very limited perception of the world outside of the Atlantic Provinces. I'm not a huge fan of crowds, so I'm content with just watching bustling, big city life from the comfort of my living room, in a country where trees outnumber people by a vast majority. That's probably why my books read more like a TV show than anything. My personal reality largely formed in a cocoon fashioned by American television.
What made you want to become a writer?
The need to write, or do anything creative, has been a part of what makes me tick for as long as I can remember. I don't think there was ever a time in my life when I wasn't drawing something, programming a game or web page, or writing. I've always had this irrational urge to stay busy. It helps keep me balanced. Writing was one of my earliest passions. Being able to pursue it now in my free time is a little like returning to my roots.
Your book is a paranormal detective thriller. What about this genre appeals to you?
Good question. I've always been a huge fan of the work that writers like Joss Whedon and Tim Minear produced on the TV show, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Though they based their characters in this wildly implausible paranormal fantasy world, they managed to imbue them with a wit and charm that almost made them feel like they could have been someone you knew from high school. That's the kind of chord that I'm hoping to strike with my own work. Though the world of LAPD Detective Sarah Milton is seemingly overrun with these uncontrollable elements of supernatural and mystical origin, underneath all of that, Reading The Dead is really just a tale of two friends rediscovering one another, after years of separation, and learning to overcome hardships to find a place in their lives for each other again. Of course, nothing in life is ever quite that simple. It's the dynamic of their characters that appealed to me when writing this story, more so than the paranormal aspect itself.
Do you believe in ghosts?
Sarah Milton and I do share a similar character trait, in that neither of us strongly believes in anything that we can't see with our own two eyes. However, as readers will come to discover throughout the evolution of the series, a growing faith (not to be confused with religious belief) will play a key role in Sarah's life. Maybe by the time I'm done writing the last book, my own faith will have progressed to the point where I can unequivocally answer "yes" to your question. I'm not there yet.
Could you tell us a bit about your most recent book and why it is a must-read?
Reading The Dead - The Sarah Milton Chronicles is the tale of a bookish girl with an imaginary friend who stayed with her well into her teens. After the trauma of her mother's brutal murder and the disappearance of her only companion, Sarah forges a new life out of the ashes of her past, using her training in forensic psychology to earn herself a place with the LAPD's Violent Crimes Unit. Her story really begins fifteen years after the death of her mother, with the VCU team hot on the trail of a mysterious serial killer known only as "Raithe." After a shooting takes her beyond the veil of death, she awakens to discover that Anna Nigma, as she aptly named her irrepressible teenage friend so many years before, has now reinserted herself into her structured, sane existence. Amidst fears that she's losing her mind, Sarah eventually comes to realize that both Anna's presence and her current murder investigation are steeped in the paranormal, and that only her rekindled ability to see and speak with the dead can help to stop the city's most dangerous killer before he strikes again.
I'll leave it to the readers to decide if it's a must-read. It's a fun story, filled with some great characters, and it's only getting better as the series progresses. It's not going to change the world, but it will keep you happily entertained. That's the best I can do.
What gives you inspiration for your book?
Reading The Dead began as one of several screenplays I wrote in 2011, purely for fun. After moving on to short stories for a while, I decided that I wanted to try my hand at my first novel. Going back and rereading the screenplay, I found myself really enjoying the dynamic between the main characters, particularly in the scenes involving that wildly unpredictable spook, Anna. I wasn't sure how well it was going to play out, but I immediately knew from looking at it that I wanted to use the script as the basis for something more grand.
Are your characters based off real people or did they all come entirely from your imagination?
I can honestly say that I've never met anyone in my life who even comes close to either the tough, but introverted and damaged Sarah Milton, or the completely uncontrollable Anna Nigma. I think that's what makes them both so much fun for me to write. Their personalities aren't grounded in reality. They're both very much larger than life characters.
Of all the characters you have created, which is your favorite and why?
Anna Nigma. Absolutely. Her youthful innocence and naivety, combined with a worldly experience beyond her years and an almost pathological need to insert herself into the heart of trouble makes her a total joy to write. Being a ghost, she has no concept of consequence, since nothing can touch her. In many ways, she sees herself more as superhuman than supernatural.
The upcoming release of the second book in the series will coincide with a special companion book, featuring a pair of her standalone adventures. I'm presently working on the second tale now, featuring Anna squaring off against a couple of would-be robbers. The ghostly aspect of the Home Alone scenario makes for some hilarious moments. I think readers are going to have a blast seeing her strut her stuff without big sister Sarah to hold her back.
What is the biggest surprise that you experienced after becoming a writer?
I guess that would be the arrival of my muse. For some strange reason, story ideas only seem to pop into my head as I'm lying in bed at night. This can often go on for days at a time, as my mind churns through the story, presenting me with snippets of fun dialogue and interesting scenes, until I at last sit down at my word processor and purge these concepts onto the page. I miss having a good night's sleep.
Is there any particular author or book that influenced you either growing up or as an adult?

After reading J.R.R. Tolkien when I was just a boy, I found myself charged up about writing my own fantasy series. My parents bought me a second-hand manual typewriter, which I promptly hammered to death as I banged out chapter after chapter of my grand "epics". Back then, I think raw desire probably substituted for talent. Maybe that's still the case. All I know is that my love for inventing make-believe worlds is as strong now as it was back then.
Do you have a day job in addition to being a writer?  If so, what do you do during the day? 

I've spent the past two decades earning a comfortable life in Information Technology, in one capacity or another. Currently, I'm Director of IT for an online university, based out of Fredericton, New Brunswick.
What is your favorite writing tip or quote?

My favorite quote is still the first one that I came across when learning the in's and out's of Twitter as a marketing tool for my book: "I'm tired of the anonymity of being an unpublished author. I crave the anonymity of being self-published." It's probably the most apt statement of my time as an indie author that I've ever found.
There are such an overwhelming number of fantastic authors out there, and their ranks are only swelling more every day. Anyone looking to publish in this climate needs to find a reason beyond fame or fortune. If you're not writing because it makes you happy, you might never have peace of mind after you publish.
Tell us a little about your plans for the future.  Do you have any other books in the works?

Book two of the series is in the editing stages now, and I'm gradually piecing together where I want to go with book three. As I mentioned earlier, a companion book will also be coming out, hopefully later in 2013 or early 2014.
Additionally, I have a half-completed Y/A paranormal detective comedy that I intend to revisit as time permits, entitled Rhetoric, Occult Detective. The series details the adventures of paranormal detective Rex Hetoric and his partner, Chester Ames, a former police Sergeant, turned "were-hedgehog." I hope to polish it to make it as absolutely insane as it sounds. Presently, I'm working on both a novel and a collection of short stories that I plan to chain together into an anthology "prequel."
I'm also entertaining an idea of writing a follow-up short story to a horror tale published last December on the Spinetingler's UK website, entitled "Madhattan". I might build the stories into a novella for a subsequent release as well.
Where can we find you online? (please cut and paste links):Blog: http://jbcameron.blogspot.ca
Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/J.B.Cameron.AUTHORhttps://www.facebook.com/ReadingTheDeadTheSarahMiltonChronicles
Twitter: https://twitter.com/ReadingTheDead
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BGE5DEM/
GOODREADShttp://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6966630.J_B_Cameron
KOBOBOOKShttp://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/Reading-The-Dead-The-Sarah/book-q18ca2HxKEe0Ef3msI1zsQ/page1.html
NOVELNOOKhttps://novelnook.com/component/virtuemart/supernatural/Reading-The-Dead---The-Sarah-Milton-Chronicles.htm

Returning Pride by Jill Sanders

Jill Sanders survived 80's pop music, and life as an identical twin in a chaotic family of nine.  A feat by any standard!  She was born and raised in the Pacific Northwest, relocating to Colorado for college and a successful IT career at IBM in Boulder.

Narrowly escaping before all creativity was squashed, she jumped at the chance to trade the mundane world of computers for the sexy, exciting world of her own imagination.  She now lives in charming rural Texas writing wonderful novels such as the Pride series.

Her debut novel, Finding Pride, was shortlisted in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Awards 2013, and has received glowing industry and reader reviews from around the world.  Her latest release is Discovering Pride. Yet another novel, Returning Pride, is slated for July 2013.

To learn more about Jill, visit her website www.jillmsanders.com, where she blogs daily, or follow her on Twitter: @jillmsanders.

Returning Pride

Everything seems to be going Iian's way, he has a successful restaurant, a beautiful home, family, and friends. He's even overcome the loss of his hearing, but why does he still feel like something is missing?

Allison has worked hard to make a name for herself in the art world; now all she wants is peace and quiet to work on her passion. But, with her mother overtaken by illness, she has less time than ever. When everything is stripped away in one tragic blow, and she's being stalked by a mad-man, she'll need the help of her hometown and an old flame, to turn everything around and find what she's been looking for.

Returning Pride is book three of the Pride Series Romance Novels, a sexy contemporary romance series by Jill Sanders.

Amazon:  http://amzn.to/10iOCmePaperback: http://amzn.to/11wAMrIKobo: http://bit.ly/11t7vhBB&N: http://bit.ly/17gq8wTSmashwords: http://bit.ly/16buqkORetruning Pride's Blog Tour: http://bit.ly/13AGThi

Treat Murder by Gabrielle Black, Excerpt

 Yesterday, we met author Gabrielle Black. Today read an excerpt from her murder mystery, Treat Murder. As always, I love your comments.
Blurb: Beautiful, brilliant Veronica Lane, M.D. finds herself the subject of a murder investigation after her patient is found poisoned in the hospital. When the only witness to the murder turns up dead and the police arrest her, Dr. Lane is forced to try to solve the case herself. With her reputation, her freedom, and possibly her life on the line, Dr. Lane hunts down the killer. Her only help: an underage hooker, a local reporter, and her handsome attorney.
But even she is shocked when she finds out how close the murderer really is.
Excerpt:


Things would have been so much easier if I had known that the condition I was treating was in fact, murder. The outcome for the patient, well, -- all involved, but especially the patient -- could have been so much better. I don’t blame myself for this…anymore.Unaccustomed to the bright sunlight, I started sneezing as I walked out of the medical school library, and cursed under my breath at the hypersensitivity of my pale, blue eyes. A med student strolling up the stairs in his short, white intern’s coat glanced up, saying, ‘God bless’ as he passed.I had just spent the last several hours searching the stacks for information on different treatments for multiple sclerosis. In fact, I had spent the last few months researching online, and in all of my medical journals, and had found nothing that would help me treat Sarah Summers. This morning, I had driven down to my alma mater to see what else I could learn. Now, having failed in the library, I had one last resort, my friend and mentor Ellen Krauss.I walked across the grassy quadrangle toward her office, reminiscing about my days in school. I missed being a carefree student, and only wished I still looked like one. Not that I look too bad now at thirty-two, but my cheekbones are certainly more prominent, and several brunette hairs have defected to gray around my temples.At the entrance to the old stone building, I paused to let another student pass. He held the door open for me. “Thanks,” I said as I maneuvered past him to climb the four flights of stairs. At the landing, I stopped again, gulping air and letting the burn in my calves subside. My daily jogging should have made that climb so much easier. As I glanced down the hall, an amused “Ha!” escaped my lips before I could stop it. There were several disheveled stacks of journals piled outside the door. Dr. Ellen Krauss’ papers had finally succeeded in overtaking her office, and were on their way to conquering the fourth floor. I always knew they would. The woman was an incurable packrat, if not quite a hoarder.“Nic? Is that you?” called a disembodied voice.“Yes,” I answered, smiling and hurrying the rest of the way to her door, and then picking my way carefully around the stacks as I crossed the threshold. “Foof!” I blew out an upwards breath that lifted my slightly damp bangs off my forehead. “Yes, it’s me. How’d you know?”“Why would I no’?” She smiled and gestured at an overflowing chair. There was a hint of a lilting burr in her voice that identified her as a Scotswoman. “I never forget a laugh, and I’m sure no one could ever forget yours; ye sound like a goose choking when you laugh. It’s been a while since I last heard it, though. Your practice must be keeping you busy.” Krauss stood as she spoke, and took a couple of chilled cans of Coke from a tiny refrigerator in the corner -- a corner which was nearly hidden beneath its own stack of journals. She handed me one, then popped hers open with a hiss, a ritual of ours that had become automatic over the years. “So what brings you nearly a hundred miles to see me? Not a social visit, I suppose?”Before replying, I took a long sip of the icy Coke, taking a moment to savor the unique pleasure of that first sip. Then I scooped a pile of files off of an old wooden school chair she gestured to, and stacked them on another pile nearby. “No. I wish.” Plopping down in the seat the way I had a thousand times, first as a student, then as a resident, I said, “I came here to do some research. When I finished in the library, I thought I’d drop by.”Krauss sat down and chuckled, “Alright, my wee information hound. What kind of research would bring ye all the way down here?”I smiled. Our friendship had grown out of our mutual thirst for answers. The kind of thirst that slakes itself on stacks of journals, and then not yet satisfied, saves them all in case it might later discover a missed drop of knowledge. For the record, however, my journal collection is actually filed and organized on my laptop.I said, “The kind of research I was hoping you could help me with.”Dr. Krauss smiled and raised an eyebrow. “I have a patient with multiple sclerosis. For years she’s been stable, with only infrequent mild attacks that we controlled well. Now, for the past several months, she has had a completely downhill course-- no remissions,  no rebounds. Everything has stopped working, and I’ve tried everything out there. I was looking for something else to try. Something that may not have hit the mainstream yet. I don’t know what to do, and frankly we’ve run out of options.”Krauss nodded and leaned forward in her desk, pushing her reading glasses up on her nose. “So what did you find out?”The window behind her head needed washing. I stared past the grime as I considered what to say. Same grime, same streaks. It felt like home here, but this was not the same old school debate on another interesting academic conundrum. A life depended on the answers, so my tension did not lift, and the pleasure of our meeting was not what it could have been. “Well, nothing helpful. Everything I saw was old news. I’ve tried my ABC’s, then the rest of the alphabet.” I smiled wryly. “Tysabri worked best, but lately, nothing helps. Rebif helped some… for a while.”I took another drink of my Coke. “Sometime back, I saw a Newsweek article that mentioned someone doing bone marrow transplants with some success, but I can’t find anything on it in my journals. I don’t know who did the research, but I’ve got to find it, to see what they did, and if it really worked. I feel like it could be her last chance.”Krauss wrinkled her nose and nodded slowly. “Aye. I’ve seen something about that. Wait a minute, let me think.” She got up and turned slowly around the room, not really focused on anything, looking for all the world like she was listening to someone I could not see. “Let’s see.” She continued to spin. “Here.” She stabbed a pile of journals with a finger like a divining rod. I shook my head although I had seen the strange ritual before. Housekeeping was absolutely banned from the office. Years ago, she’d nearly gotten one poor girl fired for coming in and cleaning off her desk. “Here it is.” She pulled a journal from somewhere near the bottom of a stack and handed it to me. “They didn’t do it here at Emory, but it looked like a good study. I think the general conclusion was that it was effective in survivors, but too risky for the average MS patient because the mortality was rather high.”I slouched in my chair and flipped through the journal. “I guessed as much, but she is dying. It’s hardly increasing her risk.”Suddenly, all I could see, was Sarah Summer’s wasted body at her last visit. She had vision in only one eye; the other was blinded by a plaque on the optic nerve. Her crumpled posture in the wheelchair spoke volumes, accusing me of failure. Even her graying skin haunted me.Sarah had been my patient for years, beginning before I finished residency. Then she followed me to my new practice, after she wound up in Rome herself. Her loyalty gave my professional pride a boost in my first year of practice, but the price of that boost was the crushing sense of responsibility I felt now. Her life and mine were linked; her decline felt like mine as well.

Gabrielle Black Interview

Meet my guest, Gabrielle Black, author of Treating Murder. Come back tomorrow for a sample of her work.
Tell us a little about yourself?
I’m a shy, bookish nerd. Why?
What made you want to become a writer?
I have wanted to be a writer ever since I got my first library card in the third grade.
What genre do your works fall into?
Mystery/Thriller
What about this genre appeals to you?
In real life, my job basically boils down to looking at clues and making deductions. I guess I just like puzzles, and flexing my brain a little bit.
Could you tell us a bit about your most recent book and why it is a must-read?
Because it’s the best book ever!
What gives you inspiration for your book?
I meet dozens of new people everyday. They share their life experiences with me. I have literally seen it all.
Are your characters based off real people or did they all come entirely from your imagination?
They are all imaginary. No animals were harmed in the making of this novel.
Of all the characters you have created, which is your favorite and why?
I usually say Veronica Lane, M.D., but Missy, the street waif, is growing on me. You have to be made of some stern stuff to go through what she has and not be destroyed by it.
What is the biggest surprise that you experienced after becoming a writer?
I was surprised to find how many aspiring authors there really are. eBooks have really helped to add to the diversity out there.
Is there any particular author or book that influenced you either growing up or as an adult?
I was inspired to write this after I got caught up in the Patricia Cornwell series. 
Do you have a day job in addition to being a writer?  If so, what do you do during the day?  
I’m a physician practicing Family medicine. Note, that is not the same specialty as Dr. Lane. She and I really have very little in common.
What is your favorite writing tip or quote?
‘Never trust anyone who has not brought a book with them.’ Lemony SnicketMy favorite quote from my book is: “You don’t look like much, but they say you murdered that other chick.” Said to Veronica.
Tell us a little about your plans for the future.  Do you have any other books in the works?
Oh yes, the sequel to Treating Murder is in the works. In Dead Wrong, Veronica goes international.
Where can we find you online? (please cut and paste links):http://www.veronicalanemd.comhttp://1gabrielleblack.blogspot.com/http://pinterest.com/1gabrielleblack/https://twitter.com/1GabrielleBlackhttps://www.facebook.com/1.gabrielle.blackhttp://www.goodreads.com/GabrielleBlack

Excerpt from Serving Time by Nadine Ducca

Yesterday we met author Nadine Ducca. Today read about her novel, my review, and an excerpt. If you like what you read, please comment and buy the book.

Blurb:

Life and death have been industrialized. The Forge, the birthplace of every soul, is a rumbling factory owned by the goddess Time, managed by Lucifer, and powered by the labor of demons and imps. In this dystopian world, a renegade interplanetary pilot running from his past doesn't stand a chance.

Handling Neptunian meth and dodging security cannons are all in a day’s work for Tristan Cross—not that he's one to complain. Working for the smuggling company StarCorp is an improvement over what he used to do for a living.

However, when StarCorp gives Tristan a one-way ticket into the brainwashed—and disturbingly suicidal—Loyal League, he decides to run from the company and start a new life in the only safe haven he knows: Earth. With the help of his brother, Tristan embarks on the most hazardous journey of his life, one that will place him at Time’s mercy. Little does he know the demons running the universe are craving a feast, and his own soul is the next item on the menu.
Review:


I’ve read a lot of books, so it isn’t often I come across one that is truly innovative. The quirky Serving Time, however, is something different. It seamlessly weaves together the science-fiction and fantasy elements of the story to create an outstanding read that isn’t a rehash of other stories. The fantasy elements dealing with reincarnation and True Selves are an interesting innovation, and the science fiction elements are believable without overbearing the characters and plot. All the main characters are fascinating and keep you cheering for their success. I especially liked the imperious goddess, Time, and Tristan, the former assassin, drug-running hero. Even the minor characters are well-developed and curiously believable despite the outrageous nature of the plot. The book kept me up late and never drags. I give it an enthusiastic five stars and high recommend it to fans of science fiction or fantasy or anyone who likes a quirky, out-of-the-mainstream tale.  

Excerpt: 


Robert stood in the center of the astral circle etched on the hardwood floor of his living room. His brow creased as he studied the ring of symbols. His fingertips tingled. The portal was ready, and no matter how much a small—yet insistent—part of him wished to put it off, he knew the time had come to open it. He closed his eyes and recited the first two verses.
As the words tumbled from the edge of his lips, a blast of air whirled around him. The wind’s fingers plucked at his clothes and buffeted his face, so he crouched and lowered his head. Just one more verse to go. He yelled the final words, raising his voice over the increasing howling of the wind.
The living room dissolved into gray and blue smudges. With a sickening lurch, Robert felt his body somersault through the air. His concentration vanished into the wind, and he rolled over himself, his stomach wadding into a knot.
“Abaddon,” he whispered, “my Keeper. Protect me.”
Only the gale answered.
Something was wrong. Why was it taking so long? Why hadn’t he practiced the chant one last time before rushing to open the portal? If he had made a mistake—even the tiniest of mistakes—in the runes or the chant, he was as good as dead.
He cupped a hand over his breast pocket and felt the capsule within.
Cyanide.
He ground his teeth together. That isn’t the answer. He wasn’t ready to quit—not yet—and he refused to entertain that idea any further. He hadn’t worked for twenty years to end up swallowing a pill. My calculations are correct, he reminded himself as he weathered the storm. But the shrieks of the wind begged to differ.
Just when it seemed that his mission—and his life—had come to an end, the gale swept past him and vanished. Nonspace retreated, and Robert once more felt solid ground beneath him. He trembled from head to toe and waited for his stomach to stop shuddering before daring to open his eyes. Although he was gaining skill in the art of astral jumps—like learning to land on his feet—he hadn’t traveled to other planes often enough to suppress the wave of nausea that overwhelmed him after each trip.
He hesitantly opened one eye, and when he realized his calculations had been, in fact, correct, his heart skipped a beat. He was crouching on a barren white plane under a blazing white sky. He couldn’t distinguish a horizon, for there was none to see, only a tenuous mist a million miles away.
He narrowed his eyes and looked up at the goddess before him. She stood a few feet to the right, her slender, bare back turned to him. Her gleaming silver dress streamed from her shoulders to the spotless, featureless ground, where the fabric dissolved into ripples that flowed all the way to Robert’s feet. Her golden, waist-length curls spilled over her shoulder, and she twirled a lock between her fingers as she stared into the empty distance.
Robert pulled himself upright. He couldn’t bring himself to take that first step or utter that first word which would break the beautiful silence between them. He had so much to offer her…so much to gain from her.The cream! His hand shot to his pocket. Nothing. His heart jumped in his throat. He patted his clothes and searched through his overcoat. Had he forgotten to take the cream along at the last moment? But that was impossible; he would never forget something so important.
Did they—?
He ran trembling hands over his entire body. Sweat dampened his armpits and clung in beads over his lip. He had read sufficient literature on nonspace to understand the dangers of traveling outside the boundaries of time and matter. Something supernatural inhabited those corners, and that something had sticky fingers.
But those creatures wouldn’t open my pockets—would they? He wiped the sweat from his face. Of course they would.
The wind had been prying at his clothes like an impatient child searching for candy, but Robert had hidden the tube of cream in his pocket and had zipped it closed. But now the cream was gone. Mugged in nonspace. A zipper. What was I thinking? Robert could flay himself for his stupidity. He glanced at the goddess, who stood in silence, either unaware of his arrival or uninterested. Just then, his hands came across something in one of the open pockets of his overcoat. He pulled out the white tube of cream and his jaw dropped open. Those tricksters. But now was not the time for revenge. He needed to concentrate on his mission.
As if sensing his rekindled determination, the goddess spoke. “What do you want?” Her lazy words wove their way across the emptiness toward him and wrapped themselves around him.
Robert cleared his throat. “Greetings, my Goddess. It is an honor to be in your presence.” His voice faltered and he swallowed. “My name is Robert Westbrook.” He bowed his head. A second flitted by. Another. He cautiously glanced up.
The woman standing before him had not stirred. The ripples in her dress gently swelled and receded.Robert licked his lips. A pearl of sweat tickled as it ran down his temple. “I have dedicated my life to finding you. I am your humble servant.” He dropped to one knee.
“How interesting.” The woman’s sweet voice coiled tighter around him.
She turned, and Robert gasped for breath. Her eyes were two unsettling black pits speckled with stars—the cradle of the universe itself.
“Oh, my… I must say…” Finding words became more and more difficult. “Your beauty has no rival, my Goddess.”
The woman’s brow furrowed, and the corners of her mouth sank into an unflattering scowl. “Yes…beauty.” She lifted her chin. “That is why your kind represent me as an old man. With a beard and a scythe—and an hourglass. You call me Father?” She pointed at herself. “Look closely at me. Observe my brilliance! Now imagine me in a black cloak, lugging a useless hourglass and a scythe from one place to another!”
Without uttering a word, Robert settled his gaze on the ground. It was best not to infuriate her.“Black is not my color!” she continued. “Have the Grim Reaper wear black if he so wishes. Not me! I am Time, overseer of the universe!”
Robert waited for her to finish with a bowed head, his lips pressed together.
“How did you arrive at my plane?” Time demanded. “For what reason do you dare interrupt my passage?”Robert took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and in a smooth, unwavering voice, said, “I have dedicated my life to the summoning of Devourers and the travel from one astral plane to another. Years ago, the Devourer Abaddon, my Keeper, suggested I study your magnificence. Since then, I have spent my life honoring you and investigating how to contact you. Today, I have achieved my lifelong ambition. I am finally here, with you.” He smiled. Time did not look impressed. He swallowed and said softly, “Abaddon informed me of the state of the universe.”
Time awarded him a withering look. “So you know. Those beasts cannot hold their tongues.”
“We are living in interesting times.”
“And your prattle is boring me.” Time turned.
“No! Wait! My Goddess, I’m here to make a deal, if you would listen to what I have to offer.” Robert swallowed and his ears clicked. “I wish to buy a bit of time.”
Time gasped, and a cold breeze swept across Robert.
“Foolish little man! Buy a bit of me? How dare you insult me!” A purple mist rose from the ground, making Time’s dress flutter in bubbling waves and locks of her hair dance like serpents. She swelled into a fifteen-foot colossus, her silhouette overshadowing the white plane beneath her.
Robert clambered to his feet and braced himself.
“Many have tried to beguile me,” Time’s voice thundered from above. “Many have come to me speaking promises of glory or revenge, but none have succeeded. Why should you be any different?”
Robert sensibly stepped back and clasped his hands together. “Please forgive me, my Goddess. It was not my wish to offend you. I only wish for some time for myself…to enjoy the expanse of the universe around me. Surely you understand this modest man’s yearning? If only you had a little time to spare for me, for my purposes, for my—”
“A little time to spare? Your people only understand divisions of me—you are too closed-minded to fully grasp my brilliance.” Time brushed her waving hair away from her face, her voice now breathy and low. “So be it.”
She placed a finger against her temple and closed her eyes. “Eight hundred and fifty-five billion, nine hundred seventy-five million, eighty-three thousand, seven hundred, and eleven years, two months, twenty-six days, four hours, thirty-seven minutes and nineteen…eighteen…seventeen seconds is what remains of me, if this helps your organic brain to understand my magnificence.” She crossed her arms, still scowling, still towering over him.
Despite himself, Robert smirked and muttered, “Ah, so now I know when you come to an end. Lucky I won’t be there to see it.” He raised his voice. “All I request is a little bit of you for myself. Not much, you see. Perhaps something as simple as one hair from the top of your head. May I ask how much time it would be?”
“Pluck a hair from my head? Preposterous!” Her voice echoed until it was lost, blended into the mist.Robert’s lips curled into the beginning of a smirk. “I have an offer that might interest you, my Goddess.”
Those words made Time stop short. The winds receded.
“Just one hair,” Robert pressed. “In exchange for what I have to offer.”
Time gently pulled at her locks. “One of these…?” Slowly, her rage ebbed away and she shrank. “Well,” she murmured as she caressed her hair, “this one is quite long… I would say this one would be about nine hundred forty-seven thousand, six hundred and eighty-two years.” Her eyes locked onto Robert’s. “Does your eminence consider that an adequate amount?”
Robert’s stomach turned into a simmering lump of coal, and when he spoke, his voice came out dazed, hardly his own. “Oh, yes, it would be more than enough.”
“And what are you planning on giving me in return for my generosity? A heartfelt thank you? A dedication in your memoirs? I have been offered all that before, and have turned down whoever was foolish enough to believe I could be interested in honor. Surprise me, please. I would appreciate it if you were more original than the fools before you.”
Robert gave her a shy smile, although excitement pulsed through his veins. Now was his moment to shine. His hand disappeared into his pocket and came back out holding the unlabeled tube of cream. He held it on his open palm. “I bring this.” His voice rang out across the empty plane. “Especially made for you.”
Time leaned forward. “What is it?”
“Please understand I do not wish to insult you, my Goddess, my Time…but there is something I must tell you.”
“Tell me what?” She lifted an eyebrow.
“I have discovered an imperfection in your otherwise flawless complexion.”
Time’s starry eyes narrowed. She stared at him, her mouth now no more than a thin crimson line. Robert nodded to himself. She suspects something… Now he could chance being more direct.
He lowered his voice to a murmur. “You wouldn’t want people to begin traveling through them, now would you?”
Time gasped and her hands flew to her face. Robert’s chest swelled with pride, for he had discovered her secret, her shameful, embarrassing secret. He knew she had…wrinkles.
Her fingertips caressed the tiny web of crow’s feet at the corner of each eye. Robert waited in silence, still holding out the tube of cream.
Time straightened her shoulders and said in a huff, “You dare come here and distract me with your ridiculous request? And now you call me a wrinkly old hag! Presumptuous little man!” The constellations in her eyes shifted, and, for a speeding second, Robert thought he saw Sagittarius place an arrow in his bow.
He collected his thoughts. “Believe me when I say I would never call you anything other than beautiful. Your beauty is what inspired me to fabricate this cream, to protect you from harmful cosmic agents. Please take it. Do not let anything alter your perfection.”
Time glared at him, her lower lip trembling. Her shoulders sagged. “My perfection is gone—adulterated! Millions are using my cursed wrinkles as interstellar highways.” She sighed and let her head drop in defeat. “They come and go. With each voyage, they make the furrows run deeper. I do not know what to do.”
Robert caught his breath. “W—what?” His hand trembled. “No, no! Time, who’s using them? I never heard of anybody traveling through your wrinkles! They’re so insignificant that physicists haven’t discovered them yet, much less developed the technology to send spaceships through them! This cream is for you to erase the lines from your lovely face before anyone recognizes your flaws and tries to exploit them.”
Time cocked her head, locks of hair falling over her face. “What species are you, again?”
“Human.”
The stars in her eyes dimmed and she waved him away. “I was referring to the Vermeen. They have been using my misfortune to their advantage for so long.”
“Oh.” Robert lowered his hand and the tube disappeared into his closed fist. He bit his cheek. So somebody with the correct technology haddiscovered Time’s wrinkles. But wait—that shouldn’t be a problem. If all went well, an alien race he’d never heard of would lose a priceless method of transportation. With Time almost ready to do business with him, he couldn’t care less for the Vermeen and their interstellar highways.
He splashed on a renewed smile and once more offered the cream. “It looks like you should teach those Vermeen some respect.”
Time gazed at him, surprise crossing her face. Robert couldn’t blame her for her distrust, for he had studied the occult journals of others who had traveled to this astral plane before him. Seekers of the past had feared the goddess and treated her as nothing more than a heartless, supernatural creature. Yet for some reason, one after another had insisted she owed them favors and chastised her with their petitions. Robert knew better, especially now that God had left the universe.
A thin smile formed on Time’s lips. “Let me see.” She snatched the tube from his upturned palm. She uncapped it, squeezed it, and sniffed the pink cream.
“Now, I must inform you that this is only a trial,” Robert said. “It took me months of investigation, over a dozen active ingredients, and more than one failure. I completely trust its safety, but I cannot be sure of its potency until you try it. If it works and you accept my request, I will make you more.”
“Yes, yes,” Time answered without looking at him. She dabbed the rich, pearly cream onto her finger, sniffed it again, and patted it across her face. “Here,” she said as she handed back the tube.
With both hands, she massaged the cream onto her forehead and the corners of her eyes while Robert waited and held his breath. All of a sudden, the untrusting, scowling avatar of Time vanished, and Robert found himself gazing upon a radiant woman made up of everything he could ever desire.
“This feels wonderful!” she said. “I am fed up with all those Vermeen taking advantage of my flaws. As if it is not embarrassing enough to look at myself and have my crow’s feet greet me, having mortals use them to travel is simply humiliating.”
Robert gave her a lopsided grin but kept silent. He was too busy praying for his concoction to work.
Once Time had finished spreading the cream across her face and neck, she let out a quick sigh.
He watched her for a few anxious moments, then leaned forward. “Do you feel it working?”
“Not yet. Wait.” The stars shivered excitedly in her eyes. She tilted back her head.
Robert’s heart drummed against his chest while he screwed the lid back on the tube. Then the inevitable happened. The hem of Time’s dress trembled. Her hands shot to her face.
“I felt it!”
Robert jumped. “Are you sure?”
“Yes! A wrinkle closed while a Vermeen vessel was in mid-trip! That ought to teach them!”
She locked her gaze onto him. The constellations inside her eyes sparkled brighter than ever. “It works. Make me more.”
Robert grinned and bowed. “I will be honored to, but only in exchange for you-know-what.”
Once he had selected the precious hair he wanted for his own, Time yanked it out and handed it to him. Robert’s eyes softened as he held the golden thread in his open palms. Then, without further hesitation, he rolled it up into a ball, popped it into his mouth, and swallowed it.
He had achieved his goal, and now time stretched out ahead of him, as endless as all of creation. He would observe humanity’s plight for the better part of a million years. He would watch it rise and expand, and he would watch it fall if he had to.
Oh, he expected to enjoy every moment of it.

Guest Interview, Nadine Ducca

Today, my guest is Nadine Ducca, author of the marvelous sci-fantasy novel, Serving Time. Come back tomorrow for an excerpt and my review of her novel.

Tell us a little about yourself.
I'm from California, but I moved to Barcelona, Spain, when I was a teenager. I've been living here ever since.
I studied Translation and Interpreting at the Autonomous University of Barcelona and then a master's degree in Medical Translation. Right now, I manage a language school and supervise the Cambridge English exams in Catalonia. Apart from that, I also teach part-time at the Open University of Catalonia and am a Speaking Examiner for Cambridge English. Whew!
I've had many hobbies over the years, from making necklaces out of polymer clay to going out in the middle of the night and indulging in some astrophotography. However, I'm a creative mess, and my hobbies come and go. There is only one activity I will never, ever side aside: writing!

I try to write something--even if it's just plain nonsense--every day.

What made you want to become a writer?
I can’t pinpoint a specific moment when I said “Now! I’ll be a writer now!” Instead, writing has been an ongoing pastime in my life. Ever since I was a child, I enjoyed writing (and illustrating) short stories I was one of the “special” few who used to get excited whenever the teacher handed out an essay…
Back in the nineties, there was a great computer program (whose name I cannot remember…) that let you set up your own picture book. You could choose the number of page, and then go bonkers adding scenery and people, animals and props from the wide (actually quite small) selection of images. It was great! You could even flip the images around. Without a doubt, the nameless program had a great impact on me and my writing.
 I actually still keep several titles from when I was a kid: Clara the Cow, The Dinosaur Dictionary(including top-notch scientific explanations such as “Chickens are also dinosaurs. I bet you didn’t know. Well, chickens are also dinosaurs.”), and A Different World. This last short story is a bit surprising, considering I was 7 or 8 when I wrote it. A Different World explains the creation of different life forms, evolution, and finally the arrival of a sentient species, all with the helpful nudge of an external entity. It actually reminds me quite a lot of 2001: A Space Odyssey, and it is the basic premise for Serving Time.
Your novel Serving Time mixes fantasy and science fiction. What about this combination appeals to you?
I’m a firm believer in the paranormal. I believe there are ghosts and other entities out there, as well as extraterrestrial life forms that might or might not be more technologically advanced than us. For me, it’s not a matter of “see it to believe it.” It’s a matter of opening your mind and believing in order to see everything that surrounds us.
What happens in Serving Time is that Tristan and Eneld live perfectly normal futuristic lives—until they realize there’s much more to life than they thought. The fantasy elements are woven into the story: from the resentful demons forced to do all the hard labor to the vain and somewhat absentminded goddess, Time.
I guess what appeals to me most about the sci-fantasy combination is how the elements of each genre interact with each other. The science fiction characters (Tristan and Eneld) come across the fantasy characters (Robert and Time) and mayhem ensues. Beliefs are questioned or torn apart, and life for the heroes becomes a lot more complicated.
What inspirations lie behind the novel? Where did you get your ideas from?
When I was a teen, I got the idea for a short story involving two brothers, Tristan and Seth, who made a living looting derelict space ships. In the short, they pushed their luck too far in the black market and quickly ended up on the system's "Most Wanted" list. To avoid being caught, they decided to make a dash for Earth, the capital of chaos, where anyone with a past can blend into the crowd.
As a teen I never got round to writing the actual voyage, and I let the story sit and gather dust for several years while I went to university and started my career.
The idea remained latent in the back of my head that whole time until I finally decided enough was enough! In June of 2011, I enrolled in a creative writing course, and in November 2011I joined Critique Circle, an ongoing critique group.
Characters changed names and appearance and aspirations. The plot evolved and became more intricate. Fantasy came poking its head over the edge of my computer screen, and every now and then asked, "Can I be it it, too?" In the end, a certain goddess of Time, a supercilious necromancer, and a slobbering pack of demons demanded to be let in on the fun, so I welcomed them into my novel.
We might butt heads every now and then, but we're one big happy family.
Are your characters based off real people or did they all come entirely from your imagination?
In all of Serving Time, I can only think of one group of the minor characters who are loosely based on real people: the grimy, neohippie inhabitants of the ark starship Stone Cloud. I have to admit I didn’t do them any favor!
All of the main characters come from my imagination and, inevitably, many of them also contain some of me in their personalities. For example, Tristan is my cynical, pessimist side while Eneld represents that little part of me that always tries to find that silver lining.
Of all the characters you have created, which is your favorite and why?
Don’t make me choose! I love them all. Even the super-cruel-drop-dead villains!
Now that I’m working on the second novel in the series, I’m spending a lot more time fleshing out the character Robert Westbrook. He was a supporting character in Serving Time, but becomes more and more important in Making Time. In the first novel, Robert already starts off calling himself the Demon Master, which just goes to show how great he thinks he is. He’s hopelessly drowning in puppy-dog love for the goddess Time, and controlling his emotions will be one of his hardest challenges.
Without giving away any spoilers, I have to say Robert’s journey is one of the darkest and one of the most entertaining. Yes, I admit it! I like to give my characters a hard time!
What is the biggest surprise that you experienced after becoming a writer?
While going through the entire process of becoming a published author, I had two big surprises: a good one and a bad one.
The good surprise was discovering how many more aspiring authors are out there. It turns out I’m not alone! It’s not just me! Stage two of this great surprise was discovering how helpful writing communities can be. The people at Critique Circle, for example, made me feel right at home.
However, not everything is rainbows and butterflies. The bad surprise came shortly after publishing my novel. Marketing! For someone like me who has very little marketing experience, the whole process can easily become an absolute pain, and it drains away hours that could be dedicated to writing.
Why did you decide to self-publish?
I’m a control freak. Enough said.
No, seriously. I was weighing different options, and I learned about self publication through Critique Circle. I heard about other people’s experiences, difficulties and successes, and after giving it some thought I decided it was the route I wanted to go.
I want absolute control over my books, and indie publishing grants me that. I want to choose the cover, the layout, and the price. I want to have the assurance that even if my book doesn’t do very well, it will still exist for as long as I say so and won’t get pulled from the retailers, as happens with traditionally published books. In traditional publishing, you get one chance. If your book doesn’t succeed, that’s the end of that. With self publishing, on the other hand, you have the freedom to make all the changes you want, whenever you want.
Is there any particular author or book that influenced you either growing up or as an adult?
I’m not sure. I’ve read hundreds and hundreds of books, and all the stories and characters are a mish mash inside my head. I suppose all of our experiences influence us, so all of the book I have read must influence my writing.
Do you have a day job in addition to being a writer?  If so, what do you do during the day? 
Actually, I have two! I work full-time at a language school and part-time at the Open University of Catalonia.
What is your favorite writing tip or quote?
The writing tip that has had most impact on me and my career as an author is: “join a writing community.”
I admit I made the hermitage mistake: I went at it alone for too long. Writing was a lonely experience. When I found Critique Circle, it was like joining group therapy. I wasn’t alone! Here, at my fingertips, were hundreds of other writers! People who were just starting out like me, and people who had been writing for years. Published authors, unpublished, we are all in there!
My favorite tip is to get over your shyness (or, for some, superstition) and share your work with others. Stand up and say “I am [insert name], and I’m a writer!” Take pride in what you do, but also pay attention to the advice others give you. That is, in my opinion, the only way to grow as a writer.
Tell us a little about your plans for the future.  You call Serving Time (Servants of Time, Book #1) Do you have any other books in the works?
Yes. Right now I’m working on the second novel in the series. The title is Making Time , and I recently finished the first draft. I’m editing these days and trying to solve some minor plot problems that popped up. I hope to have a completed version of Making Time in the next few months and to release it by the end of the year.

Where can we find you online? (please cut and paste links):
Blog: http://nadineonwriting.blogspot.com/Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/NadineDuccaTwitter: https://twitter.com/NadineDuccaAmazon: http://www.amazon.com/Serving-Time-Servants-ebook/dp/B00CMHZNQA/Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6965381.Nadine_DuccaIndependent Author Network: http://www.independentauthornetwork.com/nadine-ducca.html

Doctor Lane Bravo’s Lectures on Bervin ‘The Blue,’ excerpt

Yesterday we met author Chris Sweigard. Today read an excerpt from his middle grade novel, Doctor Lane Bravo’s Lectures on Bervin ‘The Blue.’  If you like the excerpt, be sure to comment and buy the novel.
Excerpt:
Lecture 14: The Haya
 Bravo:  Good morning again everyone...Alright, very good, let us pick up with the recording where we left off.  Bervin stops to write again in the tunnel behind the Haya.  Um… this is about the second third of his journal entries.  Buervin was able to read this section for us as well.***
Begin Tape  “The light tapers off quickly as I stay on a constant move to what I believe to be the East.  I can rest for half an hour at the most.  But my enhanced taste and sight have done remarkable things for me.  Not only was I able to see the moist moss that would provide me with the most energy, but my enhanced sense of taste makes it taste better than it should have.  I can actually tell when the stored sugars, starches, and water from the moss enter my body.  It allows me to push on, although I know not where I am going.  I follow the lighted tunnel and suspect it to be the product of something just ahead, for my hearing has become acute as I travel north.  I am fearful of the thing or process creating the tunnel, but must pursue it to remain in the light.  I fear my encounter with it.  “I have notched the days of my journey into my staff and believe it to be day 102.  I have not written for a month of notches but may have made mistakes without the sun to keep track.”End Tape
***
Bravo:Okay, a really quick observation…We know here that Bervin lost all track of time down in the belly of his planet.  We have estimated the day Bervin refers to as his one-hundred and second day in the tunnel to actually be day three hundred and eleven, of his journey.  Being underground with no sunlight, and adjusting to his enhanced abilities given to him by the two stones he possessed, seemed to mess with his sense of time. "It seems as if he was able to find the moss filled with maximum energy.  If it were fruit, I would call it ripe.  After he found the perfect moss, his enhanced sense of taste somehow allowed his digestive system  to absorb all the nutrients his body needed.  He was so efficient that it actually made time go faster to him, or so we think.  So um, anyway, back to the journal.***
Begin Tape  “Today is a good day!  I have entered a chamber under the legendary Brietta Mount of the North Pole. The sun cast a beam of light straight through the diamond into the chamber, illuminating the entire room.  Today and tomorrow, I will rest and bask in the sun’s glory, for I have not seen, felt it, or tasted it in so long.  My hopes are high due to this light, but I do not know the course of my future actions.  I have encountered the worm of the tunnel; it is an awful creature.  Foul and hot with a screeching noise almost unbearable to my ears.  It howls while it sleeps and makes cracking hissing as it eats.  This is all enhanced within the confines of this tunnel, with a pitch so painful I was forced to drop back to the darkness for days allowing my ears to mend.  I hope not to encounter her again.”  “It has been two days since my last journal entry.  I have discovered a miracle.  While I was sitting in this chamber, playing my Kinka, a small piece of the Brietta Mount broke from its base and fell into my lap.  It is the Stone of Hearing.  Now when I play my Kinka I can see the music vibrate like a soft wave out of the whistle and it is softly filling the chamber with vibrations. I know not what the resul..."End Tape***
Bravo:At this moment, we speculate that the worm returned to the chamber hissing and screeching, chewing and oozing and such.Wait just a second. I think we have time to begin listening to the three sisters of the diamond mountain.  Here they will tell their story of meeting and helping Bervin “The Blue” on the next leg of his journey.  Let me just find the tape.  Wait until you hear these crazy old women!  They are a riot.  Ahha, here it is!  I should tell you, they all have the same name: Iaya. It can get confusing. ***
Begin Tape  “Alien?  You’re an off-worlder?  Well, now I’ve seen it all!”  “You haven’t seen the sense to quit smoking that darn pipe around company Iaya.’"  “Oh, Shush, Iaya! You don’t mind, do you, Lane Bravo.”  “No Ma’am, go right ahead.”  “So where were we?”  “Oh yes, the off-worlder.”  “Whom do you wish to know about from our humble young planet?”  “Bervin from the village Keln.”  “Village Keln…!  Oh, dear…”  “Oh dear, indeed…”  “Yes, yes dear…”  “Yes, yes dear…”  “We sent him to the East, you see, to the City of Ner.  It is there he needed to return.  Not Keln… no, no, no, no, not Keln.”End Tape***
Bravo:Heh, you know what I’ve never mentioned?  Direction...!  At the point in history that we are studying,  Keln maps were drawn with the Brietta Mount or Diamond as the point of reference.  If The Brietta Mount is the North Pole, which it is, South is the opposite, of course, and the village Keln and the City of Ner are located with Keln to the West and Ner to the East of the Mount.  They were the only two places where people lived in large groups until after the Unification.  Soon after that, the population grew, and there are currently seven villages and cities in Kelner.  They are all prospering.  Okay, back to the Iaya sisters...  …Oh, a question?Student:Yes, Doctor Bravo, I thought the land mass was moving as it came out of the North Pole.  How does the Brietta Mount or Diamond stay in one place?” Bravo:  Good question.  A scientist will tell you that it shouldn’t be attached to the North Pole by magnetism, gravity, or any other force or law of physics, but it is.  As the new Bayaya grows from the depths of the planet, the giant diamond does not budge.  The lava rock is still warm at the pole and it pushes around the Brietta Mount.  I do not have an explanation for it.  It’s magic, I guess.  Good question again, Ben.  I wish I could give you more than that.  Anyway, if there are no more questions, I’ll get us back to the Iaya Sisters.***
Begin Tape  “Ner is where he’s off to and then perhaps Keln.”  “Iaya, quiet, you’re babbling ahead.”  “Yes Iaya, hush yourself! Smoke your pipe you old Kesa.  Let Iaya tell the truth.”  “Thank you, Iaya. That is what I will do.  Dear Lane, this is the story of Bervin, the one who is to unite the Common Sense Stones of Keln here in his forty-fifth year.  We were all napping ten days ago in the midday, as we always do, when the Good Mother Keln began to awaken.”  “Yes, yes, that is the truth.”  “Yes, she awoke.”  “Yes, and as she awoke she began to sing.  At first, it was just a hum and a rhythm.  It was sad but hopeful.”  “Very good Iaya…Sad, but hopeful, I agree.”  “Very good Iaya…Sad but hopeful, I agree.”  “Yes, sad but hopeful… hahahaaaa.”  “Iaya…”  “Heeee…”  “Sorry about her, it’s that darn pipe. She’s losing her senses for sure.”  “For certain.”  “For certain.”  “Lane, would you like a meal and water?”  “I would love some, thank you.  What was the Awakening?”  “Oh, of course, I forgot. It was the battle of sound for space.”  “Wow…”  “Yes. Bervin’s Kinka filled the chamber and that hurt the ears of the Haya. The Haya tried forcing the sound out with her sounds but the Kinka music is so soft and flexible, especially when enhanced by the Stones, as Bervin's was.”  “You know of Bervin’s possession?”  “Yes, yes of course.”  “Do we know?  Why silly.”  “Iaya...!  Quiet!”  “Yes, Lane, we know of his possessions. We are Mother Keln’s guardians.  All of us, Glut, the Trul, the Iams, and the Haya were sent here to Keln to orchestrate the Unification.”  “Orchestrate the Unification?  Please explain.”  “You see, we were born over one thousand years ago, around the birth of the Good Mother Keln herself.  We have watched The Good Mother Keln grow and age gracefully and then witnessed her receive children of her own, Bervin’s people.  Moreover, as she aged, they aged, and they have become a wise people.  The mother and the children are good to one another.  They respect her and she nurtures them.“It is good.” “Yes it is.” “They are ready for their blessing.” “Blessing?” “The Stones!”“The Stones!”“The unification of the Common Sense Stones is the Good Mother’s blessing she is giving to her children.  It is time for them to come to their senses and take on the responsibility of caring for Mother Keln, for she is older now and did such a good job of raising them.  Her greatest gift to Bervin’s people is to unify the Sense Stones, with the help of Bervin, of course.”  “Bervin’s efforts will grant her children the gift of the Common Senses.”  “And, of course, they will be united, and prosperity will reside on Kelner and the Good Mother will rest!”  “Yes, Bervin.”  “So, you see, Lane, we are playing the music for the event and...”  “Playing the music for the event and...”  “Playing the music?  Yes, the Brietta Mount, of course.”  “Bervin has just small pieces of the Common Sense Stones, including the Stone of Hearing,”  “The Brietta Mount...?”  “Yes, the Brietta Mount is the only Common Sense Stone that is not in the belly of the Good Mother Keln, for the sense that really make us our best to others is ‘listening.’”  “We carved the stone with our chatter as it grew.  When the stone was lifted above the existing blanket of life…” “Yep, the blanket of life...” “Yes.” “Please, sisters, may I?”“Yes, of course, Iaya.”“Yes, of course.” “Lane Bravo, our magic is our chatter. We have carved the Brietta Mount with our chatter as it grew for many years, so that it was ready to be lifted.”“Your talking carves the great diamond mountain?”“That is correct. As the Mount lifted and our magical chatter chiseled the final cuts as we spoke with Bervin. The Mount took in our sun’s light.  I believe you have named it Eridaus.  The Brietta Mount separated the rainbow of colors and Blue was sprayed out over all of Bayaya, bringing Kelner the blue sky.  It is also the beginning of the next part of her wonderful history!”  “All of Kelner!”  “Yes, hah, Iaya is right.”  “Is your job done?  What will you do now?  “We do not know!  We do not know. Whoopee...!”  “Wee…!”  “Sorry, Lane.  It is true we do not know, but we are very excited!”  “Your story is truly remarkable ladies, truly remarkable.”  “Anyway…  So... what of Bervin?”  “Oh yes, Bervin, of course.”  “Bervin told us all of the terrible screeching and hissing and bubbling of the worm.  He told us how the sounds united with the Kinka music, and how they battled for space in the chamber.  He told us how the noise became so loud he couldn’t hear it anymore, but instead, said it was as if he felt like he was a part of it as the noises battled in the chamber.”  “Was Bervin still playing?”  “No, no he wasn’t. But Kinka music is so soft and flexible that it can never be really broken.  With the enhancement of the stones, it was thicker and richer and more real, making it stronger so it could wrestle with the Haya’s screech.”“You could feel it in your hands?”“Do you understand?”  “Yes I think I do.”  “Good!”  “Good.”  “And when the two sounds battled for the space, they started to push and push and push up into the ceiling of the small cave and into the bottom of the mountain.  As they pushed, the mountain started to rise up out of the small chamber, forcing the top of the mountain to rise up above the land, raising dust into the air and sky, quickly uniting with the mist from Mother Keln’s breath.  This is how the clouds you see above were created.   “Dark, spooky great storms; large clouds”  “Iaya is right.  The storm will last for the next few months.  It will be difficult for the villagers this winter, but next year is to be Keln’s first spring, and the following summer will be a wonderful summer.  That is the summer Bervin will return to the village with the Unification complete and bring in the era of sense to all the villagers. But for now, the storm season will keep him at Ner at least until the new clouds spread over Keln and find their balance.  “Then what happened?”  “Ahh, but Lane, it was not like that at all.  It was all happening at once; for you see, as the clouds were forming from the mountain moving upward, the mountain was still rising upward above the sky.”  “Above the sky?”  “Yes Lane, above the ‘Blanket of Life’”“Yes, far above, and it rose out of Mother Keln, as a magnificent beacon toward the sun.  The sun saw it and shined brightly down on the Good Mother Keln, helping her to raise the mount over Keln.  This, in turn, lifted the sky three times its former height over Keln and best of all…”  “Yes, yes, yes best, the best heehaa.”  “Iaya...settle girl!  Ha-ha, she is correct, though it’s quite magnificent.”  “It surely is.”  “Yes look dear Lane, look above, what do you see?”  “Well I’ll be a...the sky above the clouds, it’s blue.”  “Yes, its blue.  All of Keln except for the pole directly below us is blue.”  “But how?  The Brietta Mount is above us Lane, above us.”  “Remarkable!”  “Yes, just as Iaya told you, the sun above us, which you refer to as the star Eridaus, shines down into the mighty diamond mountain.  The light bounces around in the mountain and the color blue is reflected outward and around our Good Mother.”End Tape
***Bravo: Okay, I apologize.  I know we’re running late already.  I just want to recap what the Iaya sisters just told us.  When the music of his Kinka and the screeching of the Haya fought for space in the chamber below the Brietta Mount, the mountain was thrust up into the upper atmosphere of Keln.  This massive upheaval had many profound effects on the small planet.  Firstly, The Mountain reflected blue light into the sky.  This is the moment in Keln history when we here on Earth could see the planet for the first time.  Secondly, the Bayaya actually broke into three separate continents.  The third major change this monstrous event brought about was all the dust that was released.  The dust was thrown into the atmosphere for the water from the Boiling Waters or Good Mother’s Breath as they called it, to attach to and make the first clouds of the young planet. The clouds brought the storms that the Iaya Sisters refer to in the interviews.  Finally, all of this created weather patterns and seasons.  It was quite a remarkable transformation for the small planet.  Um…So anyway, I’ve kept you long enough.  We’ll get back to it tomorrow. 

Guest author, Chris Sweigard

Today's guest is Chris Sweigard, author of Doctor Lane Bravo’s Lectures on Bervin ‘The Blue,’ a middle grade Science Fiction/ Fantasy novel.
Tell us about yourself
I live in Cincinnati, Ohio, and manage a nature shop for my parents.  I’m married with three boys ages 10, 7, and 10 months.  We also have a dog named Scooby Doo.  My wife has a career, so I keep busy with the boys and my own job, but I write whenever I can fit it in.  I’m a big baseball fan and also took up guitar about two years ago. 
When did you decide you wanted to be a writer?
I think I’ve wanted to be a writer for as long as I can remember.  I’ve placed Author above Astronaut, Doctor, Pro Athlete, and Rock Star my whole life.
How did your decision to write change your life?
For me, it gives me that sense of purpose that is so often talked about.  I rarely feel like I should be doing something else when I’m writing.
Where do you get your ideas from?
I take general themes of history such as trade, social uprising, and class society and transform it into a fantasy history lesson.
Tell us about your most recent book.
Doctor Lane Bravo’s Lectures on Bervin ‘The Blue’ is Dr. Bravo’s first lecture in a series, which is sponsored by the Galaxy Program of N.A.S.H. or North American Space Headquarters.  Dr. Bravo, is the Director of the Galaxy Program, and it is his job to record the most important events in the history of the Galaxy.  N.A.S.H. has given access to a time traveling Light-surfer for the project.  This first bit of history is the story of Bervin ‘The Blue’ of the planet Kelner.  Bervin is given the daunting task of retrieving the Common Sense Stones of his young planet. Dr. Bravo, not being able to interview Bervin himself, obtains interviews with the Village Elders, Kanka the Lone-dweller, Jippy the fishing captain, the Iaya Sisters, and and others.  He couples them with Bervin’s own journal from his journey in order to bring the most accurate account of this history possible.    As Bervin gained possession of the Common Sense Stones, his senses along with the rest of the planet’s became heightened to a level of awareness that had not been obtainable before.  There was a price, however.  Bervin’s actions raised the Brietta Mount, which cast massive amounts of dust into the atmosphere.  The raising of the Mount caused Sunlight to ricochet through the diamond Mountain and cast Blue over the  otherwise colorless sky.  It’s massive upheaval also fractured the lone landmass of the planet and created the first mountain range.  With the newly added dust in the atmosphere, clouds were formed and the four seasons were begun.  With the storms came the lakes and rivers, and Kelner was transformed.
Do you have another book in the pipeline?
Yes.  I am finishing the editing process on Doctor Lane Bravo’s Lectures on Andl Zenl.  It is Bravo’s record of a miner from the Ornario Asteroid Belt.  His history is considered noteworthy because he was able to move asteroids through open space closer to one another in order to create a trade alliance between their inhabitants.  His actions helped avoid war and transformed the social dynamics of the three asteroids forever.  I hope to have it out this year.  I am also working on the third installment of Dr. Bravo’s Lectures.  Those are concerned with the history of the Turtle Queen of Torrell, Cyntmort.  She blew up a star. 
What are your favorite books?
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis, A Spell for Chameleon by Piers Anthony, and White Fang by Jack London are some of my favorite books. 
Who is your favorite author and why?
That is an easy one!  C.S. Lewis is by far my favorite author.  He wrote like I aspire to write,  A great
Visit Chris at his website: http://www.doctorlanebravo.com/

June Short Fiction Competition

A friend of mine is having a short fiction contest on his blog. Read about it below:
June Short Fiction Competition - Win a £50 Amazon Gift Card
Welcome to the first short fiction writing competition here on The Cult of Me. This is the first of what I hope will be a monthly competition. At the start of every month (a little earlier in this case) I will post a new picture and you can then submit a short story (with a maximum word count of 500 words). At the end of the month I will pick the winners and announce them on this blog.

The winner's stories will be available here (and promoted across Goodreads, Twitter, Facebook and Stumbleupon and anywhere else I can) and you'll also have a link to your blog or website displayed alongside your story if you win. The winners will also receive an Amazon gift card:
First Prize is a £50 gift cardSecond prize is a £20 gift cardThird prize is a £10 gift cardDetails on how you can enter are on his blog: http://thecultofme.blogspot.co.uk/p/june-writing-competition.html