Jun 28

Promoting? Horror? Writing? Ask Alex Laybourne!

What is Horror? Let’s forget about the dictionary definition here. I will ask you again. What is Horror? What makes us scared? What scares you the most? What is your personal horror? Let me ask you this– what would you be most terrified of? It’s a dark nightand you are walking home from work. The wind is shaking the trees, and birds are calling. It is darkening further every second. You feel someone walking behind you; you can hear them breathing in the darkness. You break into a run and turn the street corner. You see your house straight ahead. You see the lights burning out into the darkness. Your chest pounds from the pain of prolonged exercise. You throw yourself through the gate, through the door. You are safe.

Horror could be a fear of the unknown? You will never know what was behind you, what was breathing?

Enter Alex Laybourne, writer. The man who brings horror to your neighbourhood.

Mr Laybourne, or Alex to his friends, at home with the family. Alex likes to relax with his wife and kids as much as he can.

Q) So, Alex, you have written several books most notably “Highway to Hell.” You have also written interviews and promotional materials. What do you think you are achieving as a writer?

A) That is a tough one to start with! I would like to think that I am starting to achieve a base level of understanding with regards to how the industry works. More than that is just wishful thinking. I’m selling a few books, but not enough. I am learning the basics of promotion, but do not do enough for myself. I have ten bodies of work available and would like to bring another few out before the year end, but, titles a writer does not make. I have yet to begin to define myself as a writer or as an artist.

Q) But you are growing as a promoter–you are learning the tricks. Would you say promotion is important to you?

A) Promotion to me is an extension of being a writer. I think too many people, especially when starting out, think that the two are mutually exclusive, when in reality they are one and the same. Promotion is generating interest in you as an artist and in your work. To increase interest, you need more work. So you see, in my mind, writing is promotion, and promotion is writing. Running a website and blogging comes down to writing.

Q) So, which is more important to you? Writing or promotion? Businessman or artist?

A) Promotion is interest, it is about working for each and every sale. Not a mass spree of purchases or a big campaign that draws a lot of attention, it is about every single sale as a single event. I am of the firm belief that every sale is a triumph, for it only takes one sale to create a groundswell. One person to read or see your book and mention it to a friend and momentum is suddenly gained. I have ten items available for sale–nine of them are short stories, chapter books if you will, that when put together form one novel. I guess I have promoted them the heaviest, but more due to their numbers than anything else. When my novel Highway to Hell came out, I promoted it like crazy. I went a bit tweet-happy for a while. I spammed a little you could say. I learned my lesson and reeled myself in.

Q) Highway to Hell is an important book to you, correct? What’s the deal with that one?

A) Highway to Hell was my debut novel, and the first in a trilogy of novels. It is a good, old-fashioned horror novel. Inspired by Dante’s Inferno and the writing talents of Stephen King and Clive Barker, it chronicles the journey of six strangers who die at the start of the novel and find themselves unjustly sent to Hell.

The first half of the novel is not for the faint hearted. The novel sets up the story for the second instalment, which actually comes out in the next few weeks; however, when viewed on its own, it is a novel about sin and forgiveness.

Q) Do you think that there’s still a market for the kind of horror you write? Traditional horror?

A) I think there always has been, it’s just rebranded as thriller. Thrillers are easier to sell, and over time, horror,real horror, got edged out by what I call torture porn. It started in movies, thanks to films like Saw, and the reputation of horror soon spread. Horror is the greatest genre, because it gives complete freedom. There are no constraints in horror, or at least, there shouldn’t be. As a writer, I see an image in my head and describe it in words. There are taboos, there are rules and lines drawn in the sand, which I will cross and leave for dust if they help me tell my story. That is the difference between what you call ‘old-fashioned horror’ and the current crop. Torture porn breaks taboos for the sake of it, not because the story or the vision requires it.

Q) You mentioned “Torture Porn” back there in your last answer. Would you ever write that kind of horror fiction?

A) No, I would not. I would write body horror, and I have done so in the Highway to Hell series, but it is all for a point–for a vision other than for the simple need to show naked women and blood.

Clive Barker is my idol when it comes to horror. His visions and the epic scope of his imagination are frightening. He is not afraid. He writes and makes his art. That is what I hope to emulate, but it is a far cry from torture porn.

Q) Many people say that horror is only a small part of the fiction market. What do you think of that statement?

A) Horror is everywhere and can be incorporated into everything. In what other type of fiction can you allow your imagination to run wild. You can create a decadent word filled with romance and lust, and with a few tweaks, turn it into a nightmare, a place of terror. You can utilize everything at any time. Withhorror, the only limit is you, the writer. So, to answer your question, there are limitless forms of horror writing, and at the same time, only one: horror.

Q) Do you think that readers sometimes go for what they can understand, rather than what writers may call “great writing”?

A) Yes, I think that there are some great stories out there that are overlooked because they are too intense. I view writing as art, and art is something that does not need to be explained. It is there to inspire, to captivate and to invoke all manner of feelings and reactions. The artist him or herself are the only ones who ever need to know the true meaning behind their work.

Q) I have one final question. A biggie. What is horror? Can you define it for me?

A) Horror is unique. It is something, some part of us that we all have. It is a memory, a notion, a concept; it is a fear.

The real question is what does horror do?

What horror does is capitalize on that specific entity within each person and magnifies it. It twists it and turns it into something bigger and badder. To quantify horror is impossible. The closest I could come would actually be IT by Stephen King. The monster not the book – as great as it is. If you look into it, there is an entire mythos behind IT, and that is what horror is in my book.

It has no form, yet is everything; it is everywherebut we never see it, not truly. Horror is what happens in the corner of our eyes, in that instant when we blink. Horror doesn’t lurk in the shadows as many people think. It is broad daylight, it is all around us, waiting.

Horror is the best thing in the world because deep down, everybody likes to be scared.

Check out “Highway to Hell” by Alex Laybourne today for a creeplicious tale!

Jun 27

Tarkeenia! Ellen Mae Gives Us More Tarkeenia!

The first extract I ran from “The Unseen Promise” was so popular, I was asked to do it again! So, let me present some brand new Ellen Mae Franklin to you! I hear on the grapevine she might be coming over for an interview, soon, very soon…

We can be heroes,

if just for one day

 

The happy pair had spent months together, travelling Tarkeenia without any real endpoint. Just wandering from one place to the other, suiting themselves as it pleased. It was an unusual union, but for some strange reason it worked. Well, most days anyway. Today was different, however. It was one of those days, the kind that makes you feel crabby, even though the sun is shining – and grouchy, because you couldn’t find that poking twig that kept you wide awake for most of the night, and testy, because Coal, the fire sprite, just wouldn’t shut his talking hole. Today, Brar just wished the sun would do its business of shining. Quietly mind, for he so desperately needed a full night’s rest. Then maybe after that he could cope with his travelling friend’s incessant whining.

“I told you, we have to go this way.” Child-like in appearance, this tiny man, with his pointy tipped ears, crossed his arms over his thin chest in a sulkiness that most others only dreamed of achieving.

Brar stared at his friend. As silent as a stone, the Jaroona refused to budge. “I’m only going to say this once, Coal. I’m in no mood for a tantrum.”

The fire sprite hung upside down by his knees, swinging back and forth on a skinny tree branch, poking out a long black tongue. The fellow laughed. “My tantrums are spectacular, and you know it. But I tell you, Master Brar, we go no further this day until you agree to disagree.”

Everything about this creature was pointed. His long face with its narrow chin exuded defiance. His bad taste purple pointy shoes, his sharp, pointy nose that stood predominately in the middle of his delicate face. So, it would be only natural that his personality should follow suit. It was sharp and angular like everything else on his tiny body. Mischief ruled even the most sensible of choices, and Coal revelled in delight at his friend’s ill temper.

Brar couldn’t help himself; he changed and by doing so disappeared from sight. It was a coping mechanism, this changing. He could become whatever it was that he stood in front of. Appearing as the same texture, colour and pattern, Brar blended himself perfectly into the background. Only moving brought him back to the familiar form of his teddy bear look. This time he was so angry that his changing shimmered. Trembling with Coal’s sudden stupid demand, Brar couldn’t control his emotions.

“Just look at what you’ve done,” shouted the Jaroona.

Coal squealed with delight. “Oh that’s good! The best yet, I reckon. We could charge money for something like that, Brar.” All of a sudden, he became serious. “Look, I don’t know what to say except that we have to go that way. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it.”

“Hear what, you sun-blessed midget? You keep saying that, and I don’t for the love of me know what you’re talking about.”

Coal cocked his head to the side, lips pursed in that way he had, just before shedding a tear or two.

“Don’t you dare cry.” Brar stamped his foot with as much authority as he could muster. He wasn’t very good at dishing out a ‘say so,’ and feeling the way he did today wasn’t going to help.

Coal’s bottom lip trembled in preparation, and before the Jaroona was able to conjure up a reasonable plea to forestall the fire sprite’s blubbering, the little man began to wail. Tears of molten silver fell from his almond shaped eyes, splashing to the ground in a sizzling hiss. His skin turned from his usual pale pink to a darkening crimson. Hotter and hotter – and the branch he dangled from crackled inred heat.

“STOP!” Brar cried. “I can’t stand it! We’ll go whichever way you want. I don’t know why, and really, at this moment, I don’t care. Just stop your blubbering and don’t talk for the rest of this morning. If you can manage that, then I promise not to kill you.”

It was immediate. As quickly as it had begun, Coal quietened. He grinned, flashing Brar a set of very sharp teeth. “You’ll see. Everything will be fine now. You’ll feel better on the way, I’m sure.”

“Aaargh.” Brar aimed a furry slap at the sprite.

Coal did what he always did when he wanted out, he twinked. Vanishing, he left nothing but a trail of steam to mark his disappearance. Coal’s high pitched, almost hysterical laughter floated overhead. Brar groaned. The day wasn’t going to get any better.

***

The morning passed, and Coal’s promise fell away with the walking hours.

What was I thinking? Brar silently moaned. Coal’s prattling began as a muffled buzz beneath his furry coat, up against his neck. But as the morning faded, turning the day into a warm afternoon, the sprite’s voice rose to a shrilly banter.

“That voice, Brar – it was truly beautiful. It was like music lilting and soft, like a hot wind. No, more like a lark singing, that is, if you like that kind of thing. Me, I don’t really like the sound of a lark, although if you were to ask another, they might say that it was the nicest thing they had ever heard. I don’t know why she picked me. Have you ever asked yourself a question like that? Why it is that someone so wonderful would pick you, tell you the secrets of the sun? Still, she sure was beautiful…”

He would have gone on if Brar hadn’t stopped him. It was too much, this dribbling of shit, so he plonked down in the dirt and waited – waited for Coal to realise that they weren’t moving anymore.

“Hey! What’s this? Why have you stopped?” Coal left Brar’s shoulder, and floated a foot or so in front of the Jaroona’s face. He was smart enough to know not to get too close, for a swat from Brar usually meant a spell of nothingness for a bit. He didn’t like that kind of sleep, so he kept his distance. “Well, friend why have we stopped?”

“I want to know what this is all about. We’ve changed our course to suit this sudden turn about and I don’t know why. Now it’s my turn not to take another step until you have explained yourself.”

Coal knew when he was defeated, and this was one of those times. Brar could be quite bullheaded at times, so he folded his skinny legs under him, and floating on a cushion of air, did his best to explain what it was that he heard.

“I don’t know who she was ’cause she never told me,” complained the sprite. “But it was truly wonderful. It was as though I could feel the words, each a scorching blast of hot air. Oh, I think I’m in love….” he trailed off with one of his theatrical poses.

Brar growled. He too had a very sharp set of teeth.

“All right, I’ll get on with it. You’re a kill joy when you’re in this mood.” Coal brandished a scowl at Brar. “She told me to find the woods – go past the yellow flower heads – and if I got there, it would be to a hero’s welcome.” He folded his arms over his chest and jutted out his chin.

Oh my! He’s finally had too much sun. The Jaroona lifted his eyebrows so far up his forehead that they were immediately lost in his snow-white fringe. “You’re mad,” he exclaimed. “You actually think that you heard an invisible woman tell you such a thing. Something as absurd as that could set us back weeks.”

Coal twinked and disappeared. The smell of sulphur hung in the air. Brar scratched and picked at a biting gnat. Pinching it between two sharp claws, the Jaroona contemplated eating the twitching insect and as he opened his mouth, the annoying chatter he knew so well began again.

“I found it! I found it!” Coal zipped back and forth across his line of vision like an angry mosquito. He stopped dead in mid-air when he saw the gnat and Brar’s open mouth. “Now that‘s disgusting. Don’t tell me you were going to eat that ’cause if you say yes…. then who knows what I’ll do? Maybe I won’t be able to help myself and sick up on you.”

Brar flicked the tiny insect aside. “Don’t go running your mouth at me, Coal –‘cause I’ve had enough. The only words I want to hear right now are that you’ve repented this sudden madness, in exchange for us going home.” He tried to look dignified by pushing himself up from the dirt, and dusting himself off.

“What…? Oh no, never that. I’m here to say I’ve found it.” Smugness oozed from the cherry fellow, and he practically glowed with satisfaction. “The flowering yellow heads, I found them. They are so beautiful, like the sun – and the woman’s voice…” His own voice trailed off like a lovesick youth.

Brar slapped a pad to his forehead and shook his head. “Alright, alright. We’ll play it your way but only until we get to the edge of the damned woods you keep talking about. But I tell you, sprite, if you don’t become a hero the minute we get there then I’m turning about and going home.” He growled. It was hard not to laugh. Someone had to try and keep the sprite honest.

Coal blanched, his cherry redness fading to a sickly pink, and he covered his black lips with a finely boned hand. “Ok, if you like.” It was meek, and quite out of character.

“Come on then, show me the way.” It was a no-nonsense reply, and Brar, thoroughly fed up, waved the sprite to lead on.

***

Somewhere between death and life, Roedanth found the middle ground. A sweet, bitter centre which held him tightly bound but not to either world. It was a place where souls rested, sometimes succumbing to a final snuff. It was a place not of evil or good. There were too many shades here.

Roedanth floated, or at least he felt as though he was floating. Everywhere around him was darkness, and of course let’s not forget the pain. Each cough brought a wheezing gasp. It filled his mouth with muck, and so much more – it heightened his panic. Distantly, there was a bird calling, the sound of dried leaves scraping the ground. So, he breathed, in and out. He wondered, was this death? Would he find Peetra hiding in a dark corner somewhere, crying over the memories of Mr. Bicky’s harsh use? Would he, Roedanth, be forgiven for not knowing? His courage slipped in that moment, and he thought he felt the slick sheen of sweat on his body.

Upon his throne, a thing made of death and decay, sat Drakite – soul destroyer and creator of man. It was here that he relished his own dreams – dark desires of madness and murder – bold creations that held bubbling hate and wicked ambitions. If they flourished as quickly as this boy lay dying, he would be well pleased. All was ready. The child would not die this day. He would see to that. He had plans for one such as this young man lying face down in the mud. Those becks – his sisters and brothers – could rot for all he cared. For in the end nothing mattered.

Drakite thrilled at Roedanth’s weakened life. Crepe black skin covered brittle bones, a gaping hole with protruding teeth laughed with hate. Hollow and foul, he gripped the bone trophy, a human skull, with wild abandonment, and drained its contents in a single swallow.

As the last twitching of death released the final tresses of life from Roedanth’s pale body, Drakite took action. Scratching at his desiccated thigh, Drakite peeled off a scrap of dried skin. It flaked into his hand. With dark eagerness, he rubbed it back and forth between his fingers. He kneaded and worked the piece of crust until it was so polished that even in the gloom, it shone. Drakite readjusted his maw and blew. A fetid rasp of unclean air coated the spike he held. Ready with the taint of a god, Drakite whispered a few syllables in a language dead and forgotten. The instrument he had fashioned specifically to influence and control was finished. Seizing Roedanth’s soul, Drakite positioned the spike under the unseen membrane, lodging it with loathing. Then, he rose and left his seat, breaking several of his illusionary bones in the process.

Atheria held her breath. She stood unnoticed, a veiled shadow of herself – an unfettered composition of light, dipped in grief at the devoted corruptness of her sibling. She pitied the boy for what he was to become – and for the mark, which he now carried. Her pain was a heartfelt sorrow, so profound that it left her feeling vulnerable and open to the infectious curse of her brother’s own evil. Despair pushed up behind her eyes and, to her surprise, a singular human tear appeared. It fell without a sound.

***

 

Visit Tarkeenia today! Get your ticket here!

Jun 27

Pure Magic! Nick Wale Interviews Author Cheryl Pillsbury

Cheryl Pillsbury is an enterprising contemporary writer. She runs a publishing company, promotes her books, others’ books and manages to find time to interview with guys like myself. I wonder how she manages it all?  Before the interview, she nervously asked me how we would handle things. I told her to just stay calm, answer as she wanted to and not to worry about anything. She did, and we put together a strong interview in just under an hour. Let’s go and see what Ms Pillsbury had to say…

Q) Good morning, Cheryl! How are you?

A) Good morning, Nick. I am just fine.

Q) So, let me start by asking how you got drawn into this crazy world of writing?

A) It’s hard to say, but like most girls I had a diary and noticed the entries were a story, and I was talking to a person. I came up with the idea to write my diary as though it were a story and gave him a name. I was a tomboy growing up–played hockey–and so my diary was a male friend and it went from there.

Q) Have you always written as though you are talking to a male friend? Is that something that you, as a writer, do to get results?

A) Sometimes, but other times the stories/characters talk to me sharing a story. You see I am Wicca, Clairvoyant and Empathic. I sense and feel.

Q) Really? What does that feel like to be around the spirits?

A) It feels warm, and my arms feel as though they are being tickled. It could be described as a tingling feeling.

Q) I wanted to ask you about “Arthyn,” which is considered to be one of your best works. For readers who haven’t heard of it—what’s it about?

A) Arthyn is a pure seed where his brother Lantz is the bad seed. With that said, Arthyn is discovered in a cave when Lantz escapes his prison, and Arthyn must stop him before Lantz and the Dark Witch conceive the Child of Destruction, hence the term ‘pure seed.’

Q) How would you define the book? What genre would you call it? It seems to overcome many of the barriers we use to define the books we buy.

A) It is Fantasy Mythology.

Q) How was the book received by readers?

A) Arthyn is very popular with my readers. A lot of my friends had a hard time finishing it because it was so intense.

Q) You run your own publishing company too, correct?

A) Yes, I run AG Press, a self publishing company. We have published about ten authors so far, half are returns with a second or third book

Q) Now, you are a successful writer and a publisher. What would your advice be to a newbie writer starting out?

A) Follow your heart and spirit with the story and you will fly!

Q) As a professional, I would like to ask you, do professional editing and promotion really matter?

A) Yes, it does. It’s a must, and marketing is always important! How else will people know about your book?

Q) What is the magic ingredient to success?

A) Be kind and address people by name. I think writers should smile, share their story and willingly ask for ideas from readers.

Q) Is it really that simple?

A) Yes, give and you shall get back far more than you gave. I give away many, many copies of my books- especially the children’s stories.

Q) How have your children’s books been received?

A) The kids love them- I gave them away for free to schools in New York. Especially my “Gambit” series! The boys love those!

Q) You have written and published 25 books. Which are your favourites?

A) My popular books are Peleport, my mystical series, vampires. My Amie series is for Autism, Gambit is free because of Marvel Entertainment.

Q) Marvel, as in the comic company?

A) Yes, Gambit is their character. I write stories around him so we agree I can write thembut give them out for free. The actor Taylor Kitsch is on the cover by his and his manager’s permission.

Q) What an honour! Thank you for your time, Cheryl.

A) You are so welcome!

 

 Get your copy of “Arthyn” here!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jun 26

Reblogged! Alex Laybourne Interviews Christopher D. Abbott

 

(An interview direct from interviewer Alex Laybourne.)

Christopher AbbottChristopher D. Abbott has a background in human behavioral studies. He has gained a good understanding about people and their behaviors, and this has led to his interest in psychology. An avid reader of crime fiction, Christopher’s ambition has always been to publish a character driven crime story, in the style of the great Agatha Christie. With a fondness for quirky characters, such as Rodney David Wingfield’s Inspector “Jack” Frost, along with Agatha Christie’s Poirot, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes. The idea of Doctor Pieter Straay, his Dutch Criminal Psychologist, came about by integrating the qualities he admired best the characters he loved to read.
Christopher grew up in England and moved to the United States in 2010. He currently resides in Connecticut. He loves to write and play music, which has been as much of a passion for him as writing is. He also enjoys cooking and is currently working on his next Doctor Straay novel.

Thank you for joining me again today Christopher. So, how have things gone since we last spoke?

Great to be back with you, Alex. Things have gone very well.  The book is selling around 7 books a day now, which is fantastic, and I’m currently writing the “prequel” to SLD (Sir Laurence Dies).

That’s great news. Congratulations.

Thanks.

Last time we talked about your favourite murder mystery characters, and we came down to Poirot vs. Holmes. Would you go as far as saying that the best Murder Mysteries are written by British Authors?

No, not at all. I don’t have a lot of experience with current American murder mystery authors, but I enjoy books by John Dickson Carr (who a lot of people think is British), and Edgar Allan Poe. I remember as a child watching Murder She Wrote, which was created by a great group of American writers. The British have always been spoilt with a number of fantastic authors though, and because of that, we were lucky to have a murder mystery of some kind on Sunday television every week. I used to look forward to Sundays because of that!

What is it do you think that makes British writers so particularly adept at this particular genre?

Well, let’s not forget that Conan Doyle and Christie were influenced by Poe, specifically his detective, Auguste Dupin. Conan Doyle said: “Each [of Poe’s detective stories] is a root from which a whole literature has developed…. Where was the detective story until Poe breathed the breath of life into it?” Britain is very lucky to have authors like Agatha Christie and Conan Doyle, who in themselves developed such a culture and such a following of other writers, that they almost redeveloped the genre around themselves. I think the analogy can be also shown in the history of the Blues. Look at people like BB King – Can you imagine what it must be like to be BB King? To have spent your entire life doing what you love and seeing attitudes towards race, colour, creed, change? To unite people with music? To have inspired people like Eric Clapton? I mean… it doesn’t get much better than that!

Very true. Well, enough about other writers, let’s talk about you for a little shall we?

Sounds good.

I have read and loved your novel, Sir Laurence Dies. I had an idea about where it was heading, but the revelations made in the smoking room left me floored. Well done, sir.

Thank you! I loved writing that… Here’s a little thing. I wrote five separate endings. I wrote them before I finished the book, so I was not sure who did it until I got near the end. Then I was reading each of them and thought, well, they all work – but the way it worked out, I ended up taking all those endings and amalgamating them into one. I was very pleased with the outcome.

So you should be. So we know you didn’t plan the ending, or rather, you didn’t plan the eventual ending, but what about the rest of the novel; did you already have each and every twist planned out?

Oh no! I had one, which was actually going to be the big reveal, but my friend in the UK, Rob, read each chapter as I wrote them, and he worked that out before I’d got to the end! So I had to make a swift change! I read an article about Donald Westlake, explaining outlining to a group of novelists. They were all asking him about his process, and he deadpanned, ‘I subscribe to the technique I like to call “narrative push”.’ When asked what this technique was, he replied: ‘It’s quite simple, actually. I make everything up as I go along.’ So I subscribe to the same technique!

That is some very sound advice right there.

You main characters in Sir Laurence Dies; Dr. Straay and Chief Inspector Drake certainly make a fantastic team. Both are equally quick witted, but would you agree that the case would not have been solved had one of them been missing.

I thought about that a lot after I finished the book. I think deep down, Straay would have solved it. He really did solve it. I doubt Drake would have gotten to the bottom of it. He would have been able to get to a lot of the information, but the weaknesses I developed in his process were a handicap for him. Straay was able to get him to see beyond his own limitation by introducing him to mental exercises designed to make him think a little differently. Drake will definitely go on to become a very successful Policeman, but Straay is already successful by this stage.

The following was a scene I really enjoyed writing:

‘Let us try a little exercise. David Renwick was a dirty man who tinkered with engines. What can you tell me about him?’

Drake looked blank. ‘Hardly anything.’

‘Using your imagination, try and build a profile for me.’

‘It’s impossible, I need more. All I have is that David Renwick is probably a young man, maybe in his early twenties so he probably has long hair. He likes to tinker with engines, so he possibly wears a boiler suit or something similar and if that’s the case, he’ll probably be quite pale, and as he works with engines his hands may well be stained with grease and oil.’

‘Bravo! You see. From one statement, you’ve already told me he was young, pale, and longhaired. His hands are stained with grease and oil. That was far more information than I gave you. You extrapolated this information from your own knowledge and applied it to the task.’

‘Well, okay, I concede that, but what if he turns out to be fifty and dark skinned? It’s not very practical is it?’

‘You’re thinking like a policeman again.’ Straay waggled a finger reproachfully at him. ‘The point is, he may be all these things, but you know from experience that younger men like to tinker with engines because it is the new craze. Engines, cars, motorboats, aeroplanes, all these things are so new, the young are putting aside their toy guns and dolls and picking up books on engines, or model car kits and so on. Where does it lead? The boy who is so keen on engines builds his first model car. Maybe he gets a job as an apprentice engineer, or goes back to school to learn more about engines. To conclude our exercise, we only needed “David Renwick was a dirty man who tinkered with engines” to start us on a theoretical path and our experiences, our knowledge, and our imagination allow us to construct a framework to work with. All you did was to think just a little differently.’

I actually thought that this was the defining scene in their relationship. It cemented the difference between them, yet drew them together with a common interest in learning.

What is it that ties the two together so well?

That’s an interesting question. They work well together because they have a mutual friendship and respect for each other’s talents. However the truth is Drake needs Straay. Straay however doesn’t need Drake – and they both know this.

Was it planned or did it just develop, the way a friendship does, over time.

 It was always planned that they had worked on a previous case together, but the friendship that developed actually did take me by surprise.

Which character was the easiest for you to create?

Neither. Straay was an amalgamation of many different characters, who took time to find his own voice. One of my reviewers said: ‘After an Agathaesque beginning, the middle becomes uniquely Abbottesque, very clever and interesting; it kept me guessing and turning the pages.’

That is a nice thing to hear, not only being compared to Agatha Christie, but complimented with breaking away from the Agatha Christie shadow of influence.

Yes. This was actually very helpful, because it showed that by the time I’d written to the middle of the book, I had stopped trying to copy the Christie style and voice, and had begun to develop my own individual style and voice. Straay, by that same logic, went through a similar transition. He was becoming less like Poirot-Holmes and more like Straay.

Drake was always going to be an incidental character, and that probably showed a little at the beginning. I went back a few times afterwards to try and bring some depth to him that I hadn’t thought about, because by the end of Act Two, I knew he would become an essential character in my world. Because of this, it was very hard to characterise him. He wasn’t like Poirot, he wasn’t like Holmes – he had an intelligence that fitted with his rank, but he wasn’t the “lead” detective. Overall I found him the hardest to create because I really did have to create an entire background for him, after I had introduced him. I won’t make that mistake again!

Which one of the two is your favourite, who could you take out of this novel and use again elsewhere?

Oh now you see, I always thought I could answer this one easily, but since I’ve been writing the “prequel” I’m not so sure. Clearly, Straay will be able to hold his own in any situation I put him in. I think at the time I wrote SLD, Drake would have been more of a challenge to write for solo, he would struggle a bit with solving the crime. Now however, I have given him a little more background and am confident he would hold his own also.

You remember when Inspector Morse was the clever one, and Sargent Lewis wasn’t quite so? Then Morse died and Lewis became Inspector. Now he’s solving all the crimes! I see Drake a little like that…

I am glad that Drake has been allowed to develop more, I remember we discussed your keenness to avoid the ‘bumbling sidekick’ label for him during our last chat.

Every character in the book has a purpose, which was one thing I really enjoyed. They were fleshed out and played their role well. Did they all work with you when writing or did some offer more resistance than others?

I LOVED writing Lady Agatha! I adore her. So brusque, so rude! She worked well throughout, and her fallibility was researched in advance. Doctor Powell was a challenge. He wasn’t at all cooperative, and I would have liked to have developed his backstory more. I think the one character (other than Straay or Drake) that I really enjoyed writing for, was actually Superintendent Baker. I liked him, and I’m pretty sure we’ll see him again.

As a reader to certainly had the feeling at the end of the novel that we could even be looking at a super sleuth trio, with Baker more of a backseat role, but there when needed. He worked well with Straay and you have the secondary level of friendship between him and Drake.

Without giving too much, or rather anything away, would you agree it was rather hard to pin point a true villain in the book? In other words, while there are clear lines drawn, personal and individual perspective will give different readers a different, yet equally fulfilling experience.

Yes, and I wrote above that I actually had five separate endings. The trouble was, whilst each one answer the questions, it just didn’t feel right. Essentially the ending that was written was the only one that could have worked (in the way that I had worked it). If that makes any sense? Like you said, it’s hard to answer this without giving too much away, but anyone can be stabbed, shot, poisoned, the trick was to add more mystery than was strictly necessary – to miss-direct the reader. I was very careful to make sure that the clues were all there in the pages, so that when someone reads it for a second time, knowing the ending, they could find them!

Living in Holland, I have to say, you captured Straay very well; the mannerisms, speech and background detail of life in Holland. Have you spent much time in Holland yourself?

I had a friend in Amsterdam whom I frequently visited. I love Holland and I haven’t spoken with that particular friend for a few years now. We drifted apart as friends someAlex Laybournetimes do, but I do think about him from time to time and try and catch up. I spent many wonderful weekends in Amsterdam and whilst there, I developed the “idea” of Straay from observing my Dutch friends. I love the carefree attitude, the liberalism. I avoid putting Dutch into the book, except I think one line or two, because unlike French, Dutch is difficult to say in your head and even more difficult aloud! 

I also wanted to avoid the – “Ja, ik denk so!” – type of lines – you know – the cliché “Pardon, Monsieur! C’est, possible!” Etc..

Very true, Dutch is a rather throaty language and lacks the poetry of English or French.

Sir Laurence Dies was originally a 3 book series, but do you see yourself continuing with Straay and Drake or will they retire after every detail of the Sir Laurence case has been put to bed?

Oh no! There is a three book series from SLD with each character – and I’ve left two or three plot lines open for them. I’ve written a draft idea for both books. However, I’ve put them aside because I’m actually going to write the “prequel” book first. I’m going to go back and define and develop the relationship between Drake and Straay in a very interesting way! When I come back to the sequels, I will have more definition with each character, and it is my hope that the readers will get a much better appreciation of them both, going forward.

It will be interesting to see how their friendship came about. From reading the first book, I certainly had a feeling that it was based on more than just a few cases together, but on something a bit larger, deeper than that. They certainly make a great team.

I don’t see them both always appearing together in every story, but I see no reason to stop writing them once that particular series has concluded.

That also works, because they are well rounded characters, with their own individual strengths.

Was there a reason why you chose the early twentieth century for your setting?

Yes, I love the period. I love the style, the grace, the changes in attitude between the rich and the poor. You have so much going on. A war finished but recovery still on-going, a second war looming on the horizon. Disasters like the Titanic that changed everything! Huge leaps in technology. The early part of the twentieth century had motorcars and horse drawn carriages in the same street – that is cool!

It must have been quite a sight.

I guess it could be said that the murder mystery, while still being a great genre to write in, needs to be based in the past because of modern technology. Would you agree?

Difficult one that. I would agree that the “type” of traditional murder mystery, the likes of Poirot or Straay, wouldn’t work in the Twenty-First Century setting the way they did in the Twentieth. I think the police in these stories gave a lot more leeway to “consulting detectives” than is probably true of the time.

However, look at what Steven Moffat has done to Sherlock Holmes… A Twenty-First Century spin on a Nineteenth-Century idea – and I think it’s fantastic!

Thank you very much for your time Christopher; it has been a pleasure, as always.

Get your copy of “Sir Laurence Dies” right now!

Jun 26

“Write In Recollection and Amazement For Yourself.” Terry Irving Channels Jack Kerouac

You recall a story from a happy past, but the story is brighter now than you remember it…

The words sound richer, stronger… More exciting…

The writer is Terry Irving. The story is his own.

Out of the post war period came some of the greatest journalists of all time. That statement has been made more than once by the historians and chroniclers of the period, and the proof is present for all to see and read. All served their apprenticeships in what has been acknowledged as the finest of training grounds– the media world of the last fifty years. The stories, the glitz, the glamour and the failure. Terry Irving, Emmy-winning ABC news producer, writer and published author can tell you all about it.

Full Circle was the first installment of his new biographical series of books. Now, let’s take a journey On The Road…

His career has spanned world events from The Berlin Wall to the Indonesian Tsunami; he has worked with everyone from Ted Koppel to Don Imus, and he knows the truth behind the television images and the sadness and depression that often underlies the cheerful facades of journalists, politicians, and celebrities.

“On the Road” continues on from “Full Circle.” Learn about  the many jobs Irving worked to reach the top of his profession, the adventures found in thousands of miles of hitchhiking across the North American continent.

Jun 24

The Main Event: Ufert Meets Roberts

 

Cliff Roberts is a man accustomed to the public eye. He was a politician, a CEO, a businessman and a police commissioner. Now, retired, disabled and contented, he writes. He is a novelist.

 Tom Ufert, politician, world traveler, charity fundraiser and writer has met his own struggles with addiction, sexuality, illness and has turned them into strengths.

You don’t need to pity these guys, you can LEARN from them…

Chris Keys1

Cliff Roberts, a man at home with his family.

 

Nick: Thank you for attending this interview, guys. Cliff Roberts, meet Tom Ufert.

 

Tom: Thank you, Nick. It’s great to meet you, Cliff.

 

Cliff: Likewise, thank you for inviting me to be apart of this wonderful summit.

 

Nick: Now, you are both ex- politicians, correct?

 

Cliff: I claimed to be reformed.

 

Tom: Yes, EX. I recovered my brain and conscience.

 

Nick: Okay- no politics. Let me start with you, Cliff. You were a successful businessman, a wealthy politician, and you have run major companies in your time. Now, you are disabled, living in Tennessee, and you write. How do you feel about that?

 

Cliff: Being disabled sucks after having been a very active sportsman most my life, but I can’t just sit around whining, so I took up my first lover–writing.

 

Tom: Amen

 

Cliff: I know people who have just turned off and now just sit waiting to die, but I ‘ve never been that type.

 

Nick: Tom, you have a similar outlook. You struggle with several disabilities, and you have never given up. Do you think the time was right for you to write a book?

 

Tom: Well, I think that with the world in its present state of affairs, people need to be reminded that things can get a lot worse…we all need to be aware that adversity is part of life, and only your will to NEVER SURRENDER will keep one afloat.

 

Nick: You are a true inspiration, Tom. Cliff, do you think you are defying the way disabled people are usually perceived by many people out there? You seem to be throwing off the pity and striving for greatness, as you always

Tom Ufert, a man in thought.

have.

 

Cliff: I would like to say that I, like Tom, believe the same. I read the blurb on Tom‘s site about adversity making you stronger and it’s true. Every challenge changes you. It can be for the better or the worse, it’s up to you. That is exactly how I felt when I became disabled. It was just another challenge for me to overcome. I think too many people believe that disabled means unskilled, incompetent and unable to think and do anything. I may need an editor, but I’ll tell you a story you won’t be able to put down or forget easily.

 

Tom: RIGHT ON, CLIFF!

 

Nick: That was powerful, you really hit home there, Cliff. Tom, as a guy who suffers with HIV and MS, have you been faced with similar prejudices to Cliff?

 

Tom: Oh, yes! I prefer the PC term ‘physically challenged,’ Nick. I can tell you though one thing is for sure, being in a wheelchair means I don’t have to replace my shoes as often!

 

Nick: Do you two realise how inspirational you both are? You must realise that people can learn so much from your experiences.

 

Cliff: I don’t know about myself; he’s in a chair, I’ve hopefully got a few years before I’ll need one most of the time. I just try to do all I can and avoid getting down about it. You just have to keep plodding on and making the best of situations.

 

Tom: People need to remember we may not have all our physical attributes, but we’ve still got our minds. Take me–I have only use of three fingers on hand, two on the other, but can keep up with most typing fifty words a minute; plus, with modern technology like Dragon voice activated programs I can write damn well. What I do isn’t amazing; it’s just adjusting to what life has thrown at me, and I keep moving on forward. I try to inspire others to live life rather than just survive it! That’s my aim.

 

“I TRY TO INSPIRE OTHERS TO LIVE LIFE RATHER THAN JUST SURVIVE IT!” ~ Author Tom Ufert

 

Cliff: I never felt that I was anyone special having overcome my challenges until a local newspaper writer interviewed me and he claimed I was the most inspiring person he’d met in twenty years of writing his column. I should have been in a home several times I guess, but I refuse to quit. It’s just as Tom said, people think because your body is broken, your mind doesn’t work. As long as I can think I’ll keep doing all I can to reinvent myself as I need to. But writing is totally freeing. I can do the things that I’ve always wantedbut never was able to even if it’s just in my mind.

 

“Just remember, I don’t stand for handicap jokes…” Tom explains with a smile.

Nick: I think you are right, Cliff. Okay, Tom, your book “Adversity Builds Character” tells of your life and struggles. What do you think was the hardest obstacle you faced?

 

Tom: The will to live and make the world a better place is what keeps me going. For me, the greatest obstacle was having all three disabilities—MS, an incomplete spinal fracture, and HIV. Divine inspiration and a whole group of support covering my back kept me going. My ability to inspire others to help the less fortunate is the drive that spurs me on every day.

 

Nick: So inspiring. Cliff, let me ask, did you ever believe that you would be writing a book, at what could be described as the lowest ebb of  your life?

 

Cliff: No, I never considered it when I was able to function. I  was always looking for the next business opportunity and trying to build my world financially. I fought the changing of my body as long as I could without even thinking about whether it might be something other than getting old. Then one day, the doctors said I should stop and focus on living because what years I had left were going to be a struggle. To me, writing was just that thing I had tried when I was a kid in college. Now that I’ve got several books done, I can’t imagine not having written all along. I should have, but life got in the way.

 

Nick: Tom, if you were still fit and healthy, do you think you would have written the book?

 

Tom: I’m not sure, but writing about the other adversities–struggling with my sexual identity, drug/alcohol/sex addictions, my mother’s tragic death, being sexually abused as a child, being “adopted”,etc…certainly was a cathartic experience, and I can only hope my insights help others. I am enjoying writing, and with three additional books planned, I think it’s become a new niche to mark my place in the tapestry of humanity.

 

Cliff: Tom, will all the books be in the same vein, the same inspirational memoir genre?

 

Tom: Actually, no, Cliff. My second will– it’s a sequel to my first book “Adversity Builds Character.” The third book will be a kind of unique travelogue about my year studying in Australia, while the fourth is a very philosophical text utilizing texting acronyms to guide people in our modern age.

 

Cliff: I’ll look out for them. I am really enjoying this interview, guys.

 

Tom: I am, too. My memoir was inspired by my godmother/grandmother who suggested my story could really help others. If I could survive all this in just thirty-four years of life, then others can survive their life struggles, too.

 

Cliff: Your website showed that you’re quite the world traveller with book signings and such all over the Far East. Have you considered motivational speaking?

 

Tom: Actually, my book is going to the Far East. I’m not. I’ve only travelled to Canada and Australia. I am, however, still young, and I am ready to travel anywhere to get this book to those who need help. I am working with my team to get a speaking career rolling. Do you know, Cliff? When I visited Australia, I gave twenty-six speeches, and I kept on speaking right through my political career. I have always enjoyed speaking in public.

 

Cliff: I know the feeling. I gave more speeches as a politician than I can even remember. I think it becomes second nature at some point. Your writing is inspiring, and you write very well. Nick, I am sure, is just sitting back relaxing as we do all the conversation.

 

Tom: Politics, the gift of the gab, not knowing when to keep quiet. Do you think your first book “Reprisal!” is your best?

 

Cliff:  No, I don’t think it is my best. My style of writing has improved from the blunt force approach that is “Reprisal! The Eagle Rises” into the books that I’ll be releasing as we go forward that are more subtle with better flow in the intrigue; but having said that, I firmly believe that “Reprisal!” is just as good as any action thriller you’ll read by anyone.

 

Tom: I have added “Reprisal!” to my reading list! They strike me as similar to other action thrillers I like in James Patterson’s style.

 

Nick: Cliff, do you think people will take to ‘Reprisal!’ in the same way they took to you as a politician?

 

Cliff: I hope they do. I won my election with a landslide victory!

 

Nick: Tom, what do you think makes your life fulfilling?

 

Tom: Community involvement. My adopted family and Jesuit educators stressed that. I have to say that family and friends are vital, but for me, sitting around and being complacent is a sin. I love contributing to my community, my nation, my world, and my species. In my opinion, it’s kind of what God had in mind when he made man in His image. Otherwise we’re just another animal struggling to survive which doesn’t live up to the higher power of human capabilities like Einstein, Motzart, DaVinci, and Christ Himself.

 

Cliff: NEVER QUIT!

 

When things go wrong as they sometimes will
When the road you’re trudging seems all uphill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile but you have to sigh,
When life is pressing you down a bit,
Rest if you must, but don’t you quit!

Life is queer with it twists and turns
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about,
When he might have won had he stuck it out;
Don’t give up though the pace seems slow,
You may succeed with another blow.

Success is failure turned inside out,
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems so far;
So stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit,
It’s when things seem worse,
That you must not quit!

~Unknown

 

 

Tom: Beautiful prose, Cliff.

 

 

Cliff: Thank you, Tom.

 

 

 

Cliff Roberts first published work is called “Reprisal! The Eagle Rises.” You can get this great book here!

 

 

 

Tom Ufert‘s first book is called “Adversity Builds Character” and tells an important story. How did Tom overcome the traumas, trials and troubles he faced in life? How did he survive? You can get his book right now, right here!

 

 

Jun 24

“Come Fly With Me!” Mike Trahan Teases

MikeCheck out Mike Trahan’s flying log! The flying ace has been around. You’ve read “The Gift”, “The Gift: Part 2:The Air Force Years” and now come fly with Mike as he takes us on a whirlwind live interview…

Takeoff from Orange, Texas: Never found the flying better, Texas under the winds, with a soft, breezy quality in those Trahan tales.

Stopover at Novel Ideas airport: Lay-over for a stroll through those fascinating things writers call interviews. The romantic Trahan delves deep into his past to talk about his early years and his love of flying.

Perfect Flight To Orange, Texas: Returning to base to perform a signing session for swaying Trahanaholics. Books were signed, and happy hearts returned home to read their brand new copies of “The Gift”.

Moonlight In Vermont: A strong wind flew in and carried Flight Trahan to Vermont for a double interview with Mike Walsh. The flight was light and breezy, just like the banter that followed.

And now…

Brazil: Mike Trahan flies in with a brand new live interview, broadcast to the world, showing just how versatile our flying ace is. Mike coasts into the cockpit to interview with resident Brazillian export Gordon Osmond, Vermont’s own Angela Harris and our very own flight log navigator, Nick Wale…

 

You can fly more adventures with Mike Trahan with his great new book “The Gift Part 2- The Airforce Years“.

Jun 23

McLemore Steps Out: Nick Wale interviews J.R.

 

J.R. McLemore is a writer who really has to be interviewed a few times to get the full breadth of his knowledge down in print. In this interview, I wanted to start with a question about the work he is doing currently, then I wanted to take you all on a rip-roaring journey through the highlights of being a professional writer. Hold on to your seats guys, this is going to be one helluva journey!

Q: I wanted to open with a question the Grand Inquisitor would have been proud of. What do you think your next book will be about?

A: That’s an interesting question. As a matter of fact, I’d like to know, too. Actually, I try to be forthright with my readers by giving them plenty of sneak peeks over on my blog (http://jrmclemore.blogspot.com/). I recently did a post that showed, I think it was five, books that I was currently working on for release. Of course, I always preface this with a disclaimer that things are likely to change. Like race horses, there’s always one book that’s a nose ahead of the pack and will most likely cross the finish line before the others, but sometimes, a sleeper will come to the front and beat out the others. At this time, the closest book to publication is another southern story called Rabbit on the Run, about a black field worker named Gordon Mosely, who,  during the Depression, is on the run from a lynch mob who thinks he killed a white girl. Also, I’m currently working on a science fiction novel about a scientist (a geneticist) who has developed a treatment to increase our lifespans by decades and maybe even a century. The working title for this novel is Youthanasia. In it, I want to show the good and bad aspects of being able live for hundreds of years because I think everyone has wondered what it would be like to live forever. But, how many of us have thought beyond that rosy, glamorous picture to wonder about the negative aspects? I hope I can do justice to showcasing those differences.

Q: I think that one will be another winner, J.R. Many writers tell tales of having to rewrite books many times over. How many times do you rewrite your books?

A: Zero, if I can manage it! I’ll be honest, I hate the editing process. Especially if it means a rewrite. Some writers might say they enjoy editing, and maybe they do. I’m not one of those writers, though. I love creating from scratch, but going back over it time after time becomes tedious. By the second time I’m going through a story, it’s really begun to lose its luster, in my opinion. I don’t even reread novels by other authors that I loved reading the first time; once is enough, and I’m ready for something different. Maybe I have ADD or something. A rewrite means throwing out great whacks of a story you’ve already written and trying to fit something new into that gaping hole in an attempt to rid yourself of plot holes or some other big flaws. This is the hardest kind of writing there is, I think. Not only do you need to come up with something to fill that gap neatly, you also have to seamlessly shore up those ragged edges where you ripped out the original text. Knowing I have to do this really saps the motivation out of me and I tend to put the story aside for quite a while before I’m able to muster enough excitement to return to it. As a matter of fact, I have a horror novel that I’ve rewritten three times already. I originally wrote it in 2005. It was my first novel and I called it The Shadow People. Since that last rewrite, I let my wife read it and give me her opinion. She thinks it needs another rewrite, which I fully intend to do. I’ve made some lengthy notes about the new plot and renamed it The Consuming Darkness. When I look back at the original first draft and the materializing plot for the next rewrite, I can’t help but shake my head at how vastly different both stories are from one another. I think this last rewrite will make a far superior story, though.

Q: Do you think an author needs professional help to promote properly?

A: If that author is me, then, yes. I suck at promoting my work because I’m too modest. However, I don’t think every author needs professional promotion. Just like every author does not need professional editors, graphic artists, etc. I do everything myself; from writing, editing, cover design, page layout for the paperbacks, to digital formatting. I’m fortunate enough to have a wife who is a professional English professor and that goes a long way toward making my books better during the editing process, but I also have reliable beta readers who bring even more insight to the table. I guess being technologically adept helps in some of these regards. I think there are a lot of authors out there perfectly capable of wearing more than just the writing hat, who can jump into promotion themselves and become wonderfully successful. I’m not one of those writers, though. So, yes, I need professional assistance and I think others do as well. Also, I think promotion, like trying to pick a bestseller in the publishing industry, relies heavily on luck. It’s like playing darts in the dark. If a book is written well and has a great story to tell, I think it’ll eventually become successful. Promotion, of any sort, can only help to gain attention for that book sooner rather than later. To me, it all boils down to the story itself. If it’s great, then it’ll do well. If it’s not…well, you can’t polish a turd.

Q: Is the written word in book form a money making venture, in your opinion?

A: Only as much as going to the dog track is a money making venture. Along the same lines as what I said about promotion, I believe a lot of success in publishing comes from luck. Don’t get me wrong, though. It’s not all about luck. I mean, if an author writes a crappy book with a lot of typos or just a shitty story that goes nowhere, then (s)he better fall into a huge pile of luck, and, unfortunately, some writers have done that, but it’s extremely rare. In addition to luck, there is a large amount of skill and ability that the writer should bring to the table. Everyone has different tastes when it comes to the kinds of books they enjoy, but, in the end, it all boils down to a good story. If the writer can craft a story that sucks that reader in and keeps them turning the pages, then I think that writer will be successful, which may translate into sales revenue and possibly larger success. But, there again, that relies on luck. As writers, we can only do so much before releasing our work to the public. From there, it’s largely out of our control. If, on the other hand, a writer thinks their first draft will be worshipped by readers on bent knees, well, that writer is probably going to have a rude awakening and most likely wallow in obscurity. That’s a writer who obviously doesn’t care about the readers, and the readers are the ones who make or break us writers in this business. Without the readers, we’d be voices quacking in the void.

Q: Just out of interest, how does it feel to be highly rated as a writer?

A: I don’t know. Am I highly rated? Seriously, it doesn’t feel any different from being in any other occupation, I’m sure. Like everyone else, I wake each day and put my pants on one leg at a time. Now, I’m sure the feeling would be much different if I had the notoriety of Tom Clancy, J.K. Rowling, or some other blockbuster author. In the meantime, I’ll keep creating sentences to make paragraphs and paragraphs to create books.

Q: Some writers say that their greatest works have come to them by pure accident. Do you think great writing can come by accident?

A: Yes and no. I think that a great idea can come to you by accident. It might even be accidental that the writer executes that idea in a fantastic way. But, I don’t think that a novice who hasn’t learned his/her chops is going to sit down and create a blockbuster masterpiece through sheer luck. I really think it takes a lot of skill and ability to accomplish such a feat, which only comes through many hours of honing one’s craft.

Q: What is great writing to you?

A: Ah, the million dollar question! I think all writing is subjective, great or otherwise. Everyone will have different opinions about what constitutes great writing. For instance, Catcher in the Rye is heralded as a classic. I didn’t particularly enjoy it, though. However, I thought To Kill a Mockingbird was brilliant. I think a lot of genre writers have created some great writing, but other readers out there will most likely disagree with the writers I name. Great writing, to me, is whatever captivates a reader and keeps him/her turning the pages to find out what happens next. If the reader can lose themselves in the story, forget their mundane problems, and leave them wanting more, then I think a story has succeeded at being great.

Q: Some writers say that writing is their escape from what they feel is a hundrum, boring existence. Is writing ever an escape for you?

A: You bet! Just like reading can be an escape, so is writing. Sometimes, I think writing is even more of an escape because the writer is in the world longer than the reader. A reader can flick his/her eyes across a sentence and experience what the writer is trying to convey, but the writer probably spent a lot longer constructing that sentence than the reader did comprehending it. While a writer is submersed in the world (s)he is creating, they are watching the various characters act out what they are meant to capture on the page. In a sense, writers are equivalent to sportscasters as we record what we see unfolding in our heads. It’s up to us to translate those actions to a third party somewhere down the timeline.

Q: How do you think your writing has gotten better over several novels?

A: Hmm. First, I hope my writing has gotten better! Of course, that’s for the readers to decide. From a technical perspective, however, I think my writing has gotten better. At least, when I go back and reread some of my earlier stuff, I can see where I could’ve improved. I think it’s obvious to point out that this insight comes with experience. The more you write, the more you should be learning as a writer ways to improve your craft. Also, this requires listening to the feedback you receive and making any necessary adjustments to make your stories better. I don’t think a writer can improve by working in a vacuum, sealed off from the criticism of any readers. So, with that said, I think my writing has gotten better in that my writing style has become more casual and informal. I’m a naturally laid back person, and I want my writing to reflect that. I think the casualness of my writing helps readers feel more at ease with my characters and plots. At least, I hope so.

Q: What do you think you could personally improve?

A: Absolutely nothing! My writing is already perfect. And that’s a lie! Probably the biggest, most delusional lie a writer can tell themselves. Quite frankly, I think I can improve in so many areas. I’d love to create the deep characters Stephen King develops. I also love the way his stories draw you in because they feel comfortable in the beginning. I would also love to be able to write strongly-themed stories without hitting the reader over the head with my themes. Description and world building are other areas I’d like to improve upon. But, there again, these things come from writing more and more. And, most importantly, learning from mistakes readers point out.

Q: How do you feel about the writing you do now, in comparison to the writing you did when you started out?

A: I’m very pleased with the progress I’ve made as a writer over the years. I can’t say I think I’m better than anyone else other than my younger self. When I started out, I thought I was Shakespeare in the making–probably like most naive young writers. Once you put your first few stories out there, though, and see what others say about what you’ve created, that self-image you’ve formed either gets taken down a few pegs–sometimes quite a lot of pegs, actually–and you can do two things: First, you can ignore them and continue fostering that notion that you deserve a Pulitzer Prize, which is to your peril; or second, you can listen to those readers who are pointing out your mistakes and take steps to try to never repeat them. I can’t stress this enough. I think too many writers take that criticism as a personal attack and feel like reciprocating that animosity they feel when someone disagrees with them or talks negatively about the story they’ve written. As a writer, this is so counterproductive. When I read something I’ve written recently and compare it with something I wrote years ago, I blush inwardly because I think my early writing is pretty elementary. Of course, several years from now, I’m sure I’ll reread something I’ve written now and see how much more my writing has improved. Well, that’s the general idea, anyway. I hope I can keep improving.

Q: Do you think your work is heavily influenced by Stephen King?

A: Yes and no. Stephen King was a major influence on my writing when I first started out. I tried my best to imitate his style, but probably not very well. Also, I only read horror stories and wrote horror stories during my early years. It wasn’t until I started reading more broadly that I began to see techniques other authors used to construct their stories. So, I tried incorporating more of these strategies into my own writing. While I hold Stephen King in high regard, I don’t think my writing has as much of his influence as it once did. Now, I simply try to come up with stories that I find interesting and execute them, hoping they translate across to the reader as well as it materialized in my head. An interesting side note to this: when I was finishing the editing phase of The Old Royal, a colleague at work who knew a lot about my novel suggested that I read King’s 11/22/63 because it, too, is a time travel novel. He said there were many similarities between both of our books. You better believe I got a copy of King’s novel and read it. It was interesting to see the same obstacles in his book that I had to address in mine, as well as the things he thought of that I had missed. In addition to that fun little anecdote, that same colleague just recently asked if I saw King’s latest novel published by Hard Case Crime, a book called Joyland. I told him I hadn’t, and he proceeded to tell me the story’s premise, which sounded very similar to a story idea I’ve been wrestling with for a while about a merry-go-round at an amusement park where nearly a dozen children disappear during broad daylight right in front of a group of adult onlookers. I couldn’t help but think, “Stephen King, get outta my head!” As with the previous book, I’ll wait to finish writing it before sitting down to read Joyland. There’s nothing I hate more than having an author’s ideas appear in my book because I read theirs first. I try to be as organic with my writing as I can, although, sometimes the similarities of a certain subject are almost always shared between authors.

Q: How would you describe The Old Royal to a new reader?

A: I’d tell them it’s a time travel novel, but not just any time travel novel. In this story, the main character not only travels backward in time, he also influences the period he travels to. Also, I like to point out that, unlike most novels, this one comes with embedded short stories. Well, fragments, anyway. I didn’t include the short stories in their entirety, but they’re a nice addition to the main story, I think. As a whole, The Old Royal is part science-fiction, part fantasy, part crime drama, and a lot of character study; I really like to see how the characters deal with the consequences of the main character’s decisions and how he comes to make the choices he does. So far, I’m very pleased with the responses I’ve received from The Old Royal. Most of the readers I’ve talked to have thoroughly enjoyed it, especially the short story fragments throughout. One reader even went so far as to say that he wished I’d embellished some of the short stories because they were as intriguing as the main story. I couldn’t help but smile at that.

 

J.R. McLemore’s masterpiece “The Old Royal” is available now!

 

Jun 22

Michael Haden: On Tour!

michaelhaden

Michael Haden kicked off his brand new blog tour with ONE interview. The interview was, luckily for Novel Ideas, with Nick Wale. What will Michael have to say about his phenomenal success? The businessman from Tampa, Florida who wrote a bestselling book tells all…

Q) Michael, let me ask you to begin with, why did you have to write “A Deal With God”?

A) Chapter 2 of “Deal” is a young woman’s actual biography. What stands out is the biography is so fantastic and near unbelievable. Her life , though cut short, was truly amazing.  It was important to write the story because she was an orphan. This book is a memorialization to her. It gives her a legacy.

Q) You have been described as an outstanding author. How do you feel about that?

A) I don’t know if I am an outstanding writer, but the critics seem to think so. I do think I am a good story teller.

Q) So, at what moment did you decide to write “A Deal With God”? What was the catalyst for you?

A) Every June 4th, the anniversary of her passing, we grieve her loss. The third year anniversary for some reason hit me particularly hard.

Q) Where did you come up with the concept of completing Deana’s life?

A) The idea of completing her life in written form was something I became compelled to do. I wove a fascinating storyline with all her positive attributes and created a great novel.

Q) Do you believe a person could actually make a deal with God? Is that something you think could be a possibility?

A) The only way I think a person can get a second chance at life is via the grace and mercy of God. That is the way I wrote the book.  That is why the book has its title.

Q) How did you approach the “what might have been” questions regarding her life?

A) I took all of Deana’s amazing aptitudes and rolled them into a mission from God mandate. I wanted to show how much she could have accomplished if it were not for someone’s gross negligence. Within ten years, she drastically and positively influences the lives of over 1000 people. She helps an entire town with her faith, devotion, and life skills.

Q) What was the most difficult part of writing a book that really could have gone anywhere and taken her to great heights or great lows– many of which are outside of the reality of her life?

A) The mandates from God were very difficult and complicated. She told God she would do anything if He would send her back. He forewarns her it will be a difficult life in a take-it-or-leave-it proposition. She takes it, not knowing how tough it will actually be.

Q) It must have been tough for you to write this book. I can imagine it being an emotionally draining experience to write the story of someone you knew and respected so much. How did you personally find the process of writing a book with such an emotional attachment to yourself?

A) I lost twenty-five pounds during the actual three months I wrote the crux of the book. I broke down multiple times, especially writing chapters 11 and 13.

It was a really creative experience, though. I remember once, when I was in my truck on a long drive to a job far away, and a cool story line came to me. It was like a movie playing in my head. It was very engrossing and I starting telling the story to my friends and relatives, and they all loved it. I would spend all day thinking about what I would write that night, write all night, then type and edit it in the morning. I’m sorry to cut this one short– can we reconvene at a later time?

Q) Sure thing, Mike.

A) Thanks

With the interview cut short, you can be sure we will have Michael Haden back again. All I can say is, watch this space. Haden is here to stay.

dealwithgod

“A beautiful book you need to read,” says Nick Wale. Get your copy here!

Jun 21

A Thrilling Friday Freebie!

 

I would like to present something special to you all. Now, you know I am always wonderful to you. Let me ask you… Have you taken the time to read the new bestseller by Ellen Mae Franklin? No? Well… Here’s a whole excerpt from “The Unseen Promise” for you to devour…

Now don’t say I never give you anything! Enjoy!

A spitting gift

Roedanth rocked on the back legs of his chair while inside the palm of his right hand spun a stormy twister.

“Stop that!” spat Knat.

He looked sideways, afraid. Lately, fear was the only thing he felt. It kept him upright and breathing. Fear for breakfast, lunch and dinner. The friendship with Roedanth forced upon him by Kahlu terrified him, for it was tenuous at best. Kahlu had made sure of that. The Fire Sprite’s death had cemented his fate. Silence for obedience. “You will, if you value your hide, befriend this boy, Knat. Watch him, for I want to know his every word, his every step.”

He was in a bucket of trouble and from where he stood the lip of the pail was far from reach.

“You’re a fool, Knat.” Roedanth’s voice broke the young man’s maudlin thoughts.

Knat didn’t offer up a reply. What for? It would have only earned him another snipe. He wondered, not for the first time, if the twisting of Roedanth’s lips were a sneer instead of a smile.

“If you’re caught tampering with stuff you shouldn’t know, it will only bring attention. They’ll take measures, and if that happens then…” Knat’s words were wasted on the back of Roedanth’s head.

Roedanth eyes were fixed on the door at the end of the room. The twister was all but forgotten. It disappeared in a swirl of colours.

“Is it Kahlu? Have we been caught?” whispered the youth, his voice tremouring slightly. It was this way whenever he was forced to speak the Mage’s name.

“You’re pathetic!” pressed his companion.

Knat fell into a sullen silence, dropping his eyes to his lap and the trembling hands it hid. Roedanth slipped to the door and pressed an ear to the wood.

“They’re out there! Come on, I want to see.”

Knat refused to meet his eyes. “I don’t want to get into trouble.”

“There’s no trouble out there, my friend,” he said with a laugh. “Just opportunities.” And like a cavalier thief, Roedanth crept from the room.

Down the passage they snuck, and all the while Knat shivered. Creeping and spying was the work of his master, not his. Still, he slunk along behind the boy, watching and listening. A dangerous light filled Roedanth’s dark eyes. He chuckled low and cruel. The bucket of trouble was full to the brim now and no matter how much Knat foundered about it still felt as though he was drowning.

He caught sight of Mumbunda’s stiff back anddark bun as she turned a corner. He grabbed at the smooth wall and stumbled, hoping more than anything to twist an ankle or to slip and crack his head on the floor. At least then he would have a plausible excuse to stop this lunacy.

Roedanth got to the same corner and peered about. The way forward offered them two choices: another passage and a staircase. The stairwell led to the Mage’s quarters. Forbidden without invitation, to enter would be erroneous. Knat prayed that Roedanth had more sense.

There was no luck in it for Knat. Roedanth flashed his companion a sneer – or was it a smile? Then, as bold as brass, he walked down the staircase. Knat had no choice, so he glumly followed.

“We shouldn’t be here,” he whispered. Every step jangled his nerves. He looked over his shoulder and then down into the forbidden abyss.

Roedanth declined to answerand Knat followed on. Reaching the last step, the boys found themselves in a shadow, concealed for the moment from the occupants of the room. Soft seating and low tables sat neatly on brightly woven rugs. Mumbunda and Litila stood next to the ornate stands holding clay jugs and cups.

Knat’s nerves had the better of him, and he was just about to let out a whimper when Roedanth’s hand grabbed his shoulder. “Don’t make a sound, or you’ll give us both away and you know there’ll be no saving grace if that happens, ’cause I swear, if they don’t skin your skinny carcass, I will.”

Roedanth’s voice was calm; Knat nodded his head and began a silent count. He swore to himself that he would talk to Rani, tell her everything and if he was given the chance, he would throw himself on the High Councilor’s mercy. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to be saved after all.

***

Mumbunda poured herself a drink; cool elderberry wine was a favourite.“My informants have returned with some very disturbing news. They suggest that the Murrdocks are telling us the truth. They report of unrest across the Murkyn River; it’s not reliable for their border is closed to anyone not Murrdock so it’s the best I can do at such short notice.”

Roedanth’s eyes widened in delight, but Knat sagged against the staircase wall. He was a fool to have followed such a dare. Footsteps from the top of the stairs startled the spying pair, and the sharp clicking of hard nails sounded loud in Roedanth’s ears.

Knat swallowed, fearing he would choke on his own spit. As the footfalls neared, the familiar throb Roedanth had learnt to trust thrummed in time with the approaching steps. He welcomed the feel of its sickening ache. Turning, he caught sight of the two advancing Murrdocks.

“We’d better go,” hissed Knat. “If they find us,” and he nodded towards the female Mage.

“We’ll go when I am good and ready.” Roedanth’s insolence only heightened Knat’s fear.

It was all too much; Kahlu could do his own spying. Knat slid silently back up the stairs, wishing the shadows were deeper. He prayed that his heart wouldn’t give way until he had least reached the safety of his own room. Head down, he wanted to be forgotten; Knat turned his face to the wall.

Guventher and Pec stopped.

Defiant, Roedanth remained on his step, glaring at the Murrdocks. Drakite’s spike jangled and moved in a little tighter, the agony flaring. Still he smiled, slick as sweat. Guventher flicked his tongue at the lad, gesticulating, provoking. The smile on Roedanth’s face deepened. A clawed hand reached for a sword, his intention clear.

Pec touched the shoulder of his warrior companion, a reminder to be still. The Prince of Murrdocks pushed up close. Roedanth held his breath. Pec swept past, leaving his man on the stairs.

Guventher’s voice was a grating jibe. “You had best be gone, little man. Your snooping will earn you a lashing of smarting red stripes if I tell the human women you’re spying on their persons.”

Roedanth stood his ground and stared back at the looming beast. The giant Murrdock turned his head to the sound of female laughter.

“Guventher, I don’t know what it is that has you so enamoured on the stairs, but do you think you could spare us all a minute or two of your valuable time?” Pec’s voice was just short of a rumble.

“Scat, human, before I tell.”

Roedanth wanted to hiss back. Fascinated as he was by the reptilian man, the time for reprisals would have to wait. As he stepped into the centre of the stairwell, Drakite‘s newly acquired adherent laughed.

***

“What did they say?” whispered Knat. He sat on the bed, knowing that Roedanth would take the only chair in the room.

“Nothing.” Roedanth almost whined the word.

“Nothing? But I saw the big one talk to you.”

Roedanth knocked a dark strand of hair from his eyes. He was angry and frustrated. It had all been a waste of time. The thrumming in his chest thumped double time. He had learnt not a whit, nothing to use as blackmail. It was most unfair.

“He said nothing. Not a word.” Roedanth seethed.

Knat blinked. “But I saw….”

“Knat! Are you deaf or just plain stupid?” the boy shouted.

Rani’s brother pushed himself off the bed. “You know, Roedanth, I’ve had just about all I can take for one day. If you want to shout, then you can stand in front of that bloody mirror and shout all you like. I for one am not going to hang around to hear any more of it.”

It was a mouthful and long overdue. It felt fantastic. He slammed the door on his way out, enjoying the way it twanged and vibrated down the hall.

***

Litila glided across the floor with all the grace and elegance of a Fey. Her slight frame carried a dangerous air, but she gave Pec the perfect smile. Mumbunda remained seated; she held in her hands a cup of pale blue porcelain, roses and stars decorating its delicate rim. She looked up at the trio, her thick, dark brows furrowed as she watched Litila play the favoured courtesan.

The Fey laid her hand on Pec’s arm, stroking the sleeve of his jacket as they approached the scowling Mumbunda. The dark haired healer sniffed and wrinkled her nose in disapproval. It was one thing to whisper an intimate word or two, but it was another to flirt openly with their guest. What was she thinking?

“My Prince, I hope your room is to your liking. I’ve always favoured the view from the West wing; you can see the ocean from there.” Mumbunda offered Pec the briefest of smiles and then just as quickly, the scowl returned.

“I’ve never much liked the sea, Mistress Mumbunda. My feline side has a dislike for water. The trip alone from Black cove was demanding. I much prefer the view I have, thank you. The standing grove of trees is truly majestic. I have never seen trees the colour of gold before. Truly remarkable.”

Litila beamed, her cheeks flushed a faint pink, obviously pleased with the compliment. “Come and take a seat, sir. Nothing would please me more than to speak of the Goldtips.”

Mumbunda rolled her eyes. “You had better make yourself comfortable, my Prince. Our woodland Fey loves nothing more than to prattle on about her Goldtips.”

“You’re cruel, Mumunda. That tongue of yours… truly you can at times show yourself to be a miserable bore.” Litila’s hand unconsciously strayed to one of her hidden knives.

Pec looked abashed. “I meant no offence, Mistress Mumbunda.” He dipped his head and whispered slyly to Litila. “If it pleases I would be only too happy to see your trees.” His meaning was clear; a dangerous invitation if ever there was one.

Guventher hissed with unceremonious impatience. “My Prince!”

The feline Murrdock straightened and disentangled his arm from the beautiful Fey. Taking a step backwards, he offered her a low bow, bringing his face close to her exquisite one. The smile she gave was an answer to his invitation. Litila nodded. She would bed her purring cat the next time they met – she would make sure of it.

A turn of the head and two pairs of slit eyes met. There was no need for words; the meaning was clear. Pec straightened up, all business. “Ladies.” He still needed to impress, more than ever now. “I would ask a boon. I need to speak to your council again, for we must leave on the tide and there are important words that must be said before I depart.”

Mumbunda placed her cup with due reverence on the table. Her voice was sharp, but there was nothing new there. “Have we offended you, my Prince? Have we dawdled too long in giving you the answer you so hope for? Do you think us idle? I hope not, for if you have, it would be a most unfortunate mistake on…” But she got no further.

Guventher hissed and slammed his tail down onto the floor. The room fell to silence; they all turned to the Reptile Man.

“You dare…!” rumbled Pec.

The warrior pulled up his hood, unconcerned with the rebuke. Hard eyes disappeared into the dark folds and without a sound Guventher moved away, stopping before a gilt-framed painting. It depicted an underwater scene, mermen and spotted seal hunting horn-snouted fish. It was violent yet strangely appealing. His testiness was all but forgotten as he soaked up the watery battle.

The Murrdock Prince studied the Reptile Man’s back for a moment, then turned back to Mumbunda, his mood now suitably jagged. Dismissing Guventher the way he had, in front of humans no less, was unforgivable. He would be made to pay for losing his temper; Guventher would make sure of that.

“Patience, Mistress, plays no part here. My need for calling another forum is driven by something new. Our business in your Halls must conclude by the rising of tomorrow’s sun. I am afraid that I can wait no longer. I must return home.”

Litila’s cheeks reddened, anger replacing the sexual tension that hadbut a short time ago electrified the air. Mumbunda stepped up to the Fey; they were of equal height, short and dark. She reached out and patted Litila’s arm, her touch a comfort to the fiery wood elf. She whispered into a delicate ear. The sourness vanished from the Fey’s beautiful face, and Mumbunda addressed the Murrdocks with equal exigency.

“Very well, it will be as you say. I will leave at once to fetch the others.” It was back to business for the Healer. “Prince Pec, a note of warning, sir. It would be best that you both tread carefully. You see, there are some of us here, within these Halls, whose skin is not as thick as you might think.” Her eyes flashed fire with the warning; although kindly said, that was where the sentiment ended.

“Mistress, I take nothing for grantedand before we convene – just to put your mind at rest as to my motives – I would ask that you accompany meand I will show you why it is that we have to leave.” He was also polite, but like Mumbunda, there was no warmth in the invitation.

***

“Marlo! Be quick will you, and fetch Juno. Tell him the council has been summoned. The Venerable is where he can find us. You’re not to say a word, only press that it is urgent.” Mumbunda’s probing stare had her student nodding; he had learned long ago to trust the small woman’s sharp tongue and quick wit. “I have a most uneasy feeling, Marlo. I don’t know why, but it’s there.” Her eyes searched his. “We should all take heed.”

Again, he nodded.

“Also I need you to find Te’Jou and Pubbula. They too must be told. Marlo, I want them in that room in an hour. No more, do you hear me?”

Marlo bowed and turned, intent on carrying out her orders, but he stopped as he heard his name called.

“By the way, brother, I think it would be prudent that we ask Kahlu to join us. It wouldn’t do to leave him from this meeting.” Her scowl was back; deep groves lined Mumbunda’s forehead, making her appear older than her thirty-two years.

She would have been beautiful if it had not been for those lines, thought Marlo. “Of course, Mistress.” He bowed again, unexpectedly. The slight upturn of her mouth ghosted a smile at the honour.

“Be off with you then,” she murmured, pleased beyond words for such gallantry.

He was half way down the corridor when she almost shouted. “And Marlo?”

He turned his head.

“Be careful.”

The tall, shaggy headed Mage smiled.

*****************************************************************************************************************************

Pick up your copy of “The Unseen Promise” today!