J.C. Michael's Blog, page 2
September 30, 2014
JULIE RUNS AWAY WITH THE LEAD
Normally I hate it when someone gets the better of me, but on this occasion I'm quite happy to say that my good friend Julie Hutchings has beaten me to it when it comes to launching a follow up novel to a 2013 debut.While the follow up to Discoredia has sat untouched Julie has pressed on and released the follow up to her successful novel, Running Home.
Running Away launched last week through our shared publisher, Books of the Dead Press, and here's the blurb;
Eliza Morgan is desperate to escape the horrors of her mortal life and understand why death follows her, leaving only one man, Nicholas French, in its wake. He’s the one she loves, the one she resents, and the one fated to make her legendary among the Shinigami– an ancient order of vampires with a “heroic” duty to kill. He’s also decaying before her eyes, and it’s her fault.
On the ghostlike mountaintop in Japan that the vampires consider home, Eliza will be guided by the all-powerful Master for her transition to Shinigami death god. When Eliza discovers that sacrificing her destiny will save Nicholas, she’s not afraid to defy fate and make it so—even when Nicholas’s salvation kills her slowly with torturous, puzzle-piece visions that beg her to solve them. Both Nicholas and his beloved Master fight her on veering from the path to immortality, but Eliza won’t be talked out of her plan, even if it drives the wedge between Nicholas and her deeper.
Allying with the fiery rebel, Kieran, who does what he wants and encourages her to do the same, and a mysterious deity that only she can see, Eliza must forge her own path through a maze of ancient traditions and rivalries, shameful secrets and dark betrayals to take back the choices denied her and the Shinigami who see her as their savior. To uncover the truth and save her loved ones, Eliza will stop at nothing, including war with fate itself.
I genuinely hope that this does well for Julie, she certainly deserves it, so if "New Adult Paranormal Romance" is your thing then I recommend you grab a copy of this, and Running Home if you haven't read that, right away.
Amazon.com Widgets
September 16, 2014
Happy Book Birthday!
So how have the past twelve months gone? The negative is that we haven't shifted anywhere near as many units as we'd have liked, but there's no point getting down about it. The positive is that the book is out there, some people have read it, and the reviews have been positive on the whole. As a writer I've moved on with two published short stories now to my name (in Fireside Popsicles and the newly released Suspended in Dusk anthology) and another due out next month (in The Dark Carnival anthology from Pen and Muse). I'm also waiting to hear on a further three submissions.
As ever, time is my enemy. It's great to be able to say that DJ's Smurf, Kutski, and Sicknarf, own my book, that I'm a published author, and that people enjoy the things I write, but it's the day job that pays the bills (with a recent promotion to keep me even busier) and the family that truly brings a smile to my face.
Hopefully the next 12 months will see a few more stories released, who knows. It's fun to be an author, but my biggest wish is that my family stays happy and healthy - unlike the poor buggers I write about!
Suspended in Dusk Edited by Simon Dewar
July 14, 2014
A New Look
For the past half an hour I've worked on a blog post which I've ended up deleting. It'd turned into a pretty negative piece on how hard it is to sell books / get reviews / build a brand and so on and so forth.
The truth is Discoredia hasn't grabbed the attention of the public at large. Sales are slow. We needed a plan, and my publisher came up with a new cover which may help us turn things around.
I liked the old cover, but I also like this. The colour scheme is brighter, the figure fits Woodrose, and the eyes hint at the kind of over-arching control he exerts later in the book. It's a different style, and it may just work. Only time will tell, but for now let's celebrate the third (if we count the old self published version) incarnation of Discoredia's cover.
Third time lucky, or three strikes and you're out?
July 13, 2014
Fireside Popsicles
Fireside Popsicles is an anthology of horror and bizarro fiction brought to you by Sheila Hall and M C O'Neil.
It's the first anthology from Fireside Press, although they have more in the pipeline so keep your eyes out.
So why am I telling you about this particular collection? Because I'm in it of course! My story, Closing the Deal, was developed from a chapter in the Discoredia sequel, Dark Designs, which briefly saw the light of day on Lulu. Dark Designs is currently in re-write limbo, as it needs a bit of work, but one day it'll be resurrected.
For now I hope you enjoy Closing the Deal as a stand-alone short, and hopefully you'll enjoy the rest of the Popsicles too.
March 5, 2014
It's Been A While...
since I last posted here on the blog. Why? Well, it's mainly down to the fact that I don't have the luxury of focusing on my writing at the expense of everything else. There's family for a start, and then there's the day job. I also find writing a fairly intense exercise, which probably reflects the subject matter I tend to gravitate towards. It isn't relaxing that's for sure, and when you have a hefty workload at the 9-5 you need to find ways to wind down, not intensify things even further.
Having said that, I haven't been totally idle as far as my alter-ego as J C Michael is concerned. I've got three short stories lined up for publication in 2014, and a few more submissions I'm currently working on. I'll post up more details of these forthcoming anthologies in the coming days and weeks.
And the picture? That's my recently received prize from Grey Matter Press after I won the "Grand Prize" in their St. Valentines Day Massacre Flash Fiction contest. My winning entry was called INSUFFICIENT, and you can read it here;
The words release the darkness. With them I have unleashed mayhem. I have slaughtered hundreds. Subjected young and old alike to butchery unrestrained by practicality. Demonic visions which plague my imagination set free on paper and screen to infiltrate the mind of the reader. A corruptive sickness to eat away at their soul, as their eyes devour texts born of my own, mental, perversion.
Murder, rape. Suicide, depravity. I’ve written of them all. The ink, blood, the pen, a scalpel. A release of the pressures of modern life in a literary, bloodletting, form. But is it enough?
The self prescribed cure for my affliction no longer releases the inner demons to a sufficient extent. I put down the pen. I pick up a knife. It’s dark outside. I’m dark inside. I need to feel, not imagine. Experience, not invent. The words, now insufficient, the acts to come, will be sublime.
December 21, 2013
The 12 Days of Christmas - Psychopath Remix
This was written last year for DeadlyEverAfter.com and, as I hadn't posted on the blog for a while, I thought I'd share it here.
Merry Christmas!
The 12 Days of Christmas - Psychopath Remix
On the first day of Christmas,
The Devil sent to me,
A message through my Sony T.V.
On the second day of Christmas,
The Devil sent to me,
Two leather gloves,
And a message through my Sony T.V.
On the third day of Christmas,
The Devil sent to me,
Three Beaten kids,
Two leather gloves,
And a message through my Sony T.V.
On the fourth day of Christmas,
The Devil sent to me,
Four sharp knives,
Three Beaten kids,
Two leather gloves,
And a message through my Sony T.V.
On the fifth day of Christmas,
The Devil sent to me,
Five split personalities,
Four sharp knives,
Three Beaten kids,
Two leather gloves,
And a message through my Sony T.V.
On the sixth day of Christmas,
The Devil sent to me,
Six whores to cut,
Five split personalities,
Four sharp knives,
Three Beaten kids,
Two leather gloves,
And a message through my Sony T.V.
On the seventh day of Christmas,
The Devil sent to me,
Seven feet of rope,
Six whores to cut,
Five split personalities,
Four sharp knives,
Three Beaten kids,
Two leather gloves,
And a message through my Sony T.V.
On the eighth day of Christmas,
The Devil sent to me,
Eight women to strangle,
Seven feet of rope,
Six whores to cut,
Five split personalities,
Four sharp knives,
Three Beaten kids,
Two leather gloves,
And a message through my Sony T.V.
On the ninth day of Christmas,
The Devil sent to me,
A nine mill. Beretta,
Eight women to strangle,
Seven feet of rope,
Six whores to cut,
Five split personalities,
Four sharp knives,
Three Beaten kids,
Two leather gloves,
And a message through my Sony T.V.
On the tenth day of Christmas,
The Devil sent to me,
A ten gauge sawn-off,
A nine mill. Beretta,
Eight women to strangle,
Seven feet of rope,
Six whores to cut,
Five split personalities,
Four sharp knives,
Three Beaten kids,
Two leather gloves,
And a message through my Sony T.V.
On the eleventh day of Christmas,
The Devil sent to me,
Eleven men to shoot,
A ten gauge sawn-off,
A nine mill. Beretta,
Eight women to strangle,
Seven feet of rope,
Six whores to cut,
Five split personalities,
Four sharp knives,
Three Beaten kids,
Two leather gloves,
And a message through my Sony T.V.
On the twelfth day of Christmas,
The Devil sent to me,
Twelve final victims,
Eleven men to shoot,
A ten gauge sawn-off,
A nine mill. Beretta,
Eight women to strangle,
Seven feet of rope,
Six whores to cut,
Five split personalities,
Four sharp knives,
Three Beaten kids,
Two leather gloves,
And a message through my Sony T.V!
October 2, 2013
The piece that helped me get signed
It was on the strength of this that the owner of the press bumped Discoredia to the top of his slush pile, and the rest, as they say, is history.
So, if anyone missed it the first time around here it is; Push by J C Michael.
That day made 9/11 look like a fucking picnic. It hit everyone. Shit, it hit everything.
No-one saw it coming. No intelligence. No early warnings. Nobody was immune, nobody was spared, well, maybe a handful of astronauts on the space station we had in those days, but that was it. This was global. A billion Chinese who never gave a rat’s arse about the rest of us certainly gave a shit about what happened that day. Those that lived that is.
I was lucky, a cut forehead, you’ve seen the scar, like Harry bloody Potter, if you know who he is, but nothing worse. The biggest single event in the history of mankind, maybe even the whole damn planet, and all I got was a three inch gash. Like I said, lucky. Lucky the underground car park machine rejected my pound coin, remember those? Lucky it took so long rooting around in the car to find another. A stroke of fortune that kept me inside, below ground.
Over fifty years ago now, but I remember it like yesterday. I was disorientated, pressed against the ceiling, but still registering what I was seeing out through the exit. Everything thrown up into the air; cars, people, a sodding dog. Whole buildings tearing loose of their foundations. Screams cutting the air, loud at first then fading into the distance, before coming closer again, closer until there was the almighty crash back to earth. The sound of metal, stone, flesh and bone, slamming into the ground. I could barely see for dust, and what I could see was twisted out of recognition. More screams, screams of pain. The whole world turned upside down and back again in ten seconds.
Someone told me that in the first five seconds people fell 400 ft into the air, and were doing almost 60 miles per hour when they hit the ground again. True or not, those seconds changed the world. The religious nuts screamed Armageddon. The West blamed the East, the East the West. The conspiracy theorists blamed the scientists, the scientists scratched their heads. Some folk took to strapping themselves down, but not me. If you live in an earthquake zone you don’t live under the table, you just get on with shit and hope it never happens. Now, it’s just a footnote in history. The day gravity decided to push, not pull.
September 28, 2013
Corruption
This piece was written for Claire Riley's Horror and Thriller Month on Facebook. Claire's latest release, Odium, launches this week, and you can find out more at www.clairecriley.com.
I'm getting quite a taste for Flash Fiction, as it doesn't take quite such an investment time wise, but you can still make quite an impact. Let me know what you think of Corruption, hopefully you'll enjoy it.
CORRUPTION
We look down in unison at the pair of gleaming, crimson, gloves. Then raise our eyes to one another.
I have led the woman before me down that darkest of corridors which terminates in the sanctity of sin. A desolate and destructive course from which her return is no longer an option. As an angel, she had come to me, a wife, a mother, a carer. Unaware of what lay behind the glass until her eyes met her own, and let me in.
Yes, an angel, pure in thought, and in deed. Yet what I see before me now reeks of my corruption. Her wings torn from her shoulders, leaving naught but bloodied stumps and soiled feathers upon the ground. A carpet of crushed and bloodstained evidence of my unbridled fury at the purity she had dared bring to my dominion. An angel, now fallen from grace and condemned to Hell, as am I. I have turned my face from the glory of God, and now turn the faces of others in the palm of my wicked, twisted, hand.
As I hold her gaze she rubs her hands unthinkingly, like an automaton. Scrubbing at stains from which she can never be free. There is no spark within her iris, for I have extinguished that kind soul which burnt so brightly, dwelling there before coming into contact with me.
Only now does she look down, but I do not. I already know that the blood will have washed away, leaving only microscopic traces beneath manicured nails. Instead, I look over her shoulder. Her husband is obscured by the sheets of the bed. Uniformly hotel-white, with a dash of colour of my own design. He could be sleeping. He is not. Unless, that is, you wish to cavort with the poetic, and regard death as the eternal sleep which sees no dawn. The spray of blood across the headboard, the wall, the print of some unrecognisable city, announces that she has fulfilled her task.
It is a shame my confined view prevents me from bearing witness to the remainder of our handiwork. The other room where my desecrated angel created two angels of her very own. Releasing the souls of her children from a life ruined by a mothers crime.
Soon, she will turn. Her eyes open to her actions for the very first time. When she does I shall wallow in her screams.
I shall be content.
September 17, 2013
Now for the hard part
Discoredia launched on Monday, and I've already sold more than I did in four years of self publishing. Why? There's a number of reasons. It's a better book now, thanks to the "monster" edit carried out by my publisher. I'm also lucky to have the support of a number of fellow authors, many of whom I now class as good friends, who have helped promote the book.
This leads me nicely on to the key factor (initially) which is getting your work recognised. With thousands upon thousands of books out there it's easy to get lost. You won't sell any books if nobody knows its available. Sure, quality matters, but that element becomes more important as you go on. A well advertised, but crap, book, will sell a few before it's found out, and the negative reviews pile up. A brilliant book that's poorly advertised won't sell despite the quality.
There's a lot of hard work to be done to get your voice heard amongst the thousands on twitter, Facebook, Goodreads, and any other platform you may care to try. You also have to hope that those who do hear your call, and who succumb to those pleas to give a debut author a chance, leave a review. Reviews sell books, plain and simple (once people know the book exists).
It's hard work. Getting published is a starting point, not the end. There's also an elusive balance to find, to advertise but not to simply become a marketeer. I'll give it all my best shot. Wish me luck!
September 14, 2013
Better Get My Arse In Gear
The past month has been a little odd. With Discoredia delayed I found myself in limbo, struggling to crack on with new projects when I knew the edits could land in my inbox at any time.
Well, they finally arrived, and I've worked through them with what sanity I had intact (just).
There's still work to be done, but nothing that will take long at all. The wait's nearly over, and the weights off my shoulders.
So what now? Finish off my Dark Carnival piece for starters. Then I've a submission I need to have done for the end of the month, plus one for the end of October, and maybe another if I've got time. Oh, and a flash fiction piece for the Undead Duo. Thank God they're all shorts!
All of that's on top of promoting Discoredia (plus the day job, and the family).
So, it's going to be a busy end to 2013, but I wouldn't change it for the world. I'm so fortunate to be getting published by Books of the Dead Press, and to be supported in that by some very special people (Chelle, Julie, and Claire I'm thinking of you in particular).
Here's to the imminent publication of Discoredia, and a lot more besides.
