Max Ellendale's Blog, page 6

September 2013

As summer comes to a close (not really, we’ve got a few weeks to go), I can’t help but think back on the events of the spring and summer. Glyph released in print for the first time in April, and Birthrite followed it to print in August. Waking each morning to pleasant reviews and excited comments on my social networking sites top nothing else. Recently, Glyph has spent some time as #2 on the Amazon Best Sellers list in genre fiction (subcategories erotic horror). Even though this series is paranormal romance, I can see the erotic (sorta) horror (sure!) elements of it. I was more than thrilled to see the little “#2″ beneath the Amazon ranking after a friend pointed it out to me. I don’t make it a habit of checking rankings often, however, I was pleased to see this.

The summer was met with some letdowns despite the growing interest in the Legacy Series. I hoped to make it to DragonCon, which didn’t pan out. Next year I’m hoping for MystiCon and DragonCon, and possibly San Diego ComicCon. I’m working on an Indiegogo campaign to raise some funds! So far it’s been interesting, to say the least.

This morning I sent a message to my sister asking for a typewriter for Christmas. Her response was, “(Thumbs Up).” She always supports my wacky quests for vintage items. I’ve got my eye on a vintage Corona but my pockets don’t seem to want to cooperate. At this point, I will settle for anything that works! And that has ribbons readily available. I still do a lot of writing longhand before it ever makes it to the computer, though I’m hoping a typewriter will add a bit of excitement and inspiration to my writing life. [Fifteen minutes later] Whoops, got lost on eBay for a minute there. Anyway, yeah, typewriter. I want.

Keep an eye out for upcoming blog contests and giveaways! Signed copies of Glyph and Birthrite for the taking, some promo gear, and eBooks. And hopefully a reading/signing appearance coming this Fall… maybe… hopefully.

Cheers!

Max

August 2013

It’s taken me ages to get this post up as I’ve been all sorts of busy. Not necessarily a bad thing!

In the past week, Birthrite (Legacy Series Book Two) released in both print and ebook editions! Available from my publisher, Breathless Press, or on Amazon.com. Barnes and Noble will soon follow. I’m now working on setting up signings, readings, and other marketing events.  It’s exciting and frightening at the same time!

I’ve taken a slight step away from blogging and other social networking as it’s very important for me to keep writing. There was a post on Facebook or Twitter (see what I mean?) that said, “Writing is 7% discipline and 93% staying off the internet.” This is so true! Too many times we get caught up in social networking and forget about the craft of writing. As so, I’ve cut back to monthly blogs.

This summer I had made plans to attend Dragon-Con and San Diego Comic-Con, both of which didn’t come to fruition. For what reason, you ask? Why… financial of course! With New York Comic-Con on the horizon, a few indie friends of mine recommended that I try an Indiegogo.com or Kickstarter.com campaign to raise funds for the travel expenses, vendor tables, registration, etc. Have any of you indie authors out there tried this? The friends who recommended it were all in the film industry. One of them raised 10k for production costs using Indiegogo! That’s pretty amazing. Con costs wouldn’t be nearly as high but even if I raised a little bit, I’d be able to travel and get a shared vendor table. What do you all think? It would be a modest campaign of maybe 1-2k which would cover more than one convention.

In other news, I’m working on polishing my YA again before I begin another round of agent submissions.  My last attempt was rather small with little response. I think I have a good set of researched agents this time. Here’s to hoping! Now… if only I’d master the art of the query.

Some of you have asked, after reading both Glyph and Birthrite, how many books I plan for the Legacy Series. At this point, I’m able to give a general answer as I now have a better grasp of the series arc. Right now, I have a partially written third book that follows the gang into their next adventure and a fourth book that’s well-planned. I imagine that there will be six total books that follow Shawnee et. al. Following the same rule set of the Legacy Series, I have two tie-in books planned, one of which is a YA. A graphic novel idea has been tossed around every so often and I have a partially written GN script, though I can’t make any promises on the latter!

As the reviews for Birthrite slowly roll in, I am very pleased thus far with the response. Thank you all for the kind words and feedback. Positive and inquisitive responses are rather motivating, I must say! I hope you all continue to enjoy this story as I have enjoyed writing it.

Best to you all!

Cheers,

Max

PS- My publisher has a HUGE sale going on right now! Both ebook editions of Glyph and Birthrite are on sale! Check it out at BreathlessPress.com!

Birthrite Teaser pt2!

With the impending release of Birthrite on Friday, another teaser is in order! Remember these are just excerpts so… grab the book (print or eBook) on July 26th!

Cheers!

PS – Please disregard the bizarre formatting, I promise the published versions will look proper! Blog spacing is odd…

*** BIRTHRITE***

Chapter Two

“What did Kurt give you?” Xany asked as soon as Caden and I appeared in the kitchen. She bounced in her typical manner and, if it were possible, wore even less clothing than usual. I had to keep my eyes on her face to avoid staring at her nearly exposed body parts. I couldn’t understand Xany’s aversion to full attire and maybe I never would.

Caden handed me the dagger in its leather bindings. I unwrapped it and held it out to her. The leather was a barrier between me and the silver. Touching it made it seem like I condoned what it had done to Vanessa.

“He said the carving reminded him of my glyph, so he thought I should have it,” I attempted to explain, though I knew she wouldn’t judge me. Xany picked up the dagger to inspect it and turned the hilt over in her hand.

“It does look like your glyph,” she said, while gripping it firmly in the palm of her hand. “It’s a nice dagger.”

I watched as she turned her left arm over and compared the etching on the handle to the glyph on her forearm. Unlike my very obvious birthmark, Xany’s three-scratch glyph resembled a tattoo. The brownish hue melded perfectly with the tone of her skin. She shrugged lightly and held the dagger, hilt first, for me to take.

“I don’t want it. It hurt Vanessa.” Another vision of Vanessa’s injury flashed into my mind. The echo of her rattling breath sent shivers down my spine. I took a few deep breaths to keep the overwhelming memory at bay.

“Yeah but without this dagger you might not have discovered your gift,” Xany said. She had a point there.

“Why is my negligent sister wielding a silver dagger in the presence of werecreatures?” Mal asked as he entered the kitchen. He came from behind to wrap his arms around me. My body seemed to sigh in relief. There was no place safer in the world than in the embrace of my mate.

“I’m not negligent. You better watch it, bub.” Xany huffed and jabbed the dagger in his direction. Mal laughed in response.

“You smell good,” I whispered to him. He smiled and nuzzled my neck, brushing his lips over my flesh. I stroked the soft skin of his arms. When I touched him like this, little bits of fire seemed to lick at my fingers. Not an averse kind of fire, the kind that made me want more.

“So do you.” His hands slid into the front pockets of my jeans. My stomach answered his affection with a flutter.

Xany giggled at us as she sheathed the dagger and gave it back to Caden. I continued to caress Mal’s arms and mused over the fact that I’m still getting used to him in some ways. A month ago we had officially chosen each other as mates, which is not as simple as it sounds. In accepting me, Mal also accepted Vanessa and she’s since accepted him. It hasn’t been easy though. Sometimes I feel like I have to choose between them. The reality is that I can have them both. This has made me edgy lately. If I decide to be with both of them, I worry that they would be judged. Mal for sharing his mate, which wolves almost never do, and Vanessa for choosing to be with a woman who had already chosen to be with a man. It didn’t help that they are opposite genders or that they are opposite species, werewolf and weretiger respectively.

“We watched Vanessa dance today,” Caden told Xany. “It’s trippy how fast their feet move.”

Xany grinned as she hugged him. “I’ve only seen that stuff on TV.” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him before tugging him over to the oven to show him what she had cooked for dinner. It smelled like roast beef. Mal led me to the sofa where he sat, then guided me into his lap. This position was quickly becoming my favorite way to sit. I’ve always known skin to skin contact was really important to werewolves, but I’m beginning to learn how important it is to me as well. My mind wandered to what it would feel like to be skin to skin with him and Vanessa at the same time.

“She’ll be here soon.” He always seemed to know my thoughts.

“I just like it when we’re all in the same place,” I confessed.

“I know.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, brushing his knuckles across my cheek in the process. It warmed my core in ways I had yet to give words. I rested my head on his shoulder. Ever since the incident at Mercy General, I struggled to separate from my pack mates. Prior to this, I wanted most of them to keep their distance. Things have changed. Mal placed his hand on my thigh, rubbing to comfort me as my thoughts roamed.

“I got my license in the mail today,” I told him. “I am officially a Utah doctor.”

“That’s great. Do you think you would use your gift with some of your patients?” he asked, his chin resting on my shoulder.

“I’m not sure. First, I need to learn how to use it willfully. Xany got a cut the other day while chopping carrots and I couldn’t heal it.” Discouragement pressed heavily on my shoulders.

“Maybe it needs to be a life-threatening wound,” he suggested.

“My mom could heal anything. Right before I healed Vanessa, I remembered her healing my scraped knee after I fell off my bike when I was little. In a way, it told me what to do. I can’t seem to do it even for the littlest things when I try.”

Sometimes it hurts to remember my early interactions with my mother. She’s been dead for what seems like my entire life at this point. Sharing a gift with her makes me feel more connected to her, like she’s alive in me somehow.

“You were emotionally connected to Vanessa and to what was going on. Maybe that’s a part of it,” he said. His fingertips edged closer, caressing along my inner thigh. It was hard to focus on the conversation with the little shockwaves he kept sending through me.

“I’ll just have to keep trying.” I plucked at the frayed bits of the beaded bracelet he wore. He kissed my cheek, which of course brought a smile to my lips.

Right on cue, Vanessa entered the living room from the doorway of my bedroom. There are plenty of doorways and windows in the main room, but for some reason she always chooses my bedroom as her passageway in and out of the cabin. She pranced over to the sofa, her feet soundless on the wooden floor. Like any good weretiger, stealth is her forte. My mood lightened when she bent over the back of the couch to hug me. Her purring was vibrant and affectionate. Xany glanced over from the kitchen. She must have sensed my sudden relief now that everyone was in the cabin. Sometimes it’s annoying having an empath living in the same house. Nothing is secret. Mal chuckled when Vanessa hopped over the back of the sofa and nearly sat on top of him, though his grip on me seemed to tighten in a possessive embrace. Hidden in his laugh, I thought I heard the faintest remnants of a growl.

“I think you two have broken the record for cat-dog closeness,” I jested at my mates. Mates. Only you, Shawnee, would have two mates. Breaking the rules and unable to choose.

“We could fight if you want.” A snicker escaped Vanessa’s lips as she dragged a single fingernail over my knee.

“That could be arranged.” A wicked grin melted across Mal’s face.

“Naughty kitty. No fighting.” I flicked Vanessa on the nose then glared at Mal. “I like quiet harmony better.”

Vanessa gave me a quick kiss as an apology. I settled into the safety of being tucked between the two of them. All the tension over the dagger washed away.

“Well, good thing you joined a pack. We’re known for our quiet, harmonious lives.” Mal chuckled.

I thwapped his arm and laughed. Sometimes it seemed like I’d find any excuse to touch him or Vanessa. It’s difficult though, most of the time. Part of me knows that they both thrive on touch, but a larger part of me fears their rejection. Or that I will leave some sort of bad residue on them.

“Dinner’s ready, lovebirds,” Xany announced in a sing-song voice. We rose together to join her and Caden in the kitchen. She had taken to doing a lot of the household stuff like cooking and shopping. It wasn’t that it was required of her, but sometimes it seemed like it was her way of taking care of all of us. She kept a particularly close eye on what I ate and always made sure Mal had some sort of very rare meat for every meal. It’s pretty common for feral wolves to hunt regularly and live a more carnivorous life.

As soon as Caden sat down, his phone rang. “What’s up, Hank?” he asked as he stood back up to excuse himself. “Oh,” he said suddenly and turned around. “She’s right here,” he added and held the phone to me. Confused, I took it.

“Hello?” I asked, overcome with apprehension. I didn’t get many calls here and I certainly didn’t get calls on Caden’s cell phone from the leader of our Sept. A Sept is just a formal name for smaller packs gathered under one very dominant leader, but it still made me nervous that I was being asked for. Immediately, a thousand different scenarios paraded through my head, each scarier than the last.

“Hey there darlin’ Shawnee. How ya farin’?” Hank said.

“I’m well, thanks. And you?” I smiled at the warm greeting.

“I’m a’right. Miss Shawnee, I got a favor to ask of ya.”

Everyone watched me as I talked to Hank. I tried to keep the nervousness from my voice. “Sure, Hank. What’s going on?” His voice sounded concerned and my brow furrowed involuntarily in response.

“Well, our Cote fell off his skateboard yesterday an’ hasn’t been himself since. Gene is refusin’ ter take him to see a doctor unless it’s you,” he said. I could hear the hidden smile in his voice.

“Bring him over. I’ll take a look at him,” I offered.

“Thank ya, Miss Shawnee, we’ll be over soon,” he said and we hung up.

“Everything okay, Nee?” Xany asked as I gave Caden back his phone.

“Hank’s son isn’t feeling well. Apparently, Gene doesn’t want anyone else to see him except me,” I explained, nodding a thank you to Caden as he served me a heaping helping of mashed potatoes.

“Imogene is very set in her ways,” Caden said, though he didn’t look at me when he spoke. I got the feeling he was up to something.

After dinner, Hank and Gene arrived with their son, Cote. He appeared lethargic with a big bump on his forehead from his fall. Mal, Vanessa, and Caden sat in the main room while Xany helped me tend to Cote. We turned the kitchen into an impromptu examining room. Cote sat quietly on the table, with his feet dangling, and allowed me to examine him.

“My name is Shawnee, Cote, remember me?” I asked.

He nodded faintly.

“How old are you?” Distraction is usually the best way to work with injured kids. They are often scared of things like needles and all the other torturous stuff doctors do to them while trying to keep them healthy or alive.

He held up four fingers but frowned at me while I inspected the bump on his head, and his legs swung with restlessness. Before he could flinch or pull away, I shined the flashlight in his eyes and noted the unevenness of his pupils.

“Do you have a headache, Cote?”

He nodded once, then grew still for a moment before pointing to the arm that he had draped across his lap. Gene paced nervously, her thumb braced against her teeth. Hank tried to comfort her with an occasional stroke of her hair as she passed. I lifted a brow at the boy, then carefully pulled back his shirt sleeve. Xany gasped and Gene covered her mouth.

“What’n the heck have ya done there, boy!” Hank exclaimed when he saw the badly bruised and swollen wrist.

“Well now, I bet that hurts more than your head, huh?” I said, trying to stay as calm as possible without freaking him out. Cote nodded once and stuck out his bottom lip in a pout.

“He didn’t have that last night,” Gene said tearfully, her hand protectively on Cote’s shoulder.

“He’s a Breeder, right?” I asked as I held Cote’s wrist between my hands to keep it in place. His broken bone protruded against my fingers. I knew he was in a lot of pain.

“Yes, he an’ the lit’le one,” Hank answered.

“Sometimes injuries in Breeders take awhile to show up. It’s a protective thing,” I said. “We need to take him to the E.R. His wrist needs to be set in place and put in a cast.”

“Nee, that’ll scare him,” Xany whispered.

Cote began to tear up when he heard us talk about the hospital. Gene kissed her son’s cheek. I watched Cote while biting my lip, then closed my eyes. The kiss from a mother worrying for her child conjured an everlasting lump in my throat. I fought hard to hold back my tears and the twinge of envy that lingered on my palate. After a moment, I opened my eyes and looked at the boy. The last thing I wanted was for him to feel any more discomfort.

“Try,” Xany urged. “You can do it.”

Cote met my gaze. His brown eyes sparkled with an innocence that pleaded for relief. I didn’t want to let him down.

“Stay still, Cote, okay? I’m going to try and make you feel better.” I took a deep breath. He nodded as I tightened my hands around his wrist.

Emotions, Shawnee, remember. Mal’s voice popped into my head, startling me at first. Sometimes I love his gift for telepathy. He gets to share the inside of my head and I’m not alone with the echoes.

Cote tilted his head curiously, Gene looked confused and Hank stood stoically—much like Caden—at my words. I closed my eyes again. I thought about how I’d healed Vanessa, the flaps of her shredded skin weaving under my fingers, and the warmth my mother’s hands created when wrapped around my skinned knee. Then I remembered all the injuries I got after she died that remained unhealed, the greenish-yellow of faded bruises that kept me locked in my father’s trailer. I focused on Cote’s pain and the exhilaration of potentially taking it all away. He wouldn’t have any leftover bruises as long as I had a say in it. The last thought was enough to do it. My eyes welled with tears I’d stifled and the familiar lurching burn rose in my chest. It rolled over my shoulders and down to my hands. The distinct glow of indigo burst from my palms, enveloping Cote’s wrist. As the heat grew, Cote’s wrist healed. His bones realigned and popped under my touch. I opened my eyes just in time to watch the bruises fade. Quickly, I moved my hand to the bump on his head. It, too, shrunk away. The indigo glow vanished with it.

Cote gasped. “Magic!” He pulled his hand from me and shook it around happily.

“All better,” I said through a laugh and ran my hand over Cote’s little ponytail.

Gene scooped him up and stared at me, her eyes wide; flecks of blue that hinted at her mixed heritage searched my face like she expected me to transform into some sort of shaman. Xany’s smile was bright and cheery. She nudged me with her elbow and hotness rushed my cheeks.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Hank said. He looked from me to Caden, whose grin seemed proud, and nodded.

“Thank you, Shawnee,” Gene said, her voice barely a whisper.

“Any time,” I said and reached over to mess up Cote’s bangs.

“Shawnee’s magic, Momma,” he said.

“Yes she is.” Gene smiled a wistful smile.

I glanced over my shoulder at my mates who looked just as delighted as the others. The attention quickly became too much and I longed to hide between them.

“And now for being a good boy, you get an ice pop,” Xany said and bounced over to the freezer to retrieve a grape ice pop for him. Cote accepted it happily.

***

Hank and Gene stayed for a little while after Cote’s healing then returned home to their other children. Xany brought ice pops to each of us in the main room then took a seat in Caden’s lap.

“She did it, TB, I knew she could,” Xany said, addressing Caden with her favorite pet name for him. At first, Caden seemed anything but a big fuzzy teddy bear, but over the past few months, I started to understand Xany’s motives for giving him such a nickname. Vanessa pulled me into her lap. She nuzzled my neck and pressed her cold lips to my skin.

“Ice pop lips.” I shivered. She snickered mischievously and did it again. Mal seemed to enjoy watching her tease me.

“Tell us how you did it, Shawnee,” he encouraged. I glanced at him and took a few licks from my ice pop before handing it to Vanessa to finish.

“I did like you said. I had to be emotionally connected in order to direct it.” If anything, healing Cote gave me the confidence boost I needed. I had really started to believe that healing Vanessa was just an accident.

“You even lifted your hand and healed his head, too, like a pro,” Xany’s voice ended in an excited chirp.

“Yeah, I just sort of went with it. I still don’t feel too confident though. It’s easy to relate to an injured kid.” I shrugged. Caden lifted a brow at me.

“Stop it,” he said.

“Stop what?” I asked, suddenly nervous. Caden had never given me a command like that before. Everyone was now watching him.

“Stop trying to seem unspecial. You have an amazing gift and no amount of surliness is going to change that,” he said, then took a bite of his ice pop as if he had said his piece. Xany giggled at him.

“He’s right, NeeNee. So stop it.” She nodded once and emitted a quiet hmph.

I huffed at them. I didn’t want to be special. I wanted to be normal and ordinary like everyone else. I turned to face Vanessa and she gave a lock of my hair a gentle tug. I pouted.

“You always do it to yourself, Shawnee. It’s not a bad thing to be special or different,” she said, poking at my pout. I swatted her for it.

“At least she’s not being rude,” Xany muttered. Mal lifted his lip and snarled at her. Xany rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be naughty.” Vanessa leaned in as if she was going to kiss me but instead she slipped the ice pop between us and licked it slowly from the bottom to the top.

“Vanessa!” I shouted but she did it again, this time flicking her tongue on the tip before sucking a drop of juice that was about to drip onto her hand. She knew that I was still shy about overtly sexual gestures but the way she made me laugh always seemed to overpower my discomfort. The others were amused by Vanessa’s phallic entertainment. She licked it again then snickered as she took a bite from the top. One of the guys grunted but I couldn’t tell which. I couldn’t help but blush and lean my forehead against hers. She kissed me with her icy cold, grape-flavored lips.

“You’re the naughty one,” I whispered, resigned to the fact that I had to get used to her PDAs.

“Only because it makes you smile.” She finished the ice pop and began purring. I hugged her tightly, glancing over at Mal who was smiling.

She’ll do anything to make you feel better. His voice again rang through my mind.

I know. It’s only taken me this long to appreciate it.

Birthrite Teaser pt 1!

With the impending release of Birthrite, I figured I would share a bit of a teaser… and yep. I mean it. Just a bit. A little flirt. If I get enough demands I could be convinced to post more, I’m rather fond of attention on rare occasions. *taps lip* All right well, I will get to it.

***

Chapter One

The echoes in my head are beginning to sound more like my own. And Mal’s sometimes. The sound of his voice washes over me and there’s nothing more I could ever want. Or need.

Kurt called me last night and asked to meet at a coffee shop in Cheyenne. He said he had something that belonged to me. The only thing I could think of was that I’d left something behind at Mercy General where I used to work. Caden accompanied me. Apparently he could bend to a lot more places than he had let on.

“What do you think he has?” I asked Caden as we sat down inside the cafe.

He snacked on a marshmallow treat while we waited. “Hopefully something unevil.” He pulled a chunk off the treat and ate it, licking the marshmallow from his fingers.

“Unevil implies that it was once evil and has been un-eviled,” I said, then sipped my tea. The heat of the mug against my palms quelled some of the anxiety that Kurt’s call brought up. Visions of the containment cells invaded my mind every time my thoughts slowed.

“All right, then something with chocolate.” He shrugged. I smiled at him. Sometimes I think Caden’s goal in life is to make me laugh, or feel comfortable at the very least.

“Hey, Doctor T,” Kurt’s voice rang out as he approached. My gut tightened at the reminder his presence brought to me. The last time I saw Kurt, he was dragging a werewolf cub to safety from the containment cells where Dr. Reynolds, my evil ex-boss, held her hostage.

Kurt’s smile seemed warm when he joined us and pulled up a chair. He held something wrapped in leather. Caden stood to shake his hand, and I followed suit. It turns out that Kurt works for the Alliance after all. The Alliance is a joint force of humans and werecreatures who fight against corruption and organizations that are out to harm preternatural creatures for personal gain, like the Andrus.

“It’s good to see you again, Kurt.” Caden gestured for us to sit.

“And you as well, Caden.” Kurt seemed much more relaxed than I remembered. I guess being a major player in covert operations is a reason to be tense.

“How is the cub, Kurt? The one from that night…” I trailed off, rolling my shoulders at the uncomfortable memory.

“She’s doing well. Esteban took her into his pack and she is thriving after her Firsting,” he said. I nodded. About six months ago, I found out that I was accidentally working for an Andrus-infested hospital. I also accidentally created a vaccine against werecreature transformation that my corrupt boss tested on werewolf cubs. We were able to stop him though. He’s dead now and only I know how to make the vaccine, though I wish I didn’t.

“That was good of Esteban,” Caden said.

“His mate became attached to the cub and demanded she remain in the pack.” Kurt grinned. “She was a Lost One, but she’s found now.”

“I’m glad she’s well,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief. The last image I had of her blazing yellow eyes, primed for her first change, raced across my vision.

“I brought something for you, Doctor T,” Kurt said and placed the bundle on the table. Caden lifted an eyebrow and glanced to me. I shrugged.

“What is it?”

“After the Alliance cleaned up the mess at Mercy General, this was the only thing left.” He glanced around before pulling back the leather to reveal the obsidian hilt of a pure silver dagger. I recognized it immediately. Caden frowned at the silver and Kurt turned the dagger over to show me the etching on the handle.

“The carving resembles your glyph. Not too many glyphs have four lines like yours. Most have three, so I… I thought it suiting for…you to have it.” He stammered a bit, which made me somewhat suspicious.

“How’d you know about my glyph?” I stared at the dagger and rubbed the arm where I hid my glyph under my sleeve.

“I was there investigating you originally, remember?” He tilted his head to the side; the half-smile he wore told me that he knew more about me than just the design and placement of my glyph.

“Oh…yeah.” The last time I laid eyes on that dagger it was protruding from the stomach of my weretiger girlfriend. I stared at the etching before pushing the dagger back toward Kurt.

“I can’t accept that. It nearly killed…” I glanced at Caden, clutching my chest. The panic began to rise when I thought about Vanessa’s near-death experience. Caden placed his hand on my shoulder and the worry slipped away. Sometimes having the Alpha by my side was beneficial.

“Thank you, Kurt, for the dagger and the update,” Caden said as he wrapped the dagger up and tucked it into his belt.

“You’re welcome. Feel free to call if you ever need assistance from the Alliance. Take care, Doctor T.” His smile was polite, but his handshake seemed uncertain. I began to wonder if Kurt was holding something back.

“Stay safe, Kurt,” I said. He nodded to me on his way out.

“Ready to head home?” Caden asked, his voice gentle.

“Can we stop by Vanessa’s work while we’re here? It’ll surprise her,” I said. My concern for Vanessa never seemed to cease lately. Even though—generally—she could take care of herself, the thought of losing her was still fresh in my mind.

“Sure, I suppose.” He chuckled.

We went to the restroom to safely bend to my old apartment building. Every day I appreciated Caden and Vanessa’s gift for bending. It’s very useful as I’m rarely in the mood for long car rides.

July 2013

Happy Summer!

It’s been a while since I’ve blogged, though it’s not for lack of thinking about it! The past week has been rather busy finishing up edits for Birthrite and preparing for the final stages prior to release. In the upcoming months, I hope to work on further promotion of the Legacy Series books. Once book two is released, I’m hoping to set up a few opportunities for signing events.

The biggest struggle I’ve had over the past few months is balancing my time. Unfortunately, like may authors just starting out, I’m still employed full-time in a career that I find myself moving away from every day. Money is, after all, a necessity. My day job is rather stressful at times and emotionally taxing, which leaves my resources beyond sapped at the end of each day. This often spills over into the weekend. I find myself in need of more and more time to recover and recuperate. Even with two weeks away, I still find my energy levels low. Despite such, I’ve been more productive. My slowed process gets to me at times and infects me with a mindset of “just give it up, it’s easier.” I fight against that negative thinking as best I can.

Looking forward, I hope to polish up my YA manuscript. Earlier this year I was querying regularly, over the last few months I’ve since stopped. Again, for lack of energy. I figured that, since my writing continues to evolve, the YA might need another look. I’ll also be working on book three of the Legacy Series.

Lastly, what do you all think of Webinars? For those not familiar with the term, a webinar is an internet-based conference that can be shared with remote locations. It can be a straight forward training, interactive, or a workshop. I was considering developing a platform for my genre fiction workshop to run remotely. If I were able to do an internet workshop, would any of you be interested? Access would be available nationally and to some overseas locations. Please let me know. Feel free to reply to this post or shoot me an email at max@maxellendale.com.

All the best to you and happy Independence Day!

Cheers,

Max

Beginnings of Genre Fiction Workshop (Time Change!)

Beginnings of Genre Fiction Workshop

Saturday, July 6, 2013

3:00pm-5:00pm - Workshop 5:30pm- ??

Individual Consultations After party to follow!

Cuppa Pulp Booksellers

817 Chestnut Ridge Road

Chestnut Ridge, NY 10977

P: (845) 290-1572 F: (845) 290-6919

What   do successful genre novels have in common? An engaging plot, flowing   narrative that draws readers in, and believable characters.    Sci-fi/fantasy, mystery, horror, romance, paranormal… This workshop   will provide an overview of how to craft the literature of the   fantastic! Topics will include:

Plot: Tweaking the old school plot arc: to suit new tastes, foreshadowing, subplots, plot turns and saggy middles.
Narrative: The delicate balance between dialogue, action and description.
Character Development: Creating   a character with enough depth to carry the story, unforgettable   secondary characters, use and integration of back story.
World building & Creatures: Believable worlds/creatures, using the now world to inform the other worlds.
Brief   discussion of the industry at present, literary agents, small press,   NAN, and indie/self-publishing. Social networking. The dreaded query.

This workshop will include in-session writing exercises. Writers of all levels are welcome and encouraged!

For  individual consultation, please email Max at maxellendale@aol.com.   Include a writing sample, an idea for discussion, or any   questions/topics you would like to discuss. All manuscripts must be   received by June 39, 2013 (one week prior to workshop) so that Max has  ample time for review.

Sign up at info@cuppapulp.com or call Meadowlark at (845)290-1572.

For more information, please visit: www.cuppapulp.com

June 2013

Cover art for Birthrite is in! And I love it. Thanks to Victoria Miller at Breathless Press for such a wonderful job.  A release date has not yet been set but as soon as I know, I will be sure to post it!

As July speeds toward us, I’d like to announce a change of time for my “Beginnings of Genre Fiction,” workshop at Cuppapulp Booksellers in Chestnut Ridge, New York this summer! (see above for details) I look forward to meeting many of you!

A brief update on some other projects. My YA fantasy tale is still in the query process and I’m actively soliciting agents. No word yet on some of my nonfiction and poetry submissions! Deadlines have not yet passed for any of them so the waiting game is on!

This month, I finally received the paper copy of my MFA diploma. It’s now joined its predecessors on the wall in my office. Part of me is very relieved to have completed my degree, though another part of me is saddened by the loss of the writing community I’ve been a part of for five years. I’m confident I will establish a new community beyond the graduate program.

Hmm… this update is rather brief. I guess that’s it for now!

Cheers,

Max

,MFA

It’s official!! I waited a whole year for this!

Now I can… hmm… well… do the same thing I always do. *snickers*

Cover Reveal for book two, Birthrite!

On this unusually cool and breezy Sunday, I’m sitting out back with the dogs surrounding my feet. The shadow of screeching bird passes over (it was a huge woodpecker!) and I remember that I never posted a cover reveal on my blog! Last week, I received an email from one of the lovely cover artists at Breathless Press (Victoria Miller) that had the finalized cover art for book two in the Legacy Series, Birthrite! Without further adieu, I’m happy to reveal the cover of Birthrite!

 

Thank you, Victoria, for such a lovely cover! I cannot wait to see it attached to my work! And thank you all for such lovely comments on all social media sites regarding this cover!

Happy weekend to everyone!

Cheers,

Max

Article: 15 Things a Writer Should Never Do

I received this article in an email from Writer’s Digest and thought I would share.

Best,

Max

[Source: http://www.writersdigest.com]

15 Things a Writer Should Never Do
May 10, 2013 | Zachary Petit |



Based on interviews with authors over the years, conferences, editing dozens of issues of Writer’s Digest, and my own occasional literary forays and flails, here are some points of consensus and observations: 15 of them, things anyone who lives by the pen (or seeks to) might consider. It is, like most things in the writing world, a list in progress—and if you’ve got your own Dos or Don’ts to add, I’d love to hear them in the Comments.

1. Don’t assume there is any single path or playbook writers need to follow. (Or, for that matter, a definitive superlative list of Dos and Don’ts …) Simply put: You have to do what works best for you. Listen to the voices in your head, and learn to train and trust them. More often than not, they’ll let you know if you’re on the right path. People often bemoan the surplus of contradictory advice in the writing world—but it’s there because there really is no yellow-brick road, and a diversity of perspectives allows you to cherry-pick what uniquely suits you and your abilities.

2. Don’t try to write like your idols. Be yourself. Yeah, it sounds a bit cheesy, but it’s true: The one thing you’ve got that no one else does is your own voice, your own style, your own approach. Use it. (If you try to pretend to write like anyone else, your readers will know.) Perhaps author Allegra Goodman said it best: “Know your literary tradition, savor it, steal from it, but when you sit down to write, forget about worshiping greatness and fetishizing masterpieces.”

3. Don’t get too swept up in debates about outlining/not outlining, whether or not you should write what you know, whether or not you should edit as you go along or at the end—again, just experiment and do what works best for you. The freedom that comes with embracing this approach is downright cathartic.

4. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket when it comes to pitching something—always be working on your next book or idea while you’re querying. Keeping your creative side in gear while focusing on the business of selling your work prevents bigger stalls in your writing life down the road.

5. Don’t be unnecessarily dishonest, rude, hostile—people in the publishing industry talk, and word spreads about who’s great to work with, and who’s not. Publishing is a big business, but it’s a pretty incestuous business. Keep those family reunions gossip free.

6. Don’t ever hate someone for the feedback they give you. No piece of writing is universally beloved. Nearly every beta reader, editor or agent will have a different opinion of your work, and there’s value in that. Accept what nuggets you believe are valid, recognize the recurring issues you might want/need to address, and toss the edits your gut tells to toss. (Unless the changes are mandatory for a deal—in which case you’ll need to do some deeper soul searching.) Be open to criticism—it will make you a better writer.

7. … But, don’t be susceptible to the barbs of online trolls—you know, those people who post sociopathic comments for the sake of posting sociopathic comments. That’s what trolls do: they troll (on Amazon, Goodreads, Twitter, etc.). It’s not personal. Which means the message at the core of their words means as little as the 0s and 1s used to code it. Ignore them heartily.

8. Don’t ever lower you guard when it comes to the basics: Good spelling, healthy mechanics, sound grammar. They are the foundations that keep our writing houses from imploding … and our queries from hitting the recycling bin before our stories can speak for themselves.

9. Don’t ever write something in an attempt to satisfy a market trend and make a quick buck. By the time such a book is ready to go, the trend will likely have passed. The astronomical amount of romantic teenage vampire novels in desk drawers is more than a nuisance—it’s a wildfire hazard. Write the story that gives you insomnia.

10. Don’t be spiteful about another writer’s success. Celebrate it. As author Amy Sue Nathan recalled when detailing her path to publication in the upcoming July/August 2013 issue of WD: “Writers I knew were landing book deals and experiencing other things I was working toward, so I made a decision to learn from them instead of begrudging them. I learned that another author’s success doesn’t infringe on mine.”

11. Don’t ever assume it’s easy. Writers with one book on shelves or one story in print often had to keep stacking up unpublished manuscripts until they could reach the publisher’s doorbell. (The exception being those lucky 19-year-old savants you sometimes hear about, or, say, Snooki. But, hey, success still isn’t guaranteed—after all, Snooki’s Gorilla Beach: A Novel has only sold 3,445 copies.) Success is one of those things that’s often damn near impossible to accurately predict unless you already have it in spades.

12. Don’t forget to get out once in a while. Writing is a reflection of real life. It’s all too easy to sit too long at that desk and forget to live it.

13. Don’t ever discount the sheer teaching power (and therapeutic goodness) of a great read. The makeshift MFA program of countless writers has been a well-stocked bookshelf.

14. Don’t be afraid to give up … on a particular piece. Sometimes, a story just doesn’t work, and you shouldn’t spend years languishing on something you just can’t fix. (After all, you can always come back to it later, right?)

15. But, don’t ever really give up. Writers write. It’s what we do. It’s what we have to do. Sure, we can all say over a half-empty bottle of wine that we’re going to throw the towel in this time, but let’s be honest: Very few of us ever do. And none of us are ever really all that surprised when we find ourselves back at our computers, tapping away, and waiting for that electric, amazing moment when the pebble of a story shakes loose and begins to skitter down that great hill …

Zachary Petit is the senior managing editor of Writer’s Digest magazine. He finally caved in and joined Twitter, and is now hopelessly distracted: @ZacharyPetit.