R.J. Blain's Blog, page 64

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 

Upcoming Releases, Summer Sales, and More!

This is a State of the Blain address. Fasten your seat belts, because this is going to be one hell of a ride. If you want to read about the personal stuff, scroll down towards the end of the post.

News From the Witch & Wolf World

I’ve been pretty quiet on the writing front since the double release of Shadowed Flame and Karma. I needed some time to recharge, I’ve been pretty busy on the personal front, and two books one day? Wooooooowie, I needed a ‘smoke break’ after that craziness.

In 2014, when I first released Inquisitor, I never thought the Witch & Wolf world would be so popular. The series has made me, as far as I can say I’ve been made. I’m grateful people enjoy my take on werewolves and witches.

When I finished Winter Wolf, I was almost ready to walk away from the series and world. Winter Wolf was a tough book for me. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong. There were problems with my editors–all three or four of them. The problems with my editors were outside of anyone’s control. Not their fault, not my fault–life’s fault. Life sucks sometimes.

I recovered, plowing into Blood Diamond, determined to at least leave the series with some form of general sense of satisfaction and closure for me. For a while, I didn’t think I’d ever actually get to Silver Bullet.

Beneath a Blood Moon was my ditch effort to get over the hell that was Winter Wolf and have fun with the Witch & Wolf world. Pack Justice as another one of those stories–one that took a life of its own and demanded to become a mini series. (Two or three books, uncertain still on total length.)

Karma was me pursuing the type of story I really like to tell, written as much for me as for my readers.

Shadowed Flame? I don’t want to talk about that, but I will. It was Winter Wolf 2.0. I love the character. I love the idea.

Writing her was a struggle each and every word of the way. I put myself so far outside of my comfort zone on this book I ended up having to fight tooth and claw to finish it. It was a hard book to write. I bled on the page for this book.

I regret writing it, but at the same time, I’m glad I did. I look at it, and I am able to acknowledge I can do it–even when it’s hard. And Shadowed Flame was so, so hard.

I am 58,000 words into Silver Bullet.

For fans of the series, Silver Bullet is both a beginning and an end. Blood Diamond began the final battle between Basin and the Inquisition. Silver Bullet finishes it.

However, Silver Bullet heralds in a new stage for the witches and wolves of the world to dance on. Yes, a new main series is coming. I expect the first book to be ready and released by the end of the year. Some of you might be a little alarmed and appalled by this announcement. After all, I have Nature of the Beast and Balancing the Scales to write, right?

Don’t worry. They aren’t being forgotten or abandoned. They’re my fun stories, my ‘take a break and let loose’ series, and something I use to escape work. I love Sean and Karma, and I look forward to writing their stories. Realistically, both of these stories are 2-3 book sets. Karma might end up longer than Sean’s story, but in reality, I had a general idea where I wanted to go with them, and I’m halfway there for Nature of the Beast and about a third of the way there on Balancing the Scales.

Karma will have anthologies with short stories and novellas to continue her adventures with Jake, including tales from before and after the Balancing the Scales story.

Witch & Wolf Summer Sales and Free Book Days!

Let’s get onto the good stuff, eh? Inquisitor is now $0.99 until the end of August, so if you haven’t had a chance to dive into the series, now is your chance. Pack Justice is also $0.99 until the end of August.

July 1-3, 2016, Pack Justice will be free.

July 14, 2016, Shadowed Flame will be free.

July 14, 2016, Beneath a Blood Moon will be free.

July 27, Karma will be free.

August 1, 2016, Beneath a Blood Moon will be free again.

August 4, 2016, Shadowed Flame will be free again. Yeah, I’m determined to get this book around. I bled for this one, damn it!

About Those Print Books…

Coming Soon. Literally. Beneath a Blood Moon should begin the proofing process later today type coming soon. My cover artist is hard at work preparing the cover art for the books. Once the proofs are done, I’ll launch Beneath a Blood Moon and send the unsigned copies to their new homes. I’m expecting three weeks for Beneath a Blood Moon to be finalized and ready for sale.

Beneath a Blood Moon will be priced at $13.99 for a paperback copy.

Memento Mori: A Step into a Brand New World.

I have made mention of working on a new series. It is entitled Memento Mori, and it follows one Harrison Godfrey, a World War III survivor–and I don’t mean a veteran. When he was a newborn, less than a minute old, a nuclear bomb detonated over his home in New York City.

Millions died. The survivors became supernatural, and Harrison is one of them.

In a world where nuclear bomb radiation either kills you or turns you into the supernatural, just about anything is possible. Twenty-five years after the end of World War III, life has gone on.

I’d just like to take a moment to state Memento Mori is not a dystopian.

Instead of crumbling to a dystopian wasteland, society has adapted. The supernatural have found their place in the world, and so have the unsoiled, purebred humans.

Someone wants to change that, and that is where the story begins.

I have no idea when Memento Mori will release, but it is coming–and considering how addicted I am to Harrison and his world, it’ll be coming sooner than later.

Onto the Personal Stuff

We’re still waiting on our interview to get my husband’s green card / work visa. There was a delay in our paperwork. The US government failed to forward a document to itself, so my signature expired.

Say what?

Yeah, apparently your signature can expire for immigration documents… and the shelf life seems to be three months. Go figure.

So, we’re waiting. My stress levels are pretty much maxed out thanks to all this hurry up and wait crap.

I’m really hoping this is the worst of it, and we’ll be able to start the next stage of our life in California soon.

Also, ARRRRGGGGHH.

That’s the sound I make when everyone interrupts me, which is basically what is happening today.

(Yes, that is all the personal stuff I got right now. I have no life.)

 

Dear Fans: An Open Letter

(c) JordyR (Creative Commons – Flickr)

Fans are the lifeblood of any television show, movie, author, or… just about anything in the entertainment world. This letter is to every fan, no matter how you rate your obsession, love, or interest in the thing you like, appreciate, or utterly obsess over.

Dear Fans,

We have a problem.

You might be puzzled over why I think ‘we’ have a problem–or who ‘we’ actually is. We is you, the fans, and us–or me–the creator. Together, just by being what we are–fans and creators–have a problem just from existing. That sounds a bit harsh, doesn’t it? I, like every other author, actor, director, publisher, or other creative type, rely on you to survive.

Without you, we’re nothing.

This is where our problem begins.

I have been watching the current meltdown between Paramount and the fans of Star Trek with a mix of dread and resignation. Before you go get your pitchforks and gather your lynch mob, give me a few minutes to explain.

Creators need you, the fans. We need your love, your enthusiasm, and yes, your dollars. We need your energy, your dedication, and your interest. No one is denying that.

However, we have a problem, and this issue with the Star Trek fan films has merely brought it to the lime light and gave an opportunity for discussion.

Fans, we love you, but there is a point where your love and obsession turns into something invasive and downright terrifying. You take our creations, and you make them your own. I appreciate a diehard fan, but sometimes, you get scary–really scary. You get ‘give an author a dead bird after dressing it up to match a scene in a novel’ scary–and yes, that has happened. (Not to me, though. And no, I never want this to ever happen to me.)

Let’s face facts: you didn’t create Star Trek or any other franchise you so love. You want more of it–that’s amazing. It really is. But it’s not yours.

It’s not yours to do what you want with.

It’s not yours to change.

It’s not yours to sell.

It’s not yours.

So many of us love Harry Potter, and we want to go to Hogwarts. We want to experience the magic for ourselves. We want to explore, and we want to capture that sense of wonder Rowling gave us all when she wrote those books.

So many of us love Star Trek, Firefly, and Star Wars, shows and movies that broke through the barriers separating us, bringing us together under the banner of shared, obsessive interest.

So many of us love Game of Thrones, cringing at each episode to see who is going to die next. I’m not a fan of Game of Thrones, but I understand the sense of community that comes along with being a fan.

I love Pokemon. I love Jurassic Park, it’s runty sequels, and the glory that was Jurassic World. I love Guardians of the Galaxy. I really love Indiana Jones. For a long time, I wore a felt fedora just like his, because the entire franchise caught my imagination and made me want to grab a whip and explore the world.

I wore that hat out, and I longed to have a whip of my own, because I wanted to be someone just like Indy, who would go temple diving, artifact chasing, and hell, yes, tomb robbing–to put it in a museum, of course.

I understand you, but we have a problem.

There is a line between the fans and the creator. It’s invisible, but trust me, it’s there. It’s a line that shouldn’t be crossed, but it is all the time.

It is the line between fans and fans running off with someone’s creation, taking it for their own, and feeling entitled to do whatever they want with it.

The Star Trek fan film is a symptom of this problem.

It’s okay to love something. It’s okay to love something so much you want to dress up as them, be like them, and want to be assimilated. It’s okay to thrive within the community of other fans.

It’s not okay to steal.

Intellectual Property is a big deal to creators like me. I work really hard to bring something to life for you to enjoy. Copyright theft and intellectual property theft is a sword to the heart. Our creations are how we, as creators, thrive.

Scale doesn’t matter.

Yes, Star Trek is a huge, profitable fandom, but let me take you aside. Let’s remove the scale.

Let’s assume Star Trek isn’t a huge, profitable fandom. Let’s assume that it’s a Mom-and-Pop franchise,s something made out of someone’s home, in their garage, with the help of friends.

You might say a fan film should only bring more attention to the real franchise–to that couple who created Star Trek. You might argue a fan film is the highest form of flattery.

There were so many people who loved Star Trek they wanted to get together and show that love for the show/movie.

Wrong.

Brand integrity is a big deal. If a creator sanctions something like a fan film, without setting guidelines, without granting permission for their work to be taken and used, they’re setting a standard–one that takes away their legal right to own their own property.

Now, I’m not saying the Star Trek thing hasn’t gotten out of hand. It has. It’s gotten a bit ridiculous on all sides. However, there is a point when we have a problem.

We want you to love our stuff so much you want to be a part of our community. We want you to love our work so much it ignites something in you and makes you want to dress up like our characters. We want your love, fans.

But we want your respect, too. We want you to respect what we’ve worked so hard to create. We want you to understand that there is a line between you, our beloved fans, and what we’ve created.

You don’t own our work. You aren’t entitled to it. You can’t take what is ours and pretend it is yours to do whatever you want with.

It’s not yours. You aren’t entitled to it. It isn’t yours to do what you please with.

Sorry.

Some fandom activities are commonly ignored, because so many creators love the fact we inspire you. Fanfiction is one of these activities. However, there comes a point when fanfiction goes too far–when fans go too far.

Enter Fifty Shades of Gray.

Once upon a time, Fifty Shades of Gray was a fanfiction piece based on Stephanie Meyers’ Twilight. I’ve read the original fanfiction. There is zero doubt it was a fanfiction piece based on Twilight.

EL James crossed the invisible line. She took something that didn’t belong to her and made it her own.

She then went on to sell it. There is a lot of controversy regarding Fifty Shades of Gray, but I think one thing stands out to me: lines were crossed, and fans never really even realized it.

We have a problem, fans, and only you can fix it.

We creators love you, but you need to respect us and our work–without acting like you’re entitled to do whatever you want with what we’ve created. There needs to be limits on just how far things go.

We need you to survive, but without us, you wouldn’t be fans.

Think about it for a little while. Think about it before you steal from creators. Think about it before you try to take ownership of something that doesn’t belong to you–our creations.

It is one thing to discuss a work, dress up in costumes, and learn to speak an imaginary language.

It is another to take creating derivative works and taking them to the extreme. We want you to love what we’ve made.

We want to share our worlds with you, but we want to be respected. We want our livelihoods protected. We want to put food on our tables, take care of our family, homes, and pets, and we want to be able to keep creating.

That means you, the fans, need to wake up and take a long look around.

There is an invisible line, and we, as creators and fans, need to make it visible, make everyone aware it exists, and respect it.

It is the line between a creator’s intellectual property and a fan’s desire to be a part of a community. Think of it as skin. When we shake hands, our skin touches, but your blood doesn’t touch mine. Your muscles don’t touch mine. That’s the way it should be.

We warm each other through the contact, but the boundary between fan and creator remains intact. We, as creators, want to touch you and feel your warmth, but we want that boundary to remain intact.

When fans take our work and run away with it, stepping over that line, you’re invading the skin of the fandom’s creator, mixing your blood with theirs, and going beyond the reasonable limitations of touch.

We want to touch, but we want to do so in a way that protects us both. Skin to skin, but no deeper.

Derivative works will always be contested.

I want people to draw pictures of how they envision my worlds or characters. I want people to feel a part of the community, such as it is. I want people to play pretend and imagine what it might be like to live in my world. I don’t even mind fanfiction all that much, as long as the boundary between my ownership of my creation is respected.

It’s not a matter of judging you for your love. We want you to love us. We just want you to respect us while you do it.

Without creators, there are no fans–without fans, writers, actors, movie producers, and all other entertainers are basically weirdos with overactive imaginations. Hell, most of us weirdos are fans, too.

We need you. You need us, too.

Let’s try to get along, eh?

Sincerely yours,

A creator.

Two Novels Nominated for Readfree.ly’s Top 50 Self-Published Novels Worth Reading List!

I never really thought the day would come that I would be writing a blog post like this. While I have a morning ritual of getting up and checking if I somehow magically became famous, I never actually hold my breath or hope to make any form of shortlist for a top anything list or competition.

So, it came as a complete surprise when two of my books were nominated for ReadFree.ly’s Top 50 Self-Published Novels Worth Reading in 2016 list. When I found out, I was stunned. There are around 100 books in the final vote for the list, and two of them I wrote. I may not make the final list, but this really, really made me happy.

If you’ve read or liked the books, please vote for them! Hell, if you’ve wanted to read the books and haven’t had a chance to yet, please vote for them. Tell your friends to vote, too.

To vote, please click the links below, scroll down to the bottom of the page, and select the book from the list. You’ll have to give a name or twitter handle and an email address to vote. You can select up to three books in each category (so 30 votes in total for the entire list.) There are some great titles in the running, including Grace Draven’s latest work! (You can find her book in the fantasy category.)

Beneath a Blood Moon (RJ Blain) was nominated under the Paranormal category for the Top 50 list.

The Dawn of Dae (Trillian Anderson) was nominated under the Sci-Fi category for the Top 50 list.

Voting closes on July 1, 2016.

There are a Lot of Good People in the World.

(c) qisur (Creative Commons – Flickr)

There are a lot of good people in the world. Today, I’ve seen a lot of people on facebook and other social media sites scorning the Stanford Rapist, with everyone trying to remind everyone else how to become a good person.

Maybe people are angry. Maybe they’re tired of hearing about the bad people in the world. Maybe they’re wanting to find something they can look towards as a compass and good example–something, anything–to show society hasn’t gone completely to hell in a pretty basket.

There are bad people in the world, but I think it’s so very easy to forget about the good people in the world, too.

We’re so busy looking for the evils in the world that we often don’t appreciate those around us–those who try to do good. It’s so easy to get caught up in the relentless negativity of our society.

This is particularly true during elections when people don’t care about each other, so focused on their side being right, on their particular interests. It’s important to people, and that brings out the worst in us all.

Stop and take a moment to really think. We are a society where we color things in the extremes. We showcase the complete filth of our society–the Stanford Rapist, for example. (And yes, I know his name. I don’t really feel like humanizing the filth of our society, so I won’t.)

But here’s the thing: we so often overlook the little good people do. We expect heroism. We expect over the top good. We expect showcase examples of what it is to be human.

As an author, I enjoy writing about good people who have to do big things. Some of those characters want to hide in the background. Others are at the front lines. But, I try to make the lead characters genuinely good people. Some of them do bad things–and often.

But at the end of the day, they are usually good people with happy endings. They lead heroic lives matching what we hope to find in our world. Sometimes the road to get to their happy ending is long and treacherous, but they’re there. Sometimes it is as bitter as it is sweet, but there are happy endings to be found.

This, too, plays into the basic human desire to find good in the world. I write about it instead of seeking it out in our real world–I write about it, because we’re taught that the only good we should acknowledge is the one that is done by the rich, the famous, or those who do truly heroic things.

Stop. Take a look around you. There is a lot of good to be found. Did someone slow their car so you could merge? That happens often. That’s a little bit of good in the world. (Plus safe driving.) Did someone hold a door for you?

Did you hold a door for someone?

Did you smile at someone who looked like they’re having a bad day?

Sometimes, a smile can be the highlight of someone’s day. To us, that smile is insignificant. After all, we’re just moving our lips, right? But no, to someone who is having a bad day, to someone too shy and afraid to connect with others, that smile can be a treasure.

Stop looking for the ‘big’ good in the world and notice all the little ones. They’re out there, and they’re far more numerous than most people believe.

You don’t have to be Mother Theresa to do good in the world. You don’t have to live big to live well. You don’t have to be an example for the whole world. People too often look at celebrities to be their shining stars in the darkness.

So many are upset when a celebrity does something bad and the illusion of wealth making people good is shattered. So many are upset when justice isn’t served when someone does something truly horrific.

Instead of looking for a light in the darkness, be the light in the darkness.

You don’t need a Captain America when you can be that superhero to someone else. I think we all forget that we have the capability of being that hero to someone. You don’t need magic to be a Wonder Woman.

You need a heart. That’s it.

Right now, society is staggering in the aftermath of the Stanford Rapist case, aware of the ‘rape culture’ of America. Many feel hopeless. Those who have been raped, assaulted, and abused see the dark pit of despair opening.

The Stanford Rapist walked. Justice wasn’t served, not to the young woman who will carry scars we can’t see for the rest of her life. But, there is an opportunity here, if you are willing to take it.

Unless you’ve been raped or assaulted, it’s very difficult to understand what it is like to have someone hold so much power over you. Many women in our society have been raped or assaulted. If you put twenty women together in one room and ask how many have been raped or assaulted, it’s not going to be just one or two hands raised.

It may be four, five, six… or more.

Women are taught to be shamed if they have been ‘tainted’ by a rape. Men are taught to be shamed–or worse, that they are entitled to a woman’s body.

This is rape culture.

We try to hide the dark truth and look to celebrities to give us an example of what is good–and then we use them as examples of what is bad when they fall.

Instead of celebrities, look at yourself. Your family. Your friends.

Change begins at the home, with you.

Instead of being afraid of the discussion of sex with your children, embrace it. Teach your sons and daughters rape is wrong. Teach them how to be good people. Morality isn’t found in the church.

It isn’t found in a steeple. It isn’t found in the government.

It’s found at home, and it starts with you.

There will always be bad people in the world, but there are so many good people, too. For that stranger you held a door for, bought a coffee for when they were sad, dinner for when they are hungry, you are the hope in their world. For that person you saw on a bench and sat down next to, and offered your ear without judgment, you are their shining light.

There are good people in the world. Instead of looking for the Emma Watsons of the world, take a long look in the mirror.

Be that good person you’re looking for. Then you’re the example you want to set. You don’t have to be wealthy, popular, or outgoing to be a good person. Be one, and take the time out of your busy life and notice the world around you and all the little things people do to be good to each other–things people do without expecting praise, reward, or acknowledgment.

If you can’t find the good people in the world, be that person. It’s not hard. Open a door. Offer someone a smile. Buy a homeless person a lunch and listen to their story.

You don’t need to move mountains to make a difference.