C. Desert Rose's Blog, page 15
July 8, 2014
If Death Should Love Me, Prologue and Chapter 1
If Death Should Love Me
Fate's Endeavor Books Part 1
Copyright 2014 C. Desert Rose & AAPH
Prologue
I never really thought that there was much more to life than what I was already living. The monotonous, day to day, non-eventful flow of things that continued each and every day. Get up, get ready, go to work, deal with day-to-day problems, listen to family fuss and moan and do it again. Every day.So my choice of escape and excitement? Horror movies. I mean honestly, something had to give! I would hope. Don't get me wrong. I loved my family, friends and work. The thing is, at the end of the day I still felt empty. Lonely. It's amazing what can happen when you least expect anything to happen. How one crack in the thin glass of life can shatter it entirely. So, we have to choose; do we mend it or leave the crack there? And, if we leave it there, is it really worth letting everything fall apart into a million teeny tiny pieces? Well, honestly, I did not know. One thing I was sure of though, I chose to let my heart mend. Would it be for good or for bad? Hmm, only God knew.
You see, what most of my family did not understand was that I really didlove her—my grandmother (abuela). I needed her. Yet, my family's definition of love was a bit different from mine. My abuela was my mentor, my guiding light, capable of teaching me things no one else could. Her loss, completely left me at a loss. She was my shield, so loving and comforting in almost every way. My abuela was my home. It hurt more than words could explain to lose her.
I must admit though, it's funny what unexpected things can occur when you least presume anything will happen; things that wind up changing your life entirely. Forever! He was there! In the most unexpected place at the least anticipated time, and much like a whirlwind, blew me off of my feet with something as simple as saying, "Hello again Sophia. Are you well?"
Why should he have cared? It was not his concern, but he made it his own and in so doing made me his own. All that being said, the last thing I would have anticipated was all that would follow when he came into my life. Everything—every last thing changed, never to return to its original form.
The irony of life: or death, is truly staggering!
Chapter 1
A dull roar. That was all I could hear. Souls. That was all I could see. What was this that I was living? If you could call it living at all. I did not see people, but shadows. I did not feel life, but death. I did not feel emotions, but emptiness.I did not feel... anything.It was all a blur. Clustered together in an array of colors and shapes. The sound? That dull roar, it was difficult to make out. My thoughts were focused, not so much on the sound as there were on the colors.So many people. All different. Some good, some bad. Some breathing, some barely breathing. ALL SOULS. It was funny what you could see when you stood in the middle of the Emergency Room. Who survived, who did not. Who cried, who laughed. Who mourned, who celebrated. Yet, all of them, everyone: a soul. A soul for the taking. I remember, almost, what it was like when I floated in the middle of this cluster myself. Before my life—or should I say, my death —changed forever. It felt like eons ago.I did not want this. I never asked for it. Why was I not allowed to be like everyone else? 'Fate'. This was the answer I was given. 'Fate'. What a bleak and meaningless word to express something no one cantruly explain. I wanted- No! I needed a change. My vast emptiness had drowned me in a lagoon of unwillingness. In a river of curiosity. A fountain of deception in an ocean of questions. Questions, yet unanswered by the Higher Sources. Questions, that still lingered in the clouds of my destitution.
Why am I? Why do I exist? What is the purpose? When, if at all, would it change?
I had a plan. A strategy to subtly replace myself once again into this world of colorful souls. To persuasively introduce myself, yet again, toTHIS my most intriguing temptation. I believe I am who I once was. Though time may have clouded its lucidity. This, was not me. This, was who I was forced to be. Withal I fought. I disputed this unwanted persona that had been involuntarily cast upon me. One day! One day, I would be who I once was. One day, this monster would cease to exist.
Bed two.
The doctor, the running, the yelling. The focus on bringing her back, futile. It was incredibly sad to say that she was just a child. A baby. Five years of age. Why did 'fate' find it necessary to take her? She had yet to even commence to live. It was not my choice. I merely followed orders.Her soul was lovely, just like a little girl's should be. A soft pink. Like a princess, I mused. Beautiful. "Come child." I extended my hand so that she would take it. "Where am I going?" She asked. The innocence in her voice was heart breaking. Or would be, if I had a heart."I'm taking you to a safe place. Somewhere where you will never feel pain again. You will be happy there sweet child.""Cindy," she said. "My name is Cindy.""A beautiful name for a beautiful girl." Her smile seemed as though it could quite literally light up the room. "Well Cindy, do you see that very pretty light just there?" I pointed."Yes." She responded with bright eyes. "Walk into it. Go on child. Pretty Cindy." "But why? Where's mommy and daddy? Why do I have to go?" There they were. The questions that always followed once I had collected them."Do not worry Cindy. Your grandmother is there waiting for you. I promise," I assured her with a soft grip of the hand, then continued, "before you know it, mommy and daddy will be there also." What more could I say to such a young and delicate creature?"Okay." She replied, not at all convinced that what I was telling her was the truth. She obeyed nonetheless. When she entered she realized that my words were true and secure. "Grammy!" She called with a magnitude of happiness, then ran into her grandmother's arms.
I turned.
The mother, yelling. The father, failing at his attempt to be strong. The doctor, saddened. The confusion. The horrified faces. All of it, all too familiar, all too real.
Time for my next assignment.
I could see them. They could not see me. They could not hear me. I was invisible to them. An ethereal phantom. There and not there. My lifelessness simply hovered in the in the emptiness of my days. Following orders, swiftly moving like a shadow in the night. Not see, never heard, nor felt. Existing without subsisting.Inevitably, fearsomely noticed. Noticed only by those whom have entered into my realm. Into my principality.
One A.M.
Darkness, silence. He was depressed. The prescription he was givenwas strong enough. Strong enough not to ease the pain, but to rid him of it once and for all. Twenty-five year old—in his prime, yet blind. Blinded to the people that cared for him and to the life that could have come, had he held on just a little longer.These were not my favorite. I despised collecting them and passing them on to eternal darkness. I had no choice. He had made the choice for himself, leaving me no alternative but to collect him. He should have waited for the Higher Sources to give him relief but he did not."Peter-" I knew his name well. I had been watching him for some time now. "What? Who are you? Why are you in my bedroom?" The confusion was the consequence of his own actions. "I am here to collect you Peter." A simple notion I would have thought. "To get me for what?" He seemed petrified, such was the mass of the status quo. Stammering uncontrollably, he continued. "I should be sleeping. I-I-I took- you shouldn't be here!" He remembered however, he seemed to surmise that something else should have happened. Possibly, he assumed that he would sleep forever. He was wrong. He looked back. "Oh my god! That's- that's me. OH MY GOD! OH NO! No please. No!" It was too late to plea. "Come Peter," I instructed, "it is easier if you follow me." "But th-th-this can't be... right!" He swallowed hard, it was obvious that he was scared."You made your choice. Now follow me," I had to be cold. I was not allowed to feel. The turbulent fear was oppressing him. They would arrive for him at any moment. I truly despised this part. "Again, it is easier if you follow me.""I don't want to go! I want to stay! I want to stay and sleep!"
"Then you leave them no choice. They will take you." From the abyss they erupted, clawing through the earth as though it were a dry ocean. Even darker shadows against the already dark night. Mist and smoke. Evil and scorn. Foulness absolute. They grabbed him. Screaming, crying, fear! Dreadful fear! They dragged him into the utter incessant caliginosity.I was clearly able to hear his last supplication for help. Then more fear. I was unable to help him. I was never meant to help, simply to follow orders.
Centuries have passed since my life, or should I say, my death, changed forever. I still remember it clearly.
Stay tuned for 2 more chapters, coming soon!
Fate's Endeavor Books Part 1
Copyright 2014 C. Desert Rose & AAPH
Prologue
I never really thought that there was much more to life than what I was already living. The monotonous, day to day, non-eventful flow of things that continued each and every day. Get up, get ready, go to work, deal with day-to-day problems, listen to family fuss and moan and do it again. Every day.So my choice of escape and excitement? Horror movies. I mean honestly, something had to give! I would hope. Don't get me wrong. I loved my family, friends and work. The thing is, at the end of the day I still felt empty. Lonely. It's amazing what can happen when you least expect anything to happen. How one crack in the thin glass of life can shatter it entirely. So, we have to choose; do we mend it or leave the crack there? And, if we leave it there, is it really worth letting everything fall apart into a million teeny tiny pieces? Well, honestly, I did not know. One thing I was sure of though, I chose to let my heart mend. Would it be for good or for bad? Hmm, only God knew.
You see, what most of my family did not understand was that I really didlove her—my grandmother (abuela). I needed her. Yet, my family's definition of love was a bit different from mine. My abuela was my mentor, my guiding light, capable of teaching me things no one else could. Her loss, completely left me at a loss. She was my shield, so loving and comforting in almost every way. My abuela was my home. It hurt more than words could explain to lose her.
I must admit though, it's funny what unexpected things can occur when you least presume anything will happen; things that wind up changing your life entirely. Forever! He was there! In the most unexpected place at the least anticipated time, and much like a whirlwind, blew me off of my feet with something as simple as saying, "Hello again Sophia. Are you well?"
Why should he have cared? It was not his concern, but he made it his own and in so doing made me his own. All that being said, the last thing I would have anticipated was all that would follow when he came into my life. Everything—every last thing changed, never to return to its original form. The irony of life: or death, is truly staggering!
Chapter 1
A dull roar. That was all I could hear. Souls. That was all I could see. What was this that I was living? If you could call it living at all. I did not see people, but shadows. I did not feel life, but death. I did not feel emotions, but emptiness.I did not feel... anything.It was all a blur. Clustered together in an array of colors and shapes. The sound? That dull roar, it was difficult to make out. My thoughts were focused, not so much on the sound as there were on the colors.So many people. All different. Some good, some bad. Some breathing, some barely breathing. ALL SOULS. It was funny what you could see when you stood in the middle of the Emergency Room. Who survived, who did not. Who cried, who laughed. Who mourned, who celebrated. Yet, all of them, everyone: a soul. A soul for the taking. I remember, almost, what it was like when I floated in the middle of this cluster myself. Before my life—or should I say, my death —changed forever. It felt like eons ago.I did not want this. I never asked for it. Why was I not allowed to be like everyone else? 'Fate'. This was the answer I was given. 'Fate'. What a bleak and meaningless word to express something no one cantruly explain. I wanted- No! I needed a change. My vast emptiness had drowned me in a lagoon of unwillingness. In a river of curiosity. A fountain of deception in an ocean of questions. Questions, yet unanswered by the Higher Sources. Questions, that still lingered in the clouds of my destitution.
Why am I? Why do I exist? What is the purpose? When, if at all, would it change?I had a plan. A strategy to subtly replace myself once again into this world of colorful souls. To persuasively introduce myself, yet again, toTHIS my most intriguing temptation. I believe I am who I once was. Though time may have clouded its lucidity. This, was not me. This, was who I was forced to be. Withal I fought. I disputed this unwanted persona that had been involuntarily cast upon me. One day! One day, I would be who I once was. One day, this monster would cease to exist.
Bed two.
The doctor, the running, the yelling. The focus on bringing her back, futile. It was incredibly sad to say that she was just a child. A baby. Five years of age. Why did 'fate' find it necessary to take her? She had yet to even commence to live. It was not my choice. I merely followed orders.Her soul was lovely, just like a little girl's should be. A soft pink. Like a princess, I mused. Beautiful. "Come child." I extended my hand so that she would take it. "Where am I going?" She asked. The innocence in her voice was heart breaking. Or would be, if I had a heart."I'm taking you to a safe place. Somewhere where you will never feel pain again. You will be happy there sweet child.""Cindy," she said. "My name is Cindy.""A beautiful name for a beautiful girl." Her smile seemed as though it could quite literally light up the room. "Well Cindy, do you see that very pretty light just there?" I pointed."Yes." She responded with bright eyes. "Walk into it. Go on child. Pretty Cindy." "But why? Where's mommy and daddy? Why do I have to go?" There they were. The questions that always followed once I had collected them."Do not worry Cindy. Your grandmother is there waiting for you. I promise," I assured her with a soft grip of the hand, then continued, "before you know it, mommy and daddy will be there also." What more could I say to such a young and delicate creature?"Okay." She replied, not at all convinced that what I was telling her was the truth. She obeyed nonetheless. When she entered she realized that my words were true and secure. "Grammy!" She called with a magnitude of happiness, then ran into her grandmother's arms.
I turned.
The mother, yelling. The father, failing at his attempt to be strong. The doctor, saddened. The confusion. The horrified faces. All of it, all too familiar, all too real.Time for my next assignment.
I could see them. They could not see me. They could not hear me. I was invisible to them. An ethereal phantom. There and not there. My lifelessness simply hovered in the in the emptiness of my days. Following orders, swiftly moving like a shadow in the night. Not see, never heard, nor felt. Existing without subsisting.Inevitably, fearsomely noticed. Noticed only by those whom have entered into my realm. Into my principality.
One A.M.
Darkness, silence. He was depressed. The prescription he was givenwas strong enough. Strong enough not to ease the pain, but to rid him of it once and for all. Twenty-five year old—in his prime, yet blind. Blinded to the people that cared for him and to the life that could have come, had he held on just a little longer.These were not my favorite. I despised collecting them and passing them on to eternal darkness. I had no choice. He had made the choice for himself, leaving me no alternative but to collect him. He should have waited for the Higher Sources to give him relief but he did not."Peter-" I knew his name well. I had been watching him for some time now. "What? Who are you? Why are you in my bedroom?" The confusion was the consequence of his own actions. "I am here to collect you Peter." A simple notion I would have thought. "To get me for what?" He seemed petrified, such was the mass of the status quo. Stammering uncontrollably, he continued. "I should be sleeping. I-I-I took- you shouldn't be here!" He remembered however, he seemed to surmise that something else should have happened. Possibly, he assumed that he would sleep forever. He was wrong. He looked back. "Oh my god! That's- that's me. OH MY GOD! OH NO! No please. No!" It was too late to plea. "Come Peter," I instructed, "it is easier if you follow me." "But th-th-this can't be... right!" He swallowed hard, it was obvious that he was scared."You made your choice. Now follow me," I had to be cold. I was not allowed to feel. The turbulent fear was oppressing him. They would arrive for him at any moment. I truly despised this part. "Again, it is easier if you follow me.""I don't want to go! I want to stay! I want to stay and sleep!"
"Then you leave them no choice. They will take you." From the abyss they erupted, clawing through the earth as though it were a dry ocean. Even darker shadows against the already dark night. Mist and smoke. Evil and scorn. Foulness absolute. They grabbed him. Screaming, crying, fear! Dreadful fear! They dragged him into the utter incessant caliginosity.I was clearly able to hear his last supplication for help. Then more fear. I was unable to help him. I was never meant to help, simply to follow orders. Centuries have passed since my life, or should I say, my death, changed forever. I still remember it clearly.
Stay tuned for 2 more chapters, coming soon!
July 5, 2014
NEWS UPDATE!
Well, yesterday I received some unfortunate news.
The completed manuscript of If Death Should Love Me was somehow corrupted. We don't know how, we don't know why, it just was. I was distraught when I heard the news. Luckily my publisher was able to recover the file, however upon recovery some of the elements went askew. While I'm relieved that all is not lost, I know that lots of work will have to go into bringing this current manuscript up to par.
My publisher is currently working double time trying to make it all happen, but due to that we have been forced to postpone the originally scheduled release date. As it currently stands we do not have an absolute day. Basically we're just playing it by ear.So, with all that being said, as soon as I find out, you will too. I will try my absolute best to keep you all posted and in the loop.
Hugs and warm thoughts,C. Desert Rose
June 26, 2014
An excerpt of If Death Should Love Me
Morning Dearies!
Today, I figured that I'd share a small excerpt of If Death Should Love Me with y'all. So... here it is. Enjoy!
If Death Should Love Me Chapter 2 Excerpt
Comoros Africa200 A.D.
I'd just turned twenty-one years of age.My father, Afolabi, meaning 'born in high status', was the tribe's leader, and as such he was allotted six wives. The remnants of the tribesmen were allotted only three. My mother was Nandi, meaning 'strong willed'. Her name suited her, truly.I was during that time called Amari, meaning 'prince'. This was the name given me upon my birth. I was my father's fourth wife's, first child. Kamau, meaning 'silent warrior', was my mother's sixth child, and my younger brother. Only the two of us being male as the rest of my mother's children were female.
The remembrance distends in my mind even still. The image so clear that it portrayed a feeling of time just passed, as if I'd seen her proud face just yestermorning. Honor glimmering in her eyes. I was my father's first born son and the one who resembled him most of all. This fact made me a preferred child in his eyes. This made my mother happy to the point of almost gloating.
My tribe and I were celebrating the twelfth birthday of my brother Kamau. Our tradition called for a tribe wide hunt. This hunt was meant to prove the boy child, a man. The hunt consisted of only the men of the tribe. The women stayed behind in the preparation of the enormous feast and festivities that would follow.I was excited! Happy to have the privilege to finally show my young brother the exhilaration of pursuit. It was a rush, an almost intoxicating thrill that had no compare. Your blood pumping, your heart racing, your will at the brink of losing all composure.When you hunted, you were a man! Not just any man, but a 'man of the tribe'. This feeling had purpose, it had meaning. It defined me: us!I can barely put into words the elation of the tribe when we unanimously lifted our voices in a cry of triumph when our prize animal had been slain. It was- it was, right!
I saw it. The beast. About fifty feet away. It was glorious. With a shiny, golden coat, glowing blade like teeth. Forced to guess, I would say about two hundred pounds of pure strength and savagery. A lioness. Bewildering, almost. Almost. Even still, not intimidating enough that she would cause me fear or aversion. Kamau crept up behind me; I motioned, swiftly and quietly, putting a single finger over my lips as to inform him of my intent. It was imperative that he remain in tremendous silence. With one hand I made a motion, telling him to wait where he was. I moved forward carefully.
I could practically feel the stares of my fellow tribesmen gazing at me from between the wilderness—eyes fixed on my every move in the midst of the potent greenery of the jungle. I moved forward some more, skilfully and with ease—slowly lifted my spear, preparing to launch it towards the intricate beauty that was the majestic lioness.A sudden sharp pain probed my back! Agony! Disorientation, confusion, then pain! My spear fell, hitting the ground with a bounce, yet I heard no sound. Things slowed exceedingly. The beast ran off. I looked around. I saw Kamau, shock crossed his eyes, his arm extended, positioned as if he had launched a spear of his own.More perplexing, agonizing pain ravaged through me, I fell to my knees. Screams surrounded me. Running. More screams. I touched my back and felt it lodged directly in its center. With precision I felt it rip through my ribs and lungs causing me to gasp for air. I drew in another labored breath, this time harder.Scarcely I could hear my name being called from afar. Nothing now. No air, no movement, no pain. Just nothing.Blackness, darkness, emptiness followed.
My eyes opened. I was standing. I reached for my back and felt nothing there. I tried to look around, access my surroundings, even still puzzled by all that had just transpired. The area was foreign to me. This place was dark and void. The feeling was unique, relatively inexplicable. I could feelmyself there, but I could not seemyself there. Lifting my hands to my eyes I tried to look at them but the darkness was so deep that my eyes failed to adjust to it.
It was impossible to make out my own hands in front of me, or any partof my person, for that matter. I heard something. A wind. A motionless movement, as if something floated in the air.The lights came back on, yet I still saw nothing. Nothing except for it. It was like nothing I had ever seen. Approximately six feet tall. A spirit. A ghost, if you will. A white ghost who spoke in my language, my words. He told me that I was chosen, that I would not pass on. That I was meant to linger amidst life and death. I was, The Collector.“What is 'The Collector'?” I asked“You would better know it as 'Azriel Dèvas', the Angel of Death.” The white ghost replied.“What? Why me?” I could not grasp it, it seemed too surreal, too unbelievable.“I told you. You have been chosen. This is your fate.” Coldness in his voice, as well as a small hint of contempt.
Such was the beginning of my existence, or nonexistence, as I prefer to call it.
Today, I figured that I'd share a small excerpt of If Death Should Love Me with y'all. So... here it is. Enjoy!
If Death Should Love Me Chapter 2 Excerpt
Comoros Africa200 A.D.
I'd just turned twenty-one years of age.My father, Afolabi, meaning 'born in high status', was the tribe's leader, and as such he was allotted six wives. The remnants of the tribesmen were allotted only three. My mother was Nandi, meaning 'strong willed'. Her name suited her, truly.I was during that time called Amari, meaning 'prince'. This was the name given me upon my birth. I was my father's fourth wife's, first child. Kamau, meaning 'silent warrior', was my mother's sixth child, and my younger brother. Only the two of us being male as the rest of my mother's children were female.
The remembrance distends in my mind even still. The image so clear that it portrayed a feeling of time just passed, as if I'd seen her proud face just yestermorning. Honor glimmering in her eyes. I was my father's first born son and the one who resembled him most of all. This fact made me a preferred child in his eyes. This made my mother happy to the point of almost gloating.
My tribe and I were celebrating the twelfth birthday of my brother Kamau. Our tradition called for a tribe wide hunt. This hunt was meant to prove the boy child, a man. The hunt consisted of only the men of the tribe. The women stayed behind in the preparation of the enormous feast and festivities that would follow.I was excited! Happy to have the privilege to finally show my young brother the exhilaration of pursuit. It was a rush, an almost intoxicating thrill that had no compare. Your blood pumping, your heart racing, your will at the brink of losing all composure.When you hunted, you were a man! Not just any man, but a 'man of the tribe'. This feeling had purpose, it had meaning. It defined me: us!I can barely put into words the elation of the tribe when we unanimously lifted our voices in a cry of triumph when our prize animal had been slain. It was- it was, right!
I saw it. The beast. About fifty feet away. It was glorious. With a shiny, golden coat, glowing blade like teeth. Forced to guess, I would say about two hundred pounds of pure strength and savagery. A lioness. Bewildering, almost. Almost. Even still, not intimidating enough that she would cause me fear or aversion. Kamau crept up behind me; I motioned, swiftly and quietly, putting a single finger over my lips as to inform him of my intent. It was imperative that he remain in tremendous silence. With one hand I made a motion, telling him to wait where he was. I moved forward carefully.
I could practically feel the stares of my fellow tribesmen gazing at me from between the wilderness—eyes fixed on my every move in the midst of the potent greenery of the jungle. I moved forward some more, skilfully and with ease—slowly lifted my spear, preparing to launch it towards the intricate beauty that was the majestic lioness.A sudden sharp pain probed my back! Agony! Disorientation, confusion, then pain! My spear fell, hitting the ground with a bounce, yet I heard no sound. Things slowed exceedingly. The beast ran off. I looked around. I saw Kamau, shock crossed his eyes, his arm extended, positioned as if he had launched a spear of his own.More perplexing, agonizing pain ravaged through me, I fell to my knees. Screams surrounded me. Running. More screams. I touched my back and felt it lodged directly in its center. With precision I felt it rip through my ribs and lungs causing me to gasp for air. I drew in another labored breath, this time harder.Scarcely I could hear my name being called from afar. Nothing now. No air, no movement, no pain. Just nothing.Blackness, darkness, emptiness followed.
My eyes opened. I was standing. I reached for my back and felt nothing there. I tried to look around, access my surroundings, even still puzzled by all that had just transpired. The area was foreign to me. This place was dark and void. The feeling was unique, relatively inexplicable. I could feelmyself there, but I could not seemyself there. Lifting my hands to my eyes I tried to look at them but the darkness was so deep that my eyes failed to adjust to it.
It was impossible to make out my own hands in front of me, or any partof my person, for that matter. I heard something. A wind. A motionless movement, as if something floated in the air.The lights came back on, yet I still saw nothing. Nothing except for it. It was like nothing I had ever seen. Approximately six feet tall. A spirit. A ghost, if you will. A white ghost who spoke in my language, my words. He told me that I was chosen, that I would not pass on. That I was meant to linger amidst life and death. I was, The Collector.“What is 'The Collector'?” I asked“You would better know it as 'Azriel Dèvas', the Angel of Death.” The white ghost replied.“What? Why me?” I could not grasp it, it seemed too surreal, too unbelievable.“I told you. You have been chosen. This is your fate.” Coldness in his voice, as well as a small hint of contempt.
Such was the beginning of my existence, or nonexistence, as I prefer to call it.
June 19, 2014
Azriel Mythology
Hello my dearies!
Well, as some of you who follow my blog (or have at least read some of my posts in the past) should know, I am an avid lover of mythology. All kinds of mythology actually. But one of the ones that allures me the most is biblical mythology. More specifically, angels and demons. I find them simply fascinating!
That being said, in the process of writing the Fate's Endeavor Series I did tons of reading and studying on the subject. When complying that with what I'd learned in years past about angels and demons, I came up with the paranormal/ supernatural element of the collection.
So recently I thought to myself, "How cool would it be if I shared some of that knowledge with my readers! That would be fabulous. It may might even strike up conversation, or a session of questions and answers."
I just had to do it . So, from time to time you might find a blog post that talks about angel and demon mythology and how it pertains to my story collection. And who knows, I may even throw in tidbits from time to time about other mythology things--random things.
For today, I'll start with Azriel .
As Shakespeare once said...
Well, my answer to him is... EVERYTHING!
Azriel also spelled Azrael, is pronounced A-z-ree-l, or az-rah-el.
Meaning, Origin and History of the Name Azriel (variant of AZRAEL): This was the name of an angel in Jewish and Muslim tradition who separated the soul from the body upon death. He is sometimes referred to as the Angel of Death.The actual name means "Whom God helps"This being is an Archangel and his sole priority is to collect departing souls.
Now in order to understand the concept of Azriel, you must first comprehend the concept and difference between angel's and archangel's.
Angel Meaning: A spiritual being believed to act as an attendant, agent, or messenger of God, conventionally represented in human form with wings and a long robe. These beings are a step above humans in the supernatural chain . They are not gods, but they are more holy than humans. They are perfect.
Archangel Meaning: An angel of high rankings, with specific abilities, or a specific calling. They are much stronger and more revered than angels. These beings are a step below God in the supernatural chain . These are considered minor gods in much of mythology. Not to be confused with God the Almighty. While angels are prefect, archangels are the supreme being.
Per biblical mythology, there exists a Hierarchy of angels. Some of the Archangels in the Hierarchy are some well known Archs; Gabriel, Michael, Raphael. There are also a few others that are not as familiar. However, I won't get into that now.
(Stay tuned for a future piece called The Hierarchy of Angels)
Well...Now that all of that is out of the way, let me tell you a little bit more about Azriel--my Azriel. A character spawned from mythology, and born from my imagination.
Having played with the true meaning and concept of the Azriel from mythology, I thought, "How cool would it be if Azriel were once human! A man chosen for a mission--the mission of collecting souls. Moreover, how awesome if said being did not know of his true calling among angels? His true position. How fabulous would it be if he fell in love! What would that love produce?"The the thought occurred to me, "And what if he were 'he whom God helps'?" AWESOME!
From these thoughts came the concept of If Death Should Love Me.
And so Azriel Dèvas was born.
OH! But wait! There's more!
You're probably wondering where I got his last (sir) name from.
My friends, I'm not a multicultural author for nothing. I do my research.
Dèvas: Derives from the Indian word (that we all know--trust me on this one) Deva. In modern day society, many people know it as "Diva" a word used to describe a... well... for a lack of a better description; a conceited bitch. LOL! Sorry.
However, that was not it's true origin. Deva means (and I quote): a member of a class of divine beings in the Vedic period, which in Indian religion are benevolent and in Zoroastrianism are evil.This would be another way of saying--yup, you got it-- ANGEL !
The word Diva was a modern day spin on an old word that was mythological in it's origin, and is in modern times meant to describe a person with a "holier than thou" attitude.Big difference there from it's origin, if you ask me.
So...Shakespeare, take it away!
WHAT IS IN A NAME?
My answer to that question is... EVERYTHING!
Well, as some of you who follow my blog (or have at least read some of my posts in the past) should know, I am an avid lover of mythology. All kinds of mythology actually. But one of the ones that allures me the most is biblical mythology. More specifically, angels and demons. I find them simply fascinating!
That being said, in the process of writing the Fate's Endeavor Series I did tons of reading and studying on the subject. When complying that with what I'd learned in years past about angels and demons, I came up with the paranormal/ supernatural element of the collection.
So recently I thought to myself, "How cool would it be if I shared some of that knowledge with my readers! That would be fabulous. It may might even strike up conversation, or a session of questions and answers."
I just had to do it . So, from time to time you might find a blog post that talks about angel and demon mythology and how it pertains to my story collection. And who knows, I may even throw in tidbits from time to time about other mythology things--random things.
For today, I'll start with Azriel .
As Shakespeare once said...
Well, my answer to him is... EVERYTHING!
Azriel also spelled Azrael, is pronounced A-z-ree-l, or az-rah-el.
Meaning, Origin and History of the Name Azriel (variant of AZRAEL): This was the name of an angel in Jewish and Muslim tradition who separated the soul from the body upon death. He is sometimes referred to as the Angel of Death.The actual name means "Whom God helps"This being is an Archangel and his sole priority is to collect departing souls.
Now in order to understand the concept of Azriel, you must first comprehend the concept and difference between angel's and archangel's.
Angel Meaning: A spiritual being believed to act as an attendant, agent, or messenger of God, conventionally represented in human form with wings and a long robe. These beings are a step above humans in the supernatural chain . They are not gods, but they are more holy than humans. They are perfect.
Archangel Meaning: An angel of high rankings, with specific abilities, or a specific calling. They are much stronger and more revered than angels. These beings are a step below God in the supernatural chain . These are considered minor gods in much of mythology. Not to be confused with God the Almighty. While angels are prefect, archangels are the supreme being.
Per biblical mythology, there exists a Hierarchy of angels. Some of the Archangels in the Hierarchy are some well known Archs; Gabriel, Michael, Raphael. There are also a few others that are not as familiar. However, I won't get into that now.
(Stay tuned for a future piece called The Hierarchy of Angels)
Well...Now that all of that is out of the way, let me tell you a little bit more about Azriel--my Azriel. A character spawned from mythology, and born from my imagination.
Having played with the true meaning and concept of the Azriel from mythology, I thought, "How cool would it be if Azriel were once human! A man chosen for a mission--the mission of collecting souls. Moreover, how awesome if said being did not know of his true calling among angels? His true position. How fabulous would it be if he fell in love! What would that love produce?"The the thought occurred to me, "And what if he were 'he whom God helps'?" AWESOME!
From these thoughts came the concept of If Death Should Love Me.
And so Azriel Dèvas was born.
OH! But wait! There's more!
You're probably wondering where I got his last (sir) name from.
My friends, I'm not a multicultural author for nothing. I do my research.
Dèvas: Derives from the Indian word (that we all know--trust me on this one) Deva. In modern day society, many people know it as "Diva" a word used to describe a... well... for a lack of a better description; a conceited bitch. LOL! Sorry.
However, that was not it's true origin. Deva means (and I quote): a member of a class of divine beings in the Vedic period, which in Indian religion are benevolent and in Zoroastrianism are evil.This would be another way of saying--yup, you got it-- ANGEL !
The word Diva was a modern day spin on an old word that was mythological in it's origin, and is in modern times meant to describe a person with a "holier than thou" attitude.Big difference there from it's origin, if you ask me.
So...Shakespeare, take it away!
WHAT IS IN A NAME?
My answer to that question is... EVERYTHING!
June 15, 2014
All Authors Blog Blitz
Hello one and all!
Today we are celebrating the All Authors Blog Blitz and it is my genuine pleasure to introduce one Ms. Regina Garson.Regina, the floor is yours.
Hello there.
My name is Regina Garson. I am also an author and I am so thrilled, honored, and excited to be a guest of the lovely and talented C. Desert Rose for the All Author’s Blog Blitz.
Although I have been a career word smyth (writing, editing, and web publishing) for years, most of my written work has been of a practical pragmatic nature (self-help, politics, a little bit of rocket science, etc.).
Of all the writers I know, it probably took me the longest to finally come out with a book. I am on it now though. This past April, I debuted my first fiction on Amazon Kindle. It is part of a series of short, stand-alone stories, like the saying “art for art’s sake.” They are all very different in genre, mood, and style.
Journey is the first. It is a mashup, a surrealistic excursion into madness. Everybody who reads it comes away with a little something different, reads it different, or sees the characters different, kind of like an abstract painting. Descriptions have varied from darkly poetic, to intensely intimate, psychological and all the way to satire. With a mashup though, you really could read and see it in any number of different ways. Part of the fun of a mashup is to see the different interpretations.
Sexy, sarcastic, and on the pulpy side, Journey blends Gothic romance, paranormal, horror, and intimately raw introspection. Painted with a tinge of dark humor, Journey weaves story into story as it blurs, bends and severs the line between love and madness.
About Journey
Journey is the story of Sidney Alder, her devotion to her beloved, albeit psychotically challenged, husband, his nonexistent grip on reality; and the doctors’ determination to cure him. There is also the succubae who haunt her, her imaginary lover, the pirate, and the romance novels of Miss Vickie.
Okay, they are all nut cases, except the pirate, he is completely sane, he just happens to be a figment of the women’s imagination, all of them. The succabae are pretty cool too, well maybe not so much for Sidney, since they perpetually terrorize her when she is trying to get some sleep. By day, she is agonizingly alone in her devotion to her husband. Relentless in her fight for what was left of the life she cherished, her place in the world as she knew it, and her love of it, Sidney Alder travels boldly on the path between stark raving reality — love glorious love —and madness.
An excerpt from Journey.
As I turned into the long drive, sadness flowed toward me like a wave, so incredibly real; I could make out its outline, as its crest flowed across the well-manicured lane, down the alley of massive oaks, symmetrically lined in twos.
Thick and translucent, the wave was inevitable. It came. Every day. It was so real; I could almost—but not completely see it. So close, I could reach out, but I couldn’t quite touch it. It always came, relentless, threatening, blocking my path, moving ever closer.
I had no choice but to move forward. Into the wave. As I climbed out of my car, I braced myself with nerves I never owned.
Lawrence would be waiting. I visited every day. The doctors said that it was an important part of his recovery to have the love and support of family. They said he was lucky to have a wife who loved him as much as I did.
But me?
Every day, I could see that wave moving toward me, closer, menacing, and suffocating.
Walking up the steps of the ancient building, it was so old; you’d think the greying bricks would eventually crumble. But they were solid. Ominously solid.
For a moment, I stared at the doorknob; it was brass and had a molded filigree design—tiny leaves circled the knob. It seemed an improper elegance. Misplaced.
I pushed my hand forward, willed it to turn the knob. The door opened with a chill draft that embraced me, even as I stood in the hot summer sun. The deep blue of the lobby carpet cushioned my feet in an exaggerated comfort, yet another affront to what the building stood for.
“Good morning, Mrs. Alder.” The receptionist said with a bright smile. She always smiled when I walked in.
“How is Mr. Alder doing today?” I asked. I always ask that question.
Turning to the shelves behind her, she removed a heavy green notebook with the word Patients printed down the spine. She ran her fingers down the pages until she found what she was looking for and stopped, “He is making progress,” she read, “and he looks forward to the visits from his wife.”
“Is there a change?” I ask. Every day she read the exact same lines, in the exact same way. And I asked the exact same question, in the exact same way. Is there a change? I had to ask, but there was never a change.
“He is making progress,” she looked down and read, “The wife’s support is very important to the patient. He... looks... forward... to... HER... visits.” She emphasized each word, as if I needed to be reminded.
“Thank you.” I said and continued down the hall. At a heavy door, I pressed a red button—and waited. A small woman with short black hair finally opened the door. “Can I help you?” She asked, examining me with unconcealed mistrust. New. She wouldn’t be there long….
Journey is available for Kindle on Amazon.
You can get Journey at Amazon.com
If you’d like to connect with Regina:
Regina Garson’s Author Page ReginaGarson on Bloglovin’ Amazon Author Page Social Media Page Facebook Page Twitter: @ReginaGarson GoodReads Google+ -- +ReginaGarson
Today we are celebrating the All Authors Blog Blitz and it is my genuine pleasure to introduce one Ms. Regina Garson.Regina, the floor is yours.
Hello there.
My name is Regina Garson. I am also an author and I am so thrilled, honored, and excited to be a guest of the lovely and talented C. Desert Rose for the All Author’s Blog Blitz.
Although I have been a career word smyth (writing, editing, and web publishing) for years, most of my written work has been of a practical pragmatic nature (self-help, politics, a little bit of rocket science, etc.).
Of all the writers I know, it probably took me the longest to finally come out with a book. I am on it now though. This past April, I debuted my first fiction on Amazon Kindle. It is part of a series of short, stand-alone stories, like the saying “art for art’s sake.” They are all very different in genre, mood, and style.
Journey is the first. It is a mashup, a surrealistic excursion into madness. Everybody who reads it comes away with a little something different, reads it different, or sees the characters different, kind of like an abstract painting. Descriptions have varied from darkly poetic, to intensely intimate, psychological and all the way to satire. With a mashup though, you really could read and see it in any number of different ways. Part of the fun of a mashup is to see the different interpretations.
Sexy, sarcastic, and on the pulpy side, Journey blends Gothic romance, paranormal, horror, and intimately raw introspection. Painted with a tinge of dark humor, Journey weaves story into story as it blurs, bends and severs the line between love and madness.
About Journey
Journey is the story of Sidney Alder, her devotion to her beloved, albeit psychotically challenged, husband, his nonexistent grip on reality; and the doctors’ determination to cure him. There is also the succubae who haunt her, her imaginary lover, the pirate, and the romance novels of Miss Vickie.
Okay, they are all nut cases, except the pirate, he is completely sane, he just happens to be a figment of the women’s imagination, all of them. The succabae are pretty cool too, well maybe not so much for Sidney, since they perpetually terrorize her when she is trying to get some sleep. By day, she is agonizingly alone in her devotion to her husband. Relentless in her fight for what was left of the life she cherished, her place in the world as she knew it, and her love of it, Sidney Alder travels boldly on the path between stark raving reality — love glorious love —and madness.
An excerpt from Journey.
As I turned into the long drive, sadness flowed toward me like a wave, so incredibly real; I could make out its outline, as its crest flowed across the well-manicured lane, down the alley of massive oaks, symmetrically lined in twos.
Thick and translucent, the wave was inevitable. It came. Every day. It was so real; I could almost—but not completely see it. So close, I could reach out, but I couldn’t quite touch it. It always came, relentless, threatening, blocking my path, moving ever closer.
I had no choice but to move forward. Into the wave. As I climbed out of my car, I braced myself with nerves I never owned.
Lawrence would be waiting. I visited every day. The doctors said that it was an important part of his recovery to have the love and support of family. They said he was lucky to have a wife who loved him as much as I did.
But me?
Every day, I could see that wave moving toward me, closer, menacing, and suffocating.
Walking up the steps of the ancient building, it was so old; you’d think the greying bricks would eventually crumble. But they were solid. Ominously solid.
For a moment, I stared at the doorknob; it was brass and had a molded filigree design—tiny leaves circled the knob. It seemed an improper elegance. Misplaced.
I pushed my hand forward, willed it to turn the knob. The door opened with a chill draft that embraced me, even as I stood in the hot summer sun. The deep blue of the lobby carpet cushioned my feet in an exaggerated comfort, yet another affront to what the building stood for.
“Good morning, Mrs. Alder.” The receptionist said with a bright smile. She always smiled when I walked in.
“How is Mr. Alder doing today?” I asked. I always ask that question.
Turning to the shelves behind her, she removed a heavy green notebook with the word Patients printed down the spine. She ran her fingers down the pages until she found what she was looking for and stopped, “He is making progress,” she read, “and he looks forward to the visits from his wife.”
“Is there a change?” I ask. Every day she read the exact same lines, in the exact same way. And I asked the exact same question, in the exact same way. Is there a change? I had to ask, but there was never a change.
“He is making progress,” she looked down and read, “The wife’s support is very important to the patient. He... looks... forward... to... HER... visits.” She emphasized each word, as if I needed to be reminded.
“Thank you.” I said and continued down the hall. At a heavy door, I pressed a red button—and waited. A small woman with short black hair finally opened the door. “Can I help you?” She asked, examining me with unconcealed mistrust. New. She wouldn’t be there long….
Journey is available for Kindle on Amazon.
You can get Journey at Amazon.comIf you’d like to connect with Regina:
Regina Garson’s Author Page ReginaGarson on Bloglovin’ Amazon Author Page Social Media Page Facebook Page Twitter: @ReginaGarson GoodReads Google+ -- +ReginaGarson
June 9, 2014
Book Trailer and Release Poster
Well, seeing as how I'm so excited that I'm practically peeing my pants,
I JUST HAD TO SHARE!
I mean, apart from the fact that there is less than a month before If Death Should Love Me is released, All Authors Graphic Design has also created a Release Poster Ad & a book trailer for me!
Seriously?
YU-HU!!
First, I'm so happy to show you the If Death Should Love Me Poster...
Anywho, without further ado, I proudly present to you the If Death Should Love Me book trailer!!
I mean, apart from the fact that there is less than a month before If Death Should Love Me is released, All Authors Graphic Design has also created a Release Poster Ad & a book trailer for me!
Seriously?
YU-HU!!
First, I'm so happy to show you the If Death Should Love Me Poster...
Anywho, without further ado, I proudly present to you the If Death Should Love Me book trailer!!
May 27, 2014
Things that make you go "Hmmm...?"
So, I admit; I'm kinda, sorta, in a way, very ticked-off!
Now before I go on, let me start off with a Disclaimer:
I am not now, nor have I ever been, one of those people that think Indie is better than Traditional, or vice versa. I am a fan of both , and hold them both in the utmost respect and regard.
Lets proceed, shall we?
We shall.
Hmmm... how do I start?
My mind feels clustered with thoughts, so I am going to have to find a way to express it all.
I guess the best way to do it is to start from the beginning.
Here it goes...
Yesterday I was casually surfing Facebook when I came across a strange post from a fellow author. Now, in essence, it was meant to be something nice I suppose, as she was advocating for another author--a friend of hers, I'm sure. However, it left me questioning some things.
Here is what it said (paraphrasing), "I want to congratulate my friend and fellow author for making it to the 'Indie World's 50 Must Read Book of 2013/14' list. Please check out his book at..." and she gave the link and information.
Well, this struck me as odd because of one thing; NEITHER HE, NOR SHE ARE INDIE AUTHORS ! They are Traditionally published individuals.
The thought occurred to me, "How can someone be on an Indie List, when they are indeed traditionally published? That's sort of weird, isn't it?"
Of course, in being true to who I am--the inquisitive and straight forward sort--I reached out to the author that wrote the post with what I thought was a valid question. I asked "Why is he being listed there if he is traditionally published?"I waited patiently for my replay and saw none, so I figured that I must have missed it, so I checked. Now things got really suspicious when I noticed that the post had been deleted, deleting my comment along with it.
Needless to say, that didn't sit right with me. Being Latina my grandmother used to say "El que no tiene hecha, no tiene sospecha." translated that means, "He who hasn't doesn't anything wrong, doesn't act suspiciously." That's right along the lines of "If you haven't done anything, than why are you hiding?"
Seeing that the post was deleted and that I was never answered my mind began to run.
"Where these people trying to pull on over on us? Worst yet, on Indie Author World?"
"What the *@%^ is going on here?"
"Umm, I wonder if Indie Author World even knows about this?"
"This doesn't really seem fair to me, because they aren't self-published."
"Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe a mix up of sorts."
"Again... what the *@%^ !?"
What did I do next, you ask?
I REACHED OUT TO INDIE AUTHOR WORLD!
All right my beloveds, I need you to stop here for a moment. Another Disclaimer is in order...
I DO NOT HATE AND/OR HAVE A PERSONAL VENDETTA AGAINST THE AUTHORS WHICH THIS SITUATION INVOLVES!I AM NOT OUT TO RUIN THEM, NOR AM I TRYING TO PIT ANYONE AGAINST ANYONE, NEITHER AM I TRYING TO BELITTLE ANYONE'S HARD WORK AND EFFORT!
I AM SIMPLY POINTING OUT FACTS!
You may go on...
Following is the copy of the email that I sent to Indie Author World:
~~~~~
Name: C. Desert Rose
Email: c.desert.rose@mail.com
Message: Hello,
I'm just curious, I was looking at your list of "50 Self-Published Books Worth Reading" and I have a question and comment.
First, 2 of the authors/books listed there, I know for a fact are not Indie/SP but Traditionally Published.
They are:
1) Brenda Perlin, Shattered Realities, and
2) John Emil Augustine, From The Abyss.
Here they are listed under their publishing house's website:
http://masterkodaselectpublishing.com/authors
So, the question is; why are they listed as Indie and are in all actuality traditionally published? The reason I ask this is because them being listed there makes your list both unfair and invalid.
I am not trying to be rude in anyway, I just felt that it was necessary to bring this to your attention.
Thank you.
C. Desert Rose
Time: May 27, 2014 at 11:59 am
IP Address: 71.229.106.154
Contact Form URL: http://www.indieauthorland.com/contact-us/
Sent by an unverified visitor to your site.
~~~~~
Now, I believe that my concerns and questions were all valid. I believe that it was only right to bring this to their attention and see what had happened.
Low and behold, I get a reply shortly thereafter and this is what it said:
~~~~~
Hi,
Thank you very much for getting in touch, and no, we don't think you're being rude in the slightest.
Our criterion was that the books must either be self-published or published by a small "indie-minded" (yes, we know that's a woolly term) publisher. We then did our best to weed out all nominees that failed our criteria.
We felt that these books did not fail our tests - although it is completely possible that we were mistaken in these cases.
Thanks again for raising your concern with us.
Best wishes,
David
PLEASE EXCUSE ME WHILE I CHOKE ON MY OWN SPIT--THE REACTION OF BEING GENUINELY FLABBERGASTED!
Because--and I could be wrong here--doesn't the title "INDIE AUTHOR WORLD" imply that you are advocating INDIE AUTHORS ??!!
I mean, I guess I AM wrong!
Here is what seems "woolly" to me:
1) If you're calling yourself something, then BE THAT ! This goes for both Indie Author World and Master Koda Select Publishing, and any others like them. Either your indie or your not--period!
2) It is reasons like these that truly self-published authors, that actually deserves this recognition, aren't getting it!
3) Is it just me, or does this seem rigged?
4) How much validity can places like this have when they have no common integrity .
I mean, seriously, let's think about this for a moment. How fair is it? Because, personally, I don't think it's fair at all.
Give recognition to whom recognition is due--without cheating the system (or finding loopholes)!
So, those are MY thoughts on the matter. What are yours?
Now before I go on, let me start off with a Disclaimer:
I am not now, nor have I ever been, one of those people that think Indie is better than Traditional, or vice versa. I am a fan of both , and hold them both in the utmost respect and regard.
Lets proceed, shall we?
We shall.
Hmmm... how do I start?
My mind feels clustered with thoughts, so I am going to have to find a way to express it all.
I guess the best way to do it is to start from the beginning.
Here it goes...
Yesterday I was casually surfing Facebook when I came across a strange post from a fellow author. Now, in essence, it was meant to be something nice I suppose, as she was advocating for another author--a friend of hers, I'm sure. However, it left me questioning some things.
Here is what it said (paraphrasing), "I want to congratulate my friend and fellow author for making it to the 'Indie World's 50 Must Read Book of 2013/14' list. Please check out his book at..." and she gave the link and information.
Well, this struck me as odd because of one thing; NEITHER HE, NOR SHE ARE INDIE AUTHORS ! They are Traditionally published individuals.
The thought occurred to me, "How can someone be on an Indie List, when they are indeed traditionally published? That's sort of weird, isn't it?"
Of course, in being true to who I am--the inquisitive and straight forward sort--I reached out to the author that wrote the post with what I thought was a valid question. I asked "Why is he being listed there if he is traditionally published?"I waited patiently for my replay and saw none, so I figured that I must have missed it, so I checked. Now things got really suspicious when I noticed that the post had been deleted, deleting my comment along with it.
Needless to say, that didn't sit right with me. Being Latina my grandmother used to say "El que no tiene hecha, no tiene sospecha." translated that means, "He who hasn't doesn't anything wrong, doesn't act suspiciously." That's right along the lines of "If you haven't done anything, than why are you hiding?"
Seeing that the post was deleted and that I was never answered my mind began to run.
"Where these people trying to pull on over on us? Worst yet, on Indie Author World?"
"What the *@%^ is going on here?"
"Umm, I wonder if Indie Author World even knows about this?"
"This doesn't really seem fair to me, because they aren't self-published."
"Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe a mix up of sorts."
"Again... what the *@%^ !?"
What did I do next, you ask?
I REACHED OUT TO INDIE AUTHOR WORLD!
All right my beloveds, I need you to stop here for a moment. Another Disclaimer is in order...
I DO NOT HATE AND/OR HAVE A PERSONAL VENDETTA AGAINST THE AUTHORS WHICH THIS SITUATION INVOLVES!I AM NOT OUT TO RUIN THEM, NOR AM I TRYING TO PIT ANYONE AGAINST ANYONE, NEITHER AM I TRYING TO BELITTLE ANYONE'S HARD WORK AND EFFORT!
I AM SIMPLY POINTING OUT FACTS!
You may go on...
Following is the copy of the email that I sent to Indie Author World:
~~~~~
Name: C. Desert Rose
Email: c.desert.rose@mail.com
Message: Hello,
I'm just curious, I was looking at your list of "50 Self-Published Books Worth Reading" and I have a question and comment.
First, 2 of the authors/books listed there, I know for a fact are not Indie/SP but Traditionally Published.
They are:
1) Brenda Perlin, Shattered Realities, and
2) John Emil Augustine, From The Abyss.
Here they are listed under their publishing house's website:
http://masterkodaselectpublishing.com/authors
So, the question is; why are they listed as Indie and are in all actuality traditionally published? The reason I ask this is because them being listed there makes your list both unfair and invalid.
I am not trying to be rude in anyway, I just felt that it was necessary to bring this to your attention.
Thank you.
C. Desert Rose
Time: May 27, 2014 at 11:59 am
IP Address: 71.229.106.154
Contact Form URL: http://www.indieauthorland.com/contact-us/
Sent by an unverified visitor to your site.
~~~~~
Now, I believe that my concerns and questions were all valid. I believe that it was only right to bring this to their attention and see what had happened.
Low and behold, I get a reply shortly thereafter and this is what it said:
~~~~~
Hi,
Thank you very much for getting in touch, and no, we don't think you're being rude in the slightest.
Our criterion was that the books must either be self-published or published by a small "indie-minded" (yes, we know that's a woolly term) publisher. We then did our best to weed out all nominees that failed our criteria.
We felt that these books did not fail our tests - although it is completely possible that we were mistaken in these cases.
Thanks again for raising your concern with us.
Best wishes,
David
PLEASE EXCUSE ME WHILE I CHOKE ON MY OWN SPIT--THE REACTION OF BEING GENUINELY FLABBERGASTED!
Because--and I could be wrong here--doesn't the title "INDIE AUTHOR WORLD" imply that you are advocating INDIE AUTHORS ??!!
I mean, I guess I AM wrong!
Here is what seems "woolly" to me:
1) If you're calling yourself something, then BE THAT ! This goes for both Indie Author World and Master Koda Select Publishing, and any others like them. Either your indie or your not--period!
2) It is reasons like these that truly self-published authors, that actually deserves this recognition, aren't getting it!
3) Is it just me, or does this seem rigged?
4) How much validity can places like this have when they have no common integrity .
I mean, seriously, let's think about this for a moment. How fair is it? Because, personally, I don't think it's fair at all.
Give recognition to whom recognition is due--without cheating the system (or finding loopholes)!
So, those are MY thoughts on the matter. What are yours?
May 23, 2014
Real talk!
So, I thought that maybe I should start doing a "Real Talk" session from time to time on my blog. I mean, why not, right? Right!
Today I figured I'd talk a little bit about cover art. Why? Because I saw a post on the All Authors Blog and it got me thinking about some stuff I went through.
Some time ago, prior to being picked up by a publishing house, I considered Self-publishing (also known as Indie publishing). I did a crap load of research, and among that research was cover art. Why? Well, because I wanted to cover art to (1) be original (2) represent my books well and (3) represent me well.
I visited website, upon website, upon website, looking for just the right place. What do I mean by "right place" you ask? Well, a place that had all of the things I required, and was also affordable.
Now, can you believe that I found myself between a rock and a hard place? Either the places were cheap, with low quality images, or just flat out too expensive!
I was a mixture of angry, confused and at my wits end. I mean, DID IT HAVE TO BE SO HARD?!?
If you're anything like me, you....
(1) Do NOT like shopping, thusly you pick out the first loaf of bread readily available at the market with no regard to prices or brand.
(2) When you're obligated to shop around, you get distracted and confused very quickly.
(3) Finally frustration takes over and you wind up wanting to slam the computer against the floor.
(4) This in turn ruins your whole day and makes you want to give up completely.
(5) Wine just isn't enough!
However, things changed for me. And Lordy am I happy they did!
I say that, to say this...
And, yes, I admit to some bias here. But frankly, I can care less, because it's #realtalk!
When I was picked up by All Authors Publishing House, one of my greatest fears was what my covers would look like. I'd heard atrocious stories about how some publishing houses (especially new ones) had ruined the author's cover concept, or given flat out horrendous covers to their authors.Now, being that I'd already signed a contract, I was sort of in a "situation". I basically had to take what I got as far as the cover was concerned.
But, could you believe that the graphic design department, sat with me, consulted me, asked me what I wanted, truly got a feel for what I was looking for, and then... GAVE IT TO ME!!!
Yes, that's right! You heard me right! They paid attention to my needs, and gave me exactly what I was looking for!! I couldn't have been any happier!! Yippeeeee!!!
THEN, when I found out that they actually had a graphic design department meant to help authors looking for cover art I was like "PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW THIS!!!"
So, here I am. Blogging about it.
Guys, take it from me, give them a try. You won't be disappointed.
All Authors Graphic DesignHere are my covers. See for yourself what they've given me.
Today I figured I'd talk a little bit about cover art. Why? Because I saw a post on the All Authors Blog and it got me thinking about some stuff I went through.
Some time ago, prior to being picked up by a publishing house, I considered Self-publishing (also known as Indie publishing). I did a crap load of research, and among that research was cover art. Why? Well, because I wanted to cover art to (1) be original (2) represent my books well and (3) represent me well.
I visited website, upon website, upon website, looking for just the right place. What do I mean by "right place" you ask? Well, a place that had all of the things I required, and was also affordable.
Now, can you believe that I found myself between a rock and a hard place? Either the places were cheap, with low quality images, or just flat out too expensive!
I was a mixture of angry, confused and at my wits end. I mean, DID IT HAVE TO BE SO HARD?!?
If you're anything like me, you....
(1) Do NOT like shopping, thusly you pick out the first loaf of bread readily available at the market with no regard to prices or brand.
(2) When you're obligated to shop around, you get distracted and confused very quickly.
(3) Finally frustration takes over and you wind up wanting to slam the computer against the floor.
(4) This in turn ruins your whole day and makes you want to give up completely.
(5) Wine just isn't enough!
However, things changed for me. And Lordy am I happy they did!
I say that, to say this...
And, yes, I admit to some bias here. But frankly, I can care less, because it's #realtalk!
When I was picked up by All Authors Publishing House, one of my greatest fears was what my covers would look like. I'd heard atrocious stories about how some publishing houses (especially new ones) had ruined the author's cover concept, or given flat out horrendous covers to their authors.Now, being that I'd already signed a contract, I was sort of in a "situation". I basically had to take what I got as far as the cover was concerned.
But, could you believe that the graphic design department, sat with me, consulted me, asked me what I wanted, truly got a feel for what I was looking for, and then... GAVE IT TO ME!!!
Yes, that's right! You heard me right! They paid attention to my needs, and gave me exactly what I was looking for!! I couldn't have been any happier!! Yippeeeee!!!
THEN, when I found out that they actually had a graphic design department meant to help authors looking for cover art I was like "PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW THIS!!!"
So, here I am. Blogging about it.
Guys, take it from me, give them a try. You won't be disappointed.
All Authors Graphic DesignHere are my covers. See for yourself what they've given me.
May 19, 2014
All Authors Publishing House Double Cover Reveal
Hello one and all!
C. Desert Rose here, on behalf of All Authors Publishing House (my publishers of which I'm UBER ROUD).
Guess what today is??Did ya guess???No??
TODAY IS A DOUBLE COVER REVEAL DAY!!!
I am so happy and honored to host the cover reveal of my fellow All Authors and counterpart Da'Kharta Rising!
Da'Kharta is the All Authors patron of the
sick and twisted
, AND an incredible talent! Her writing is unique and deep. You have to pay close attention, or you're sure to miss something.Her and I area on two complete sides of the spectrum, but I love her nonetheless. I know she loves me too, although she'd never admit it. It's not her stylo. (giggling)
Okay, okay! I've made you guys wait long enough! I won't procrastinate any longer. Mostly because I can barely contain myself any longer. (snickering)
Without further ado.... Drum roll please???
Vocal Remedy By: Da'Kharta Rising
Word Count: 2,403
Will be Available at Smashwords and other online retailersFOR FREE on Tuesday May 20th, 2014
Blurb:
Vaser is not surprised when Mr. Choice selects him. He does have a great voice and only the best should compete to win the cash prize for the music program. Everything falls into place as Vaser prepares to deliver a vocal remedy to compose his own award winning tune.
Disclaimer: Slight hint of M/M action.
Genre: Psychological, Horror, Dark Drama
Crimson on a Black Rose By:C. Desert Rose
Word Count: 2,290
Available NOW at Smashword for FREE download
Blurb:
A drop of crimson blood on a tattered black rose was all she has left of him--the guy that she loved.Rayne remembers her days with the boy that stole her heart. Jay was the love of her young life. Future plans arose, love bloomed, time spent made their connect unique. Until the day it all came crashing down.What happened to the love that they had?Take a trip of wrath and remembrance with Rayne.
Genre: Youth/YA Drama Fiction
COVERS MADE COURTESY OFALL AUTHORS GRAPHIC DESIGN
C. Desert Rose here, on behalf of All Authors Publishing House (my publishers of which I'm UBER ROUD).
Guess what today is??Did ya guess???No??
TODAY IS A DOUBLE COVER REVEAL DAY!!!
I am so happy and honored to host the cover reveal of my fellow All Authors and counterpart Da'Kharta Rising!
Da'Kharta is the All Authors patron of the
sick and twisted
, AND an incredible talent! Her writing is unique and deep. You have to pay close attention, or you're sure to miss something.Her and I area on two complete sides of the spectrum, but I love her nonetheless. I know she loves me too, although she'd never admit it. It's not her stylo. (giggling)Okay, okay! I've made you guys wait long enough! I won't procrastinate any longer. Mostly because I can barely contain myself any longer. (snickering)
Without further ado.... Drum roll please???
Vocal Remedy By: Da'Kharta Rising
Word Count: 2,403
Will be Available at Smashwords and other online retailersFOR FREE on Tuesday May 20th, 2014
Blurb:
Vaser is not surprised when Mr. Choice selects him. He does have a great voice and only the best should compete to win the cash prize for the music program. Everything falls into place as Vaser prepares to deliver a vocal remedy to compose his own award winning tune.
Disclaimer: Slight hint of M/M action.
Genre: Psychological, Horror, Dark Drama
Crimson on a Black Rose By:C. Desert Rose
Word Count: 2,290
Available NOW at Smashword for FREE download
Blurb:
A drop of crimson blood on a tattered black rose was all she has left of him--the guy that she loved.Rayne remembers her days with the boy that stole her heart. Jay was the love of her young life. Future plans arose, love bloomed, time spent made their connect unique. Until the day it all came crashing down.What happened to the love that they had?Take a trip of wrath and remembrance with Rayne.
Genre: Youth/YA Drama Fiction
COVERS MADE COURTESY OFALL AUTHORS GRAPHIC DESIGN
May 13, 2014
Can I get a "What, what!" Woot!!
Aaaand so....
I got back word from my Publisher yesterday, and guess what?
(Insert screaming teenage voice here) IF DEATH SHOULD LOVE ME , WILL BE RELEASED ON JULY 8TH!!!!!!! AAAAHHHHH!!!!
So here is the 4-1-1;My Publisher and I are giving away 5 ARC PDF copies for those that may have an interest in reading the story. If interested in an ARC copy, please just email me, or leave a comment here with your request and we'll get it off to you as soon as it's ready.
Thanks a million everyone!
Here's a little excerpt for your enjoyment while the story is on the shelves:
C. Desert Rose
From behind the think mystical curtain that divided the natural from the divine, Parí watched and listened, just as she'd be instructed. She marveled at the way humanity went about their lives unaware of the world that stood almost hand and hand with their own.
Her lips curled slightly at the thought of the skeptics, atheists and conservatives that made it a point of telling the world that faith in such things was ridiculous and if there was a god, he certainly did not care about humanity. How wrong they were! There was a god! Two of them. The Alpha and the Omega. The beginning and the end. The first and the last. Two in one and one in two. Male and female. The Higher Sources.More than that, they cared. They cared like no other creation cared about humanity. They'd created them. How could they not care?
Angels such as herself could see why. Others, unfortunately did not. Others like Gabriel. Be that as it may, Parí could see past the inanimate mobility of the human condition. They simple did not know. Some had an idea, but most could not even fathom the grander that was the unseen world that touched theirs. In these things, she could not blame them for promenading about aloof. In time everyone encountered the reality of the world in which they lived. In time.Yet, she reveled in the movement of it. Like a child in the cinema she watched, with wonder she gazed in appreciation.
Parí stood post, just as her Majesties had assigned. Her two charges completely unaware of her presence. This was good. She supposed that they had never even realized the few times she did show herself to them.On occasion she would appear to them in an inconspicuous form: she needed it—the interaction. It made it easier for her to look into their eyes and awe at what she saw therein. Their calling. Their 'fate'.
I got back word from my Publisher yesterday, and guess what?
(Insert screaming teenage voice here) IF DEATH SHOULD LOVE ME , WILL BE RELEASED ON JULY 8TH!!!!!!! AAAAHHHHH!!!!
So here is the 4-1-1;My Publisher and I are giving away 5 ARC PDF copies for those that may have an interest in reading the story. If interested in an ARC copy, please just email me, or leave a comment here with your request and we'll get it off to you as soon as it's ready.
Thanks a million everyone!
Here's a little excerpt for your enjoyment while the story is on the shelves:
C. Desert RoseFrom behind the think mystical curtain that divided the natural from the divine, Parí watched and listened, just as she'd be instructed. She marveled at the way humanity went about their lives unaware of the world that stood almost hand and hand with their own.
Her lips curled slightly at the thought of the skeptics, atheists and conservatives that made it a point of telling the world that faith in such things was ridiculous and if there was a god, he certainly did not care about humanity. How wrong they were! There was a god! Two of them. The Alpha and the Omega. The beginning and the end. The first and the last. Two in one and one in two. Male and female. The Higher Sources.More than that, they cared. They cared like no other creation cared about humanity. They'd created them. How could they not care?
Angels such as herself could see why. Others, unfortunately did not. Others like Gabriel. Be that as it may, Parí could see past the inanimate mobility of the human condition. They simple did not know. Some had an idea, but most could not even fathom the grander that was the unseen world that touched theirs. In these things, she could not blame them for promenading about aloof. In time everyone encountered the reality of the world in which they lived. In time.Yet, she reveled in the movement of it. Like a child in the cinema she watched, with wonder she gazed in appreciation.
Parí stood post, just as her Majesties had assigned. Her two charges completely unaware of her presence. This was good. She supposed that they had never even realized the few times she did show herself to them.On occasion she would appear to them in an inconspicuous form: she needed it—the interaction. It made it easier for her to look into their eyes and awe at what she saw therein. Their calling. Their 'fate'.
