R.J. Blain's Blog, page 63

Kindle Scout Campaign for Water Viper, A Jesse Alexander Novel, is now live!

My Kindle Scout campaign for Water Viper is now live! This is your chance to give Amazon a helpful nudge in the right direction. Like my books? This is a free, easy way for you to tell Amazon you think they should give me a publishing contract–and if Amazon selects my novel, you get a copy of the book for free when it launches.

Here’s how it works: You’ll click this link, give the book a look over, and if you like it, click “Nominate me.” (You may need to sign in with your amazon account to do this!) You can nominate up to three books at a time.)

At the end of the 30 day period, Amazon will tell me if they’re selecting the book. If not, sadness happens, but I publish the book anyway.

Nominate, share, and tell your friends. Ask them to nominate. Worse things that happens? I don’t get accepted and I keep slogging along. The best thing that happens? Free book for you, and for you, and for your friends, and for anyone else who takes a moment to click and nominate.

I try not to ask for things very often, but if you could take the moment to share with your friend, and click nominate, it would mean a great deal to me.

Thank you so much.

Now, about the book…

During Starfall, magic flooded the Earth and destroyed most technology, while humans developed magical abilities. Jesse mistakenly chooses to be a woman in a male-dominated clan, ruining her hopes of becoming a hero.

Weary of life as an assassin, she retires to enjoy raising horses and delivering messages. When her plans fall apart, she has one chance to set everything right. Should she fail to redeem herself, she’ll lose everything–her friends, her family, and her life.

From Chapter One…

A black, pitted stone bounced across the bar. I leaned back, picked up my beer, and made way for the rock, tracing its trajectory towards the front door.

The first beer bottle it broke belonged to a mercenary like me, and his wail drew everyone’s attention. The rock smacked into the bar, left a black smear, a gouge, and a few golden sparks before continuing its haphazard flight. Several more glasses and bottles fell to it, and frothy brew decorated the old, dull wood before spilling over the lip to the water pooled on the floor.

Curses chased after the stone, and out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed several men giving chase. They were cloaked, an annoyance for someone like me, who wanted to keep track of everyone nearby in case of trouble.

In the sunken ruins of Miami, where only the brave, the foolish, or the desperate stayed, trouble was plentiful. Today’s variant worried me more than most.

Where a Starfall stone went, catastrophe surely followed. Three men hunting for its sort of trouble meant someone was about to get hurt.

After the day I had, if I lost my hard-earned beer, I’d be the catastrophe. I could fight with many weapons, from staves to swords. In a pinch, I could even use a gun, although I worked damned hard to make sure people never realized combustion technology functioned in my hands.

The man beside me spat curses, twisted his body, and cradled his pint to his chest. Taking another swig of my beer, I kept an eye on the stone and its trio of pursuers. I couldn’t blame the damned thing for wanting to make a getaway. There were dives, then there was Oyster Bay. If one of the usuals came after me, I’d run, too. As though losing hope of escape and finding me the best option in a room full of bad choices, the stone rolled to a halt in front of me.

The barkeeper stared at me, stared at the rock, and swept his bare hand over the bar to send a shower of broken glass splashing into the water washing over the floor of his establishment. “That yours?”

All three men splashed to a halt beyond the range of my sword. I twisted, pondering how much calamity I wanted to rain down on Petey and his wretched little bar if I lost even a single drop of my beer.

I matched him stare for stare. Stupid questions didn’t deserve an answer, and maybe if I got real lucky, Petey would forget he’d asked. After a month of me haunting his bar and renting a space in the communal flop in the back room above the water line, he’d stopped asking for my name.

The name most knew me by would only draw the wrong type of attention. No one liked knowing they shared a bar with an assassin. I didn’t like having to explain why I, a woman, had a man’s name. Jesse could go either way, something I was eternally grateful for, but the instant Alexander left my mouth, the questions started. Why did a woman have a man’s name? Was Alexander really my last name? Why would anyone name a pretty girl something as masculine as Jesse Alexander?

“Well?”

Everyone in the place watched me, and I took another swallow of my beer. If I wanted, I could break the bottle and get to work, turn the sea pink with their blood, and be done with the fetid sinkhole that had once been Miami, Florida. The bottle would complicate things for me, but after the dry spell I’d had on paying gigs, I needed a challenge to restore my reflexes and edge.

Why had I thought moving south would do me any good? The warmth was a selling point, but when the seas rose and every building still standing flooded out, I remembered everything came with a price.

What the ocean claimed, it didn’t like giving back, and in another year or two, there wouldn’t be a Miami at all. Dying cities were a horrible place for a mercenary wanting to make an honest living killing dishonest people.

“No games. That yours?”

I leaned back, and the metal stool shrieked a protest. “If it were mine, Petey, I wouldn’t be using it to waste beer.”

The stone sparked and flared, and blue-white light zapped through the brew spread over the bar. Several of the men yelped, jumped off their stools, and splashed into the seawater on route to the door. Lifting my feet, I hooked my boot heels onto the stool’s foot rest.

When a Starfall stone glowed, wise men ran.

I was neither wise nor a man, so I stayed put and watched the show. Running wouldn’t do me any good, not if the stone decided to burst. It’d shine its light for over a mile or more and likely do so before I reached the front door.

“Fuck!” Petey dived behind the bar.

Two of the cloaked men recoiled, but one darted forward, gloved hand stretched out to claim the stone. I gulped down the rest of my beer, flipped the bottle, and smashed it into his forearm. The glass shattered, reflecting the stone’s light throughout the molding, decaying room.

“You’re in my space.”

The Starfall stone kept sparking, and its glow intensified.

Backing out of my reach, the man shook his hand. Shards of brown glass tumbled into the sea, and beneath the water, they continued to shine with the rock’s blue-white radiance and its golden sparks. “Move, then.”

Most men hated when I defied them. My opponent waited, intriguing me when he hesitated to force me out of his way so he could take what he wanted. Men liked to think they ruled, and in their opinion, the strongest men got the best women, and that was that.

Wise men realized some women conquered their own mountains and tossed off every man who challenged them.

One day, I’d figure out where I stood in the grand scheme of things. I’d been raised to be a man, a warrior above other men, the strength and pride of my clan. I should have become a man when I had turned ten, but thanks to my stupidity, I had ended up a woman instead.

Remembering pissed me off enough I either needed another beer, a fight, or both.

“Move.”

The bar cleared out, and Petey numbered among those bailing. I arched a brow, shrugged, and reached across the bar to snag myself another beer, careful not to touch the Starfall stone. “When I’m done drinking my beer, I’ll move.”

Within a minute, Oyster Bay emptied, leaving me with the three cloaked figures and a man at the other end of the bar too stupid to run or too brave for his own good. When he spotted me looking in his direction, he lifted his bottle in a salute.

Men were a dime a dozen, but sometimes, a pretty one came around, and my flavor of the month was tall, dark, and handsome enough to remind me there were a few perks to being a woman. He smirked at me, likely anticipating the fireworks from the stone or the brewing fight between me and the three men who wanted it.

I liked his mouth, and my gaze locked on his lips before I managed to force my attention back to my trio of unwanted guests.

Outside, thunder rumbled, rain pattered on the bar’s metal roof, and the storm stirred the ocean’s ire, splashing salt water against my feet.

“Move.” The man took one step forward, and his voice remained emotionless and calm.

“Cheers,” I said, lifting my bottle towards my lone spectator. If he wanted a show, I’d give him one, and when I was finished with the three men determined to invade my personal space, I’d leave him a little memento to remember me by. I scooted my stool back, stepped into the water, and met my adversary’s gaze.

I set my beer down beside the Starfall stone. “You’re not going to let me finish my beer in peace, are you?”

He took another step and leaned forward, his breath hot on my face. “No.”

Walking away would’ve been smart. Leaving the Starfall stone to burst and cause mayhem without me in the general vicinity would have been wise. Instead, I unsheathed my sword and rammed the pommel into his gut.

I smiled and went to work. All I’d leave for him were bruises and his life. He didn’t deserve anything else from me, not even a scar.

Liked what you read? Click here to nominate the book!

NaNoWriMo 2016: Preparing for Hell on Earth. (Don’t worry. It’s just your novel bursting out of your chest.)

NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) is just around the corner. In a little over a month, a bunch of stressed, psychopathic authors are going to band together and attempt to write 50,000 words in thirty days. Every year, I give a lot of my blog space over to sharing my tips, tricks, and general advice to surviving the intense writing marathon that is NaNoWriMo.

For my opening post of NaNoWriMo 2016, I’m going to talk about what NaNoWriMo is all about, the things you may (or may not) need to participate, and what to expect. Old hands at this probably won’t get a whole lot out of this post, so scroll down to the bottom. There will be writing challenges for you to think about including in your NaNo project!

How NaNoWriMo Works

Starting November 1, you will write 1,667 words a day for 30 days. The official rules are simple: You must begin the novel on November 1.

When I used to be an ML (Municipal Liaison) the golden rule was set in stone and I had to adhere to it, because I was an example to everyone else participating. Now that I am no longer an official ML, I have three words to say about that rule: fuck that shit.

NaNoWriMo serves one very specific purpose: to get you to write.

Some people take it seriously, viewing it as a competition. You know what? Do whatever you have to to write those words and finish your book. If you have to pick up a manuscript you have been crying over for ten years to get it finished, do that. Just… don’t tell anyone. Our secret, kay?

Pantsers, read the message at the bottom of this page. Plotters, keep reading!

Plotters, you have a little over a month to get your book ready to go. I’ll be talking more about everything in detail over the next few posts, but I wanted to give you a basic guideline on what you’ll need to make your story come together. This won’t work for everyone. This works for me, and these are things I think about.

I’m just sharing parts of my method so you can use it, too.

Plot
Characters
Themes
Conflicts
Relationships

What’s in a Plot

The plot is often considered the heart and soul of the story. A plot is the sequence of events from the beginning of the book to its end. You need one of these to have a story.

Creating Characters

Your story is about someone–or several someones. Your plot includes how your characters handle situations. You need characters to have a story, and in a really good story, the actions and decisions of your characters are what create the plot.

Understanding Themes

Themes re one of the hardest things to nail down in a novel. One story can have many themes. Themes are, in a nutshell, the metaphysical journey of a character. Redemption is a theme. Second chances is a theme. Lost love is a theme. Themes add color to a story, but can be very difficult to write.

Themes often appear, and are very difficult to artificially contrive. Your characters, just from living their lives, should create themes… themes are so often the consequences of someone’s life, and are an integral part of who we are.

Sometimes, you may not know you’re including a theme until you’ve written the book. Then, you realize it was there all along. Those themes are the ones that often have the most powerful message, as it is an instinctual and subconscious consequence of the book you have written.

Conflict

Conflict is the opposition of two forces–or more than two forces. Here’s a basic list of the three most common types of conflict someone might include in their novel:

Man vs Man
Man vs Self
Man vs Environment

Relationships

Readers love ‘character driven’ stories. But, for a story to be character driven, they have to be fully present on the page, which means you need to have a basic understanding of the relationships between characters–and between real people.

I believe this is one of the hardest elements to grasp when first starting to write a novel.

What happens now?

Think about the type of story you want to tell. Pick a genre.

In the next few weeks, I will be continuing this series on how to prep a novel for NaNoWriMo–and share the sorts of things I’ll be doing as I get ready to really hammer at the third novel of a series I’m working on, which I plan to write (and finish) in November.

Below, find a handy-dandy list of challenges to start getting your idea brain thinking about your fledgling book. Just ignore the face hugger. It’ll detach once it has infected you with its offspring, your novel.

NaNoWriMo Writing Challenge

Plot Challenge: Create a conflict including a dead squirrel in a backpack. (Courtesy of a news report of a school who called a parent because her son had a dead squirrel in his backpack. Don’t ask.)
Character Challenge: Include a character from an opposing group as yours. Write them in a positive light. (If you are a Republican, write a Democrat. If you’re a Christian, write an atheist, etc.)
Theme Challenge: Second chances, but not at love. Write a pair of characters who were in love, went to have their second chance, and found something other than love as a result.
Fun & Crazy: A frozen turkey crashes through the windshield of a car.

Dear Pantsers…

I love you dearly, but if you’re truly pantsing, you shouldn’t even be reading this post. Because to pants, that means going in with no preparation. It’s okay to be a hybrid writer. Smart pantsers do actually plot. They either do so in their head, or they limit their notes to appropriate world building before diving into the story.

Most pantsers, however, do know where they are going. The best ones understand how plotting works, but merely does the work in their head rather than committing it to paper. Now, if you’re confident you’re a pantser that is above prep work, see you in November! Otherwise, glad to have you along for the ride.

Why the tone and snark? Why, because I’ve been told by pantsers I don’t provide appropriate prep work for them and their books. Here’s my rebuke: You’re pantsing your book. You’re not supposed to do any prep work, so don’t ruin the fun for the kids who want to plot.

You’re the other side of the same coin.

Tales of the Winter Wolf, Vol. Six has released!

[image error][image error]After a slew of delays, Tales of the Winter Wolf, Vol. Six has finally arrived! My apologies to those who were expecting it sooner. Life happened.

Unlike the other volumes of the Tales of the Winter Wolf set, this takes place after Winter Wolf.

Nicole Thomas, once Nicolina Desmond, managed to save her sister and family from the plague killing the Fenerec. However, there’s one life she’s touched most of all—Richard Murphy’s.

This is his story.

A common question I’ve had about Winter Wolf involves why I ended the book where I did. This story (written in three parts) is the reason why. I’ve always though the next part of their story, as a couple, belonged to Richard. While there is a section written from Nicolina’s perspective, everything is centric to Richard, who he has become, who he was, and a glimpse of who he will become.

People have also commented about Richard’s personality in Blood Diamond, particularly how he has certain edges. While Blood Diamond happens quite some time after the events of Winter Wolf, the consequences of his relationship with Nicolina and the events surrounding Winter Wolf have a long arm.

For those of you who wanted to find out more about what happened to Nicolina and Richard, this volume will answer some of your questions. It may make you ask more questions, but that’s okay.

Their story isn’t done, not yet. There will be a lot more of this pair in the future.

Tales of the Winter Wolf, Vol. Six is now available on Amazon for $0.99. It is also available in the KU library.

Life Strikes Again

On Sunday evening, my mother-in-law passed away. Rose was a wonderful person, and I was honored to have known her. My husband and I got to see her several hours before her death. We were among the last people to talk to her, hug her, and tell her we loved her.

We bury her on Thursday.

On Sunday evening, one of our closest family friend’s father died. Technically, he was our friend’s step father, but in all things of importance, Geoff was his dad. Geoff was good people, and I was honored to have known him, too.

His family buries him on Friday.

We were in North Bay, Ontario, when we received word about Geoff’s death. Several hours later, we received the call Rose’s condition had worsened. We turned our car around and headed back. We didn’t make it in time, but we didn’t expect to; not when we were four hours away from the hospital.

Less than twelve hours after we reached my husband’s home town, I returned to Montreal to feed our cats. (Yes, I drove eight hours to feed our cats.) My husband is with the family and dealing with the technicalities of death.

I’ll blitz back up north for the funeral, making sure the kitties have enough food and water to last them for a few days.

Weeks like this one, I’m grateful for the family I have. In many cases, I have more family I chose than I was born with, but to me, there is no difference between a close friend and blood family.

When I let someone in, they’re in. Blood isn’t thicker than water to me.

It’s all the same to me.

People think I’m a little strange because I have a very laid back attitude when it comes to death. I’d much rather celebrate the life than grieve the loss. I am always aware of the people who leave life-shaped holes when they’re gone.

Maybe I’m dysfunctional, but I keep things of the people who are gone–not necessarily mementos, but rather reminders.

My first book was dedicated to my father. In some ways, he lives on in each page I write, because that very first book was published with him in mind. I see my books, and I remember. My mother’s very much alive, but I collect crystal spheres, and that’s the way I remember her when we live far apart–and afterwards. (Hi, Mom. Try not to get too cranky at me that I associate you with rocks. It’s mostly complimentary, I swear. Even when you’re stubborn. P.S.: I’m looking for an opal sphere. Several, actually… different types of opals.)

For Rose, I’ll find something for my desk or keychain–an angel. She loved angels very much. She also loved opals.

I haven’t spoken of this project, mainly because it’s still in conceptual stages, slated to be written ‘when I have time.’ I’m not sure if Rose’s death will change my schedule for writing it, but it very well might. I’ve been sitting on this project a while. I have numerous pages of notes for it.

It’s about a woman with cancer who drops everything and goes to discover what life is about again. It’s set in the Witch & Wolf world, so there’ll be magic–but not the magic most expect. The main character, Alice, isn’t a witch or a wolf. Actually, she doesn’t know she’s something, although she is.

In real life, some people make miraculous recoveries from cancer. Many do not. Some make slow, painful, difficult recoveries from cancer, and every day they survive, they know just how fortunate they are.

Alice’s story is one of hope. In her story, magic plays a huge part of everything that happens to her. In reality, the magic is in the hands of doctors, nurses, and health practitioners who sacrifice so much to save lives.

For those of us who have watched a loved one die from cancer, I’m hoping Alice’s story will be a step away from the painful reality to a world where magic is possible, and sometimes, just sometimes, someone gets that miraculous roll of the dice.

With action, thrills, and chills because those are the stories I enjoy telling.

Alice’s story, for me, just got a little more personal–it already was, as my father died from cancer, but now, it’s even more so.

The story even has a tentative title, although I’ll keep that to myself until it’s time to start writing. For now, it’s enough to know the story is there, waiting to be written.

Sneak Peek at Water Viper: a Jesse Alexander Novel

For those who know me on facebook, I’ve been talking about Water Viper a lot lately. It’s an urban fantasy of sorts, where magic and limited technology blend. Thanks to Starfall, a meteor event in the upper reaches of Canada, Earth has been flooded with magic. Technology involving combustion is unreliable at best, but humans have found a way to blend the mystic and the mundane.

With power in the hands of many, governments around the world rely on mercenaries to keep the peace and take on the jobs their police and military can’t–or won’t–do. Jesse Alexander isn’t just a mercenary. A single impulsive decision exposes her identity as the Water Viper and plunges her into the dark and murky world of Charlotte’s politics and intrigue. If she plays her cards just right, she’ll escape with her life.

With the deck stacked against her, time’s running out until she finds herself on the wrong end of a bounty.

Cover Art by Holly Heisey.

The chapter below is for your entertainment and has not been edited. (c) 2016.

Chapter One

A black, pitted stone bounced across the bar. I leaned back, picked up my beer, and made way for the rock, tracing its trajectory towards the front door.

The first beer bottle it broke belonged to a mercenary like me, and his wail drew everyone’s attention. The rock smacked into the bar, left a black smear, a gouge, and a few golden sparks before continuing its haphazard flight. Several more glasses and bottles fell to it, and frothy brew decorated the old, dull wood before spilling over the lip to the water pooled on the floor.

Curses chased after the stone, and out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed several men taking chase. They were cloaked, an annoyance for someone like me, who wanted to keep track of everyone nearby in case of trouble.

In the sunken ruins of Miami, where only the brave, the foolish, or the desperate stayed, trouble was aplenty. Today’s variant worried me more than most.

Where a Starfall stone went, catastrophe surely followed in its wake. Three men hunting for its sort of trouble meant someone was about to get hurt.

After the day I had, if I lost my hard-earned beer, I’d be the catastrophe. I fought with many weapons ranging from staves to swords. In a pinch, I could even use a gun, although I worked damned hard to make sure people never realized combustion technology functioned in my hands.

The man beside me spat curses, twisted his body, and cradled his pint to his chest. Taking another swig of my beer, I kept an eye on the stone and its trio of pursuers. I couldn’t blame the damned thing for wanting to make a getaway. There were dives, then there was Oyster Bay. If one of the usuals came after me, I’d run, too. As though losing hope of escape and finding me the best option in a room full of bad choices, it rolled to a halt in front of me.

The barkeeper stared at me, stared at the rock, and swept his bare hand over the bar to send a shower of broken glass splashing into the water washing over the floor of his establishment. “That yours?”

All three men splashed to a halt beyond the range of my sword. I twisted, pondering how much of a calamity I wanted to rain down on Petey and his wretched little bar if I lost even a single drop of my beer.

I met him stare for stare. Stupid questions didn’t deserve an answer, and maybe if I got real lucky, Petey would forget he asked. After a month of me haunting his bar and renting a space in the communal flop in the back room above the water line, he’d stopped asking for my name.

The name most knew me by would only draw the wrong type of attention. No one liked knowing they shared a bar with an assassin. I didn’t like having to explain why I, a woman, had a man’s name. Jesse could go either way, something I was eternally grateful for, but the instant Alexander left my mouth, the questions started.

“Well?”

Everyone in the place watched me, and I took another swallow of my beer. If I wanted, I could break the bottle and get to work, turn the sea pink with their blood, and be done with the fetid sinkhole that had once been Miami, Florida. The bottle would complicate things for me, and after the sort of dry spell I’d had on paying gigs, I needed a challenge to restore my reflexes and edge.

Why had I thought moving south would do me any good? The warmth was a selling point, but when the seas rose and every building still standing flooded out, it reminded me everything came with a price.

What the ocean claimed, it didn’t like giving back, and in another year or two, there wouldn’t be a Miami at all. Dying cities made a horrible place for a mercenary wanting to make an honest living killing dishonest people.

“No games. That yours?”

I leaned back, and the metal stool shrieked a protest. “If it were mine, Petey, I wouldn’t be using it to waste beer.”

The stone sparked and flared, and blue-white light zapped through the brew spread over the bar. Several of the men yelped, jumped off their stools, and splashed into the seawater on route to the door. Lifting my feet, I hooked my boot heels onto the stool’s foot rest.

When a Starfall stone glowed, wise men ran.

I was neither wise nor a man, so I stayed put and watched the show. Running wouldn’t do me any good, not if the stone decided to burst. It’d shine its light for over a mile or more and likely do so before I reached the front door.

“Fuck!” Petey dived behind the bar.

Two of the cloaked men recoiled, but one darted forward, gloved hand stretched out to claim the stone. I gulped down the rest of my beer, flipped the bottle, and smashed it into his forearm. The glass shattered, reflecting the stone’s light throughout the molding, decaying room.

“You’re in my space.”

The Starfall stone kept sparking, and its glow intensified.

Backing out of my reach, the man shook his hand. Shards of brown glass tumbled into the sea, and beneath the water, they continued to shine with the rock’s golden light. “Move, then.”

Most men hated when I defied them. My opponent waited, intriguing me with his hesitancy to force me out of his way so he could take what he wanted. Men liked to think they ruled, and in their opinion, the strongest men got the best women, and that was that.

Wise men realized some women conquered their own mountains and tossed off every man who challenged her.

One day, I’d figure out where I stood in the grand scheme of things. I’d been raised to be a man, a warrior above other men, the strength and pride of my clan. I should have become a man when I had turned ten, but thanks to my stupidity, I had ended up a woman instead.

It pissed me off enough I either needed another beer, a fight, or both.

“Move.”

The bar cleared out, and Petey numbered among those bailing. I arched a brow, shrugged, and reached across the bar to snag myself another beer, careful not to touch the Starfall stone. “When I’m done drinking my beer, I’ll move.”

Within a minute, Oyster Bay emptied, leaving me with the three cloaked figures and a man at the other end of the bar too stupid to run or too brave for his own good. When he spotted me looking in his direction, he lifted his bottle in a salute.

Men were a dime a dozen, but sometimes, a pretty one came around, and my flavor of the month was tall, dark, and handsome enough to remind me there were a few perks to being a woman. He smirked at me, likely anticipating the fireworks from the stone or the brewing fight between me and the three men who wanted it.

I liked his mouth, and my gaze locked on his lips before I managed to force my attention back to my trio of unwanted guests.

Outside, thunder rumbled, rain pattered on the bar’s metal roof, and the storm stirred the ocean’s ire, splashing against my feet.

“Move.” The man took one step forward, and his voice remained emotionless and calm.

“Cheers,” I said, lifting my bottle towards my lone spectator. If he wanted a show, I’d give him one, and when I was finished with the three men determined to invade my personal space, I’d leave him a little memento to remember me by. I scooted my stool back, stepped into the water, and met my adversary’s gaze.

I set my beer down beside the Starfall stone. “You’re not going to let me finish my beer in peace, are you?”

He took another step and leaned forward, his breath hot on my face. “No.”

Walking away would’ve been smart. Leaving the Starfall stone to burst and cause mayhem without me in the general vicinity would have been wise. Instead, I unsheathed my sword and rammed it into his gut.

I smiled and went to work. All I’d leave for him were bruises and his life. He didn’t deserve anything else from me, not even a scar.

I left the three cloaked men slumped over the bar, lined up in a neat row as an offering to the glowing Starfall stone. Their bodies twitched in the sparking water.

Maybe the rock would wait to burst until I was clear of its blast radius. I had enough problems as a third generation shifter of the Blade Clan. I didn’t need anything adding to them.

I sighed and regarded my victims with a wrinkled nose. Why couldn’t they have put up a real fight? If I had wanted to kill them, I would have saved myself a great deal of time and effort. Letting them live meant I’d have enemies at my back.

There was a thin line between killing for profit and sport, and I meant to stay on the right side of it, even if it meant leaving a few extra unwanted adversaries nipping at my heels. Sighing, I dried my sword on their cloaks before sheathing it, then I went to work patting them down.

It didn’t take long to locate the cash hidden inside their clothes. Someone had paid them well, probably to retrieve the Starfall stone. The rock pulsed while I counted bills. Between the three of them, they had over two thousand dollars.

The sum was only a fraction of the stone’s worth. Starfall stones could do a lot more than charge water and glow in the dark. Some exploded. Others imbued those who held them with magic.

A rare few healed.

Why would anyone hire those three to collect the stone? They hadn’t given me much sport. Why would anyone pay incompetents so much money? Shaking my head, I took all but five hundred as compensation for their lives.

Tall, dark, handsome, and smirking rose from his stool and strode towards me, coming to a halt just beyond arm’s length. “Aren’t you supposed to take all their cash?”

If he came a single step forward, he’d be in perfect range to take out. I stuffed the money in my jeans, and while I still had my hand in my pocket, I slid a sedation needle out of its sheath around my wrist hidden beneath my blouse’s sleeve. “I took my retainer fee.”

Raising his dark eyebrows, he looked me over head to toe, and I noted his gaze lingered on my hips. Working as a mercenary kept me lean and muscular, but I still managed to have curves—curves men liked.

I blamed my shifter heritage. With my luck, when I discovered my inner beast and learned to transform, I’d end up a cow. I’d already screwed up my gender, so it was only a matter of time before I fucked up the rest, too.

“You’re for hire, then?”

“Depends on what you need.”

Bursts of green and gold lit the man’s dark eyes. “I wouldn’t mind you guarding my body at night. You know how to fight. You toyed with them. If you’re bored, I could keep you amused.”

At a glance, I couldn’t tell what he was or what magic he possessed, but his interest in me and my fighting likely made him a shifter. Shifter males, especially of predatory species, liked women who challenged them and refused to submit without a fight, preferably a violent, bloody one.

Unfortunately, too many shifter males played for keeps, and when they took interest in a female, it was because they wanted to breed. Some species of shifters mated for life. Others waited long enough to ensure they had viable offspring before drifting away until the next mating season and a new female to spread the love around.

Shifters were a pain in my ass. Until I discovered the nature of my inner beast, I’d remain infertile, which worked well when I hunted down non-shifter males for a mutual itch scratching.

Like me, they only wanted a wild night and nothing more.

“What makes you think you’ll give me any sport?”

“You’ve the pride of a queen. How do you know if you’ll give me any sport?”

I leaned against the bar and relaxed. I’d heard every line in the book, and as far as come ons went, his were among the more intriguing ones. I had no doubts he’d been aroused during my fight with my sleeping trio of victims.

He’d join them as soon as he stepped in my range, and I’d have fun with him before I left the sinking ruins of Miami for new territory.

“My retainer fee is how much I require as a deposit when I’m hired to kill.” I offered the courting male my best smile. “I thought it was a fair price for their lives.”

“Intriguing. I’m Nate. Beer?”

“They did spoil my first two,” I admitted, hooking my stool with my boot and dragging it closer. “Water Viper.”

If he recognized my mercenary name, Nate showed no sign of it. He reached across the bar to snag a pair of beers, and when he offered me mine, I palmed the needle, scraped a nail against his skin to mask when I dosed him with the sedatives. I dropped the sliver of metal into the sea, secured my hold on my beer, and popped the top.

“Cheers to a good fight,” he said, opening his bottle before lifting it.

Tapping mine to his, I chuckled and slid onto my stool. Within five minutes, the effects of the drug would kick in. It didn’t matter what type of shifter he was; it would knock out an elephant for an hour. Until he dropped, I’d enjoy my beer and his company while I watched the Starfall stone pulse. “Think it’ll burst?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me. Most people would call us insane for sticking around for the show. Hoping for stronger powers?”

“Too early in the morning for a run.”

“But not too early for a cold one?”

I regarded the brown beer bottle and arched a brow. “If you think this is cold, you need to get out more.”

“For Miami, it’s cold.”

One of these days, I would learn not to play with fire—or with handsome shifter males I had no business toying with. Instead of arguing with him, I shrug and drank my beer. Wherever I went, it’d be a city with reliable electricity or magic. Either would work, so long as I could have something cold to drink.

When I didn’t speak, Nate rested his elbow on the bar with his bottle hanging loosely in his hand. “Staying long?”

His relaxed posture put me at ease. In another few minutes, he’d succumb to the drug. Sedation was my first method of dealing with unwanted attention from men. A scratch of a needle and a few minutes, and I left. Would he, a shifter male, rise to the challenge I would present him when I marked him and left? “Only a fool would stay long in a sinking city.”

Nate chuckled and set his beer on the bar. “Are you going to lie me out with your friends here if I take the stone?”

Starfall stones scared away those with common sense and lured fools and the brave in equal measure. Which was Nate?

I blamed my species and gender for my curiosity.

“Be my guest.”

I’d have the rock back soon enough.

Reaching around me, he picked up the stone and held it in his palm. If the sparks it emitted bothered him, he showed no sign of it. “It’s amazing such a small stone can cause so many problems. It’s hard to believe this is a source of magic. If it bursts, what do you think it’ll do?”

That was the real problem with Starfall stones; no one knew what each stone could do. The weakest fragments often did nothing at all. The stronger ones—the ones worthy of being named—could change the landscape. Cities rose and fell from their power.

No one knew the name of the stone responsible for sinking Miami.

Nate watched me, waiting for an answer.

Whatever Nate was, he wasn’t a cute little bunny; a rabbit would’ve dropped over snoring within a minute. Since my sedatives weren’t working fast enough, I replied with my default answer of, “Scare the piss out of everyone in a mile radius.”

“Right you are. Maybe it’ll have a two-mile radius. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

What sort of madman sounded excited at the prospect of a Starfall stone influencing such a large radius? I eliminated prey species, and a thrill ran through me.

Predator shifters lived for the hunt, and I was about to give Nate several excuses to nip at my heels. “That’d be something, but I’m not sure fun is the word I’d used.”

“What generation are you?”

“Third.”

The fourth generation was just being born, and no one knew if their magic would swell or die away to nothing, leaving them closer to human. The first generation included those who had survived Starfall and the children born within the first few years following the meteor bursting over Canada and drowning the world in magic.

The second generation, in some ways, had been stronger than the first. Mine had drawn the short lot, relying on bursts from the Starfall stones to develop strong enough powers to survive.

In a way, I was the weakest of the weak, and I would remain so until I discovered my animal and earned the ability to shift. Choosing my gender at age ten had started the process. I hadn’t remained with the Blade Clan long enough to learn when—or how—to become a true shifter and find my animal.

I’d have to figure it out on my own, one way or another.

With my luck, I really would become a cow.

“Never dreamed of rising in the ranks? One lucky burst and you could be a first gen.” Nate slipped the Starfall stone into his pocket.

I’d been hired to take out a few first gen during my career. A single hit had paid for my life in Detroit for an entire year, setting me up in a real house with a yard. I’d learned the hard way I hated mowing, my thumb was blacker than sin and coal, and I grew bored of suburban life in a month.

“What’s someone like you doing in a dive like this?”

Nate frowned. “Someone like me?”

I allowed myself a smirk of my own. “Nice clothes, pretty face, decent manners? Shouldn’t you be above sea level? A flying castle in the clouds or at least a mansion somewhere.”

Propping his chin in his hand, Nate watched me through half-lidded eyes, and the first hints of a drug-induced glaze set in. “Turns out, the ivory tower only has pretty pampered princesses, so if I want intelligent conversation, I have to go get my feet wet.”

I leaned back and made a show of looking him over, focusing on his boots. “Hope you left your good shoes at home.”

With a murmur and a sigh, Nate slumped against the bar. In sleep, his expression relaxed, and a small smile curved his lips. Rubbing my hands together, I dug into his pants for the Starfall stone.

The rock warmed my hand, and the jolts of electricity I expected didn’t come. I slipped it into my front pocket. As one of the few drifters using Oyster Bay as a flop, Petey had charged me a pittance for a lock box, and with a merry whistle, I dug out my keys to fetch my bag.

Setting the leather satchel on the bar, I rummaged through it until I found my tattoo box. When I killed someone, I took time and care with the job, leaving little evidence behind, except for my mark. When I was hired through official channels, I left my mark on the center of my victim’s forehead as a warning to their associates.

When I wasn’t, my mark went over their heart.

Unless Nate gave me reason to, I had no intention of killing him. However, I wanted to find out just how good of a sport he could be. It wasn’t often I got to play with a shifter male, especially not a good looking one.

Too many embraced their animals so much they rarely allowed their human side to emerge untouched by their beast.

I tattooed a coiled water viper below his navel. Since I liked him, I used my golden ink, which blended well with his rich tan. When I finished leaving my mark on him, I smeared my finger into my jar of healing cream, which I smeared over the fresh tattoo, ensuring its permanency. I dosed him with the sedative’s antidote and erased the scratch marks of my needles with my ointment.

I ran my fingers along the line of his jaw, dedicating his face to my memory in case he rose to my challenge and hunted for me. “Sleep well. Sorry, but I gotta run. Thanks for the beer.”

Dropping a twenty on the bar for Petey, I headed out of Oyster Bay and into the storm sweeping in from the sea.

Life, Writing, and Stuff

I make such dignified post titles. So descriptive. Much elegant.

Things have been busy lately. I’m juggling several client edit projects, I’m working on a play project, and I hope to have Tales of the Winter Wolf Volume Six out sometime next week. The first Tales of the Winter Wolf omnibus will be available in print in the next few weeks, too.

Since I’ve been hard at work on some client editing projects, my writing work has gone to the wayside a bit. I should be working on Silver Bullet, but instead, I’m playing with a project called Water Viper. I’m also putting together ideas for an anthology called Guardians, which features the Guardians of the Rift and the Rift King. Yes, there will be at least one Kalen/Breton centric story, and there will be a lot of hopping around the Requiem for the Rift King timeline. Some stories will be more historic, visiting the Rift and neighboring kingdoms prior to Kalen’s reign as the Rift King. Some will show a few snapshots of events missed from Storm Surge and Storm Without End. I have no idea how long it’ll take me to finish, so it’ll come out when it’s ready.

Immigrations is moving along; we’re waiting for our interview date, but we’re officially in the queue to have an interview. The lawyers are optimistic we have a solid case for his green card.

Once I plow through the client edits, I’ll be back to working on Rider of the Sun Horse and Silver Bullet full time, with a few side projects getting occasional love and care.

At this point, I’m hoping to have two or three more titles released by the end of the year, excluding Tales of the Winter Wolf #6. (I’m excluding it because I’m almost done with the project. Oh, for those interested, it features three stories that cover the aftermath of Winter Wolf–and once you read, I think you may understand why I opted not to tell these stories as a part of the main novel.)

(Okay, I’ll spoil a tiny bit: two are Richard’s story, and my writing style for the W&W series just doesn’t play well with forays to a second character. So, when I wrote Winter Wolf, I knew I’d eventually tell the finalized aftermath through either shorts or novellas.)

Like the other Tales stories, the stories in this volume are very connected. I’m undecided if Volume 7 will maintain this trend, or if it’ll feature novellas and shorts that better stand alone. Richard and Nicolina have always been odd characters for me to write, and the formatting of their stories reflects this.

Anyway, back to work with me! Have a great day, folks.

Tentative Upcoming Releases Schedule (Late 2016, Early 2017.)

Disclaimer: This is a tentative list and is subject to change.

August 2016: Tales of the Winter Wolf Volume 6. This set will include three ‘After Winter Wolf’ stories. The stories will take place almost a month following the conclusion of Winter Wolf.

September or October 2016: Rider of the Sun Horse & Silver Bullet. I am approximately halfway finished both books. I’m hoping for a productive August. If things work out, you can expect these books to release in late September or October. (Note: if my husband’s Visa application is approved, this will be shifted to a November or December 2016 release.)

February or March 2017: Chameleon and the Hound, Dae Portals 3. (Writing as Trillian Anderson.) I will be writing the novel in November as my NaNoWriMo, and I’ll finish drafting it in December.

Unknown but Upcoming Releases: Wolf Hunt & Memento Mori. Wolf Hunt is a continuation series to the main Witch & Wolf story timeline. I expect people will dub this Witch & Wolf #5, but it will follow one POV character exclusively, and deals with a whole new set of events compared to the main Witch & Wolf series. That said, I will be including a notation in the description recommending it be read after the W&W series.

Memento Mori is a brand new urban fantasy world, and I am REALLY looking forward to this series.

Thanks for sticking with me through thick and thin.

Paperbacks of Beneath a Blood Moon, Pack Justice, and Shadowed Flame available!

As of today, three Witch & Wolf novels are back in print! Later this year, expect the three volume omnibus including Inquisitor, Winter Wolf, and Blood Diamond to hit the shelves in addition to Silver Bullet!

For now, please enjoy the print editions of Beneath a Blood Moon, Pack Justice, and Shadowed Flame! The covers were designed by my cover artist, Holly Heisey.

About the Books

Matia Evans has it all, except for one thing: she can’t see color. With an adopted family who loves her, a company she helps her father run, and more prospects than she knows what to do with, she’s in no place to complain that her world is limited to shades of gray, black, and white.

Her inability to perceive color isn’t the only strange thing about her: all souls have shadows, and she can see them. Unfortunately, there are humans who are worse than monsters. Worse, there are real monsters in the world, and they view humans as prey or as mates.

If Matia doesn’t want to become a victim, a pawn, or a trophy bride of the supernatural, she must use every bit of her strength and cunning. Her freedom and survival depend on embracing the darkest parts of her soul, but if she does, she risks becoming the newest—and most dangerous—monster of all.

Sean’s guardian angel is a feline, but his spirit cheetah prefers rival attorney, Andrea Morgan, over him. Trapped in a failing, dangerous marriage and stalked by an accomplice of one of the most dangerous criminals he’s ever prosecuted, Sean’s troubles are just beginning.

A vacation should have offered him a chance to save his relationship with his wife, Idette. Instead, Sean learns he isn’t the only one with a secret, and his discovery of his wife’s true nature should have killed him.

To ensure Sean’s survival, his cheetah strikes a bargain with a wolf. Faced with life-long enslavement to his wife, becoming an instrument of pack justice seems like the far better alternative.

Unfortunately, pack justice is as brutal as it is swift, and should Sean fail to put an end to Idette’s machinations, everything he values will be targeted and destroyed, including his chance to be with the one woman who might be able to help him salvage the ruins of his life.

Sara’s life turns upside down when someone leaves her a funerary urn, black roses, and death threats on her doorstep. Fearing her work as a stripper and showgirl has put her in the sights of a demented stalker, she turns to her best friend and fellow dancer for help.

Instead of a safe haven, all Sara finds is betrayal. Hunted by creatures she once believed were stories meant to frighten children, she is given a choice: become one of them, or die.

Forced to share her skin with a voracious carnivore and driven by instincts and desires too strong to resist, Sara must adapt to the changes in her life or be destroyed by them. Finding a mate is her wolf’s top priority.

If she doesn’t want to become another prostitute in a city full of them, Sara must learn to control the beast within. With a hungry wolf to feed and an empty bank account, selling herself to the highest bidder may be the only way she has to prevent becoming a monster driven to eat anything—or anyone—unfortunate enough to cross her path.

I’m Playing Pokemon Go, and I regret (everything) nothing!

I’ve been playing Pokemon Go for several days now. I regret everything nothing.

Those who know me understand my poor relationship with exercise. Normal people can go out, pick a direction, and start walking, and some sore legs later, they arrive with no issues. People with asthma probably understand what it’s like to be me a lot better than others.

I have hefty issues with my endurance. This manifests as asthma-like symptoms as my body struggles to figure out how to provide oxygen all over the place. It’s a multi-fold issue. If I get my heart rate up, bad things can happen. So, I can’t afford to do that.

Those who understand how to get in shape are probably cringing, because it involves getting your heart rate up so your body triggers all the fancy things to build your circulatory and respiratory systems.

I can’t do that. Elevated heart rate is bad for me. So, I have to very carefully manage my exercise, including how I walk. Running across the street is enough to make me wheeze / fail to provide kinda important oxygen to my body. This isn’t asking for sympathy, because I don’t want it. Don’t want pity, either. I’m just informing you what I’m up against. My battle, not yours, and honestly, sympathy and pity changes nothing, so don’t bother with it, please.

I love pokemon. I’ve always wished I could actually wander around and be a trainer. Pokemon Go is totally fulfilling that childhood wish. I love it. One of the other trainers I met told me where I can catch Ponyta in the area! I’m going hunting for them starting tomorrow. It’ll be car-based hunting, since it’s a bit off the beaten path. But, it’s near a poke stop, so I can do short-distance hunting while looking for one. That’s cool.

Thanks to this game, I’ve been walking. That barrier that exists is still there. I have to be careful. I want to hurry hurry hurry to the next pokestop, but I have to plod along. Stopping to catch pokemon gives me a chance to catch my breath, too. It’s great.

Unlike normal people, my legs aren’t actually getting sore, though I’ve developed a suspiciously pinkish colored tan. (Oops?) I take a water bottle or a soda with me, make sure I stop for drinks often, and plod along.

I have walked 15 kilometers since I started playing this game.

That is more than I’d walk, total, in 3 months.

I’m walking. I’m not winning races, but I’m walking. I’m getting out there. I met a bunch of trainers from the red gym near my house. (I told them I was Yellow but I test the gyms whenever I’m there because it’s something to do, and they laughed and was like carrying on.)

They were nice people. They invited me to their lure party, and so I met them at the pokestop and we talked a bit. I told them where I was catching pokemon, and they told me where to catch my coveted ponyta.

They were totally impressed with my slowpoke! Apparently slowpoke is really rare around here.

My back hurts, but it’s hurting in the “I’m being used, this is good” way. I’m grateful. I’m grateful I have a blister on my foot. I’m grateful my ankles are questioning my activities. I’m actually a little sad my legs aren’t sore–I want them to be sore.

I want to feel that burn, that ache, and that pain that says I’m doing this even though it’s hard and I have to be careful.

I am trying to walk three times a day–two short walks, one really long walk.

Monday, I did this.

Today, I did this.

I want to do this every day it’s sunny. I want to be healthy, but when exercise is so… systematic… it’s difficult. I need a great deal of motivation to do it. Without a distraction (IE, stopping to catch pokemon or check my map) it’s really hard on me emotionally and mentally.

When I’m playing, and someone looks at me like I’m weird, it’s easier to ignore them.

I’m not always stopped because I’m playing with a pokemon. Sometimes, I’m stopped because I have to. I can’t let my heart rate get too high, or I suffer the rest of the day.

This game has opened doors for me, and for that, I’m grateful. It was the little bit of magic in the real world I needed to be able to get up and go outside and walk without feeling like a useless thing because I had to stop to catch my breath.

So many others are stopping to catch their breaths–or a pikachu–where I can slip through the cracks and walk at my own pace.

I am grateful.

I’m Celebrating the Awesome that is Indie Authors and their Books Today

Just go with the flow. Ignore the fact official days for this stuff is in March or October or some other day of the year, because seriously? Books.

Happy Canada Day, and Happy RJ Contrived This Celebrate Indie Authors and Books and Reading Day. (We can celebrate in the traditionally pub’d ones, too.) Happy early American Independence Day, too.

Screw tarnishing such celebrations with things like logic and official days in other parts of the year! Since Smashwords emailed me earlier (Jun 30, 2016) with some stuff about celebrating all the indie authors and things, I was like sure why the hell not. (I still have no idea why Smashwords emailed me. I don’t have any books on their site, and I have no intention of putting any on their site.)

So, I pinged some folks, did a little digging, and made a post, because it is summer and we need more books.

Because books. I need no other reason.

This is a relatively small list of recommendations, but it’s a list, I made it with the help of some friends, and I’m sharing it with you. I’m also sharing the template with you, so if you’re an indie author or a fan and want to play along, fill it out, put it in the comments, and share your recommendations! (I will try to update the list with your recommendations from the comments.)

Note: For sake of convenience/consistency, please use Amazon links and page counts.

Authors, this is your template:

Author:

Title:

Genre:

Page Count:

Link:

What makes this Your favorite book?

Fans / Readers, this is your template:

Author:

Title:

Genre:

Page Count:

This indie book was recommended because:

From the Authors…

Author: Colleen Vanderlinden

Title: Shadow Witch Rising

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Page Count: 292 pages

What makes this your favorite book? I started as an indie writing urban fantasy (my Hidden series was my intro to indie publishing) and Shadow Witch Rising was my first experience with stepping my toe outside of my comfort zone, writing-wise. I love the sense of history in that book, and the setting is based on a real place that I absolutely love. Aside from that, I love stories about second chances at love, and this is that, in more ways than one.

Author: Tiffany Roberts

Title: Make Me Burn

Genre: Fantasy Romance

Page Count: 299

What makes this your favorite book? While this is our first book, we wanted to show that even those who feel like their soul is most tarnish, could still find love and some semblance of redemption.

Author: Hank Garner

Title: Writer’s Block

Genre: Magical Realism, Fantasy

Page Count: 170 pages

What makes this your favorite book? Writer’s Block began as a short story about a writer that is stuck, but with the help of a typewriter that he found at a yard sale that just might be magic, he gets to the bottom of what is really going on. This story grew into a full novel and is one of the most personal stories I’ve ever written. It’s full of magic, despair, hope, and has a dog that provides comic relief.

Author: Erin L. Snyder

Title: A Count of Five

Genre: Fantasy/SF

Page Count: 258

What makes this Your favorite book? A Count of Five kicks off a series of fantasy/time-travel novels I’m working on. There’s a lot I’m proud of here – an unconventional heroine, some surprising twists, an intricate time-travel system – but I think the biggest selling point is the premise of the series: a fantasy world explored via time-travel on a scale highlighting the evolution and development of monsters and magic. I don’t think there’s anything else like this out there.

Author: Jon Frater

Title: The Taste Makers

Genre: Dystopian

Page Count: 193 pages

What makes this your favorite book? I poured a few years of working in the NYC financial district as well as phone sales and general business history into this one. I really do thinkit’s my best work to date.

Author: Christopher Boore

Title: Kamika-Z

Genre: Scifi Horror

Page Count: 36

What makes this your favorite book? It was an unlikely happening. I never intended to write a zombie horror story. I stumbled and fell face first into it’s warm, gory embrace. It grew on my as any good zombie virus will and now a world of other stories is in the midst of spawning from it.

Author: Brian Parker

Title: Enduring Armageddon

Genre: Post-Apocalyptic/Sci-Fi

Page Count: 286

What makes this Brian’s favorite book? I fell in love with the storyline and the main character’s struggle to go from an office worker with no survival skill whatsoever to a ruthless killer during the apocalypse and then his subsequent realization that he’d become a monster who had to alter the path he walked.

Title: Division By Zero: 1 (Post Mortem)

Genre: speculative fiction

Page Count: 226

What makes this your favorite book? This was the inaugural edition of the DIvision By Zero anthology series, so I feel nostalgic about that, but the stories in it are really very good, as well. All the Division By Zero anthologies are awesome (and another is coming out July 4 – Division By Zero: 4 (rEvolution)

Author: Allyssa Painter

Title: Timekeeper Rising

Genre: YA Dystopian Fantasy

Page Count: 252

What makes this your favorite book? It was the first book I published.

Author: John Gregory Hancock

Title: ROOF

Genre: Dystopian, NA

Page Count: 100

What makes this your favorite book? this is a labor of love. I threw quite a bit of myself into it and I think its a rare thing: a somewhat hopeful dystopian novella.

Author: RJ Blain

Title: Karma (Balancing the Scales #1)

Genre: Urban Fantasy Thriller

Page Count: 398

What makes this Your favorite book? It’s hard to put a finger on what I loved about writing this book. There’s just something about Jake and Karma I just adore, the way their relationship splatted together, and how much fun I had writing it. Karma’s flawed, volatile nature makes her just such a delight to write. Harness that with her past, and it is a recipe for a great time. Of all the books and series I’m currently working on, I’m looking forward to diving back into Karma’s most of all.

Author: Christopher J. Valin

Title: Sidekick

Genre: YA/Superhero

Page Count: 204

What makes this Christopher’s favorite book? It’s the first full novel I’ve written, after some nonfiction books and several short stories in anthologies. And I love superheroes and comic books.

Author: J.E. Mac

Title: Damaged Good 

Genre: SciFi / Cyberpunk / Detective Thriller

Page Count: 420

What makes this your favorite book? Well, I only have one. So that might do it. Maybe a better question is why I wrote this one over the bajillion other ideas rattling round in the old noggin?

I’ve always been a fan of Blade Runner and futuristic landscapes. And of hard-nosed detectives in dumpy cities.

I knew I wanted to do something in L.A. with a detective who hated robots, but always had to team up with them as partners and whatnot. But it always felt a little one dimensional to me. I really wanted more depth to the story than that.

I had a hodge-podge of other ideas. But what hit me one day (after a meeting at Wonderland Sound and Vision–McG’s prodco) when they were bragging about T4 that they were about to shoot in New Mexico–was that I thought, the role of the Terminator is usually the staring role. And they cast Christian Bale. I also knew they were going to set it in the future. I thought, Man, T4 would be awesome if they made John Connor hunting down Terminators like the Terminators did in his timeline–J.C. almost more machine than man. And the Terminators, and tech becoming self-aware, becoming more “human” in the future.

I pictured this opening of Christian Bale running through a Terminator style opening. Blue laser beams and skulls underfoot. He’s running with his daughter when an explosion happens. He cradles his daughter in his hands and we see the iconic half Terminator face on a his little girl. And we realize Christian Bale is the Terminator, and now he has a reason to kill John Connor.

That image is actually what became the cover of Damaged Good.

The story is much different. But all of a sudden a detective who hated working with robots, having to protect this little girl ala WITNESS style… and taking her to grisly crime scenes, and treating a child in a way you really can’t treat a child was all of a sudden interesting to me.

People don’t really know this, mostly because I’m a slow writer, but the world Damaged Good is set in is setting up various different genres I want to write in. Los Angeles was always going to be this noir/detective city. New York is going to be hacker style cyberpunk. I got plans for Detroit. And a few other cities, 7 in total.

Back to Damaged Good. I grew up on these 80s and 90s action movies that had a lot of heart. Terminator 2, True Lies, Lethal Weapon, Die Hard… beneath the big SFX budgets, there’s these small stories. I find myself more drawn to those.

I really set my sights on trying to write big blockbustery-type high concept stuff with an assload of heart (scientific term).

Damaged Good was the first thing I wrote that I felt really connected to. That I think is pretty personal. Most people won’t see why, or will try to pair me up with the wrong characters that I see as myself lol–and that’s fine.

But I really like Celia a lot.

The balancing act of naviete in a walking talking database was crazy difficult. Letting her be childish and have fun, but also the responsible one of the duo…

I just love juxtaposition like that.

Anyway, I could pontificate all day, but this is probably already longer than you had planned