MCM's Blog, page 8
June 28, 2012
More Soggy Crusts.
I thought I’d start this blog entry with the first line of one of my favourite Bob Dylan songs, then I realized that would actually be a breach of copyright; the sort of breach users of the internet are very familiar with and rarely give thought to in our day to day chatting and posting.
It’s a confusing line, actually, about iron idols with glowing eyes, and casting bread onto water. We all know what is supposed to happen when you cast bread on the water, “After many days it will return to you,” – so we are told in Ecc 11:1, and generousity of spirit is common to every religion and all humane philosophies. Of course, we also know that the reality is that we will cast our bread and feed some fish. What eventually washes back to shore will be a bit of soggy crust.
Bob himself has done very well out of protesting against the Man and the Machine. Very nicely indeed. But he loves a bit of his own right to copyright, and is not so picky about those rights which belong to others – so I won’t risk quoting his lyrics.
The whole copyright thing is buzzing the airwaves again.
Mark Coker at Smashwords is in the middle of negotiating an arrangement in which Califa can and will go ahead with single-copy-loaning of Smashwords bestselling titles in a library of ebooks. Califa will buy the single titles and then loan them out. The plan will go on to include options for self-published authors, too.
The deal is based on the whole ‘single copy’ idea, and Digital rights management (DRM) will be applied to the files.
This is where I climb onto the fence, not least because the argument over DRM gets so heated neither side is a comfortable place to be if you harbor any doubts. It’s fierce.
I’m of the ‘IDK party’. I don’t know what the solution is to marketing in the digital age. I understand the artists, who do not usually make squillions of dollars, wanting the right to sell what they make just as any other producer of goods can, but I’m a perpetual bread-thrower. I can’t help it. Give me something to sell and I’ll say “I have plenty; you have that one if you want it.” I’m very bad at it. I have a history.
At this point I fear the wrath of the Very Angry parties – the Pirate Party and the Publisher’s Association among others.
See, I don’t believe for one moment that the argument of the publishers has much to do with money for the artists. I don’t believe for a moment that the argument over SOPA and its many-acronymed likes have anything to do with the rights of artists or individuals of any ilk. I don’t even know what it means to me that I don’t own what I write on my facebook page, that facebook can redirect my email to their servers, or that they can change the rules without telling me. I can’t begin to guess what it will all mean into the future.
I do know that I have never suffered for giving everything away. That’s not true – I grew up with my parents’ plant nursery, and saying to buyers then, “That’ll grow from cuttings; hang on and I’ll cut you a bit,” did not go down well. I suffered for it. On the other hand, it did mean I was seldom required to give up weekends selling plants for my dear mother …. Swings and roundabouts.
I do know that my ancient belief that if we all just gave what we had extra to the people who didn’t have enough, somehow we’d all end up with enough to go around, is outdated. It has worked out well enough for me, though. I came to the world of the internet with absolutely nothing. I did not even know how to use a WYSIWYG. I didn’t know what a wysiwyg was. I didn’t know how to make a hyperlink. Since I arrived on these fair shores, someone has shown me, or taught me, or offered me help to learn all of these things and never once – NOT ONCE – have they asked to be paid.
I hope the world of the internet does not become a wholly user pays place. I hope there are ways for people who want or need to live on the sale of their skills to make enough money to get by. I hope Smashwords and Califa and all of the millions of readers worldwide who will want to use a free library service can make this plan a reality.
I just hope that we don’t cut off too many freedoms in pursuit of our rights.
June 25, 2012
Review: Among the Sons of Seth by Jennifer L Armstrong
It is rumoured that Yah moves among the settlements of Seth.
Havilah lives and works in the first city, Enoch. Nearby, men toil in the copper mines; while her brother crafts exquisite pieces of bronze that she and her sister will sell in the marketplace.
After a shocking revelation, Havilah realizes her personal connection to the book of forgotten knowledge that has been kept in a neglected trunk by her family for as long as she can remember. Seeking deeper understanding, she will have to leave behind everything familiar and find Hawwa, the mother of all living.
I have read all of Jennifer Armstrong’s books with the exception of her children’s series, The Kent Family Adventures, and enjoyed each one. She has used different styles and voices in the dozen novels she has penned so far and seems to enjoy experimenting with the forms of her work. Among the Sons of Seth is her first foray into historical fiction.
As a basis for the story, she has taken two chapters from Genesis that even bible scholars tend to skip over. They are chapters five and six, one of the ‘begat’ lists – the generations from Adam to Noah. From this scant detail and her readings of the Book of Enoch she has fleshed out the Biblical equivalent of the myths of Atlantis.
Through the eyes of a young woman, Havilah, the story is told in the first person, present tense and begins in the city of Enoch, built by Cain on the ‘Plains of Wandering’, the land of Nod, east of Eden. Just as Havilah is promised to marry a stranger in town, a strong and wealthy man who would make her the envy of all the young women of her city, she learns that she is not the child of her mother Zillah but the orphaned daughter of a man from the among the sons of Seth.
Strange scrolls kept in a trunk at her brother’s house have always fascinated Havilah, and with the shock of learning about her heritage comes the overwhelming desire to know who her true people are. Leaving the promise of wealth and prestige for the dangers of a long journey alone through unknown lands, she sets out to find answers about who she really is and what it is to belong among the sons of God who were not banished from their family.
This is a time when men lived for centuries and, according to historian Josephus, had enormous numbers of children. They co-existed with mythical creatures and built great monuments. In her lifetime Havilah watched as civilizations rose steadily and the populations spread out across the world, and despaired as it began its inevitable slide into decay.
Havilah, renamed Baraka, tells her story as it happens with great immediacy and emotion. Her life and the truths she discovers; the births of her children and grandchildren; her journeys, her loves and her losses are all revealed against the backdrop of this ancient world.
It is difficult to say whether someone who is not at least sympathetic to Creationist theology would enjoy reading Among the Sons of Seth. It is very much like the bible stories we learned as children, revealing the great names of the Old Testament as real people with all the same day to day trials we recognize today. The author’s convictions are woven deeply through the fabric of the novel; I’m not sure it can be read as if it were intended as mere fiction. It is, perhaps, best described as an explanation of how life might have been for real people if they lived from the time of creation to the time of Noah’s great flood.
If you have no interest in or an aversion to these teachings, steer clear, it’s not for you.
Speaking to Christian readers who enjoy the opportunity to find stories not often told in mainstream literature, I can highly recommend this book. The author’s BA in Theology, her familiarity with ancient texts and modern discussion on the antediluvian world, and her passion for the warmth and simplicity of life and culture in the Holy Lands shines through. Her characters are well drawn and easy to love. She also manages to steer the story through centuries and multitudes of characters without bogging the reader down in the sheer weight of numbers.
The simple conversational style of writing makes it a winner and an excellent story to be read for younger children.
FIVE STARS
About the author: Jennifer L. Armstrong was educated at Ambassador College where she received a B.A. in Theology in 1993. It was also the setting for her first novel, The Society for the Betterment of Mankind. A summer archaeological dig at Hazor, Israel – combined with a tour of the Holy Land – started an interest in all things Middle Eastern. In 1999, she began publishing her novels online. Free Online Novels was launched to benefit both readers and writers.
The Society for the Betterment of Mankind,
Somewhere Between Longview and Miami,
Last King of Damascus,
The Unlikely Association of Meg and Harry,
Death Among the Dinosaurs,
Prophet,
A Good Man,
Sami’s Special Blend,
Among the Sons of Seth,
the Kent Family Adventures ,
and Dreaming in Arabic,
a chronicle of her experiences
in the Middle East and how they led to a
change
in her perception of Israel and her Christian faith.
June 23, 2012
Booga-booga by Alex Bentley
For the record, death isn’t so bad.
Dying, on the other hand, hurts like a son-of-a-bitch.
So you understand, I hope, that I am appropriately pissed at the fellow who strung out the dying part for me.
Hello, my name is Mary, and I was murdered.
Now, the murder part doesn’t bother me. Honest. I mean, it’s not like I was doing anything important beforehand. The part that bothers me is that if you’re going to mug someone, have the decency to do the job properly. It’s common courtesy.
But no. I got someone who thinks being polite is passé. First, the jerkass shoots me in the stomach (FYI: hurts like a son-of-a-bitch). Then he just runs away. The nerve! What, was my knock off purse not worth the effort? I had, like, twenty bucks in there.
As my wonderful and loving mother was so fond of saying, it seems that my fuck-up field extends to everyone around me. Which includes muggers, apparently.
Afterwards, do you know how long it took me to finally die? …Well I don’t either, but it felt like weeks. Which is long enough for me to be sufficiently furious to seek revenge BEYOND DEATH!
That’s how these things work, right? You get sent back to get revenge, or absolution, or something. Kill your killer, forgive yourself, sleep with your still-living spouse through a medium, or whatnot. Then bam! Afterlife with an open bar.
So I have unfinished business. Cool. Let’s go finish that, because being a ghost is neat but it’s not something I want to do forever.
Why, you ask? Well for example: ghosts can’t drink. Or hold a shot glass. True fact. And on a related note: I have no idea how I can see things, and it bothers me. I mean, vision requires light to strike your eyes and then get interpreted by the brain. From what I can tell light passes clean through me, therefore striking nothing, therefore I shouldn’t be able to see.
…I’m going to stop thinking about that and just blame it on spectral wizardry. Yeah. Back to vengeance.
Now, I’m not a detective. I’ve watched more CSI than is probably healthy, but that doesn’t help. I don’t know how to track people, and I don’t know how to find clues. So I’m just kind of… roaming. Constantly. I mean, even a terrible mugger-wannabe must have some kind of haunt (heh), right? I’ve gotta run into him sometime.
In the two weeks I’ve been floating about like a hobo, the streets have never been this crowded. I don’t think I could pick out a face in this pulsing mass of the living, but I might as well get a better view. I have no idea how I can levitate, but seriously, it’s still as awesome now as it was when I first figured it out.
At about three stories up, I catch a glimpse of something moving on a roof nearby. It’s a shape, kind of wuzzy. Looks like a dude.
And in that instant, I knew it was the dude I was looking for. I can’t tell you why, but I just knew. Magic ghost powers, I guess.
In an instant I’m in front of him. Bastard’s standing on the edge of a tenement roof. There was a lot of light and noise coming from the street, but sound doesn’t travel very well in ghost-land. Everything’s all muted. Like listening through a bunch of cotton on the bottom of the ocean. So I couldn’t make out exactly what all the ruckus was about. Not that I cared, of course.
The guy was just standing there, swaying one the breeze, half-empty bottle of tequila in hand. He waved the bottle around. Clear liquid dripped off his face and ran in rivulets under his eyes – he’d obviously poured tequila onto his face in a mockery at my inability to drink and feel said drink on my skin (not that I’d ever waste perfectly good booze in that manner).
Killing me improperly is one thing. But mocking me afterwards? That’s just a new low. I can’t look at him in the face anymore, so I swoop around behind. Goodness, he’s awfully close to that edge. I’d hate for something to–
Damn. Forgot that being immaterial means I can’t push people. I will NOT let this opportunity slide by!
Now he’s yelling something at the lights and sounds on the street, waving his hands around (Spilling!) and making awfully familiar gun gestures with his free hand. He\’s gloating. I\’m going to kill him so much.
The lights and sounds yell something back, and it strikes me as probably being important, but I’ll be the first to admit that I’m pretty much blind with rage at this point.
The jerkass (I’m not even going to call him a man anymore) goes quiet. He hiccups (a last laugh) and drops the bottle – spilling! If I still had knuckle-bones, I’d crack them.
Slowly, much too slowly, the jerkass turns around. His head is down and he looks tired – exhausted from all the attention. He takes a step forward, towards me, and looks up.
I feel myself solidify – odd sensation, kinda tingly. Our eyes meet. I give him a sweet smile.
He chokes, forcing words through cracked lips. “I’m s–”
“Booga-booga!”
Death isn’t so bad. It’s the dying that sucks. It may not have been a bullet wound to the gut, but I have to say: the look of utter, abject shock as he stumbled off the roof was SO worth it. I bet that fall felt like weeks.
All in all, I feel pretty accomplished. I mean, mission: complete. Revenge: taken. Dish served: cold.
Score: Mary one, Jerkass… also one, but a lesser one. So I still win.
Now all that’s left is the sweet, sweet reward of the afterlife (fingers crossed for an open bar).
Some of the light and sound on the street has gone somewhere else. Looking down, there’s still a lot of people, though. That Jerkass had a hell of a crowd.
…Okay, I’m starting to get nervous. This is how these things work, right? Unfinished business, solve it, everybody learns a lesson, credits roll. Right? There’s no way I could mess this up.
The light and sound on the street has stopped. Everybody\’s gone on their way. Afterlife any time now.
Any time now.
…
…
…
… Ah, fuck.
Well, I guess I should go say hello to mother.
* * *
Alex is a trained screenwriter (for all the good that does him) busy delving into the deep dark world of game writing and broadcast animation, while practicing web development as a means not to starve to death. For some reason, he’s also working in prose.
June 22, 2012
Meg by Michaela Sanderson
Drawn by pulsing music and darting lights, Meg enters the nightclub. Scanning the patrons for a possible ‘decent male’, she weaves her way through the mass of gyrating bodies, to the bar.
Her regular scotch and coke fails to even touch the sides, so Meg orders a double and throws it down. Full of Dutch courage, she moves out onto the dance floor. She follows a pattern that has become habit over the past few months.
A potential partner smiles at her. In response Meg smiles and a warmth flares, from the scotch or the male she cares not which. A compulsory number of dances must follow, as dictated by the unwritten ‘Dating Game Handbook’. A few more drinks, pleasantries and necessities are exchanged, then Meg and her male leave.
Meg’s two-door sports car impresses, she feels a hollow sense of pride; something in her life is worth a second glance. Small talk fills the void during the car ride home. As expected, coffee is offered, accepted and quickly dispensed with. They move to the bedroom.
Even in the feeble moonlight, Meg knows her body is a pleasing sight. Released from its designer label constraints, her muscular body reflects the many surfing hours that have carved her shape. The belly button ring excites the male; confidently he pulls her onto the bed. Afterwards, he plays gently with her long bleached blond hair. Wrapped in his arms, Meg fades off to sleep.
Morning brings the uncomfortable awkwardness of the ‘Oh my goodness, what have I done?’ syndrome. Excuses are made, the male leaves, promises of phone calls falling on disbelieving ears. It is a promise heard so many times before, a hollow, empty promise.
A teeshirt covering her nakedness, Meg drifts out onto the veranda. Coffee clenched in a shaky fist, she slumps on the steps, head bowed. Her only true friend greets her, wet tongue licking her face, wagging tail causing grief to the dying potplants nearby.
Shifting her coffee, Meg hugs Sabre, tears falling onto his golden fur. Pleading with the dog, begging for a reason as to why, at thirty-three, she is still all alone, she expects no answer and indeed none is forthcoming. Meg knows she is not unattractive; her surfing has tanned her body and shaped her physique. Her job pays well and a midwife is an acceptable position to hold. Thinking back to her last boyfriend, Meg analyses again what went wrong.
Her hours of work chased him off, three years ago. He could not accept the draining night duty and the insomnia that haunted her sleeping hours. She remembered how he left on a morning such as this, with the same, empty promise of a phone call.
Once again Sabre had been left to pick up the pieces and clean up the mess. Meg knew that many people saw Sabre as a child replacement, and maybe he was, but he had never hurt her. Ever.
Suddenly he deserts her, racing to the fence to challenge a young family walking past. Meg bites her lips to stop from weeping, feeling in her heart that she will never push a pram or have a child throw its sticky arms around her neck and cover her in sloppy kisses.
No man will make her a wife or a mother. She will wear no wedding ring from a husband, nor a vegemite kiss from a baby.
Twisting her small gold ring around her finger, Meg desperately wants her Mum. To be rocked like a baby, to feel gentle hands stroking her hair, whispering words of comfort; Meg wants her mother’s uncompromising love.
Sabre returns, his doggy duty done. Subtlety not his strong point, he drops his feed dish at Meg’s feet.
‘Hungry hey? Come on then.’
Climbing to her feet, coffee cup in one hand, feed dish in the other, Meg hears the phone begin to ring. Her heart races, her cheeks pink with excitement. Maybe it is him after all, just maybe.
And she hurries on indoors.
June 21, 2012
9 Signs Self-Publishing Is out of Control
On May 9th, 2012, at Accredited Online Colleges someone without a byline to credit blogged about the 9 Signs Self-Publishing Is out of Control.
Do you groan when you hear that? I did. Then I groaned again when I read the opening gambit:
“To paraphrase the immortal words of Truman Capote, there’s a difference between writing and typing. And, to put it gently, we can say with a good amount of confidence that most self-published books were typed, not written …. Until recently, the publishing industry had been our sea wall, protecting us from a tidal wave of boring life stories and dreadful novels. But now, the ease of self-publishing threatens to drown us all in mediocrity. Here are nine signs the situation is out of control.”
The nine signs were:
An estimated 700,000 people were independently publishing around the world at present, measured against 80,000/yr traditionally published in the USA in 2002. Not sure how to gauge that correlation, but, moving on;
20 000 titles a month are added by Lulu. [Although the company acknowledges the average self-pubbed title run is ‘less than two’].
Smashwords has published more than 80,000 books since being created in 2008. It took one company less than four years to match the annual total of traditionally-published books in the U.S. [Again, I’m not sure how this rates as a point, but…]
The New York Times has reported that 81% of Americans think they should publish a book. [?]
Many pundits are seriously considering whether self-publishing is a bubble on the verge of popping .
There has been a huge influx of publishing companies to the industry .
Respected voices are advising everyone to self-publish.
A giant number of ebooks are available for free.
And the number of copies of self-published books that are selling – I understand the average number of sales equates to average number of facebook friends, by which we can assume [?] that facebook friends are the primary purchasers.
Yes, so it’s all malarkey and you have the link there if you want to go and read it for yourself.
Who cares if there are millions of books to choose from? No one. Those who want their filtering done for them can still go to their local bookstore and find a bit of what they fancy carefully filed under headings they understand. Others can find enough of what they want everywhere.
The only point that I found interesting was the idea that many pundits – [One author is quoted who does not believe that the one Guardian article published was correct, but noted that there had been some discussion on Goodreads about the possibility] think the self-publishing bubble might be about to burst.
First, I think, there has to be some major money invested and made for any kind of major bubble bursting catastrophe, and I don’t think that has happened to any great degree. Mostly, people have invested small amounts of their own capital in their own work and either done well enough to be encouraged further, or given up and gone to bed. I have written before about my concern over vanity presses ripping people off, but there will always be wolves.
What I do think will happen, and has perhaps begun, is reality will inevitably set in. For most authors, even under the guidance of traditional publishing, there was never a lot of money to be made. This argument has been yelled loudly, and for years, by many of us inside and outside the digital box. It didn’t stop people trying their luck fifty years ago and it didn’t stop the rush this time.
Because some of the big names made a good living, the self-publishing revolution had a bit of the goldrush sort of feel to it for many self-publishing starters. It is still rushing now, but we might well be riding the peak and I think that dream, like all goldrushes, is passing now and leaving some a bit broke and others a bit disheartened.
But for authors who wanted to write the book they wrote, and to tell the story they told, it was well worth the effort. Storytelling is about telling stories, and too many bloggers would like it to be about capital gain. Writers who only want to make money either will or won’t, depending on how determined they are and how good they are at marketing. Bad books sell well in the traditional world; the same is true in self-publishing. Good self-published books without the drive behind them and the sales pitch will languish; the same is true in the traditional world.
The only thing that might remain forever changed is the number of authors who put their work out on the shelves. Whether for sale or for free, there will likely always be many more books to choose from now. I will not buy the mantra that quantity always means poor quality. It has become harder to find the best – or at least that which best suits each individual – for many readers.
And that is another necessary change I think is coming now, and will increase in momentum – the ways we find to direct traffic and advertising so the right readers get to the right books. I am at last – at last, let me hear an hallelujah!! – hearing people everywhere demanding that their friends stop spamming. It is finally being recognized that the idea of putting yourself front and centre and yelling in the face of every passer by does not endear you to readers.
I am waiting to see which processes prove to have remained stable as the great wash rushes by.
Readers do need help to find good books. Humans generally do not thrive on overwhelming choice, and I’m guessing that abhorrence of a vacuum will ensure that whatever the need here is, it will be met. We will work out the best ways to join reader and writer in the vastness of the web.
Sadly, the one thing that does not seem to have changed yet is the idea of intellectual snobbery. If you cannot find yourself a good book to read, anywhere, and are being drowned in out-of-control mediocrity, you might want to look at your own search skills. Maybe do an accredited course.
MERGE Concludes
Well then. MERGE has come to an end.
It’s been a crazy ride, full of tension and drama way outside the page, but we made it through in one piece. Well, at least some of us. Kit has a bionic arm now. It’s pink and sassy.
Anyway, more to the point: if you’ve been waiting to dive deep into MERGE until it was done… well, it’s done. You can download the entire series (including all the bonus stories, and especially including the epic finale) from Amazon RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND.
And I think you may recall that one of you lucky ducks was going to win an iPad, yes? Well we now know who that is… it’s Monica Y! Congrats Monica! Also winning ebooks and gift cards are Najela and Flord! WOOHOO!
There’s lots more fun to come (not MERGE-related), so stay tuned to 1889.ca for even more insanity, and possibly a rabid chicken.
June 14, 2012
MERGE #12: Ashes and Dust by A.M. Harte
The End is Nigh!
(Pst! Don’t know what MERGE is? See the recap post!)
It’s been a pretty awesome journey through the world of MERGE in the last few weeks, and today’s release is no different. Be sure to check out MERGE next week for the exciting finale!
The MERGE Blog Tour!
Today’s stop on the blog tour takes us back to our friends over at Black Sun Reviews. Check out the guest post from our Anna imposter! MCM is…kind of British? Want to know how to plan for inevitable, writerly, bloggerly disaster? MCM will show you how (or at least, blog about it and then save the day, that dastardly hero)!
Leave a comment to enter to win a brand new iPad!
Today’s Release!
Ashes and Dust by A.M. Harte
The world is coming apart, riots in the streets, and angry mobs twisting morality to suit their needs. Kate thinks she knows which side of the fight she’s on, but with every passing day, her convictions get less certain.
As she copes with the aftermath of city-wide riots, Kate struggles to pick up the pieces of her life amidst the ashes and dust. But behind her brother’s disappearance lies a terrible secret… one that may change her life forever.
Set in a world reeling from the discovery of transhumans, MERGE is a series of thirteen short stories that charts the loves, the betrayals, and the struggle for survival in a world where humans and transhumans are uneasy neighbours. Tensions are high, riots are brewing. The human race is about to come undone.
Buy it today on Kindle!
Win an iPad!
Only four more days to get your hands on this iPad goodness. You know you want it.
Holy awesome ebooks and gift vouchers and iPads, Batman!
June 13, 2012
MERGE #11: Scum of the Earth by MCM
So close!
(Pst! Don’t know what MERGE is? See the recap post!)
Things are getting intense over here! Only one more story to go before MERGE’s exciting finale. We’ve got ebooks and gift cards and an iPad just calling for you. Can’t you hear them? “Wiiiiiiin meeeeee!”
The MERGE Blog Tour!
MCM joins Holly over at Full Moon Bites today with a guest post for the blog tour! We’re all excited to release Scum of the Earth, considering MCM’s horrible secret. Check it out if you want to know more about turtles, haikus, and how to lie your way through arts school! As MCM says, “The mighty turtle kicked aside the lion as its mighty tusks eviscerated its mortal foes.” Wait. That might need some context. On the other hand, it’s MCM, so maybe it doesn’t.
Leave a comment to enter to win a brand new iPad!
Today’s Release!
Scum of the Earth by MCM
There are fraudsters, there are scammers, there are criminals and scoundrels. And then there are mischievous bureaucrats, who make the rest look like saints by comparison.
Transhumanism isn’t just about monsters and hunters, politics and genocide, or even the human angle. Transhumanism has a true dark side, and it is bureaucracy. Robin Lancaster is the only thing standing between society and absolute anarchy… if he can just keep up with his quota for the day…
Set in a world reeling from the discovery of transhumans, MERGE is a series of thirteen short stories that charts the loves, the betrayals, and the struggle for survival in a world where humans and transhumans are uneasy neighbours. Tensions are high, riots are brewing. The human race is about to come undone.
Buy it today on Kindle!
Win an iPad!
MERGE is drawing to an end, but you still have time to get your hands on that iPad! If you don’t enter, I’ll just have to keep it and play flash games in the office all day. COMMENT! SUBSCRIBE! DO IT FOR THE SAKE OF MY PRODUCTIVITY!
Wheeeeeeeeeeee!
June 12, 2012
MERGE #10: The Beggar’s Run by Yvonne Reid
Halfway there!
(Pst! Don’t know what MERGE is? See the recap post!)
It’s Tuesday! That means that Yvonne Reid’s next installment of MERGE is here! Haven’t been checking out her storyline? Why don’t you start with a free download of Long Way Down and help us reach our 25k goal? You could become a character in Ascension,
Yvonne’s upcoming series!
The MERGE Blog Tour!
Today on the MERGE blog tour, Ellie Hall takes a closer look at Yvonne’s MERGE storyline in her review. If you’re interested in what Yvonne’s been up to, check it out to learn more about all three stories, including today’s release. Ellie’s first imagining of Harrison comes close to Blade Runner’s Rick Deckard- but perhaps the two aren’t so similar after all. Well, it won’t stop me from picturing Harrison Ford as Harrison for the rest of the series. Mmmm.
Leave a comment to enter to win a brand new iPad!
Today’s Release!
The Beggar’s Run by Yvonne Reid
Sometimes you can draw the line between the job and your life, and everything is fine. Sometimes, the line blows up in your face.
Leo Harrison’s about to go on the race of his life, and one way or another, someone’s going to die.
Hunting transhumans is a hell of a job, where the tiniest misstep can cost you your life. When your prey is more dangerous than you are, how do you know where to draw the line? Harrison’s got a good reputation, but every time he looks into the eyes of another mark, he has to wonder: if one of us has to die today, who should it be?
Set in a world reeling from the discovery of transhumans, MERGE is a series of thirteen short stories that charts the loves, the betrayals, and the struggle for survival in a world where humans and transhumans are uneasy neighbours. Tensions are high, riots are brewing. The human race is about to come undone.
Buy it today on Kindle!
Win an iPad!
Remember to fill out the widget or you won’t be entered in our prize draw! We’re pretty sure you want this shiny new iPad. Right? Right!
Wheeeeeeeeeeee!
June 11, 2012
MERGE #9: Who I Really Am by Kit Iwasaki
MOAR MERGE!
(Pst! Don’t know what MERGE is? See the recap post!)
It’s week three of the exciting MERGE series!
Protip: You can get the first and second week of the MERGE series bundled! Save ALL the monies!
Be sure to check our our new releases this week, as well as awesome interviews, guest posts, and MERGE reviews on the blog tour! Speaking of which…
The MERGE Blog Tour!
Stop number nine on the MERGE blog tour finds us at another one of our favourite book blogs, The Pen and Muse! To accompany today’s release by Kit Iwasaki, the fine folks over at the Pen and Muse have an interview with the author herself! Read about Kit’s inspirations for MERGE and the Vampire General series, the mixing of medicine and fantasy, and teddy bear dissection (because what’s an interview without childhood toys and kidney transplants?).
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Today’s Release!
Who I Really Am by Kit Iwasaki
What is it like to live in a world with no beginning, no end, and a middle that shifts under your feet like sand?
Simon has been battling Alzheimer’s for years now, fighting the same demons over and over without success. The strains are starting to show on Beth, but for him, something is happening that could change everything…
Set in a world reeling from the discovery of transhumans, MERGE is a series of thirteen short stories that charts the loves, the betrayals, and the struggle for survival in a world where humans and transhumans are uneasy neighbours. Tensions are high, riots are brewing. The human race is about to come undone.
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