B.C. Laybolt's Blog, page 6
October 10, 2019
Engen Books Podcast, The Write Project, Episode 2! (Actually 56, but it’s me, so…)
Another episode of Engen Books‘ podcast, The Write Project, in which I blather about big publishing companies I do not work for, thingies King, Lovecraft, Tolkien, my theory about Game of thrones, and writer’s block, in which I foolishly test the literary divine.
Out of sheer existential terror of all things internet and extinction thereof, I made a MP3 thingy. Take THAT, 6-week Soundcloud storage limit! :
(Much editing was required, because, as my wife will tell you, I talk too much).
If your ears are not bleeding (or, if they are, and you’re kind of into that), see my previous post for Episode 1, which is actually Episode 54, but I get too excited about being on podcasts, so it’s 1.
Visit my kindle store for terrifying titles like The Dog and more!
https://www.amazon.com/B.C.-Laybolt/e/B00EMDWWNE%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share
[image error] A walk in the dark invites an inescapable terror.
A horror short story in the spirit of Cthulhuian nightmares.
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October 6, 2019
Weird Experiences Only Writers Would Understand.
That moment when you suddenly shatter total quiet as you shout “Ohhhhh, yeeeaaahhh. BRILLIANT! THAT’S AWESOME!” and actually clap, because of something an imaginary person just said to you in your head in a conversation that doesn’t exist yet, because you are 250 pages deep into your next novel, and you are alone in your office, except for your cat, who now thinks you are crazier than dogs.
FREE now on Amazon! Click on the icon to get the short story prequel to the 10th Lunen Regiment Trilogy! Get the origin story of one of the 10th’s most notorious characters. Available now!
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October 5, 2019
While the world sleeps…
There just ain’t no writing like 5 am writing.
Such things, that emerge from the gloom of the early morning dark and the waking brain.
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What are YOU writing?
Click on the link to my Amazon store to read Juris Lunence for free!
https://www.amazon.com/B-C-Laybolt/e/B00EMDWWNE/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1
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October 4, 2019
Guest appearance on The Write Project!
Of all of the things I was doing during my blogging hiatus, one of the most exciting was to appear on Engen Books‘ Podcast, The Write Project. In which I discuss dark childhoods, Stephen King, my writing process, “Shut and get typing”, and much more!
Hosted by Matthew LeDrew, the show appears every Monday on CHMR at 4:30 Newfoundland Time, and is available on most podcast platforms.
Out of sheer vanity, here’s an MP3 of Episode 1 of my interview. I am told that if you place the speaker near a sink drain, my voice will scare away fruit flies and Drain Goblin spore vapours. Probably worth a shot. You never want to see what comes out of those spores. *Shudder.*
(In which I talk far too much…)
Here is the location to find the archive of far more talented writers than myself talking about their amazing projects, like Tasha Madison, Julia Blackmore, Tracey Waddleton, and more.
And here is the link to Engen’s The Write Project youtube channel.
May your earholes rejoice, should that be warranted.
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https://www.amazon.ca/s?i=digital-text&rh=p_27%3AB.C.+Laybolt&s=relevancerank&text=B.C.+Laybolt&ref=dp_byline_sr_ebooks_1
Visit my Kindle shop to purchase Ebook titles like The Dog, To Drown in Sand, To Drown in Ash, and more!
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October 3, 2019
Of Blogabsences Substantial.
Aaron Dembksi-Bowden, one of my literary heroes and one of this generation’s Shakespeares, is mulling dumping his blogging, because it eats time.
Which is true. It does. It SO does.
But I am not him. I am, however, a bad blogger.
I had no idea my last entry was August 2018. That’s like, more than a whole year. Yeesh.
So, I’ve been busy during that time. Silly busy. Life, end of life, a full time career in a challenging field, my wife’s managing a chronic brain disease…oh, man. there’s been LOTS.
But that’s all a bunch of heavy stuff. More on The Heavy later. Too much of that already in this world right now. What I am happy about is the work I’ve been doing while Notblogging.
Holleeeee Firesticks. It’s been a big year at my desk. Dark fantasy short story anthology? Completed. Currently enduring the preparatory rites known as the Thousand Cuts of the Blood Pen, administered by a ruthless ogre who adamantly states it will be ready within six to twelve months. That’s PUBLISHED ready. As in, on the shelf and kindle.
And, I’m 296 pages deep into my fourth book, a fantasy novel that follows one of the shorts teed up in the anthology.
Funny thing, that. There are 13 short stories in the anthology, and each tip off a separate novel to form a franchise. Which is brain-boggling to me. But there it is.
More details to come; just wanted to drop a hey to show I did not get snatched by a nightgaunt and swallowed in two pieces. I mean, whole would be tasteless, and three would just be messy.
And yeah; I know. They don’t have faces.
It’s called OSMOSIS, Chad.
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August 18, 2018
I lost my writing partner during To Drown in Ash, and it rocked me.
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She was with me every single morning, before the sun came up, sneaking glances at me. As long as I was typing, she was happy. She hated how long it took for me to make coffee, because it meant we weren’t working.
Emma is that little black lump between my feet, twelve years ago, as I struggled through my pre-req courses to get into university, an old man at 36 desperate to change his life, while a puppy rooted herself into everything I would do for the rest of hers.
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Emma was getting older, and our whole family knew it. We made the typical allowances, that slow regression of the tide of life that signals terrible choices. But we ignored them, I ignored them, for longer than I probably should have. We lifted the food bowl up onto a block so her neck wouldn’t hurt when she ate. We carried her everywhere so she wouldn’t jump off furniture. We even bought her a playpen to keep her safe, her vision long gone and her hearing almost nonexistent.
Emma wasn’t just my dog. She was so much more. She heard the early dialogue, and sneezed her disdain if it was cheesy. (Emma loved cheese, just not in her dialogue). She was my first audience for verbal reads. She was my timekeeper, who told me when I had been at the keyboard too long. And not long enough.
She was my kids’ best friend; a sibling and confidante. She was our guardian, who fiercely chased every animal, no matter what size, off her deck and out of her yard. Some people mock poodles, but man, let me tell you, they are tough, smart, ridiculously brave, and unconditionally loyal pets.
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I’ve often heard about folks saying how hard a pet’s death hit them, and never understood it. Until I lost my writing partner.
I think you can almost sense it in To Drown in Ash. The time I had to decide that terrible choices had to be made. Ash is about loss and fracture, and was written while Emma waited for me, sleeping and peeking at my back, to make sure I was there and still writing. I was avoiding the decision. I did a lot of that in the early drafts of this book, until our team wouldn’t let me, and made me face the facts. That things could not continue. Emma and I knew it, too. That avoiding choices was costing her too much pain. Mostly out of fear of what it would cost me to lose her.
We took her for one last walk to her favourite park. She hobbled and thought about chasing her favourite ducks. My wife and I gave her her last ice cream, and she devoured it, cone and all.
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The next day, we took her to the vet. They were incredibly kind to us. We were given all the time we could need to say goodbye.
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They were incredibly patient while Old Man Laybolt tried and failed to hold it together.
She finally sighed her last, and I heard relief finally come from her little spirit. Her only concern was that she was still doing her job. She kept checking on me, with little flicks of her eyes, right into the end.
I’m a nurse. I’ve seen my share of death. Even come to learn to understand and embrace it. To learn that it’s a sacred moment, and a truly spiritual experience that can not be understated. Its impact on our small journeys here in this life are immeasurable. Things of such magnitude have learning for all of us.
Here’s what Emma taught me. Be unconditionally loyal. Be brave. Be ever-striving to take care of your pack. And live. Live every day for your ice cream and those you are lucky enough to contribute to.
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Some say that people should strive to be the person their dog thinks they are. I agree. But I’d add to that.
If more of us strive to be more like our dogs; honest, loyal, protective, endlessly curious about others, and fearless, the world we live in can only get better. That’s what Emma taught me.
To take naps when you can. To love unconditionally. Handle strangers based on their body language. Always be on duty. Watch your people.
That, and to keep working until its over.
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August 11, 2018
To Drown in Ash: Book Two goes LIVE!
It’s been a long time coming. People have been waiting patiently. What a great problem to have; folks telling you to hurry up with your next book.
Well, the wait is over. To Drown in Ash, Book 2 of The 10th Lunen Regiment trilogy, is now live on Amazon.
Snowstorms, three years of 5 am sunrises, and a lot of real, actual tears (you’ll know EXACTLY when my ugly manbaby tears hit the keyboard) went into this one. If you enjoy it, please let me know.
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As always, a huge thanks to Dylan Edwards for his incredible cover, endless patience, and therapeutic upload support. And to everyone that pushed me further to make this the best book I’ve ever written (See acknowledgements).
Here’s the link:
If your Canadian (high five!), here’s your link:
Annnd here’s the link for my UK fans:
April 3, 2018
A team of Atlantic Canadian writers and Newfoundland’s EnGen Books crack three bestseller lists!
Chillers from the Rock, the third volume in the modern From the Rock series, hit #1 Bestseller in 4 different categories on March 18, 2018: a full 10 days before its release. The categories include Vampire Thrillers, Werewolves & Shifters, Vigilante Justice, and Hot New Releases – Thrillers. As of this writing it has reached […]
June 11, 2017
Great News! KDP FINALLY reveals your historical sales!
Not sure if you noticed (the savvy among you probably have), but KDP quietly rolled out their new reports format!
I’ve wondered since I started with Kindle Direct Publishing why they could not plot out the master sales list for the titles Indies publish. Not only would it make for great nostalgia during those cold, isolated months of dead sales, and drive writers forward after seeing that, yes, there once was a day when you were knocking it out of the park (regardless of numbers; in this day and age, all readers are precious readers, in my opinion), but it’s important to be able to look back and see what you’ve accomplished in total.
At least, my accountant thinks it is.
Well, wonder no more!
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KDP’s new Historical Report gives you every single sale monthly since you started publishing, and every single KOLL page read. This enables you to accurately track total sales, identify trends, and total your copies sold and free titles distributed since the dawn of KDP-time.
The new format also sets up by sales period, and lists all royalties earned by country in total, which immediately gives you your best selling countries. The report still offers the month-to-date tables, but now provides a payments and pre-orders tab, all in one header.
Slick, easy to use, and all in one place.
A huge development for Indie writers everywhere!
Stop looking at my short blue poles. I was busy writing.
Go check our your new KDP report page! What do you think of it?
May 14, 2017
One Day.
There are many kinds of people who make up our world.
There are people who fight. They grab each day by the throat and don’t let go until they get that day done.
There are people who pretend. Who make it look like they can do the things they cannot so that the world will applaud them. But the world never applauds anyone, not in any real way, and their hearts are destined to break.
There are people who burn. Who carry a furnace fuelled by bitterness because life has flowed around them like a river, and they cannot bend the currents to their will. Steam and noise ensue, and peace is a laughable dream.
There is another kind. There are quiet, shy people who hate storms. Who try, every day, to stand, walk, and even carry others with whatever power they have, which varies every day. Whose tools get lost or break or were never in the toolbox, or the storm has whipped them away, lost in the wind and sound and terror. But every day, they try.
They get up, in the face of panic and fear, and they try. Some days they are beaten before they even open their eyes, and the trying takes too long, and it’s hard.
But somehow, they do it. And life and the world do not record their battles, don’t call their names, don’t applaud. Sometimes, it only announces their failures, which feeds the opinion of the ignorant. The world expects perfection while it takes away their tools. The world demands more while it pressures you with less.
Less money for your work, less support for your children, less respect for your thoughts, less power for your person, less safety for your travels, less consequence for your violation.
It presses down while screaming to get up. And it is hard.
But these people, in the storm, they still try.
These people are called Mothers.
I’m lucky enough to have one for a partner. My wife’s tools are being plucked away by the storm piece by piece. In the cruellest irony, by an invisible disease that very few people will ever understand. They see the vibrant, shining soul that she is, and rejoice in her radiance, and never see her storm. She refuses to show it to anyone.
She’s such a Mother that she’ll be one to those who are not even hers. She’ll take on the job for those in pain out of sheer mercy and grace, and never asks for recognition, or control, or any reward at all.
She will simply because it is Right.
She’ll step into the deeper storm, knowing some of her tools are missing.
Because that is what Mothers do.
My own mother should have folded under the storm a thousand times. Sometimes, the storm was me. Other times, it was the world, trying to crush her. She would have none of that.
I am privileged. Both women made me this man.
We get one day.
One.
To tell them that we get it. That we see them. That we appreciate them. That they are valued. Loved. That we know. That we can never properly thank them, but on this day, we will try.
To my Mom, all I can say is Thank You.
To my wife, I see you. I know. And I see the storm. I hate it, and I wish I could crush it; wither it, so that it did not trample you. But I can’t. I will always offer my hand, even when you refuse to take it. Because you fight ten times harder than I do. Even now, as two young men who you gave birth to, who you taught how to temper my cold spite with your warmth and love, prepare to step away from you and make their mark, two standing examples of your success, you find yourself wanting in their forging. You did it. You mastered it. You won. I love you. I Thank You.
To every one of you reading this who are Mothers, I Thank You. The world will never applaud. Not the way it should. But maybe, having a day that tells you we know you’re important is a sign for you. That we see you, and that we care.
Thank You.
Happy Mother’s Day.
