Pavarti K. Tyler - My life of Books and Beauty

Walking Pneumonia 2 - Pav 0

2012-01-04T08:43:00.001-05:00

What's walking pneumonia you ask? Well, please, let me show you this illustration which looks almost as gross as I feel:

See there, in the second picture? How there's gunk and green and nastiness and inflamed and red lung tissue? Yep, that's me.

After feeling like crap and developing yet another fever I went to the Dr. It seems the last round of antibiotics (prescribed Dec 5th FYI) didn't kill whatever is living in my head. Now I have pills large enough to be given to horses and steroids to try and get me better. Isn't that fantastic? Actually, I'm only kind of kidding. After 8 weeks of feeling like I had no energy, no patience, no focus and no ability to just get the fuck over it, it's kind of a relief to know that there really has been something wrong.

So now, I'm down for the count again. Trying to sit at my desk and hammer out some work. I haven't written anything in over a month thanks to my energy level and although I have the next section of 2MOS I need to do all plotted out I feel like I'm underwater all the time, so it will have to wait.

On a more exciting note, after 3 days of not being able to hear, the pressure in my right ear finally popped. All I can say is ewww.

The Year Ahead

2012-01-01T09:58:00.001-05:00

2011 was about as awesome as it could have hoped to be. My personal tax business grew, my kids thrived, my writing took off and Two Moons of Sera hit the streets running. Plus I've started working for Novel Publicity and made some really amazing writer friends who are supportive, giving and talented.

So, what can we hope out of 2012? Oh shit, it's going to be epic!

Already on Jan 1st Two Moons of Sera Part II has been released on Amazon, Smashwords and Nook. If you already purchased a copy, you can go download the update for FREE. If you haven't, than go get your copy now. Parts I and II are only $1.49.

March 1st will bring the release of Part III at the price of $1.99. Right now I'm anticipating a minimum of 6 parts before we're done, so enjoy the ride!

In May I will be releasing Shadow on the Wall in paperback, ebook and limited edition hard cover. Watch for excerpts, news and opportunities to win an Advanced Copy. Shadow is already gaining a lot of attention online and in traditional media and is one of the top 100 anticipated books of 2012 on GoodReads. This is the first book of The SandStorm Chronicles. Book Two - Prisoners of the Wind is tentatively scheduled for 2013.

Toward the end of 2012 I am hoping to release DEVOUR. This story has been a long time coming and has earned me the title of "one fucked up puppy." I can't wait to hear what you think of it :)

2012 will also mark the 4th year of my private accounting firm - www.fightingmonkey.com. I'm looking forward to a great year, professionally and personally.

Happy writing my friends - what are your goals this year?

Hello 2012. Goodbye World! A Guest Post by Emlyn Chand

2011-12-27T09:22:00.000-05:00

Only 99 cents this week.

And as part of the blog tour there are a ton of $ prizes to win, more about that at the bottom of this post.

About Farsighted: Alex Kosmitoras may be blind, but he can still “see” things others can’t. When his unwanted visions of the future begin to suggest that the girl he likes could be in danger, he has no choice but to take on destiny and demand it reconsider. Farsighted is the winner of the 2011 Dragonfly eBook Awards. Get it on Amazon or Barnes & Noble.

About the Author: Emlyn Chand has always loved to hear and tell stories, having emerged from the womb with a fountain pen grasped firmly in her left hand (true story). When she’s not writing, she runs a large book club in Ann Arbor and is the president of author PR firm, Novel Publicity. Emlyn loves to connect with readers and is available throughout the social media interweb. Visit her on her website, Twitter, Facebook, or GoodReads.

Hello 2012. Goodbye World! A Guest Post by Emlyn Chand
The New Year is upon us. And if the Mayans were right, so is the apocalypse. Oh, man… Just when Earth was getting good.

Well if I’m going to go by flame, flood, meteoric collision, or zombie uprising, I think it’s best to be prepared. No, not with a flame retardant unitard or a well-equipped cross bow, but with mental resolution—with a calm acceptance of humanity’s plight.

Consider this a combo suicide note/ Dear John letter to the world. I might as well get a few final words in (just in case those Mayans knew what they were talking about). Pfffhew, here goes…

Dear World,

I wish I didn’t have to write this letter. We’ve been together some twenty-seven years, and that’s a long time. Sure, we’ve had our clashes. You’ve sent a fair share of inclement weather my way. Remember that thunder storm when the tree almost broke through the window of my apartment? I was so scared. That was totally not cool on your part. And tornados? I mean what’s that about. Control your temper!

But I know I’ve hurt you too. I’ve been frivolous with your resources and have sometimes even—gasp—littered. I bought a V6 when I could’ve bought a hybrid. In fact, I think my carbon footprint is a size 12 at least—and that’s a size you have to special order at the shoe store. Yeah, I’m not saying I’m perfect. We all do things we regret, but Earth, you know I love you, right? That’s why it’s so difficult saying what I have to say…

We can’t be together anymore. I’ve heard talk of a major problem. They say you’re going to die a horrific death, and since I count on you for protection, I’m gonna die too. I’d like to say we’ll be together in the next world, but do planets go to Heaven? I can’t say for certain, so I think I should say goodbye instead.

We’ve had a good run, you and I. And I never regret having loved you. How I wish I could save us both, but who am I to interfere with an ancient prophecy?

I’ll miss the way you spill light through my closed blinds in the early morning, gently telling me it’s time to start my day. And I’ll remember fondly the way the ground smells after a restorative rain shower—the way the pitter patter on my skin prickles like teensy weensy fingers giving me a massage, the way the earthworms come out of the ground and dance on the pavement. The songs of birds in the morning are my favorite; they always sound so happy. I wish I understood the lyrics to their upbeat symphony so that I could join in with them. And ice cream? I’ll give you credit for that, because the cows are yours, the vanilla bean is yours, the sugar is yours. The taste is magnificent! To never feel that icy sensation arouse my taste buds again is such a great shame.

I’m tearing up now just thinking about all our good times together. I hope you’ll remember me with the same fondness. No matter what happens, I will ALWAYS love you.

Now it’s time to say goodbye. Go out with a smile,

To Win the Prizes

Purchase your copy of Farsighted for just 99 cents on Amazon or Barnes & Noble
Fill-out the form on Novel Publicity to enter for the prizes
Visit today’s featured event; you may win an autographed copy of the book or a $50 gift card!
BONUS: If you leave a comment on this blog post, you have another chance at $100!
DOUBLE BONUS: If I receive more comments than any other blogger, *I* win $100.

The Featured Events include:

Monday, a guest blog on Novel Publicity! Emlyn kicks off the tour on the Novel Publicity Free Advice blog by discussing her brightly burning passion for books in a guest post entitled “My journey through the pages and toward a life-long love of reading.” One commenter will win an autographed copy of Farsighted.
Tuesday, Twitter sharing contest! A tweet is tiny, only 140 characters. But on Tuesday, it could win you $50. An autographed copy of Farsighted is also up for grabs. Here’s the tweet: Looking for a fun read to round out your holiday break? The paranormal YA hit Farsighted is just 99 cents! http://ow.ly/81Dt1 #whirlwind
Wednesday, Google+ sharing contest! Yup, there’s yet another awesome opportunity to win a $50 Amazon gift card, and this time it just takes a single click! Visit Google+ and share Emlyn Chand’s most recent post (you’ll see the Stay Farsighted book cover included with it). An autographed copy of Farsighted is also up for grabs.
Thursday, Facebook sharing contest! Stop by Novel Publicity’s Facebook page and share their latest post (you’ll see the Farsighted book cover included with it). An autographed copy of Farsighted is also up for grabs.
Friday, special contest on the author’s site! Are you ready for some more fun? Take a picture of yourself with your copy of Farsighted either in paperback or on an eReading device, then post it to Emlyn Chand’s Facebook page or email a copy to author@emlynchand.com. You just way win one of three Amazon gift cards! A $100 prize will go to the photo with the most interesting setting (so put your holiday travel time to work for you). Another $50 will go the funniest photo, and one more prize of $50 will go the scariest photo—this is a paranormal YA book after all. An autographed copy of Farsighted will go to one randomly selected entrant. For more details about this contest, please visit www.emlynchand.com.

Piece by Piece, Step by Step - Why Two Moons of Sera is a serial novel #2MOS

2011-12-21T09:42:00.001-05:00

My novel Two Moons of Sera is being released as a serial novel. Part I came out on November 1st and Part II is being released on Jan 1st, just in time for the New Year! For those who bought Part I remember, you can download all of the following instalments for free. If you haven't you'll pay more for Part II but you'll get the rest for free, and so on and so forth.

This is a very old approach to publishingthat I'm gambling will make the experience of reading 2MOS more engaging,dynamic and fun.

In the 1800s, most popular fiction was released in serialformat, either individually or as part of a magazine. Even Charles Dickens released a number of hisnovels this way and more recently Steven King published The Plant as a serial. The reasons for this vary from economic tocultural. However, publishing in thismanner meant two things: 1 - The reader had to wait between sections and 2 -The author had to write in a manner that would make the reader want more.

Arabian Nights Painting by Yvonne Ayoub

Arabian Nights is based around the idea of a serialnovel. For 1001 nights Scheherazadeentertained King Shahriyar by tellinghim stories. When the story ended, shewas sure to be executed. By continuingthe story and ending each night with a cliff hanger she managed to keep himenthralled and willing to extend her life for just one more night.

Quite a bit of talent that would take, to tell an engagingstory that ends in just the right place to make you want more!

Some may think this publishing style is a scheme to makemore money, making readers pay for each new section. For me, this has nothing to do with it. The final ebook will be $4.99. However, if you purchase it now it is only$0.99. You will have to wait for eachupdate but the rest of the book will be yours to download completely free ofcharge.

My reasoning for doing this is so that early readers of Two Moons of Sera are rewarded for going on this adventure with me. As each volume is added the price willincrease, mean that those who come to the story later won't get the same greatprice and experience as those who buy it now.

It is my hope that by releasing Two Moons of Sera in this manner the reader will be able to engage and losethemselves in the story: live in and experience it more fully. I for one am likely to devour a book. I read the entire Twilight Saga in one week. That's an astronomical number of pages. But what happens is you miss details andforget plots, all in the interest of consuming the story.

While I hope that you love 2MOS so much you want to read itall at once, I also want to invite you to review, comment, twitter or emailabout it. Join me in the Super Secret 2MOS Insiders Fan Page (you can only get in by following the link at the end ofthe ebook so grab a copy and join the fun).

Two Moons of Sera is a special book, it's a journey that I'm thrilled to haveyou accompany me on. I hope that byreleasing it in parts, we will have the chanceto experience the characters and plots deeply and together.

Interview with Author Jess C Scott

2011-12-20T09:01:00.000-05:00

Please welcome the adorable, beautiful and funny Jess C Scott to my blog today. I was able to interview her recently and after talking to her I think I might have a little crush. Check her out and leave a comment, I know she'll love to hear from you :)

Pav: Hi! Introduce yourself to our friendly readers!:

JCS: Hello! I usually introduce myself as an author/artist/non-conformist. My goal as a writer is to create original stories that are both entertaining and meaningful.

Pav: What genre do you write?

JCS: I write in a range of different genres [YA fiction, contemporary fiction, erotic literature, cyberpunk, poetry, new media, and Christian Fiction (upcoming)]. Regardless of the genre, most of my work is fueled by an intense drive to inspire others to favor social/spiritual values over shallow values, and to encourage others to dare to create their own realities (instead of what the mainstream media tells us "is right" based on what's currently "popular").

Pav: What inspired you to write this story?

JCS: I'm currently completing Sven, an incubus-themed novella. I've always liked the interplay between sexual and spiritual energy. Both are very potent as creative forces, and respecting these two departments (sex and spirituality) allows me to explore and navigate new directions with many projects.

Pav: Can you give us a taste? Maybe a paragraph from your book?

JCS: Sure--here's the opening paragraph (from Sven):

"Sven was right up at the edge of Chelsea Church’s bed. He knew all her secrets--he’d been watching the Teen Queen for a while, since a couple of years ago, during his earliest days as an incubus. She had been through so much--so, so, much--and her demons were catching up with her."

Pav: What do you think your books say about you?

JCS: I think they reflect my goal(s) and drive(s) as a writer ;)

Pav: What are you reading right now?

JCS: I'm reading a couple of astrology books, a non-fiction military book, and a whole bunch of other books (both print and on Kindle). I have George Orwell, John Ruskin, and Nietzsche somewhere in the list. And The Intimate Sex Lives of Famous People by David Wallechinsky and Amy Wallace. It's very witty and informative--a real riot!

Pav: Who are your favorite authors?

JCS: Too many to list, but some of the mainstays are: Edgar Allan Poe, Oscar Wilde, Shakespeare, Roald Dahl, Anaïs Nin, Vladimir Nabokov, Leo Tolstoy, John Ruskin, Ambrose Bierce, John Keats, D. H. Lawrence, Emily Dickinson, William Blake, Ryokan, Ikkyu, Sappho, J. G. Ballard, Vivian Vande Velde, Jane Yolen, Diana Wynne Jones...

Pav: OMG I love Anais Nin and DH Lawrence too, her essays about his work were amazing. Now I'm really curious, what is your current project?

JCS: I'm currently completing the Naked Heat anthology (incubus/succubus-themed), The Cyberpunk Elven Trilogy (urban fantasy/cyberpunk), and an ongoing YA "seven deadly sins" series. I have a page on my website to keep track of all the various projects.

Pav: What is the best writing advice you’ve ever received?

JCS: Read. Write. Repeat.

Pav: Where can people connect with you online?
JCS:
Twitter
Facebook
Website
Blog
Goodreads

Pav: What format does your book(s) come in.

JCS: Print and eBook
Amazon
Smashwords
Barnes & Noble
Other

Pav: Any other links or info you'd like to share?

JCS: Thanks so much for hosting me today--and to readers, thanks for taking the time to check out this interview!

Pav: And now in the tradition of all good interviews I will ask some random questions:
Chocolate or Vanilla?

JCS: Chocolate all the way (even with the breakouts).

Pav: Beach or Mountains?

JCS: Mountain beach resort.

Pav: Erotica or Romance?

JCS: I like erotica that focuses on the erotic life (not pornography), and romance that focuses on a love story (not emotional lust).

Pav: Force or Persuade?

JCS: Persuade. It's more charming and challenging ;)

Pav: Pluto: Planet or Satelite?

JCS: Planet (I'm an enthusiastic student of astrology!).

Pav: I'm totally with you, Team Pluto forever! Thanks for stopping by Jess!

Autism and the fun or organizing a Ninja

2011-12-15T11:20:00.001-05:00

Ninjas, by their very nature, are untamable creatures of incredible power. They cannot be contained, they cannot be tied down, they cannot be limited. Their powers of persuasion, imagination and stealth are unparalleled in the world of elementary school. To deny this or fight against it is unwise and only undertaken with the knowledge you are beginning on a journey of great peril.

And yet - third graders have to turn in their damn homework.

"Oh," the ninja responds when I remind her of this for the 17 thousandth time.

Yesterday midquarter progress reports came home with asterisk marks for incomplete work abounding. You can imagine how frustrating this is when I check her homework every night. I even write notes to her teacher outlining what has been done and asking for copies of incomplete work so we can complete it. Tragically, working with Ninja handlers is much like herding cats. They're great with the ninjas but not easy to focus on the parents.

This morning I went into the classroom with the progress report and sat behind the Ninja's desk, digging around through piles of throwing stars and swords hoping to find something to write with. Note, this was at the work table. Ninja's desk was actually a smidge better organised.

Finally, after much heavy lifting and a few minor injuries I found the missing assignments. I marked on the progress report what I was including, what I had for her to do and what I needed more clarification on. I wrote a page long letter explaining what I'd done and instructed the little ninja to keep everything in her binder, not take it out upon pain of seppuku.

Will it work? Who knows, Ninjas have their own way of doing things, now if we could just get the adults organised...

The Importance of Music and how it Inspired In Leah's Wake - by Terri Long

2011-12-13T07:58:00.000-05:00

Before we get into the official post, I'd just like to say that anyone who has Mother Love Bone and Bruce Springsteen on the same soundtrack is okay in my book. Terri, we clearly don't spend enough time together!
Pav

As part of this special promotional extravaganza sponsored by Novel Publicity, the price of the In Leah’s Wake eBook edition has dropped to just 99 cents this week.

What’s more, by purchasing this fantastic book at an incredibly low price, you can enter to win many awesome prizes, including Amazon gift cards of up to $500 in amount and 5 autographed copies of the book. Be sure to enter before the end of the day on Friday, December 16th, so you don’t miss out.

About In Leah’ Wake: The Tyler family had the perfect life – until sixteen-year-old Leah decided she didn’t want to be perfect anymore. While her parents fight to save their daughter from destroying her brilliant future, Leah’s younger sister, Justine, must cope with the damage her out-of-control sibling leaves in her wake. What happens when love just isn’t enough? Get it on Amazon or Barnes & Noble.

Soundtrack from In Leah’s Wake

Leah's Wake Soundtrack by Pavarti K Tyler on Grooveshark

What’s the Story, Morning Glory?

The Importance of Music and how it Inspired In Leah’s Wake

Although I find it too distracting to listen to music while I write, inspiration for my stories often arises from music. While I was writing In Leah’s Wake, songs brought me into the emotional state necessary to write difficult scenes. Songs set a mood, which helped me envision places, and songs helped me to identify and shape the book’s themes.

The novel opens with Zoe and Will listening to the Van Morrison song “Tupelo Honey,” a sweet love song that gives their relationship context by suggesting happier, better days. “Showdown at Big Sky,” which Will puts on the stereo next, foreshadows the problems on the horizon, and “Face in the Crowd” speaks to the profound loneliness Will feels as he waits up for Leah that night, imaging all the unthinkable horrors that might have befallen his daughter.

Later in the book, the song “Don’t Cry For Me Argentina,” from Evita, gave me a glimpse into Zoe’s fractured emotional state—remorse compelled by abiding love—as she drives home, wondering what to expect next from her rebellious teenage daughter: “I still need your love after all that I’ve done . . . I love you and I hope you love me . . .” “Stardog Champion” from Stardog Champion by Mother Love Bone, suggests power, so appropriate to the post-fight euphoria felt by Todd and Lupo after a showdown with Will.

Often, songs transport me to a place. Listening to Miles Davis one evening brought me, in my mind, to the coffeehouse Zoe visits with the policeman, Jerry Johnson. Music also helps me to clarify themes. One night, on our way home from dinner, my husband, Dave, played the Bruce Springsteen album Greetings From Asbury Park. The song “Growin’ Up” struck a nerve and I insisted on listening to it over and over. I saw Leah, a good kid, just trying to grow up and make her way in the world.

I heard “Champagne Super Nova,” from the Oasis CD What’s the Story? Morning Glory, when I stepped out of the shower one morning. Our house was wired for sound and Dave was playing the new CD he’d just bought. As with “Growin’ Up,” I insisted that he replay the song, and then replay it again. The pivotal scene, where Justine asks Leah for a cigarette and Leah allows her little sister to smoke, blossomed as I listened to the music.

As I wrote, music came to play a defining role in the book, and I would often search for the right music after writing a scene. The Liszt piano solo “Hungarian Rhapsodies” mirrors Zoe’s frenzied mind as she drives home from her motivational workshop, the day after Leah shows up drunk at 3:00 a.m., after a wild party. The same happened with “Paranoid Android,” from Okay Computer by Radiohead, “I’m On Fire,” from the Bruce Springsteen album Born in the USA, “Stardog Champion,” from Stardog Champion by Mother Love Bone, “I Loves You Porgy” from Porgy and Bess, and “Misguided Angel,” from The Trinity Session by the Cowboy Junkies.

Without music, In Leah’s Wake would be a very different – and for me, the writer, much less compelling book.

For those of you who, like me, find inspiration in music, here’s the soundtrack. Enjoy!

About the Author: Terri Giuliano Long grew up in the company of stories both of her own making and as written by others. Books offer her a zest for life’s highs and comfort in its lows. She’s all-too-happy to share this love with others as a novelist and a writing teacher at Boston College. She was grateful and thrilled beyond words when her award-winning debut literary novel, In Leah’s Wake, hit the Barnes and Noble and Amazon bestseller lists in August. She owes a lot of wonderful people – big time! – for any success she’s enjoyed! Visit her on her website, Twitter, Facebook, or GoodReads.

Song Listing Behind Cut

Soundtrack from In Leah’s Wake

“Growin’ Up,” Greetings From Asbury Park, NJ, Bruce Springsteen, Sony Records, 1972
“Tupelo Honey,” Tupelo Honey, Van Morrison, Polydor/Pgd, 1971
“Showdown At Big Sky,” Robbie Robertson, Robbie Robertson, Universal Int’l, 1987
“A Face In The Crowd,” Full Moon Fever, Tom Petty , MCA, 1989
“John Barleycorn,” John Barleycorn Must Die, Traffic, Island Records, 1970
“Not A Pretty Girl,” Not a Pretty Girl, Ani DiFranco, Righteous Babe, 1995
Hungarian Rhapsodies, Franz Liszt, Leslie Howard solo piano, Hyperion, 1999
“Testify,” The Battle of Los Angeles, Rage Against The Machine, Sony Records, 1999
“Don’t Cry for Me Argentina,” Evita (Music From The Motion Picture), Madonna, Warner Bros./WEA, 1996
“The Ride of the Valkyries,” Wagner Without Words, Conducted by George Szell, Performed by the Cleveland Orchestra, Sony Records, 1991
“Chase The Blues Away,” Morning Glory: The Tim Buckley Anthology, Tim Buckley, Elektra/ WEZ, 1966
“Champagne Supernova,” (What’s the Story) Morning Glory?, Oasis, Sony, 1995
“The Candy Shop,” The Massacre, Fifty Cent, Aftermath, 2005
“Vital Transformation,” Inner Mounting Flame, The Mahavishnu Orchestra Jazz, Sony 1971
“Strawberry Fields Forever,” Magical Mystery Tour, The Beatles, Capitol Records, 1967
“Mozart Violin Concerto No. 5,” Mozart: The Five Violin Concertos by Itzhak Perlman violin, Weiner Philharmoniker and James Levine, Deutsche Grammophon, 1995
“Surrey With The Fringe on Top,” Steamin, Mile Davis, Prestige, 1956
“Come As You Are,” Nevermind, Nirvana, Geffen Records, 1991
“Paranoid Android,” Okay Computer, Radiohead, Capitol Records, 1997
“I’m On Fire,” Born in The USA, Bruce Springsteen, Sony, 1984
“Stardog Champion,” Stardog Champion, Mother Love Bone, Mercury/Universal, 1992
“I Loves You, Porgy,” The Melody At Night With You, Keith Jarrett, EMC Records, 1900
“Hasta Siempre, Witchi-Tai-To, Jan Garbarek and Bobo Stenson Quartet, EMC, 1973 Records
“As The Years Go Passing By,” Born Under a Bad Sign, Albert King, Stax, 1967
“Misguided Angel,” The Trinity Session, Cowboy Junkies, RCA Records, 1988
“Davidian,” Burn My Eyes, Machine Head, Roadrunner Records, 1994
“Here I Am, Lord,” Wonder, Love, and Praise, Daniel Schutte, New Dawn Music, 1981

To Win the Prizes

Purchase your copy of In Leah’s Wake for just 99 cents on Amazon or Barnes & Noble
Fill-out the form on Novel Publicity to enter for the prizes
Visit today’s featured event; you may win an autographed copy of the book or a $50 gift card!
BONUS: If you leave a comment on this blog post, you have another chance at $100!

The Featured Events include:

Monday, Radio Interview with Novel Publicity! We’re kicking-off on the Novel Publicity Free Advice blog. We interviewed Terri on our radio show Sunday night and have embedded the full podcast and blogged about its highlights. Give it a listen and then leave a comment on the blog post. This is a great chance to get to know more about this inspiring and friendly author. One commenter will win an autographed copy of In Leah’s Wake. Don’t forget to enter for the other contest prizes while you’re over there!
Tuesday, Twitter sharing contest! A tweet is tiny, only 140 characters. But on Tuesday, it could win you $50. Send the following tweet across the twittersphere, and you just may win a $50 Amazon gift card. An autographed copy of In Leah’s Wake is also up for grabs. The winner will be announced Wednesday morning. Here’s the tweet: In Leah’s Wake has taken the publishing world by storm. Get the book for just 99 cents http://ow.ly/7ywpZ #whirlwind
Wednesday, Google+ sharing contest! Yup, there’s yet another awesome opportunity to win a $50 Amazon gift card, and this time it just takes a single click! Visit Google+ and share Emlyn Chand’s most recent post (you’ll see the In Leah’s Wake book cover included with it). On Thursday morning, one lucky sharer will be $50 richer. An autographed copy of In Leah’s Wake is also up for grabs. Three chances to win! How about that?
Thursday, Facebook sharing contest! Stop by Novel Publicity’s Facebook page and share their latest post (you’ll see the In Leah’s Wake book cover included with it). It’s ridiculously easy to win! On Friday morning, one lucky sharer will be $50 richer. An autographed copy of In Leah’s Wake is also up for grabs.
Friday, special contest on the author’s site! Win a $500 Amazon gift card, simply by leaving a comment on Terri’s most recent blog post. Yup, you read that correctly—$500! How easy is that? An autographed copy of In Leah’s Wake is also up for grabs.

#SampleSunday - Two Moons of Sera Prologue

2011-12-11T09:42:00.001-05:00

Prologue

Nilafayran, slipping on the unfamiliar terrain, desperate to reach water.The rocks dug into the thin flesh of her webbed feet, cutting herskin. This place was so foreign despite being only miles from herhome. Never had she seen the sun so bright or felt the moistureevaporate directly off her skin; she was sure she would die from thecruelty of the atmosphere.

It was difficult to navigate her way through the wilderness, but nowshe breathed in the familiar briny scent of home. She licked herlips, seeking relief from the dryness before stepping out of the treeline and onto the rocky beach. The sun overwhelmed her sensitiveeyes. She slid thin, clear membranes over her eyes. She had alwaysconsidered them vestigial, before coming above water to the Erdland.

She moved forward, wincing as the heat of the sun burned her delicateforehead. Her irises retracted and for a moment she was blinded, butshe could smell and taste the salt in the air, leading her to thewater. The rest of Nilafay’s senses were on high alert, hereardrums straining to feel the vibrations of distant voices.

Frantic to reach the surf, she slipped and ripped open her shin. Shebit down on her lip, refusing to cry out or shed a tear. She was donecrying. Nilafay heard them calling from further back in the forest;the hunters who had seduced her with offers of friendship and a worldunlike any she had seen before. They were closing in, the creaturesthey commanded following her scent, leading their masters closer. Sheshivered at the memory of their strange hair covered bodies. At firstshe had been intrigued by the animals with the eyes of men, but whenshe learned that they were there not to befriend her but to guard andcage her she resented their tracking gaze.

Nilafay stood and resumed her pitch toward the coast line, pressingthrough the throbbing in her leg. The sensitive myomere muscles ofher body were unaccustomed to impact injury. The hunters approachedthe tree line noisily, making no attempt to hide their arrival. Shedropped to her knees. Her iridescent white flesh shone in the morningsun, its lack of pigment reflecting the bright light beating down onher. The rocky beach offered no asylum.

The men grew louder, closer with each passing moment, speaking theirgruff language. She understood only a few words. But what she didunderstand terrified her: “net, experiment, animal, project,cage...”

Please, just let me get to the water…

Available Now

The Limits of Love - An Author's Main Resource Runs Out

2011-12-10T11:21:00.001-05:00

When I left professional theatre I realized something very important. It was a lesson I had learned through some really difficult times with my now husband through college and into our early marriage. I have a limited capacity for love. I know that sounds terrible. But it's true, my resources are capped. It's like I have 100 grams of love per day and once they're used, there are no more to pull from.

Working in theatre I had to invest as much of that love as I could. Love for the art, love for the actors and techies, love for the space, the story, the message. If I have 100 grams of love a day, working in theatre required at least 80 grams, sometimes as much as 120 to get through the day. So when I got home, that was it, I was cooked, I had nothing left to give.

I'm All Out Of Love by Air Supply on Grooveshark

As I'm endeavoring on a new artistic outlet I'm working hard to try and not let this happen. My natural state is to pour everything I have into whatever I'm focused on. I'm a tab obsessive and can be what Buck Boom calls "a hobby hoarder." I'm fighting this and trying to keep my priorities where I want them to be: balanced. But sometimes, I get lost and I find I can't give anymore.

Today I'm feeling particularly drained. I don't know if it's still the lingering illness or the fatigue from the Blog Tour or the excitement of my new job with Novel Publicity, but I'm definitely slipping in my love reservoir. I've let friendships slip and family fall below the acceptable line of focus. I knew I was doing this and my friends and family have been amazingly supportive and understanding. But now it's time to shore up those resources and remember what's important.

I love writing and I love what I'm doing, I love it so much I can get lost. I'm having so much fun and learning every day. Now to find that ethereal balance everyone talks about so I never run out of love again.

Book Snob - The Gaia Wars

2011-12-07T08:44:00.001-05:00

The Gaia Wars by Kenneth G Bennett-

Deadly secrets have been buried in the Cascade mountain wilderness for centuries. Hidden. Out of sight and out of mind.

Until today...

Warren Wilkes, age 13, doesn't like what a greedy housing developer has done to his peaceful mountain community, so he vandalizes the developer's property, flees into the wild, and stumbles upon an ancient human skeleton revealed by torrential rain. More than old bones have been exposed, however, and the curious artifact Warren finds makes him question his own identity, and his connection to an ancient terror. A terror destined to rise again and annihilate all that Warren loves. He must fight or see his whole world destroyed.

Disclosure: I received a copy of the The Gaia Wars from the author in exchange for an honest review. This was done in collaboration with the Blog Tour organised by Novel Publicity. While I am an employee of Novel Publicity I have never worked with Kenneth Bennett and have received no incentives or income for reading or reviewing this book.

Review: The Red Badge of Courage can suck lemons. The Gaia Wars should be what's taught in schools! I'm going to buy a copy of this and the sequel for my daughters' school library. I'm not kidding.

Neither Fantacy or Sci-Fi The Gaia Wars does what every good book does. It makes you think. The genre is irrelevant because the writing and meaning of the story transcend whatever box you might want to put it into. In reality this is a work of literature, it just happens to be aimed for younger readers.

Typically I dislike MG and YA literature (as you know) so it's quite a feat for someone to impress me so completely with a book for this audience. However Bennett managed to do it. His book is not only well written but it's a story that has to be told the way he did. If it wasn't YA it would lose some of the innocence and wonder which make the world of Warren Wilkes so compelling

There's a new genre I've been hearing about called #EcoFantasy and it's a really interesting idea. While Bennett doesn't use this term I think it's completely appropriate. Here we have a thoughtful book which compels the reader to think about the world they live in. While the focus is on eco issues, it is not a call to arms or some kind of manifesto, it's simply a well written story which creates space for the reader to grow and learn.

Books change how we look at the world. I grew up with The Handmaid's Tale to shape my psyche and politics. My children with grow up with The Gaia Wars, and I couldn't be happier.

2011-12-06T09:15:00.000-05:00

Today we are being visited by the lovely Mary Corbett! This is an interview she did talking about her newest release National Guard 101. This isn't the kind of thing I usually post, but it's really a unique publication. I hope you enjoy!

Book description: National Guard 101 is the only military lifestyle book written specifically for the National Guard audience. Corbett's unique book covers a broad range of topics, from practical knowledge about the history of the National Guard and understanding rank to softer subjects like social life in the Guard and family programs. Corbett also details the benefits and assistance resources available to Guard families and guides readers through the process of setting up a Personal Assistance League (PAL) to provide support during deployment.

Written in a lively and informal style, National Guard 101: A Handbook for Spouses demystifies the Guard's unique hybrid civilian-military lifestyle. It is a must-read book for every National Guard family member.

How did you choose the title of your book?
MC: The titles of both my books were the "working titles" I used in the original query letters and proposals. I am a big fan of calling things what they are versus trying to be too clever. Mission accomplished.What obstacles did you encounter in getting this book published? How did you overcome them?

MC: Oh Lord--so many obstacles. The book is very niche. But the "niche" is a huge audience that is easy to target. Still, the publisher of my first book had to pass on it because it just didn't fit in with their strategic place in the market. My agent found a smaller publisher that specialized in military and history titles. Unfortunately,the project was orphaned when the editor left and never got back on track. I had to go through the process of ending that contract. By that time, my agent had retired and my new agent didn't know if she could sell the project to her usual non-fiction editors. I didn't find this out until months after submitting the manuscript. A few months later, a proponent of the project who worked for the National Guard Bureau approached me about publishing the book through their organization. Then she retired. Fortunately, the feedback was so positive and the product so close to being completed--I was motivated to press on. It had been two years since I queried publishers

Most people are familiar with the four branches of the United States Armed Services: Army, Navy, Marines, and Air Force. Can you explain to our readers how the National Guard fits into our military?
MC: Across all branches, military members belong either to the active component or the reserve component. The United States National Guard (USNG) and the United States Army Reserve (USAR) are reserve components of the U.S. Army. The National Guard serves a dual mission: providing each state with trained and equipped units to protect life and property, and providing the nation with units that are ready to defend the United States at home and abroad. Each state has its own National Guard, under the control of the Governor (although the President of the United States can request the services of the Guard). Members of the Guard typically serve part-time, except when they are activated to full-time duty. The National Guard is the oldest component of the United States Armed Forces and will celebrate its 375th birthday on December 13, 2011.

What prompted you to write National Guard 101: A Handbook for Spouses?
MC: I married my husband -- a long time member of the Minnesota National Guard -- in 2000. Although I had family members who had served in the military, I had zero experience with military protocol or culture. The only thing I knew about the National Guard, at that time, was "one weekend a month, two weeks in the summer." After moving to Georgia in 2001, followed by my husband’s deployment to Guantanamo in 2002, I realized that although I had never considered myself one, I was, indeed, a military wife. I spent a lot of time searching the internet looking for information to help me understand my role as a Guard spouse. I found that much of the information available was targeted toward active-duty spouses who lived on military bases with a completely different lifestyle. I felt there was definitely a need for a book for National Guard spouses. So I wrote it. National Guard 101 is the only book written specifically for the 162,000 Guard spouses.

Can you explain the differences between being a guardsman and being enlisted in one of the four active military branches?
MC: Guardsmen typically serve the military on a part-time basis and maintain civilian employment. Members of the active component typically serve full-time, military careers. When a Guardsman is activated, they become full-time military personnel and are indistinguishable from their active duty counterparts. They receive the same pay and benefits as active duty soldiers. When they are deactivated, they return to part-time service. It’s also worth nothing that, on average, members of the National Guard are older than their active component counterparts.

How is being a guard spouse different from being an active component spouse?
MC: From a family perspective, the lifestyle difference is night and day. National Guard members and their families live in civilian communities and may live far away from the armory where the soldier trains as well as military installations that provide services to active families. In other words, we don’t live on post. We don’t shop at the Post Exchange regularly. We don‘t have the built-in support structure of other military families close at hand. Often, we can be the only military family in our community. Our soldiers have full-time civilian careers that they must manage. It is challenging in a best-case scenario, but when our soldiers are deployed, our lives are affected in a way that is distinct to the citizen-soldier.

How common is deployment for National Guardsman?
MC: Most National Guard families have experience with long-term, overseas deployments. In 2011, Army Chief of Staff Gen. George W. Casey, Jr. stated that "Every Guard brigade has deployed to Iraq or Afghanistan, and over 300,000 Guardsmen have deployed in this war." Since 9/11, virtually every unit of the National Guard -- a force the size of the entire active Army -- has served on active duty for one or more of the deployments at home or abroad. The last time that the entire National Guard had been mobilized was for World War II.

Do National Guard families face special challenges during deployments?
MC: Because we don’t live on post, it’s likely that our local communities lack familiarity with military experiences, which makes it hard when our soldiers are deployed for long periods of time. While the military provides consistent resources to connect families to military resources during deployments -- Family Readiness Groups and Family Assistance Centers -- it’s really up to us to figure out how to get the support we need to cover down while our soldier is gone. Fortunately, friends, neighbors, and community members are ready and willing to help Guard families.

What is the biggest obstacle a Guard spouse faces during deployment?
MC: Sometimes, WE are our own biggest obstacle. A lot of Guard spouses aren’t used to asking for help and don’t like to do it. My book tells the reader how to find the right person to "do the asking" for them. The end goal is a Personal Assistance League (PAL) made up of friends, family, and community members who are ready, willing, and eager to help throughout the duration of a deployment. A PAL is a robust and official support system with members who are doing small things occasionally. All of this piecemeal assistance adds up to consistent, steadfast assistance.

What is your favorite part about being a National Guard spouse?
MC: I like that I can live in a regular civilian community but also be a part of our great military. I also love attending social events such as annual holiday parties, family day events, and formal banquets and dining outs.

Author Bio: Mary Corbett is a professional writer and National Guard wife. She has appeared on The Today Show, Fox News Channel, local television affiliates, and nationally syndicated radio. Her first book, The List: 7 Ways to Tell if He's Going to Marry You in 30 Days or Less was published in 2005. Corbett lives in Alpharetta, Georgia, with her husband Major Jon Roscoe, ARNG, and their children Holly and William. Visit her website www.marycorbett.com.

To Be Read List

2011-12-05T19:45:00.001-05:00

I am so far behind on my reading. Between only reading ebooks on my phone and trying to write/work in my spare time I've fallen even further behind. My ebook list is ridiculously long and my bookshelf is full of books. And I want to read them all! I'm listing the next 5 books I'm reading in paper and ebooks here. If you aren't listed don't assume you aren't on my list, I just can't put them all here. You can see why I'm closed to reviews for new books. There are just so many good books out there!

Paperbacks:

The Gaia Wars by Kenneth Bennett (half done!)
FarSighted by Emlyn Chand
The Mers by Ami Blackwelder and Jennifer Bradford
Doxology by Brian Holers
Birth Right by Sue Mydiak (I can't find it on Amazon :( )
and more

Ebooks:

Spell Checked by C.G. Powell (
Fall into Winter by Eden Baylee
The Softwire: Virus on Orbis 1 by PJ Haarsma
God in the Machine by Thea Atkinson
Caleo by james crawford
and more including Forbidden Mind by Kimberly Kinrade, Pandora's Grave by Stephen England, Stuck by Lissette E Manning, Fireflies by Lacey Reah, 30 Pieces of Silver by Carolyn McCray, Excuse Me, My Brains Have Stepped out by Pandora Poikilos, The Sonbird Under a German Moon by Tricia Goyer, Jabberwocky by Daniel Coleman, Viridis by Calista Taylor, and The Orchard by Theresa Weir! And more!

Man, do I love books.

The Gaia Wars - Guest Post by Kenneth G Bennett

2011-12-05T08:09:00.001-05:00

I'm in the process of reading The Gaia Wars by Kenneth Bennett, so look for a review later this week. I'm realy enjoying it so far and hoping to pass it on to my Ninja when I'm done (if appropriate). Kenneth's premise and writing style are fantastic and let me tell you, if I was still 13 I'd be totally crushed out on the lead character - Warren Wilkes.

This post is a part of a special promotional extravaganza sponsored by Novel Publicity. The price of The Gaia Wars eBook edition has dropped to just 99 cents this week.

What’s more, by purchasing this fantastic book at an incredibly low price, you can enter to win many awesome prizes, including a Kindle Fire, Amazon gift cards up to $100 in amount, 5 autographed copies of the book, and 5 autographed copies of its recently released sequel, Battle for Cascadia. Be sure to enter before the end of the day on Friday, December 9th, so you don’t miss out.

About The Gaia Wars: DEADLY SECRETS have been buried in the Cascade mountain wilderness for centuries. Hidden. Out of sight and out of mind. Until today… Warren Wilkes, age 13, doesn’t like what a greedy housing developer has done to his peaceful mountain community, so he vandalizes the developer’s property, flees into the wild, and stumbles upon an ancient human skeleton revealed by torrential rain. More than old bones have been exposed, however, and the curious artifact Warren finds makes him question his own identity, and his connection to an ancient terror. A terror destined to rise again and annihilate all that Warren loves. He must fight or see his whole world destroyed.

Book Two Battle for Cascadia is also available!

About the Author: Kenneth G. Bennett is the author of the Young Adult novels The Gaia Wars and Battle for Cascadia (the second book of The Gaia Wars), as well as the forthcoming Exodus 2018, a paranormal thriller set in the Puget Sound region of Washington State. A wilderness enthusiast who loves backpacking, skiing and kayaking, Ken enjoys novels that explore the relationship between humans and the wild. He lives on an island in the Pacific Northwest with his wife and son. Visit him on his website, Twitter, Facebook, or GoodReads.

Now please enjoy this guest post from the author...

HOW A NASA SCIENTIST’S THEORY INSPIRED A PARANORMAL THRILLER

The Gaia Wars is fiction, but it was inspired—at least in part—by The Gaia Hypothesis. This hypothesis, proposed by NASA scientist James Lovelock, states that the Earth—the entire Earth—is a living thing. A vast, “super-organism.”

I read an article about Lovelock’s theory a few years back and thought it was the coolest thing I’d ever heard.

The Earth is alive. Think about it. If Lovelock’s correct, the Earth isn’t simply a chunk of interstellar rock hosting a collection of random ecosystems; it’s a cohesive entity. An organism. A being. I daydreamed about this idea, mulled it over; wondered how it might be incorporated into a novel. And in my imagination, I took the theory to the next level: What if the Earth is not simply alive, I asked, but also sentient?

I did some reading, and discovered that a lot of so-called primitive cultures believed this very thing. Understood it in their bones. Our ancestors were in tune with the planet in ways that we’ve forgotten. They could feel her heartbeat. Interpret her rhythms. They created Earth Goddesses to worship and celebrate.

Gaia (pron. guy-uh) is one of the principal deities of the Greek Pantheon. Other cultures used other names: the Tibetan people called the deity Chomolungma—Goddess Mother of the World. The Sumerians knew her as Ninhursaga. To Mesoamerican peoples she was Tlazolteotl.

A fictitious Pacific Northwest culture called the Denelai is at the center of The Gaia Wars. As readers learn, the ancient Denelai people believed in the Earth goddess so profoundly that she would sometimes appear to them in human form.

At the start of the novel, troubled 13-year-old Warren Wilkes unearths a treasure deep in the Cascade Mountains while fleeing the law, learns about the Denelai and Gaia’s periodic visits, and finds that on one such occasion in 1550 AD, the tribe was attacked and the Earth Goddess wounded. The Indians were slaughtered and Gaia lost her memory and vanished into the wild.

As Warren soon discovers, Gaia is still alive and still trapped in human form. What’s more, the beast that attacked the Indian village 500 years earlier is on it’s way back with an army bred specifically to capture Gaia, unlock her secrets, and seize control of the planet. Warren must fight or see his whole world destroyed.

Readers seem to like the idea of a paranormal thriller with a thinking, feeling Earth at its heart. The feedback has been tremendous. Humbling. Yesterday (November 24, Thanksgiving Day) The Gaia Wars rose to #17 on Amazon’s list of Top 100 Best Sellers in Children’s Action & Adventure. The Second Book of The Gaia Wars, Battle for Cascadia, (just released) is also doing well. A huge thank you to all the wonderful readers giving these books a try!

To Win the Prizes:

Purchase your copy of The Gaia Wars for just 99 cents on Amazon or Barnes & Noble
Fill-out the form on Novel Publicity to enter for the prizes
Visit today’s featured event; you may win an autographed copy of the book or a $50 gift card! (schedule of events below)
BONUS: If you leave a comment on this blog post, you have another chance at $100!

The Featured Events include:

Monday, Blogaganza on Novel Publicity! We’re kicking-off on the Novel Publicity Free Advice blog. We’ll ask the writer 5 fun and random questions to get everyone talking. Leave a comment or question in response to the post, and you may win. Don’t forget to enter for the other contest prizes while you’re over there!
Tuesday, Twitter sharing contest! A tweet is tiny, only 140 characters. But on Tuesday, it could win you $50. Here’s the tweet:

Looking for a YA read that's full of adventure & intrigue? Check out The Gaia Wars. Reduced to just 99 cents http://ow.ly/7ywpZ #whirlwind

Wednesday, Google+ sharing contest! Visit Google+ and share Emlyn Chand’s most recent post (you’ll see The Gaia Wars book cover included with it).
Thursday, Facebook sharing contest! Stop by Novel Publicity’s Facebook page and share their latest post (you’ll see The Gaia Wars book cover included with it).
Friday, special contest on the author’s site! Win a Kindle Fire or a $100 Amazon gift card, simply by leaving a comment on Kenneth’s most recent blog post. How easy is that

Sick Monkey - Sometimes it sucks to be me

2011-12-04T17:43:00.001-05:00

Sometimes it sucks to be me. Ever since I was little I've been relatively sickly. If I was born in an era without antibiotics I would have never made it past infancy. As a kid, I was allergic to gnats, grapes and anything with red dye in it. I've been stung by a hive of wasps (to which I was allergic) and had mono 5 times. Maybe 6. Eventually we lost count. In college I was even hospitalized for pertussis and sent home. As far as I know, no one is ever sent home from college unless they are dying.

Traditionally, anytime I've had an extended period of stress as soon as it's over my immune system goes klaphooey. It's like, I can find the reserves to push through but I cannot handle the let down. It always happens, whether it be work, a theatre production, tax season or something else.

So it was no surprise to any of us that the day after the blog tour for Two Moons of Sera ended I started throwing up. A day in bed should have been sufficient, but I had far too much to do. Now four days later and I'm still a hot mess. Tomorrow I'll go to the dr., see if anti-biotics would be of use this time around.

So all I have to say for now is "blerg". I had wanted to still be celebrating. Sales for 2MOS were great. Saturday was actually a record breaking day and I'm having a lot of fun gearing up for the next release (Part II on Jan 1st!), But instead I'm watching Battlestar Gallactica streaming on Netflix from bed. I guess it's not actually that bad :)

Pav

2011-12-01T10:04:00.001-05:00

Hey, do you guys know my awesome friend Jamie Salisbury? She's written a book, Tudor Rose, which is released today that you should totally check out and it's only $0.99. I may be a bit biased since I was a pre-reader for her, I can't wait to check out the final draft :)

My heartfelt thanks goes out to Pav for giving me the opportunity to guest on her blog on the release date of my second e-Novel.

I am proud to announce the release of my latest e-Novel, “Tudor Rose”, the first book of the “Tudor Dynasty” series. Don’t let the name fool you. While it is about a family named Tudor, it is not ol’ Henry and his crew. This is a modern day Tudor family with 21st century dreams and ambitions.

This was a really fun book to write. Amadeus and Zara were both enjoyable characters, two of my personal favorites. Here’s a small snippet about “Tudor Rose” for you.

Amadeus Tudor is rock star royalty. Tudor is part of a musical dynasty, who has risen to a level of fame usually seen once in a lifetime. He’s the front man for Tudor Rose, one of the top selling, most beloved rock bands in recent memory.

Zara Middleton, long time former manager and publicist to Tudor Rose has been brought back into the fold, this time as Amadeus Tudor’s personal body guard. Someone is out to harm Amadeus, the question is who. And why would someone want to harm him? He has no known enemies, his fans as well as his business associates adore him.

As the new tour gets underway, unsettling things begin to happen and Zara wonders who among Amadeus’s new management team she can trust.

The tour also finds Amadeus and Zara inseparable. As Zara becomes aware of long ignored feelings and emotions toward her former client, Amadeus takes charge, determined not to lose the only woman he’s truly loved again.

I hope you’ll pick up a copy “Tudor Rose”, available now for .99 at Amazon, B&N and Smashwords.

For further information you’ll find me through the links below. Thanks again Pav! I owe you one!

Blog: http://www.jamiesalisburyauthor.blogspot.com

Author Face Book Page: http://facebook.com/pages/Jamie-Salisbury-Womans-Fiction-author/20297849499741542/created

Good Reads: http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/5315343-jamie-salisbury-author

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/JamieRSalisbury

E-Mail: Wuzupbury@gmail.com

Winner Wonderland Giveaway! 4 Great Prize Packages! #winnerwonderland

2011-11-27T00:01:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the Winner Wonderland Giveaway Event. This event is hosted by Put A Little Umbrella In Your Drink, Seeds of Life, And The Little Ones Too and Taking Time For Mommy. This event features giveaways with a value of $25 or more at each of the participating blogs! Check out all of the great Winner Wonderland Sponsors being featured in this event! Be sure to visit each blog from the linky below and enter for your chance to win! This event will close on December 4th at 11:59 pm EST.

There are a lot of really awesome blogs giving away really great things, but mine are totally the best. You know you're here for my usual level of awesome-tude so dive in, check out the gifts and don't forget to say hi! Oh and check out the other blogs too :)

Reader Prize Including:
1 Paperback copy of Beautiful Creatures
1 Hardcover copy of Beautiful Darkness
1 ebook of Two Moons of Sera
1 handmade Jaab bookmark

Writer's Prize Including:

1 Hardcover Copy of Help for Writers

1 Seven Year Pen, 1 Moleskin Journal

6 Kate Spade colored pencils

6 Boxes of Jaab Handmade Christmas Cards

benefiting The Queen Sirikit Centre for

Breast Cancer Foundation in Thailand

Romance Lovers Prize Including:
1 copy of The Fragrant Taste of Rain
1 glass heart necklace
1 Adult Madlibs, 1 sexy clip

Raffle Copter does this weird thing where it shows the wrong raffle sometimes, so if you're seeing a raffle for anything other than the prizes listed above make sure you are in the giveaway post not on the main blog: http://pavarti.blogspot.com/2011/11/winner-wonderland-giveaway-4-great.html

Thanks for joining us! Check out the other bloggers participating behind the link!

Please understand that Put A Little Umbrella In Your Drink, Seeds of Life, And The Little Ones Too and Taking Time For Mommy, along with the "Winner Wonderland Event" bloggers are not responsible for sponsors that do not fulfill their prizes. However, we are responsible for contacting our sponsors regarding the winner's prize at the close of the giveaway. We expect that our sponsors will fulfill their prize agreement and ship them to the winners in a timely manner.

Black Friday Kindle Giveaway

2011-11-25T09:58:00.001-05:00

I'm part of the Holdiay Kindle Giveaway. It's massive. Check out the signup behind the cut.

Enter Now!

Don't Forget to Breathe

2011-11-13T08:58:00.001-05:00

I am, by nature, a fish. I have never learned how to properly swim. Despite my stepmother's constant attempts and the many lessons I took. The primary problem is I always forget to breathe. I hate coming above water. I will stay submersed for as long as possible, sometimes longer. Coming up for air is a survival action only. If I could, I'd never emerge.

I've always thought this was because I am a Pisces, but then they changed all the zodiac signs, although I'm still not convinced that was real.

There's something about being underwater, the way the water buffers me, it's one of the few times I ever feel alone or completely at peace. Everything I hear is like a muted song and moving in three dimensions makes so much more sense to me than walking.

Perhaps this is why writing Two Moons of Sera never seemed odd to me. Serafay's water side is something I can relate to, and honestly, envy. Writing about her and the Sualwets is equal parts imagination and fantasy. Honestly, I'm more than a little envious.

Elements play a large part in 2MOS (in case you haven't noticed) and every time I encounter a scene where that plays an important role I think about how perfect I feel underwater and try to remember that these things seem as natural to the character as breathing is to us.

Don't Forget to Breathe by Bitter:Sweet on Grooveshark

Blog Tour Update, Shout Outs and Giveaway!

2011-11-11T17:09:00.001-05:00

It's hard to believe I'm 10 days into my blogtour already. Its kind of like raising children in taht I can't believe how fast it's gone and at the same time it's taking FOREVER. I've been having such a fantastic time reading reviews, responding to commenters, writing guest blogs. It's really overwhelming that all of this is for my little story. Two Moons of Sera is one of the most exciting and rewarding things I've ever done and it wouldn't have happened without you guys.

When I was overwhelmed and having a nervous breakdown, you talked me off my ledge. When I was manic and writing like a look, you read my drafts, gave me your honest advice and cheered me on.

Anyone who thinks this whole writing thing is about the author is missing the point. It's all for you, the readers. I could never sell another book and the reviews that I've received so far have made the entire experience worth it. Going Indie is the best decision I've made in a long time. Instead of being trapped behind a media wall I'm right out there, talking to bloggers, readers and other authors. I'm experiencing every moment, controlling it, guiding it and loving every second.

So thank you guys. Don't forget to enter my giveaway, check out 2MOS on Amazon and check out all the amazing bloggers who have participated so far. They have given me their time, their love, their support all for free and I am completely in their debt.

Blog Tour So Far!Month Long Events

Nurture Your Books- Featured Trailer
TNNBBC Indie Spotlight for November - Guest Blog - From Theatre to Taxes to Text

October

Far From Reality - Review

Blog Tour!Tue Nov 1 -

ME Summers - Review
WayWord Things - Review and Guest Post - Piece by Piece, Writing a Serial Novel
Rainy of the Dark - Interview

Wed Nov 2

Paranoral Wire - Review
Faerotic Prose - Review
Life Is Short, Write it All Down - Review

Thu Nov 3

aobibliosphere - Review
Unnormal Normalacy - Review
The WM Review Connection - Review

Fri Nov 4

Freya Duquesne - Review
Elsie Loves Lit - Review
Adopt an Indie - 9 Reasons Why I'm Choosing to Self Publish

Sat Nov 5

Splash Of Our Worlds Reviews - Review
The Writer's Voice - Guest Post - The Importance of Labeling: YA vs. Adult
Read2Review - Author Spotlight

Sun Nov 6

Live to Read - Review

Mon Nov 7

Dafeenah - Review
Reading Away The Days - Interview
FullMoonBites - Author of the Week and Blog Post - Clan of the Cave Bear is more than just Neanderthal Porn

Tue Nov 8

Nova Sparks - Interview you can read her review on Amazon
A Tale of Many Reviews - Excerpt

Wed Nov 9

HerLadyShip's Quest - Review

Thu Nov 10

Shilpa Mudiganti - Review and Interview
That Bookish Girl - Guest Blog - Doing Things Wrong the Right Way
Alaskan Book Blog - Review

Two Moons of Sera #SampleSunday

2011-11-06T08:26:00.000-05:00

by Pavarti K Tyler

I closed my eyes, letting the heatseep into my skin. My mind drifted to the forest where animals hunt andscavengers pick at what's left behind. Life wasn't supposed to be lived likemine, alone. There wasn't much hope things would change though. The fewSualwets I'd met were afraid of me, and —thanks to my mother's stories— I was terrified of theErdlanders.

As a child I hadn't minded thesolitude, enjoying my mother's attention and playing with the animals in andout of the water. But at 15 years old, almost 16... Something inside me longedfor more. I didn't have a name for it, but I knew it was out there.

The sun floated across thecloudless sky as I dozed. Our cove was the safest place on earth, solitary andundiscovered by Sualwets and Erdlanders alike. Images of floating boats andswimming clouds filled my mind until a sound jolted me from my inner thoughts.

A hoooooffff and then a swoosh.The air moved as if something had run past me. Looking down the beach I saw adark spot shrink and then disappear.

"Hey!" I called, jumpingto my feet and running toward the movement. If it was an animal it was alreadygone, but so few ventured here, skittish around my mother and I. Perhaps it wasused to groups, an Erdlander pet that lost its way. I raced after it, sandflying behind me as my webbed feet scooped it up.

I ran along the beach until Ireached the beginning of the forest. It was thin here near the sand butthickened further back, stretching out beyond my reach, colliding with a cliffwall leading up to the mountains.

I skidded to a halt, sliding onthe sand and crashing down to my hands and knees. Something was climbing thecliff!

"Hey!" I cried, moreafraid for the creature's safety than I was for my own. No animal I'd ever seencould climb that wall.

I watched, transfixed, as it movedall four limbs in combination like a spider. Slowly the animal traversed thewall until it reached a flat surface out over the water. It was hard to seewith the noon day sun glaring down in my eyes, but it was not covered in hairthe way the wild dogs of the forest were. It had dark tan skin, like a boar,or... an Erdlander? My mother's voice swirled in my mind: They have skin as dark as the bark of a tree and hair on their heads,thick like rope. Their eyes can be black or green. Once I even saw one witheyes blue like the bay. But don't let that fool you; they don't possess thewisdom of the sea, only the cruelty of the sun.

I watched as the creature hunchedon the plateau and reached into a bag I hadn't seen slung over its shoulder.Slowly, it pulled out a handful of the now-dry paper I'd laid out on the beach.

"Give those back!" Iscreamed without thinking. Paper was precious when you live alone and it wasmine.

At the sound of my voice thecreature turned and scanned the beach. Hair covered its features but I couldclearly see a pair of bright blue eyes.

"Go!" It spoke Erdlanderwith a voice low and gruff like those of the men on the melodisks. It scratchedagainst my ears and the tone of the word was wrong, but somehow, I understood.

"No! Give those back!" Iscreamed up, taking a step in the direction of the talking beast.

"Mine!" He stood up,towering over me. The plateau was easily 50 feet up so it was difficult togauge height, but whatever he was, he was tall. I shrunk back, having neverseen an Erdlander or a man. My courage evaporated.

"Mine." He repeatedbefore shoving the pages back in the bag and scampering higher. I watched hisretreating form until it was just a spot in the distance.

Order Your Copy Now

As a thank you to all of my amazing readers and supporters, I am hosting a month long rafflecopter giveaway on my blog! Enter for your chance to win:

A Gift Bag full of fun-tastic swag
A $15 itunes gift card
Ebook basket including:
- Two Moons of Sera by Pavarti K Tyler
- The Dome by Nova Sparks
- Farsighted by Emlyn Chand
- The Mumbo Jumbo Circus by Jane George
10,000 word critique of your manuscript
An Advanced Readers Copy of my upcoming novel Shadow on the Wall

Two Moons of Sera Ebook Release and Giveaway! #2MOS

2011-11-01T09:10:00.000-04:00

After months of work and hours of neglecting my children, my debut novel Two Moons of Sera is being released!

Order Your Copy Now

Follow along everyday during November as I tour the Blogosphere and say really smart stuff.

As a thank you to all of my amazing readers and supporters, I am hosting a month long rafflecopter giveaway on my blog! Enter below for your chance to win!

A True Halloween Story

2011-10-31T09:16:00.003-04:00

This is reposted from a Guest Blog I did on Alaskan Book Cafe earlier this month. It seemed appripro to post it again today. Happy Halloween my friends! Oh and today is the last day for my GIVEAWAY. Don't forget to enter!

Halloween is full of fun stories, creepy, scary, otherworldly stories that catch the imagination and force us to look at the darker side of ourselves. But what is Halloween really? Through all the traditions I can find, from The Roman Catholic All Hallow's Eve to the Roman Parentalia and even to the Celtic Samuin, the connective tissue of these events is the idea that the wall between reality and a spiritual world is thinner on the night of October 31st.

Ghouls and Goblins run the streets in search of bags of candy, Moms and Dads watch The Nightmare Before Christmas with their progeny, and teens and singles alike dress in ever increasingly evocative clothing in the name of Halloween. Do you think of horror movies or naked wiccans dancing in the woods that night? I don't.

I think of my first true love and the possibility that a little bit of magic kept him alive.

While I've never been much of a religious person in the traditional sense I've always believed in a world within worlds, one which connects us all and can give us power and insight into things that defy definition. The story I have to tell you isn't a scary one, but it's one about a time when the curtain of reality parted slightly, just enough for me to peek through and see something I would have never been able to stop otherwise.

During my senior year of high school I was in the drama filled throws of looming graduation, love, self-discovery, and self-sabotage. So basically I was exactly like everyone reading this. An emotional roller-coaster on many levels, I never seemed to be able to get myself set straight or figure out what I was doing. Words had a tendency to fall from my lips before I'd even completed the thought behind them and any day I didn't cry I considered a success. Oh to be sixteen again.

It was Halloween and I had a costume, a crowd to wander the streets with and a general feeling that things might actually be okay for me. What could go wrong? Like everyday before, my fella and I met between classes, walked to our lockers with goofy looks on our faces, pretending we knew what it meant to be in love. That day I remember quite vividly, it was after AP Government and he met me as usual, but something was wrong.

"I'm gonna go home, I don't feel good," he told me.

"Do you want me to drive you?" I asked, not liking the shading of his already pale skin.

"No, I'm just gonna sleep." He'd just recovered from a sinus infection or something, I don't remember what now, but him not feeling well wasn't unreasonable. I remember a certain dullness in his eyes though.

He left and I spent the next two classes worried. I knew, I just knew there was something wrong. Something deep inside me screamed out that he needed me. It wasn't hormones or some other desire to skip school; I had plenty of opportunities to exploit both of those. It was definitely something deeper.

I considered going to the principle and asking someone to check on him, but the conversation in my mind wasn't one that I could see being well received.

You see, I just have this feeling there's something wrong and maybe someone should go over there - you know, see if he's still breathing?

What were they going to do? My mother and his parents worked so I knew they wouldn't go check. I called the house between classes and no one answered. There was no one left but me. I knew where the spare key to his house was and I had my own car.

In a fit of rare disobedience I wrote a note during French II (a class I failed twice by the way) to leave early. I signed my mother's name and as per usual I completely fucked it up. I dated it September 31st. Guest what day Halloween is. Yeah, I'm just that smart.

None-the-less I drove over to the house of my infirmed boyfriend, dread and concern mounting the closer I got. I had visions of finding him passed out in the kitchen or worse. Something demanded I get to him and I drove faster.

I rounded into his neighborhood too fast, pulling my ridiculous little car up the steep hill of his driveway. Inside the garage against one wall was a magnetic box holding the spare key. I grabbed it and let myself in.

I called out.

There was no answer.

I called up the stairs and then I heard his weak voice coming from the living room.

"Where are you?" I asked.

"In the bathroom, don't come in." Was all he said. I started to calm down, he was alive, he was just sick. I'd been foolish to rush over here and worry. There wasn't anything wrong. I'd make him some lunch and go back to school and it would all fade away. Another moment of over-reaction in my hyperbolic life had been survived.

I heard a retch from behind the door, and then another.

"Are you okay?"

"no…"

I haven't told you much about the fella I was dating at the time. You know, protecting the innocent and all. What I can tell you is he is still a dear friend and not one to admit weakness lightly. Always working to over come the next obstacle either internal or external, "I can't" or "I'm not alright" are things he rarely says. So I knew he had to be really sick.

My mind kicked into overdrive. He wouldn't let me in the bathroom; he was still vomiting but hadn't eaten anything. The sound of his retching got worse and worse until I had no idea what to do.

"I'm calling your Mom."

This time he didn't reply.

When his mother heard my voice on the other end of the phone I could feel the panic rushing through the phone lines. There was something very wrong.

She was home soon and we piled him into the back of her van, a bucket next to him. I sat in the very back, his head in my lap, despite his protests. He was just too weak to pretend to be okay. That vision I'd had of him passed out was coming true, but now, instead of alone in his kitchen he was with me and his mother, on our way to the hospital.

Four hours later I was allowed to see him. He'd had a severe allergic reaction to the erythromycin he'd been taking. The reaction had been so swift and violent there was a possibility that he wouldn't have survived it, but thanks to whatever sense, or intuition or touch of magic that had told me something was wrong, he was alive.

Now this isn't the same as seeing a ghost or believing in fairies. This isn't a blurry picture of a moving Bigfoot or and bright light skittering across the sky at an impossible speed. What this is is just a moment in time, a small thing really from the outside. But to me, this was a moment when something outside of myself forced me to act. When the forces at work in the spiritual world around us crossed over and whispered for me to do something.

Because I listened, or maybe because it was Halloween and the thinning of reality made it easier to hear, my friend is still around. He is as difficult and stubborn as always, but I wouldn't have survived losing him and the world would have been a much darker place without him in it.

Seventeen years ago, on Halloween, I was grounded for lying, forging a note, and skipping school. I was almost suspended but instead was given detention because both my mother and his asked the principle for leniency. The adults around me claimed I should have done something else, told someone, anything but what I did.

That Halloween I didn't go trick-or-treating. I was grounded.

And I couldn't have been happier.

Book Snob - The best free book you'll ever read - Space Junque by LK Rigel

2011-10-30T20:22:00.000-04:00

Space Junque by LK Rigel Edited by USA Today bestselling author Theresa Weir/Anne Frasier

Nominated for Best Romantic Science Fiction/Fantasy in 2010 and Best Debut Book in 2010 by The Romance Reviews.

The DOGs want to destroy the world. The gods want to make a new one. The trick is to survive both.

On the brink of a world-wide ecological cataclysm set off by the Oil Spill of 2010 and the Great Sea Level Rise of 2070, hydroponics agronomist Char Meadowlark has become a recluse. Her fiance was killed by a terrorist bomb, and her twin sister Sky has gone underground to protect a top secret energy project. Warned about an impending eco-terrorist attack, Char tries to get off planet, but the Defenders of Gaia strike while she's at the airport. Shuttle pilot Jake Ardri might offer her only hope.

When the DOGs' onslaught goes global and the material world threatens to implode, the ancient gods reemerge to take control over humanity. Now Char has to juggle two men, a world on fire, and a goddess with an agenda for a new world order.

= = = = = =

novella, about 28,000 words or 112 pages
= = = = = =

Wow. Just WOW. That's about all I can say about Space Junque. The end.

You know how I rail against how badly Indies are regarded by the publishing industry? Well, I'm going to tell you a secret. I do a little of it too. I have read so many Indie books that I don't put up here which are unedited and un-thought-through. Someone's mom told them it was good so they hit "publish" on smashwords. Uggh.

This one though? This one was everything I could have ever wanted a sci-fi novel to be and then you add the romance and man, I was captivated.

Space Junque is different from the sci-fi I usually rave about. The world building is slow and presented to the reader in a matter of fact manner. It works because the author has empowed the main character, Char, to completely own her reality. The details about the word are dolled out in sparce and enticing pieces, making you want to know more about this world and how it got this way. As you read along you realise you understand more than you thought you did because this future isn't so different from our own.

Using pieces of current day politics and some very possible scientific possibilities Rigel manages to create a world our children might find to be real: The icecaps have melted bringing the water levels up and destroying entire cities, The oil spill of 2010 was much worse (or was it and we just don't know the ramifications yet?), fertility is dwindling and genetic enhancements are the norm.

Around our main character the world is filled with

"Ghosts" (mutated humans who have lost all will to live or thrive but exist none-the-less and seem to have unnaturally long lives)
Hairless mutants who haven't "gone ghost"
Eco-terrorists called DOGs (Defenders of Gaia)
Religious fanatics called the TU (Talibanos Unidos)
Raptors (mutations within the animal kingdom)
An Emperor
Inhabited Space Stations
Oh and there's something called the "vault" which I'm not entirely clear on but I don't think I'm supposed to be.

There are two more books in the series and I definitely got the sense that this was a lead in. I'm dying to download the 2nd in the series but I'm making myself wait. I have too much going on right now to loose myself in another book but I really really want to. Seriously, I had this on my phone and I would sneak away from the kids to read a few more pages whenever I could.

The romance between Char and the endearing and passionate lead, Jake was somewhat glossed over. I can't decide if this is a problem or not though. I got their connection and their attraction, but I like a little more lemon in my lemonade. Since not everyone is a perv like me, this is perhaps not a real problem but I did want some more hot lovin'. It was nice to see a relationship in a romance that was equal and respectful and where the woman didn't just whine. I liked Char and Jake together and hope to see more of them.

About 2/3 of the way through Space Junque we are introduced to a character, Asherah, who claims to be a God. There's a lot of mythology and innuendo, but basically it seems that Asherah is an incantation of the iconic fertility goddess - Isis, Inanna, etc. Another God, Samuel, is mentioned but we don't know anything about him yet.

Rigel does a delightful job of weaving the mythology aspect of the plot through the entire story, so when Asherah appears it's not completely out of the blue. In fact, much like the world building, Space Junque manages to present these situations in such real terms that the expected Wait, now there's Gods? reaction doesn't occur.

Space Junque is free. To me this is utter insanity. It's so good you should have to pay for it. So do yourself a favor and click on any of the 962 links in this post and download your copy now. It's short, it's fun, it's sexy and action packed and you are going to love it.

Book Snob Reviews - The Windup Girl by Paolo Bacigalupi

2011-10-26T15:24:00.001-04:00

The Windup Girl by Paolo Bacigalupi - Anderson Lake is a company man, AgriGen’s Calorie Man in Thailand. Undercover as a factory manager, Anderson combs Bangkok’s street markets in search of foodstuffs thought to be extinct, hoping to reap the bounty of history’s lost calories. There, he encounters Emiko...

Emiko is the Windup Girl, a strange and beautiful creature. One of the New People, Emiko is not human; she is an engineered being, crèche-grown and programmed to satisfy the decadent whims of a Kyoto businessman, but now abandoned to the streets of Bangkok. Regarded as soulless beings by some, devils by others, New People are slaves, soldiers, and toys of the rich in a chilling near future in which calorie companies rule the world, the oil age has passed, and the side effects of bio-engineered plagues run rampant across the globe.

What happens when calories become currency? What happens when bio-terrorism becomes a tool for corporate profits, when said bio-terrorism’s genetic drift forces mankind to the cusp of post-human evolution? Award-winning author Paolo Bacigalupi delivers one of the most highly acclaimed science fiction novels of the twenty-first century.

The Windup Girl was not an easy book to read. I've read a number of negative reviews of this book and while I don't agree I understand how this happened. I couldn't read more than 3 or 4 chapters at a time without my ears starting to leak gray matter. But please, don't let that stop you. The Windup Girl is both terrifying and hopeful, devastating and beautiful. The dichotomy of humanity has never been captured as well as Bacigalupi did in here.

I've talked a lot in the past about world building and how a quality book, especially sci-fi, doesn't stop at location. A quality book builds a world using history, anthropology, science, sociology, genetics, religion and politics. All of these factors exist in The Windup Girl and more. Bacigalupi tackles biology, evolution, family and the essential question of what it means to be human.

Strangely, the most human character in the entire book is the one who is considered to not have a soul. Emiko is a Windup, one of the New People, built and bred for specific purposes. The society of The Windup Girl is obsessed with Niche. Everyone has a place and in a time when resources are scarce and hope is extinct, clinging to ones role is what keeps order and sanity in an insane world. Emiko's Niche is as a servant. Bred to obey, designed to give and experience pleasure, her innocence and crisis of self is the most engaging of the plots. However, without the others her story would lack the context which makes it so powerful and heartbreaking.

While The Windup Girl is a fictional novel speculating on the future of the world if we continue to mess with the genes of our food it's one that feels very familiar. It isn't hard to imagine a world where rickshaw's replace cars because there is no fuel left, or where carbon emission allotments are sold on the black market to the highest bidder. The threat of a virus or strain of an illness which we cannot defeat is in the back of our minds already. Antibiotic resistant strep and recalled Cantaloupe already infect our modern world. Take that reality to the extreme and you have Bacigalupi's novel.

For my part I was exceptionally happy with The Windup Girl. It was a full story, that surprised and challenged with uncomfortable questions on the nature of humanity. Bacigalupi used every resource the writer has available, from research to religion to pure fantasy, to create something completely original. I highly recommend this novel to everyone.

Oh and because I'm an Indie Author and I'm so sick of hearing about typos I'd like to point out that this Hugo Award winning, Nebula Prize novel had a number of typos, specifically on pages 276 and 307. My favorite was: "The scooter slews to a stop and she hops down." Guess what word he meant. So the next time you find an error or two in a self published novel consider this before you blast it all over the internet.

There's No Sex in Your Violence

2011-10-25T08:14:00.001-04:00

When I joined the CoffinHop I wasn't sure what to write about. I thought about Halloween and all the movies and books that are popping up all over. Usually they contain some kind of violence. I love me some violence. I mean hell, I've written some of the most detailed, visceral violence out there (just as Steven at SNM horror or my friend Candace who blames me for her recurring nightmares). But is there a point where enough is enough?

I don't believe in censorship. I believe in pushing the boundaries in every way possible. You want cannibal porn? I've written it. You want your favorite characters killed off? I've done it. You want rape, dismemberment and ocular ooze? I'm your girl. Something about it just gets me off.

What I do believe in is the visceral connection between reader and story. When my friend Rachael told me: "Man, you're one fucked up cookie. When can I read more?" I knew I was onto something. The violent, graphic and raw nature of my writing did not turn her away, it pulled her in. When the content of what you are writing is superfluous to the story you are telling it becomes more about shock than connection. That is when it becomes too much.

So there's my line, too much violence happens at the exact moment when the reader is pulled out of the story. This point will be different for each reader and as a writer you have to judge for yourself how far you are willing to push. You may loose some readers. I've had many people pass on reading Consumed By Love, because it is erotic horror. But I'm ok with that. In fact, I'm the first one to tell interested bloggers and friends: "You know its erotic horror and pretty graphic. If you don't want to read it I won't be offended." But never have I doubted the content of my story.

Violence, like sex, is only offensive when someone is offended. Porn is only different from art when someone defines it so. We all love to see the bad boy get the girl. When he holds her hands above her head, making her struggle against him as he moves in for that first stolen kiss the excitement and violence of the moment titillate the reader. Does she continue to struggle? Does she fight back and beat him to a bloody pulp? Does he soften and allow himself to be the good man she deserves? All of these thoughts are what makes that moment so exciting. Where you take it from there is between you and your reader.

So darling readers, where is your line? When is enough enough and the violence has to end? Is it different for different genres? What about violence in YA?

And don't forget to enter my Coffin Hop Giveaway!

Coffin Hop Horror Author Blog Tour Starts TODAY

2011-10-24T17:49:00.005-04:00

Join me and fellow horror writers this holiday season during the Coffin Hop! Enter my giveaway at the bottom of this post, check out all the blogs participating, win some cool prizes, make some new friends and try not to scream!

THE GORY DETAILS:
1) HAVE A SPOOKY FUN TIME!
2) INVITE YOUR FRIENDS AND SPREAD THE WORD!
3) THIS TOUR STARTS: Monday, October 24, 2011 at Midnight (PST) THIS TOUR ENDS: Monday, October 31, 2011 at Midnight (PST)
Winners will be drawn and posted November 1, 2011
4) MEET AND MINGLE WITH THE AUTHORS! EXPERIENCE A NEW DESTINATION AT EVERY STOP! PARTICIPATE IN EVERY SITE'S CONTEST AND BE ENTERED FOR CHANCES TO WIN MULTIPLE PRIZES! EVERY BLOG VISITED IS ANOTHER OPPORTUNITY TO WIN!
5) PARTICIPATION AT ALL SITES IS RECOMMENDED, BUT NOT REQUIRED. THE MORE SITES YOU HOP, THE BETTER YOUR CHANCES OF WINNING PRIZES.
6) DID I MENTION TO HAVE A SPOOKY FUN TIME?

***Authors have full discretion to choose an alternate winner in the event any winner fails to claim their prize(s) within 72 hours of their name being posted or after notification of win, whichever comes first. Anyone who participates in this tour is subject to these rules***

Farsighted by Emlyn Chand releases TODAY - check out this excerpt

2011-10-24T08:06:00.024-04:00

Today I'd like to share an excerpt from Emlyn Chand's hot new paranormal novel, Farsighted (it released TODAY!). Before diving in, check out this teaser for the book:

Alex Kosmitoras may be blind, but he can still “see” things others can’t. When his unwanted visions of the future begin to suggest that the girl he likes could be in danger, he has no choice but to take on destiny and demand it reconsider.

Fight

an excerpt from Farsighted, chapter 3

I sulk into school the next day, irritated about the way my brain’s been malfunctioning lately and embarrassed by how I’ve been around Simmi. The last thing I need is more problems. I head into first period attempting to disappear. No such luck.

“You better watch yourself, Kosmitoras,” Brady Evans growls. I wasn’t even aware he had entered the class, but now here he is, uncomfortably close to my desk.

I don’t say anything. I don’t want to encourage him. Even the slightest word taken out of context might set him off. The bell rings, but the teacher hasn’t come in yet. The other students are milling about, whispering excitedly.

“You’re lucky you’re a cripple, freak, or I’d—” Brady says. Why is he still here? I didn’t do anything to make him angry. Some of the students start taunting Brady, telling him to throw a punch at me. Brady laughs; clearly he loves the attention.

After a moment, the whispering stops. Brady’s moved away from my desk so fast I hardly even realized it. I decide to let the whole thing go, but then footsteps come toward me again, carrying with them the scents of Axe deodorant spray and dried sweat. Brady seems intent on a confrontation. Well, I wouldn’t want to disappoint him.

Slyly, I nudge the end of my cane across my seat and into the aisle. Not sticking out far enough to be noticed but still far enough to get in the way.

Thud! Brady trips and falls headlong down the aisle.

Ha, always wanted to do that. Sometimes blindness comes in handy. No one would ever guess this wasn’t an accident.

“You better watch yourself, Kosmitoras,” Brady growls, back on his feet now.

“You better watch yourself, Evans,” I hiss back, drawing out the S at the end of Evans. I’m a venomous cobra, ready to spring at the slightest hint of danger.

The bell rings. Wait didn’t the bell already ring? Haven’t I been here before?

The other students in the class are milling about, whispering excitedly.

“You’re lucky you’re a cripple, freak, or I’d—” Brady says.

“Or what?” I challenge, rising to my feet while wrapping my knuckles around the handle of my cane and solidifying my grip. I’ve had enough, and besides, what have I got to lose by standing up to him? If anything, a fight with Brady could improve my social standing.

The whispering grows louder. Some of the students start taunting Brady, telling him to throw a punch at me.

Brady laughs arrogantly, “or I’d make you sorry.” He cracks his knuckles as if his words weren’t clear enough.

“I’m not a cripple, but I am going to make you sorry,” I shout, bringing the end of my cane down hard on Brady’s toes.

I can tell it hurt, but Brady doesn’t make any noise to indicate it. He’s too much of a tough guy. Instead, he punches me in the stomach.

I don’t feel anything except a pulsing pain in my middle. And anger, a lot of anger. I raise my cane again and thwack Brady higher up—his face, his neck, I don’t care as long as it hurts.

This time he cries out in pain.

Now, I’m laughing. This is what he deserves, since he just couldn’t leave me alone.

The teacher comes into the classroom. The other students grow quiet, waiting to find out what she’ll do.

Brady punches me in the nose. There’s a crack as he makes contact with the bone. Blood spurts out from my nostrils and flows into my mouth—guess I’ve gotten my daily dose of iron now. I almost throw up, but before I can, the teacher is pulling me and Brady out of the classroom by the collars of our shirts and walking us down the hall toward the principal’s office.

Blog Tour Notes

THE BOOK: Alex Kosmitoras may be blind, but he can still “see” things others can’t. When his unwanted visions of the future begin to suggest that the girl he likes could be in danger, he has no choice but to take on destiny and demand it reconsider. Get your copy today by visiting Amazon.com’s Kindle store or the eBook retailer of your choice. The paperback edition will be available on November 24 (for the author’s birthday).

THE CASH PRIZES: Guess what? You could win a $100 Amazon gift card as part of this special blog tour. That’s right! Just leave a comment below saying something about the post you just read, and you’ll be entered into the raffle. I could win $100 too! Please help by voting for my blog in the traffic-breaker poll. To cast your vote, visit the official Farsighted blog tour page and scroll all the way to the bottom. Thank you for your help with that.

THE GIVEAWAYS: Win 1 of 10 autographed copies of Farsighted before its paperback release by entering the giveaway on GoodReads. Perhaps you’d like an autographed postcard from the author; you can request one on her site.

THE AUTHOR: Emlyn Chand has always loved to hear and tell stories, having emerged from the womb with a fountain pen grasped firmly in her left hand (true story). When she’s not writing, she runs a large book club in Ann Arbor and is the president of author PR firm, Novel Publicity. Emlyn loves to connect with readers and is available throughout the social media interweb. Visit www.emlynchand.com for more info. Don’t forget to say “hi” to her sun conure Ducky!

Winners of Steve Umstead's Gabriel's Return Giveaway

2011-10-21T11:42:00.000-04:00

1st Place - Jim Henry Wins a copy of Gabriel's Redemption and Gabriel's Return!
Runners Up - Theresa and Mandie Stevens Win a copy of Gabriel's Redemption!

Congrats! And thanks to everyone who participated. These will be another giveaway coming up soon so keep checking back. Have a great weekend :)

Pav

Steve Umstead's Gabriel's Return - Excerpt

2011-10-20T11:07:00.000-04:00

Excerpt from Steve Umstead's newest release Gabriel's Return! Don't forget to enter the generous giveaway Steve is doing for a copy of Gabriel's Redemption and Gabriel's Return. Entries end tonight!

The groundtruck was nothing more than an open-air version of an ancient twenty-first century electric delivery truck, but instead of cargo or mail, this one delivered personnel. The cab up front seated three across, but for this trip only the driver and Gabriel took up the bench seat. In the open bed of the truck, two benches ran down either side with railings protecting the occupants, in this case the other seven members of the team, from falling out. And considering the condition of the roadway they drove on, Gabriel was glad his team had the railings.

At first glance, the road appeared to be a wooden boardwalk from an old seaside resort on Earth. In actuality, Gabriel remembered from his last trip here, it was solid steelroot planking laid down on top of hard-packed soil. Eden was extremely mineral-poor; most of the infrastructure of the city was either created using easy-to-manufacture plastics or drawn from the living jungle. The wood of the steelroot tree was as hard as carbon steel, and nearly as durable as ceramacrete. Considering the exorbitant cost to transport large quantities of heavy ceramacrete ingredients across several star systems, wooden decking was an easy choice. However, as the truck bounced over another worn patch, Gabriel wondered if it was the smartest long-term plan.

The driver seemed to read his mind. “Sorry, sir, we’re long overdue for a road refurbishment. Just don’t have the cash, know what I mean?”

Gabriel watched as they passed a small prefab housing area, where several children played soccer in a laser-fenced yard. “Why is that?” he asked.

The driver yanked the steering yoke to one side in an attempt to avoid another bounce before replying. Gabriel heard a shout of surprise from behind him; Jimenez it sounded like.

“Tourism kinda fell off, know what I mean?” he said. “High hopes when people first arrived. Big plans for ziplining parks, swimming with riverwhales, ecotours, that kinda stuff, know what I mean?” He shifted the truck into a higher gear as they left the residential area and sped up. “But with the living jungle, not so much. Not much money flowing in anymore. Not much to sell off-world, know what…”

“Yes, I know what you mean,” Gabriel said, cutting him off with a sharp tone. He stared out the open window at a stand of yellowboles they were passing and idly rubbed at the acid-burned patch on the back of his neck. No, tourism certainly wouldn’t work here. Laser stun fences not to keep kids in, but creeping razorvine and parweasels out. Electric nets strung above common areas not to hang lights from, but to protect inhabitants from poisonous pipeflies and carnivorous spiderbats. Armed guards at every public facility not to check ID badges, but to keep the population from being kidnapped or killed by terrorists. No, he thought, Eden wasn’t what the original settlers had expected.

The driver remained quiet as the truck entered the commercial area of Eden City. The buildings here were similar in appearance to the residential area: plastic extruded prefab units arranged in blocks, larger buildings having multiple units connected to each other. But unlike the residential blocks, the commercial blocks were built in multiple levels. Many buildings reached several stories into the air, but still far short of even the smallest of the yellowboles surrounding them.

A banging sounded behind Gabriel, followed by a voice. “Hey boss, we there yet? With this piss-poor excuse for a road, I gotta piss.”

“Settle down, Mister Sowers,” Gabriel yelled back over the whine of the straining electric motor. “Kids,” he muttered under his breath.

The driver laughed and pointed out the front windscreen of the groundtruck. “We’re here, sir.”

Gabriel looked at Government House as they approached, a nondescript four-story prefab unit at the end of the roadway, flanked on each side by smaller units; communications office and courthouse, if he remembered his past trip. Government House looked nearly the same. The fourth story had been added sometime very recently judging by the lack of vines attached to it, and the government officials were all completely different, but he still couldn’t get the feeling of dread out of his head, like history was repeating itself.

The groundtruck pulled up in front of the entrance to Government House and the driver shut off the motor. “This is your stop, sir.”

Gabriel stepped out of the cab and nodded to the driver as the rest of the team jumped from the back of the truck. “Thanks for the ride.”

Sowers walked up next to Gabriel and leaned in the window. “Listen, on the way back, you mind taking the road and not through the missile testing grounds?”

The driver held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey man, I just work here.”

Brevik pushed Sowers by the shoulder towards the main doors. “I’ve got him, Commander.”

“Just as long as you show me where the head is, LT,” said Sowers as he stumbled away.

“Sir, is he like this all the time?” asked Olszewski, who was the last person to leave the truck.

Gabriel watched Brevik pushing the petty officer and listened to Sowers’s weak protests. “Yes, Private, I’m afraid he is.”

“Do you trust him?”

Gabriel looked the MDF soldier in the eye. “With my life,” he said.

Olszewski nodded. “All I needed to know, sir. I certainly don’t need another babysitting duty on this mission.”

Gabriel started to reach out a hand to stop the private as he walked past, but paused, reflecting on his last words. Another? he thought. That bears some looking into. He let Olszewski continue on, then turned and cast a quick wave to the driver, who returned the wave and engaged the motor. The truck pulled away in a cloud of steelroot wood flakes and dust to drop their gear off at Eden Guard headquarters.

Gabriel turned and followed the rest of his team up to the main doors and entered Government House, wondering, probably not for the last time, if he knew enough about his new team members.

Steve Umstead's Gabriel's Return - Giveaway

2011-10-19T01:00:00.013-04:00

Hey, wanna win something AWESOME? Not one but TWO Sci-Fi Ebooks are being given away RIGHT HERE! Contest running today and tomorrow, don't miss it!

Steve Umstead has been the owner of a Caribbean & Mexico travel company for the past ten years, but never forgot his lifelong dream of becoming an author. After a successful stab at National Novel Writing Month, he decided to pursue his dream more vigorously…but hasn’t given up the traveling.

Steve lives in scenic (tongue-in-cheek) New Jersey with his wife, two kids, and several bookshelves full of other authors’ science fiction novels. Gabriel’s Redemption is his debut novel.

The Requisite Twilight Post where I investigate Why DOES Edward's face look like a foot?

2011-10-13T22:55:00.001-04:00

Stephanie Meyer is a genius. She has single-handedly reinvented and ruined vampires all in one foul swoop. Her success has occurred despite atrocious grammar, selfish unlikeable characters and a story where by the end you're most likely rooting for the bad guys to kill them all. Oh and then there's the pedophilia and the woman-hating themes and... yeah... you should sit down, this is going to be a long one.

Once Upon a Time there was an incredibly useless girl who never considered anyone's feelings but her own all in the name of "shyness". This mind-numbingly irritating girl loves to cook and clean and do all manner of appropriate female activities. For some reason, beyond my imagination, every male who comes into contact with her becomes completely obsessed. Boys fall over themselves to ask her to prom, try to kill themselves because they can't have her, and even turn their backs on their family and heritage just to be near her. I guess I should be dumber and more eager to please the men in my life, then maybe I'd get supernatural creatures drooling over me too!

So why, WHY, for the love of God are these books so popular. I can tell you, you aren't going to like the answer though. The reason is we're all lemmings. We're stupid and these books are simple. We love the tension of the innocent *cough*creepy*cough* relationship Edward and Bella have. We love to see Jacob suffer, his love so true. And most of all we love a happy ending. Because of our stupidity we are willing to forgive plot holes the size of craters and inconsistent character choices. And we keep coming back for more.

Now, I am one of "those twilight people". I'm a mom in my thirties with a little too much junk in my trunk and yes, I have a Team Jacob t-shirt. I even wear it in public. In fact last weekend I went to the TwiCon in Baltimore. So before you start calling me a hater, you should know I have devoted hundreds of hours for these fucking stories. Yes, I'm stupid too.

Ultimately I think it's the flaws in Twilight that make it so exciting. We love to bitch and rip something apart. We love to gossip about how Meyer ripped of this or that author. The world of fanfiction has exploded since Twilight. I think the reason is that we are all desperate to FIX what is so fundamentally broken. Add some super-hot teenagers and look - you have a phenomenon.

For brevity's sake, let me break down the major issues I have with the Twilight Saga:

Bella goes from being food to the love of Edward's life in about 17.5 hours
Edward watches her sleep. This is creepy as shit.
Edward is 109 years old, Bella is 17, how is that not pedophilia?
Edward sparkles... really... he sparkles... wow... Vlad would be so impressed.
Later in the story we get real, bonafide pedophilia disguised as "imprinting" with Quil and Claire.
Bella spends half a year falling in love with Jacob, like a normal happy girl, and drops it all without even a thought, as if Jacob never mattered.
Jacob ever bothers speaking to Bella again after she went to Italy
VAMPIRES CAN'T HAVE BABIES!
Precognition means you can see things before they happen. How the fuck does Alice keep getting surprised?
The terrifying power of the Volturri is about as exciting as a high school debate team dance off.
Bella prides herself on not being good enough for anyone or anything. Wow, what a lesson Steph, thanks for giving that gem to millions of teenage girls.
No sex scene - COME ON! It's been thousands of pages coming!
Bella keeps trying to kill herself and for some reason people keep stopping her!
The single most disgusting and violent birth scene in the history of literature.
Jacob chooses Bella over his pack and heritage.
Jacob imprints on an infant
VAMPIRES CAN'T HAVE BABIES

There is so much more. Plot holes and rationalizations that I can't even think about without foaming at the mouth. But for me what it comes down to is the depiction of a girl who believes herself to be nothing. She's not pretty, smart, charming, anything of worth, until she changes herself for her man. She changes so completely it occurs at a cellular level. Only then can she be accepted or find any self-worth. And all the while she treats the people who love her and are good to her (her father, Jacob, Angela) like shit under her whiny shoe.

As a mother I would rather my daughters read the ridiculousness that is the Sookie Stackhouse series (at least Sookie can stand up for herself!) or The Black Dagger Brotherhood.

Sure, Sookie has big boobs and works in a bar, but she handles her own pretty well. She isn't afraid of a fight and is willing to put herself out there for the people she loves. She doesn't take stupid suicidal risks, she uses her brain and solves the fucking problem!

And before you start yelling at me about how BDB is just porn, stop and think about it. Yes, these books are formulaic. But what is the formula?

Damaged and angry man is on the edge of a breakdown
Man meets kind woman who speaks to his soul
Woman is independent and smart
Woman trusts man despite his wicked ways
Man does something incredibly stupid
Woman leaves and refuses to return
Man searches his soul and comes to terms with his demons
Man repents and does something drastic to prove he's worthy of Woman's love
Woman takes him back after much consideration

So what if there's a lot of hot sex, that's definitely the message I'd rather my girls learn! Now if we could have all that hot sex and Jacob, I'd be a mighty happy girl!

Autism and the Independent Ninja

2011-10-13T10:45:00.000-04:00

Eventually it happens to every child. It happens and it's good and it's beautiful and it's powerful to watch. At some point, they stop needing you quite so much. With a child on the spectrum you find yourself wondering if that day will ever come. Will they ever get to the point where you aren't prodding, yelling, cajoling, pleading with them through every aspect of life? But when it does there's a strange sense of loss.

That's right, my little Ninja doesn't need me anymore. The teacher doesn't come to me for advice and even her Therapist Sensei says she should come less often. This is amazing to me. Just a few weeks ago I was the parent who would get called to come deal with whatever chaos she was conjuring in camp. The shift in her has been shocking. Over the course of about 6 weeks she has grown up, calmed down, and found a self confidence I've never seen in her before.

This sounds awful I know, but it's a lot like having a normal kid.

I know the next hurdle is still just around the corner. If I let myself forget that I become complacent instead of proactive. Our attempts to stay ahead of the Autism train are mildly successful and I need to remember that just because it's slowed down that doesn't mean its not there.

But for now, I'm having fun listening to her tell me about her days (finally!) and helping her write stories for homework (without yelling!) and watching her read a book just because she likes it, not because she has to escape reality. It's a beautiful thing, when your child finds themselves and you are free to sit back and enjoy it.

Guest Post from the Team at The Writer's Voice!

2011-10-11T08:12:00.004-04:00

The Writers Voice

Where you get to know the people behind the pages

(Please stop by and follow us at http://ourbooksourvoice.blogspot.com)

This is Emma Michaels, the author of 'The Thirteenth Chime’ and
'Anasazi' and I am taking over! Don’t worry, it is only for one post. To
introduce you to the team of amazing authors who are a part of a new
blog called, ‘The Writers Voice’. A blog run by 11 authors and dedicated
to letting you get to know each of us and the authors we feature! Here
is a glimpse at a few of our perspectives by seeing our answers to:

Is there anything you would like to go back one year and tell yourself?

“OMG, I had to laugh when I read this. Dear self of one year ago: Self-publishing is not an evil, scary thing. It’s not for failures. It’s not a last resort. It’s simply a choice. Embrace it because self-publishing will be very good for you!”

-Megg Jensen

“Introduce yourself to Kristie Cook and beg her to be your crit partner, and drop the prices of your books NOW! Those two things have been majorly instrumental in pushing my writing career forward.”

-Brenda Pandos

“I would tell myself to relax and take more breaks. I always felt like I had to be working on something, but now I realize that taking a breather is a good thing and makes life less stressful.”

-Jessica Sorensen

“This road you’re embarking on is not a straight and simple one. It’s full of hills and valleys, many forks and lots of bumps and roadblocks. It’s a challenging course with no end in sight, but each step, mile and leg will lead you to places you’ve never imagined possible. Enjoy the journey!”

-Kristie Cook

“Keep up the hard work! It’s coming!”

-Keary Taylor

“I wish I could have told myself to self-publish my book! Instead of waiting for months and months to get an answer from an agent or publisher, it could have been out there earlier. It would have given me more time to work on my other books.”

-Kim Richardson

Oh yeah, did I mention we have amazing guest authors?

Here is a sneak peak of a few of the interviews we have planned for the future:

“Don’t write in first person present- you haven’t got enough experience to write like that. Besides, it’s not right for the story you’re trying to tell. Save yourself some embarrassment and have the courage to ask people for their absolute honest opinion.”

-AG Bellamy

“That’s a big question. This has been a really emotional year for me—my first book hit the shelves, I had to transition from a full time day job to writing full time, and there were definitely some big ups and downs in the publishing world. I guess I would say the same thing I still tell myself: Change is inevitable. Be gentle with yourself. Cherish the people around you who fill your days with love.”

-Inara Scott

I hope you will join us at The Writers Voice and hear more from our team and other writers from around the web!

http://OurBooksOurVoice.blogspot.com

“The Writers Voice: Where you get to know the people behind the pages”

Arugala and other nonsense thoughts

2011-10-04T09:44:00.000-04:00

I am in full on type A planning mode for the Two Moons of Sera release and I think it's rotting my brain. Yesterday I literally lost at least 30 IQ points at about 3PM. Go ahead, ask Buck Boom. He told the kids not to ask me anything because I couldn't be trusted. My boss had to come to me like 4 times to ask the same question because I was too stupid to figure out what he needed.

And when I say stupid I mean STOOOOPID

Like, chickens drowning in the rain stupid.

This hasn't happened before. Usually when I amp it up for one project everything else in my life benefits from the focused mania. I clean, I work, I do projects. On the other hand whenever I usually end a busy period I tend to get sick and spend a week in bed. So maybe stupid is a preventative measure. My own brain revolting against my work-a-holic nature...

What's got me so busy you ask? What have I been up to? Oh man kids, there's so much going on it's not even funny but it IS fun! I have a new project-based job lined up which I can't tell you about yet but which I'm TOTALLY psyched about. Plus 2MOS will be coming out Nov 1st. I've been busy busy sending out review copies and organizing a blog tour. Right now I have almost the entire month of November scheduled and some days have more than one event going on.

I'm telling you it's going to be good times, quizzes and music and giveaways and more of me than you can handle. I've been meeting so many awesome bloggers and reviewers and have managed to (mostly) keep from sticking my foot in my mouth. But all that interaction, even through the computer, takes a toll on me.

I'm a recluse by nature (yes, there is such a thing as an extroverted recluse, shut up). I don't like people. Well, I like some people and most individuals I come across I like, but as a whole, groups of people give me hives. Not literally, that's groups of children, they really do give me hives.

So what to do? Well, I stumble along, trying not to make an ass of myself or screw up too much at work and do what I did last night, have a drink and climb in bed at 9PM before I can hurt anyone.

Two Moons of Sera Book Trailer #2MOS

2011-09-30T19:59:00.000-04:00

Prepare yourself for the excitement of the first viewing of the

Two Moons of Sera

Book Trailer!

To be released November 1st 2011

Happy Rosh Hashanah (ראש השנה‎)

2011-09-28T19:50:00.004-04:00

O Source of peace, lead us to peace, a peace profound and true;
lead us to a healing, to mastery of all that drives us to war within ourselves and with others.

May our deeds inscribe us in the book of life and blessing, righteousness and peace.

O Source of peace, bless us with peace.

- Gates of Repentence.

Book Snob - Unspoken Stories – Volume 1 By B.C. Young

2011-09-27T11:22:00.001-04:00

Unspoken Stories - Volume 1 by BC Young
A collection of five short stories to entertain and stimulate the mind. These stories were almost never told, but they were saved from being unspoken.

The collection includes the following science fiction stories (Click the titles to read a 50% excerpt of the story):
Copy Bird: Bill is trapped and lonely. He breaks free of his prison and finds something he doesn’t expect.
Going Home: Promises are important to keep, and Commander Patrick Murphy never wants to forget that.
Josie Dorri And The Coffee Ban: What if the government banned coffee? See what happens to Josie Dorri when they do.
The Present: Miles Gray has a good life, but doesn’t realize it. Often, a trip through time is all that is needed to open up a person’s eyes to how good they have it.
Running To Keep Her: Neil is obsessed with exercise and eating right, but it’s not for his health that he does it. He does it to keep her.
Read, enjoy, and open up your mind…

Disclaimer: I received a copy of this eBook as a part of BC's book tour event. No promise of a positive review was made.

Unspoken Stories - Volume 1 by BC Young is not usually my kind of thing. I don't generally enjoy short story collections but BC's creativity and unique story lines kept me engaged through the entire collection. BC's ability to create an entire world in such a small space is difficult and remarkable.

I really enjoyed reading this collection, the writing was face paced and the stories different enough from each other to keep me reading but still connected enough to feel like part of a whole. Check it out, it's a good quick read.

Leave a comment below to enter to win a free eBook of Unspoken Stories

Two Moons of Sera giveaway is LIVE GoodReads bit.ly/nO1d8a #2MOS

2011-09-21T09:26:00.000-04:00

I'm giving away 5 Advance Copies of Two Moons of Sera on GoodReads. Enter today to win a limited edition PRINT copy of Volume One! This is not something that will be published or available outside of this giveaway. Thanks! Hope you enjoy!

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Two Moons of Sera

by Pavarti K Tyler

Giveaway ends October 15, 2011.

See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.

Enter to win

Book Snob - The Search for Wondla

2011-09-20T18:01:00.002-04:00

The Search for WondLa by Tony DiTerlizzi

Eva Nine is a curious and sensitive twelve-year-old who has existed only in a subterranean home called Sanctuary, cared for by a robot named Muthr. Eva's great desire is to go aboveground, and her wish comes true, though not as she had imagined. On the surface, Eva goes in search of other humans--she has never met one--and soon meets both friend and foe.

I read to my children every night. One is six, the other eight. We have been through a few of the Harry Potter books, the Swiftly Tilting Planet series and a number of other small books, but nothing has ever caught the imagination of myself and my two vastly different children like The Search for WondLa.

DiTerlizzi has again shown us that writing for children down not need to be simple or slow. His fantastical world and brilliant use of language is again a masterpiece. The Spiderwick Chronicles and Beyond The Spiderwick Chronicles are favorites around here, so it's no surprise that when DiTerlizzi took us out of Fantasy and into Sci-Fi he would do it with the same flare as before.

The Search for WondLa is an engaging book on the level of plot. A young girl who has been raised by a robot in an isolated underground Sanctuary must leave her home and try to find others like herself. Along the way we meet animals, plant-life and intelligent creatures unlike any seen on Earth. Each new discovery is described in detail so that the reader feels they are there, but still with the simplicity and speed a child responds to.

The book is long, coming in at 496 pages (in YA spacing and format) but one chapter a night rarely was enough for my girls. They were always asking for more. There were many nights when I had to stop myself from reading ahead, just to find out what happened.

I recommend The Search for WondLa for any reader. This is an interesting and delightful story to read as an adult. In such contrast with all the romance and blood in literature these days, a new kind of fairytale was a treat to lose myself in. And for my daughters, DiTerlizzi never spoke down to them - never made them think this was a "baby" book, but also took great care to involve them at their level. An great example is at one point the narrative uses the word "tome."

"Do you know what tome means?" I asked my girls.
"No," said the 6 YO.
"No," said the Ninja, "but I think it means book... I mean, they're in a library right?"

The Search for WondLa encourages critical thinking as well as a love for literature. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

Guest Blog - Why 2011 Belongs to the Indie Author By David Beem

2011-09-20T09:07:00.000-04:00

“A word of advice to Lost Ark enthusiasts: this is the book to take on holiday - it is a captivating and well researched romp through some of the most exciting Ark territory. Terrific!”

Tudor Parfitt, University of London scholar, author of The Lost Ark of the Covenant: Solving the 2,500-Year-Old Mystery of the Fabled Biblical Ark.

“Indiana Jones, step aside! There's a new kid in town—cellist Max Sinclair, and you'll never look at musicians in the same way again! Beem has done his research and provides a taut thriller that will keep you on the edge of your seat as it moves through all the Middle East hot spots to its startling conclusion. Weaving together elements of the three faiths—Islam, Judaism, and Christianity—this novel blends modern day politics into an intriguing saga of the Lost Ark. You won't be able to put it down.”

Rebecca L Torstrick, Indiana University South Bend, author of Culture and Customs of the Arab Gulf States (Culture and Customs of the Middle East).

Why 2011 Belongs to the Indie Author

By David Beem

There’s never been a more exciting time to be an independent author than now. With the advent of e-publishing, the playing fields have been leveled and readers, not industry elites, get to decide what “good” is. John Locke, Amanda Hocking, Stephen Leather, these are just a few names blazing the cyber tubes, and are folks who inspire me.

Why do I think 2011 is the year of the Indie? Well, we’ve been headed that way for some time. In 2007, Amazon launched its Kindle e-reader and the market changed forever. Of the idea of being published by one of the larger New York publishing houses, John Locke, author of the Donovan Creed novels, said to the Wall Street Journal, “I don’t want to be told when to publish, I don’t want to soften my character, and I don’t want to be told what stories to write.”

why be an Indie; Enter the Abyss.

Taking a page from John Locke’s book, I’ve decided to invent my own genre. I call it: “Cool-Action-Adventure-Supernatural-Thriller” genre, and Abyss of Chaos is overflowing with the awesome sauce of everything cool. Jewish mysticism, the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, Satanic cults, cutting edge technology and theories based in fringe science – all seamlessly blended with contemporary Middle Eastern faith politics. Abyss chronicles the adventures of 26 year-old prodigy cellist Max Sinclair and his aging archeologist godfather as they discover their roles in a doomsday prophecy connecting them to the fabled Ark of the Covenant. Sound cool? It’s “Cool-Action-Adventure-Supernatural-Thriller” cool! And because I’m a 21^st Century independent author, I get to write what I want.

The Big Six = Big Business.

The largest New York publishing houses, also known as the Big 6, have a vested interest in meddling with their legacy writers’ stories, and interfering with other matters of authorship, because the publishing house thinks it know its readership better than its authors. They do this because it’s the publishing house’s money that is behind these behemoth publications. But as an Indie author, writing at the fringes of my imagination, without the meddling of publishers, matters to me. Writing in that space inside my mind’s eye, with room to spread out, teaches me who my audience is. I’m betting that Abyss of Chaos strikes people as different. I’m betting that Abyss of Chaos strikes people as pleasantly unusual. I trust my readership to recognize its intrinsic quality for what it is. And I’m doing this because I can. Because I didn’t have to collect a thousand rejection letters before my book sees the light of day. I believed in it, and that was enough to make it come true. As it should be.

Big New York Publishing knows the truth of these sentiments, because it’s a business first. One which employs people to weed out books that look like they won’t sell. Maybe your book. Maybe mine. But the truth is in the financials. And this is the picture as seen from the highest floors of corporate offices, looking down at the Indie uprising.

In fact, the real question is: How can the big 6 compete?

In March 2011, John Locke sold 369,000 downloads on Amazon alone, all 99-cent eBooks. At 35-cents profit per title, he’s reporting his Amazon publishing revenue at $126,000 for the month of March, 2011 alone. (You can find his titles at Kobo, Barnes and Noble and Apple as well.)

Then there’s Stephen Leather, another successful 99-cent author. Mr. Leather posted his Amazon sales charts for December 2010 on his blog: 43,827 books sold at 99-cents, as compared to the sales of his 507 “premium” priced books. (The “premium” priced books referenced, today, are selling for £1.98 and £4.45 respectively.)

And what about Amanda Hocking? A twenty-something traditional pub “reject” who struck out on her own. Her story is that she collected “hundreds” of rejection letters before deciding to sell her books for 99-cents online, and last February Hocking sold a whopping 227,515 total units (all nine of her works). Barnes and Noble reported 55,135 units, and CreateSpace another 2,948. Round her sales off at 280,000, factor in Amazon’s 35% royalties for books under a $2.99, and she’s doing pretty well for an author no one wanted to publish.

Of course, the latest news on Ms. Hocking is that she signed a pretty sweet deal. The New York Times reported that bidding rose above $2 million before St. Martin’s Press (not among the Big 6) secured print and digital rights to a new YA paranormal series. Why the change of heart? Says Ms. Hocking, "I'm a writer. I want to be a writer. I do not want to spend 40 hours a week handling emails, formatting covers, finding editors, etc. Right now, being me is a full time corporation."

Amen sister. That’s one way to approach the bargaining table. And that’s the route I’m going. Who’s with me?

Nip/Tuck - A Beautiful Disaster

2011-09-17T23:18:00.000-04:00

I didn't watch Nip/Tuck when it was first on. I couldn't stand the drama and dysfunction of the characters. I hated my job, I was in the throws of emotional insanity after having my first baby, I'd just moved and watching people essentially destroy their own lives for no good reason just didn't seem like fun.

A few years later I picked it up again. It was during the midget sex scene (those of you who watched the show know exactly what I'm talking about) that my imagination was captured. The special effects are shocking in their accuracy, the surgeries gruesome in their explicitly and the plot lines are so ridiculous they become comical.

That's the thing I didn't understand at first. I didn't understand that the insanity of the show isn't just tragic, it's so over the top, so extreme that there's a certain whimsy to it. The voyeuristic soft-core porn nature of the fantasy driven horror show is something no other series has ever attempted. Maybe that's why it works so well. The actors, the characters, so completely immerse themselves in the impossibilities of the world that they become real and possible.

I've always been enamored with extremes. You can ask any actor who ever worked with me as a director or anyone who's been friends with me for more that ten minutes. I am hyperbolic by nature, not always in a negative way, but I live in heightened alert. This show takes every choice, every plot point to the nth degree. I remember watching an episode with a friend, he burst into laughter and joked about what ridiculous thing might come next. I upped the ante, said "Nope, just you wait, he's going to fuck her and she's going to turn out to be his sister." I was right. He was appauled.

Nip/Tuck isn't for everyone. It's upsetting, dark and demented. But it's also beautiful, deep and vivid. The character types may offend, but they are relate-able. They are psychopathic extreme versions of our selves, our fantasies, our nightmares are all played out on the screen. There is something cathartic about it, about seeing them fall and fail in such extreme degrees. Their disasters make my life seem small and insignificant in some way. I can watch them, grieve for them, laugh with them and live in the moment.

Guest Post - Ready, Set, Let’s Make a Movie by Martha Carr

2011-09-13T15:12:00.000-04:00

Martha Randolph Carr is the author of three books and has a weekly, nationally syndicated column through the Cagle Cartoon syndicate on politics, national interest topics and life in general. Her newest work, The List is a political thriller set around an attorney, Wallis Jones her husband Norman and their son Ned. The List is the first in a series. Martha is currently at work on the sequel, The Keeper.

Martha is also a melanoma survivor, Chi runner, occasional rower and skydiver and mother to Louie. She resides near her son in Chicago, IL, where everyone is always welcome to stay for dinner.

Ready, Set, Let’s Make a Movie by Martha Carr

Most authors know by now that becoming a bestseller is a lot of hard work and talent mixed with a bit of just being in the right place at the right time. However, there’s one big myth still left in our world pointing toward a magical shortcut.

The movie deal.

I’ve spent a lot of time staring out the window by my computer imagining just what I’d buy, or in reality pay off, when that deal comes through at last.

Then it happened and my first novel, Wired was actually optioned for film and I felt my pace quicken as I waited for it all to unfold. A director who’d actually won an Oscar called to say how much he loved the book and was looking forward to directing the picture. There were even meetings in Hollywood where people fawned all over me like I had become some kind of genius. I finally understood how people turned into divas.

And then it all slowed down to a crawl until it fizzled down to nothing.

Time passed and I published other stories but lo and behold producers came around again and optioned Wired, yet again. Different faces, more compliments, same ending. All in all Wired has been optioned three times and every time by great people who know what they’re doing in the movie business who had every intention of making a movie.

And yet, none of it happened. That’s because the process of making a movie is a lot like an enormous machine with a million moving parts and most of those parts are vital. One of them falls off and everything halts.

Till the next time the merry-go-round stops by me and I take the ride again. Until then, here’s a few things I’ve learned that may help you out.

Let a professional agent or lawyer help you negotiate the deal. Don’t try to do it yourself just to save a few dollars or because it’s a small production. Mistakes can have long-term, expensive repercussions.

Go into the process understanding that it’s collaborative and you are signing away the control over most of the project. It’s not possible to make a film if the writer is a dictator and plenty of deals have gone south because an author didn’t get this principle.

Be grateful for the option. Take it as a compliment that some hardworking professionals wanted to even try with something you created. Take the funds, be of service whenever you can and go back to your life. It may be years before the project comes to completion anyway.

Here’s a last one that your mother may have taught you and has had a bigger impact than you might expect. Send a handwritten thank you note through the U.S. mail. Don’t send an email, a tweet or a text. Thank the producers for their time and energy for optioning your project, and if it doesn’t work out, for trying to make it a success. Wish them well and mean it. Sometimes, things change and they circle back around to that little gem they loved by that considerate author and years later there you are standing on a movie set.

Martha Carr is the author of the thriller Wired.
www.MarthaCarr.com

Book Snob - Zazen by Vanessa Veselka

2011-09-13T10:04:00.000-04:00

Zazen by Vanessa Veselka

Somewhere in Della’s consumptive, industrial wasteland of a city, a bomb goes off. It is not the first, and will not be the last.

Reactions to the attacks are polarized. Police activity intensifies. Della’s revolutionary parents welcome the upheaval but are trapped within their own insular beliefs. Her activist restaurant co-workers, who would rather change their identities than the world around them, resume a shallow rebellion of hair-dye, sex parties, and self-absorption. As those bombs keep inching closer, thudding deep and real between the sounds of katydids fluttering in the still of the city night, and the destruction begins to excite her. What begins as terror threats called in to greasy bro-bars across the block boils over into a desperate plot, intoxicating and captivating Della and leaving her little chance for escape.

Zazen unfolds as a search for clarity soured by irresolution and catastrophe, yet made vital by the thin, wild veins of imagination run through each escalating moment, tensing and relaxing, unfurling and ensnaring. Vanessa Veselka renders Della and her world with beautiful, freighting, and phantasmagorically intelligent accuracy, crafting from their shattered constitutions a perversely perfect mirror for our own selves and state.

Zazen by Vanessa Veselka is a beautiful book. It's written with a lyrical prose and poetic license rarely found in modern Lit Fic. The plot is slow and twisting, constantly surprising and subtle. Unfortunately Vaselka's expert wordsmithing doesn't manage to salvage the emotionless characters and inaccessible world of Zazen.

In the interest of full disclosure, I feel the need to tell you I went to Smith College in the 90s. I have some very real issues with what I would call "liberal fascists" and "opportunistic lesbians." I knew people just like Grace and Milo who lived off the grid and thought they were truly better than others because of it. I knew people who thought that being in an inter-racial couple or homosexual relationship somehow added credibility to your liberalism. Vaselka portrayed these individuals so well they pissed me off to the degree I didn't enjoy reading about them.

The problem though is they pissed me off so much I didn't enjoy reading about them! The characters in Zazen were flat and unengaging, constantly beating the same fascist drum disguised as enlightenment. I didn't care about Della's inner-turmoil. Instead of being relateable and tragic all she managed to do was annoy me. I felt no passion, no life, no reason to care. She was a cardboard cut out of a really interesting character. Extremely deep in thought and observation but lacking any emotional connection what so ever.

Even the intended love interest of Della held no passion, no meaning. Della is no better than my college roommate who slept with a woman so she had someone to take care of her and make her feel special until she met a man. The very kind of woman who gives bisexuals such a bad reputation. Perhaps someone this world is new to would find it alien enough to be exotic or interesting. Instead I just saw all the reasons I don't talk to many people from that time in my life.

At one point I put this book down and didn't come back for a few days, which if you know me is telling in itself. When I picked it up again I couldn't find my place and found that I could start just about anywhere and not feel like I'd missed some important part of the story of character development. The plot was simply too one-note for it to make a difference.

I do believe that Veselka is extremely talented. Her turns of phrase are exquisite. She describes Grace (the mother) consistently and vividly using some of the most poetic language I have read in a novel in a long time. The fact that I wanted to stab Grace in the eye with her fucking Frito Pie serving knife for being the single most selfish and pretentious character I've ever read about unfortunately rendered much of Veselka's beautiful writing void.

Here are some quotes from the book that really caught me. Vivid and beautiful, Veselka's style is evocative and unique. I can't wait to see what she writes next. Hopefully she will be able to find the place where beautiful words evoke emotion and engage you deeper in the story.

Credence sets his coffee cup in the sink where it turns into a silk moth, flies into a light mixture, and rains down in a cascade of ash.

Intentions blowing everywhere like dandelion seeds.

Autism and how Ninjas Grow Up

2011-09-12T13:04:00.000-04:00

A new school year has begun and with it a whole new litany of fears, anxieties and obstacles. And that's just for me. Never mind all the things Ninja has to navigate as she enters a new grade. This year is Third Grade, which as far as my informal poll has gone is consistently the worst year for elementary school. I know that for me it has scared me so much my husband is rolling his eyes right now, reading about my third grade trauma again.

When I was eight I entered Oak View Elementary after moving from New Jersey with my mother. My teacher was Mrs. Williams and my class was located outside in a trailer. We had no bathroom and would have to bundle up to trudge through the snow, two at a time, just to pee. There was nothing about that year that was easy. In fact, there were only two good things to come of it. 1 - I met Tracy O'Rourke who is, to this day, my best friend. 2 - I was involved in the Good Reads pull out program.

The year was awful, as Third Grade tends to go, but tolerable. I was a part of the "Tom Cruise Club" on the playground and made a few friends. I was even allowed to wear lip gloss to school for the first time. I thought I was hot shit. Mrs. Williams was not a nice woman with her short mousy brown hair and constant yellow sweater, but it wasn't that bad until we began learning cursive.

In my previous school cursive had been taught in second grade. I could already write fluently, however, I had learned some slightly different rules. Nothing extreme, just small things like the angle of the "n" and "m"s and most importantly how to write a cursive "Q". Because I had already learned another way, it was very difficult for me to do it the way Mrs. Williams insisted. I received a D in Handwriting. The only D I received in my entire life. For something I walked in already knowing how to do.

Are you seeing how deeply effected I was about all this? This post is supposed to be about Ninja and here I am telling you all about my Third Grade trauma.

Third Grade isn't something to dismiss or minimize. It's the first foray into "real" school and the first time your child is going to confront the importance of Grades. For me this was a traumatic thing. Although perhaps it's part of what has made me into such a Teacher Please-er who is always trying to get an A - still.

Tuesday was the first day of school for Ninja. She is now officially in the Third Grade. She is also now officially enmeshed in what we'll refer to as the "Emotional Terrorism of Girls." She is not being terrorized by other girls. No. ETG comes from within and it's almost impossible to distinguish from the melodramatic tantrums from Second Grade, but are none-the-less entirely different and must be handled with care.

The most difficult thing about ETG is that you never know when it's going to erupt or in what form it will appear. Will it be a frustrating homework assignment or a spider? You may never know. We aren't even into the teen years and yet the effects of living with ETG are already apparent. My husband stands around, furious, trying to figure out if he should say something or roll his eyes. (Honey, I hate to tell you this, but neither works.)

Ninja is growing up and in the words of her Third Grade Teacher - she's "not even the weirdest one." I guess there's comfort in knowing that even while navigating the confusing thought process of a child on the autism spectrum co-mingled with ETG, she's boringly normal. Ahh crazy - the universal equalizer of girls.

9/11 isn't a holiday

2011-09-09T07:24:00.001-04:00

Like almost every other American and many in our world community I know exactly where I was on 9/11 when the first plane hit. I also remember not believing what I’d heard and not knowing what to do. I had friends who walked home in the rubble of ground zero and family who worked at the pentagon. The horror and terror of that day is something I will never forget. This post however, is not about that.

This post is about September 10th 2001 and September 13th 2001.

September 10th 2001

I lived in a small apartment complex in a one bedroom apartment with my husband and 2 dogs. I was working at a lawfirm in DC doing data entry in the finance department. Everyday I rode the bus from our complex to the metro and then the metro into the city and then walked fifteen minutes to my office. It was my routine. I had been doing this for four months, ever since we’d moved from Brooklyn, NY.

I worked and enjoyed my job while working as an intern dramaturgue at one of the theatres downtown. In the evenings I studied for the GREs. Life was pretty simple.

Everyday on the short bus ride to the metro I sat next to the same woman. We never spoke more then a few casual words. What I do remember is the surprise in her eyes the first day I sat down next to her and said hello after thanking her for moving her purse for me. I also remember that she wore hijab. She often wore jeans and was always beautifully dressed. She also always had a Chador or Abaya on over her clothes. I'm afraid I'm not enlightened enough to really understand the difference.

I also remember her surprise one day when I complimented her hijab.

This woman was not a friend. I did not know her or have any reason to feel an emotional connection to her, but she was a part of my everyday life. A part of the mundane tapestry that filled my commute. I enjoyed knowing she would be there and always wondered if she was ill on the days she wasn’t. Life before 9/11 was not complicated on that bus.

September 13th 2001

On September 13th I returned back to work. I can’t remember the reason but my husband did not drive me in that day. Most of the time after 9/11 we carpooled and I changed my hours so I wouldn’t have to ride the metro. Fear makes us irrational.

None-the-less on September 13th I rode the bus and my seat mate wasn’t there. Or so I thought.

Sitting 3 rows behind where we usually sat was a lovely woman wearing a blouse and dress pants, with long black hair. After staring at her for about 10 minutes I realized where I knew her. She was the muslimah I had come to look forward to seeing every day. When we got off the bus I hurried to catch up to her. We traveled in different directions on the metro so I had to grab her attention before she went through the turnstile. Our exact conversation is lost to the passage of time but I remember her sad smile when I asked why she wasn’t wearing her hijab.

It’s not safe anymore, my brother was spit on, my mother was mugged, all yesterday. Everyone I know has someone in their family who has been threatened or attacked in the last two days. Its just not safe.

Now

I never spoke to her again. I carpooled with Buck Boom and on the rare occasion I would ride the bus she wasn’t there. I never knew her name, never had her over for dinner, never thought much about her in the times before and after our short rides together on the bus. But now, the sadness and fear in her eyes still lingers.

After a brutal and unforgivable attack on America a woman felt no choice but to stop publicly practicing her religion in America. To me this is a tragedy and proof that in small and insidious ways terrorism won. Islamophobia is still on the rise, now, ten years later.

We still have a lesson to learn about what it means to be American, what it means to be free. I hope that woman knows that I would have taken away her fear if I could have.

I also hope that by writing Shadow on the Wall and eventually all of the SandStorm Chronicles books I have helped make the world a better place. The world needs a hero and we need to change the way we look at each other.

There isn’t that much difference between any of us. Most people of all faiths (and without faith) want the same things, to live a good life, to be left alone to seek their own truth, to be a part of something important. Fundamentalists and Radicals of all religions are dangerous but between the woman on the bus and myself the important differences are slim.

I hope that my readers can see some of themselves in Shadow on the Wall. Whether it be Recai, Rebekah, Maryam, or even Darya. Is it really so hard to imagine yourself in another person’s shoes that you would take away their freedom to wear them?

OMG Abyss is out on E-Book!

2011-09-08T13:16:00.007-04:00

Abyss of Chaos
Available as E-Book Today!

“A word of advice to Lost Ark enthusiasts: this is the book to take on holiday—it is a captivating and well researched romp through some of the most exciting Ark territory. Terrific!”

Tudor Parfitt, University of London scholar, author of The Lost Ark of the Covenant: Solving the 2,500-Year-Old Mystery of the Fabled Biblical Ark.

Ø Click here to read about Abyss on Indie Spotlight!
Ø Click here to listen to David on Blog Radio!
Ø Read this fun blog Ark of the Covenant; Beyond Raiders, to learn fun facts about history’s greatest treasure!
Ø Meet interesting people on David’s Blog!
Ø David Beem in Forty-One South!
Ø Click here to read an interview with David Beem!
Ø Follow David on Goodreads!

Follow Links for Your Format!

Kindle ~ Nook ~ Smashwords (Scroll down page for all formats.)

Abyss gets its first customer review!

Five Stars! A Thrilling Novel about the Arc of the Covenant
This review is from: Abyss of Chaos (Volume 1) (Paperback)

This is a wonderful read -- jam packed with action, humor and truly interesting history. It would really appeal to anyone who liked "DaVinci Code" or the "Raiders of the Lost Ark" series. I loved that I also learned something about a legend that I had no idea about -- that the Arc of the Covenant resides in Ethiopia. I got so interested in this topic and was glad to find so much more info on it at the author's website [...] I also loved the characters, particularly the hero, Max Sinclair. He's funny and smart, and his background as professional cellist makes him more interesting than other action heroes. I hope that the author is working on another book now, and I hope that we learn more of Max's life as a cellist!

Buy Today and get a sneak peek at the exciting new novel

Shadow on the Wall
By Pavarti K. Tyler

Forced to bear witness to a brutal rape and murder, Recai Osman must overcome the demons of his tortured past and utilize every resource his billion-dollar empire offers to hit back at the RTK.

Shadow on the Wall is Book One of The Sand Storm Chronicles, which tells the epic transformation of a complicated man from mogul brat to . . . superhero.

Guest Blogger - Celine Nyx discusses book covers

2011-08-30T08:43:00.001-04:00

Quite a while ago, Pavarti asked me to do a guest post on her blog, preferably about book covers. Now, a few months later, the post is finally there! I would like to thank Pavarti for letting me talk about my biggest passion of all time: books!

When you are standing in front of your local bookstore's fantasy section, or romance section, or whatever section is your favourite, there is one thing that immediately will catch your eye. The book covers. They all have different shapes, different colours, that make them unique. They will try to draw you in, mysteriously hinting at their insides. Some of them you will love instantly. Others will make you frown, or more likely, you won't even notice them. What makes a good cover?

The first thing that you want the cover to have, is a certain shiny-factor. Something that makes you go, ohhh, it's so pretty! This can be something sparky, something colourful, or something that makes it stand out between those bland other covers. A good example of the shiny-factor is the cover of The Host by Stephanie Meyer. The main focus of the picture, the eye, has in real life a small ring of silver that reflects the light. It has some kind of eerie quality, that instantly makes you curious to know what this book is about.

Another thing that makes a good cover, is mystery. You don't want the whole book summarized on the front. You want something that makes people ask themselves, what has this to do with the story? One of the best mysterious covers I have seen is the cover of The Replacement by Brenna Yovanoff. Really, if this cover doesn't make you curious, I honestly don't know what will. Even though I had no idea what this story was about, I knew I had to have this book. It looks so dark and inviting, it's almost movie-like.

Last but not least, simplicity is what makes a cover beautiful. Covers with just a single item on them can have a bigger impact than a terribly crowded cover. As an example I would like to bring forth the cover of Susanna Clarke's Jonathan Stange & Mr Norrell. I think this cover is utterly brilliant. The white against the black, the font and the spacing of the letters, the silhouette of a bird in flight... It's so very, very simple, but it still makes me smile every time I see it. Just because it has no colour, it has no people on it, it has no recommendation subtitles, it's a pure cover, merely meant as a protecting jacket for the goodness inside. I absolutely love this one.

In the end, whether or not a cover is good depends on personal taste. Just like some people love romance while others hate it, some people will love certain covers while others find them ugly, or boring. As long as we can agree on one thing, everything will be all right; books are here to stay.

I hope you enjoyed my post on book covers, and will visit my blog, Nyx Book Reviews sometime.

Happy reading!
Celine

Shadow On The Wall Release DELAYED

2011-08-28T10:23:00.000-04:00

An Earthquake, a Hurricane and a Plague?
(My mother has viral meningitis and I've been sick for 2 weeks now).

It seems the Gods are trying to tell me something.

I figure I should go ahead and announce the delay before the Locust arrive. There is simply no way I'm going to make my deadline to have the final draft to the printer in the next two weeks.

Thanks everyone for your support. I'll let you know when a new release date is set.

Two Moons of Sera - and we're off!

2011-08-26T14:42:00.000-04:00

Two Moons of Sera (No. 1) has been sent to my crit partner, the wonderful Carissa El! I'm sure she'll have things to rip apart/improve but I'm really excited with how this has turned out. TMOS (hey, that would sound like Thomas if you said it out loud!) will be published as a serial novel. Each section will be $0.99 in ebook format only. When the story is complete I will also publish a consolidated paperback version. That could be as far as a year away though, so don't wait til then!

Here's my first stab at a blurb:

Serafay, a hybrid of her mother's Sualwet (water dwelling) genetics and those of the Erdlander (land dwelling) people thanks to genetic experiments must find out who she really is.

So what do you think? Have I peaked your curiosity?

An excertp from In Leah's Wake by Terri

2011-08-26T13:06:00.000-04:00

As part of this special promotional extravaganza sponsored by Novel Publicity, the price of the In Leah’s Wake Kindle edition has dropped to just 99 cents this week.

What’s more, by purchasing this fantastic book at an incredibly low price, you can enter to win many awesome prizes, including a Kindle, 5 autographed copies of the book, and multiple Amazon gift cards (1 for $100, 3 for $25, 5 for $10, and 10 for $5 – 19 in all)! Be sure to enter before the end of the day on Friday, August 26^th, so you don’t miss out.

To win the prizes:

Purchase your copy of In Leah’s Wake for just 99 cents
Fill-out the form on the author’s site to enter for prizes
Visit today’s featured event; you may win an autographed copy of the book!

And I can win $100 too if you vote for my blog over on the author’s website (I'm MY LIFE OF BOOKS AND BEAUTY). The blog host that gets the most votes in this traffic-breaker polls wins, so please cast yours right after purchasing In Leah’s Wake and entering the contests!

An excerpt from In Leah’s Wake by Terri Giuliano Long

The prologue and first chapter

“. . . little heart of mine, believe me, everyone is really responsible to all men for all men and for everything. I don‘t know how to explain it to you, but I feel it is so, painfully even. And how is it we went on living, getting angry and not knowing?”

Fyodor Dostoevsky
The Grand Inquisitor

Prologue
March

Justine strikes a pose before the full-length mirror hanging on her closet door. Chin up, hands by her sides. She draws a breath. “My dear. . .” she begins, and stops mid-sentence. Wrinkles her nose. She’s got it all wrong. She’s too—Too stiff. Too grownup. Toosomething.

She rakes her fingers over her short dark hair, sweeping the bangs out of her eyes, tugs at the hem of her pink baby-doll pajamas. She’s scheduled to deliver the candidates’ address at her Confirmation Mass this afternoon. When she learned, six months ago, that she had been selected speaker, Justine was ecstatic. Now, the very idea of standing in front of the whole congregation, telling hundreds, maybe thousands, of people how she’s learned from her own family what it means to be part of God’s larger family makes her sick to her stomach.

She has no choice. She made a commitment.

She folds her hands primly, setting them at chest height on her imaginary podium, glances at her cheat sheet, rolls her lower face into a smile, and begins again. “My fellow Confirmation candidates,” she says this time. Justine crumples the paper, tosses it onto her bed. My fellow Confirmation candidates. What a dork. She sounds about twenty, instead of thirteen.

She screws up her face. “I can’t do this,” she says, wagging a finger at the girl watching her from the mirror. She would feel like a hypocrite.

Justine plods to the bathroom, pees, pads back to her bedroom. The forecasters are predicting snow, starting later today. A dismal gray stratus hangs over her skylight. Her room is dark, the air raw. Her sister’s blue and gold Cortland High sweatshirt lies in a heap at the foot of her bed. Justine pulls the sweatshirt over her head, retrieves the balled-up paper. With the back of her hand, she flattens it out, and returns to the mirror to practice.

As always, on first glance, the girl in the mirror takes Justine by surprise. She’s grown two inches since Christmas, isn’t chubby anymore, her belly flat, the clavicle bones visible now at the base of her throat. She pushes her bangs out of her pale, darkly fringed eyes. With her fingertips, she touches her cheeks. Her features have matured, her nose long and straight, like her mother’s, her cheekbones defined. She curls and uncurls her toes. She wears a size six shoe, a size and a half smaller than Leah. Her toes are long and slim, the nails painted blue.

Justine crushes the sheet of paper, tosses it in the trash, strolls to her window, raises the honeycomb shade. Spring feels a long way away, the yard empty, the trees bare. A rush of cold air streams in, under the sash. The air smells of snow. Justine presses her hand against the cool glass, the way she and her sister used to do on the windshield of their father’s car, when they were small. Stop, their father would scold. You’re making a mess. She smiles, remembering how Leah loved egging him on. She pulls her hand away from the glass, watches her prints disappear.

Justine wishes, sometimes, that she could disappear, too. Poof, just like the handprint.

Poof, just like her sister.

Chapter One: Just Do It
September

Zoe and Will Tyler sat at the dining room table, playing poker. The table, a nineteenth-century, hand-carved mahogany, faced the bay window overlooking their sprawling front yard. Husband and wife sat facing one another, a bowl of Tostitos and a half-empty bottle of port positioned between them. Their favorite Van Morrison disc—Tupelo Honey—spun on the player in the family room, the music drifting out of speakers built into the dining room walls.

Dog, their old yellow Lab, lay on a ratty pink baby blanket, under the window.

Zoe plucked the Queen of Hearts from the outside of her hand, and tucked it center. She was holding a straight. If she laid it down, she would win the hand, third in a row, and her husband would quit. If she didn’t, she would be cheating herself.

The moon was full tonight, its light casting a ghostly shadow across the yard. The full moon made Zoe anxious. For one of her internships in grad school, she’d worked on the psych ward at City Hospital, in Boston. On nights when the moon was full, the floor erupted, the patients noisy, agitated. Zoe’s superiors had pooh-poohed the lunar effect, chalked it up to irrationality, superstition. But Zoe had witnessed the flaring tempers, seen the commotion with her own two eyes, and found the effect impossible to deny—and nearly all the nurses concurred.

“Full moon,” she said. “I hadn’t noticed. No wonder I had trouble sleeping last night.”

Will set his empty glass on the table. With his fingers, he drummed an impatient tattoo. “You planning to take your turn any time soon? Be nice if we ended this game before midnight.”

“For Pete’s sake, Will.” Her husband had the attention span of a titmouse. He reminded her of Mick, a six year-old ADD patient she counseled—sweet kid, when he wasn’t ransacking her office, tossing the sand out of the turtle-shaped box, tweaking her African violets.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, sulking.

She shook her head—nothing, Mick—and forced a straight face.

“You’re laughing at me.”

“Don’t be silly. Why would I be laughing at you?”

He peered at his reflection in the window. Smirking, he finger-combed his baby-fine hair, pale, graying at the temples, carving a mini-pyramid at his crown.

“Nice do. Could use a little more gel,” she said, feeling mean-spirited the instant the words slipped out of her mouth. The poor guy was exhausted. He’d spent the week in California, on business, had flown into Logan this morning, on the red-eye. Though he had yet to fill her in on the details, it was obvious to her that his trip had not gone well. “Sorry,” she said. “Just kidding.” She fanned out her cards, hesitated for an instant, and laid down the straight.

“Congratulations.” Scowling, he pushed away from the table. “You win again.”

“Way to go, grumpy. Quit.”

“I’m getting water,” he said, tamping his hair. “Want some?”

Dog lifted her head, her gaze following Will to the door, yawned, and settled back down.

Her husband stomped across the kitchen, his footfall moving in the direction of the family room. The music stopped abruptly, and the opening chords of a Robbie Robertson tune belted out of the speakers. Zoe loved Robbie Robertson, “Showdown at Big Sky” one of her favorite songs. That didn’t mean that the entire state of Massachusetts wanted to hear it.

“Will,” she said, gesturing from the kitchen. “Turn it down. You’ll wake Justine.”

She waited a few seconds, caught his eye, gestured again. The third time was the charm.

Exasperated, she returned to the dining room, bundled the cards, put them away in the sideboard, and gathered the dishes. The toilet flushed in the half-bath off the back hall. Seconds later, she heard her husband rattling around the kitchen, slamming the cabinet doors. Last spring, Will had won a major contract for his company, North American Construction. Since then, he’d been back and forth nonstop to the West Coast, spending two weeks a month in San Francisco, servicing the client. Zoe hadn’t minded his traveling, at first. Over the past two years, with the glut of office and manufacturing space in the northeast, construction starts had dropped, and his sales had taken a serious hit, his commissions steadily dwindling. To compensate, initially they’d relied on their savings. In January, they’d remortgaged the house. When the California job arose, Will had jumped on the opportunity. He had no choice, especially with Leah headed to college next year. But the situation, lately, was brutal. Will hated traveling, hated flying, hated living out of a suitcase. And he resented missing Leah’s soccer games. Last November, as a sophomore, their daughter had been named Player of the Year on theBoston Globe All-Scholastic team. A week later, in his year-end summary, the sports reporter from the Cortland Gazette had called Leah the “best soccer player in the state.” The head coaches from the top colleges in the area—Harvard, Dartmouth, Boston College, BU—had sent congratulatory letters, expressing their interest. Will wanted to be home to guide her, meet the prospective coaches, help her sort through her options. Zoe didn’t blame her husband a bit. But it didn’t seem to occur to Will that his traveling disrupted her life, too. Last year, she’d developed a motivational seminar, called “Success Skills for Women on the Move.” Now that the girls were practically grown, the workshops were her babies. The extra workload at home, added to the demands of her fulltime job at the counseling center, left her with no time for marketing or promotion, and the workshops had stagnated. Zoe understood her husband’s frustration. It irked her when he minimized hers.

Will appeared in the doorway, a few minutes later, empty-handed. Will was tall, a hair shy of six-one. He’d played football in college, and, at forty-five, still had the broad shoulders and narrow waist of an athlete. Amazing, really: after eighteen years of marriage, she still found him achingly sexy. Crow’s feet creased the corners of his intelligent blue eyes and fine lines etched his cheekbones, giving his boyish features a look of intensity and purpose, qualities Zoe had recognized from the start but that only now, as he was aging, showed on his face.

After work, he’d changed into a pair of stonewashed jeans and a gray sweatshirt, worn soft, the words “Harvard Soccer Camp” screened in maroon lettering across the chest. Absently, he pushed up his sleeves, and peered around the room as though looking for something. “Zoe—” Normally, he called her Honey or Zo.

“I put the cards away.” She thumbed the sideboard. “You quit, remember?”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

She glanced at the cuckoo clock on the far wall. “Ten past eleven. So?”

“Where’s Leah?”

At the football game, with Cissy. “They’ve been going every week. Did you forget?”

“She ought to be home by now.”

“She’s only ten minutes late.” Their daughter was a junior in high school. They’d agreed, before school started this year, to extend her weekend curfew to eleven. “She’ll be here soon.”

Will stalked to the window, grumbling. Dog rose, and pressed her nose to the glass.

Their driveway, half the length of a soccer field, sloped down from the cul-de-sac, arced around the lawn, and straightened, ending in a turnaround at the foot of their three-car garage. In summer, the oak and birch trees bordering the property obscured their view. Now that most of the leaves had fallen, the headlights were visible as vehicles entered the circle.

“She has a game in the morning.” Will stretched his neck . His upper back had been bothering him lately, residual pain from an old football injury he’d suffered in college.

Zoe came up behind him, pushing Dog’s blanket aside with her foot, and squeezed his shoulders. “You’re tight.”

He dropped his chin. “From sleeping on the plane. Got to get one of those donut pillows.”

“You know Leah. She has no sense of time. I’ll bet they stopped for something to eat.”

“I can’t see why Hillary won’t set a curfew. Every other coach has one.”

“Relax, Will. It’s not that late. You’re blowing this out of proportion. Don’t you think?”

A flash of headlights caught their attention. An SUV entered the cul-de-sac, rounded the circle, its lights sweeping over the drive and across their lawn, and headed down the street.

Bending, Will ruffled Dog’s ears. “Reardon’s coming tomorrow, specifically to watch her. She plays like crap when she’s tired.”

The Harvard coach. She should have known. “So she doesn’t go to Harvard,” she said, a tired remark, fully aware of the comeback her words would elicit, “she’ll go someplace else.”

“There is no place else.”

No place that would give her the opportunities, the connections… blah, blah, blah. They’d been over this a million times. If their daughter had the slightest aspiration of going to Harvard, Zoe would do everything in her power to support her. As far as she could tell, the name Harvard had never graced Leah’s wish-list. It was a moot point, anyway. For the last two terms, Leah’s grades had been dropping. If she did apply for admission, she would probably be denied.

“Reardon has pull,” he offered, a weak rebuttal in Zoe’s opinion. “He’s been talking to Hillary about her. She can’t afford to blow this opportunity.”

Opportunity? What opportunity? “Face it, Will. She doesn’t want to go to Harvard.”

“If she plays her cards right, she can probably get a boat.”

Zoe opened her mouth, ready to blast him. He’d received a full football scholarship from Penn State, and dropped out of college. Was that what he wanted? A college drop-out in a couple years? Noticing the purple rings under his eyes, she held back. “You’re exhausted.” His plane had barely touched ground at Logan Airport when he was ordered to NAC’s corporate office in Waltham, for a marketing meeting. He hadn’t had time to stop home to change his clothes, never mind take a short nap. “Why don’t you go to bed? I’ll wait up.”

The look he returned implied that she’d lost it. “You think I could sleep?”

“For all we know, they had a flat.”

“She would have called.”

“So call her.” Duh.

“I did. I got voice mail.”

Shoot. “You know Leah. Her battery probably died.” She was grasping at straws. Leah was sixteen years old. That phone was her lifeline. Still, it could be true. It was possible. Right?

Leah had totally lost track of time. She and Todd had been hanging out at the water tower for hours, perched on the hood of Todd’s Jeep, drinking Vodka and OJ, admiring the beautiful night. This place was perfect, the most perfect place in the universe, maybe. Big sky, lots of trees. From here, they could see the whole town, just about—the river, the railroad tracks. An orchard. In the valley, lights began to blink out. Leaning back on her elbows, she gazed up at the heavens. “Look,” she said, mesmerized by the inky black sky, the billions and billions of stars. “The Big Dipper.” As she stared into space, time fell away, the past merging seamlessly with the future, this moment, up here, with Todd, the only reality there ever was or ever could be.

Todd took her hand, drawing her close, so close she could smell the spicy deodorant under his armpits. Just being with Todd Corbett made her feel dizzy all over. Todd was, by far, the most beautiful boy she had ever laid eyes on. His hair was long on top, short on the sides. He had full lips, and the most fabulous blue eyes, like, like crystals or something. A Romanesque nose, the exact nose she’d once told Cissy she’d die for, only now that she’d seen it on Todd, she realized that that particular nose was meant for a boy. Best of all, he had this incredible aura, all purple and blue, like James Dean or Curt Cobain.

She curled her legs under her, laid her head on Todd’s chest.

They met at a party, the Friday before school started. Todd had been on tour for the past two years, working as a roadie for a heavy metal band called “Cobra.” Leah knew he was back—that was all anybody was talking about—had recognized him instantly, from all the descriptions.

She couldn’t believe her luck. Todd Corbett! And alone! She’d heard he was hot. He was even better looking in person. Looking back, she couldn’t believe she’d been so brazen. She left Cissy in the lurch, sashayed right over to him, took a seat beside him, on the living room floor.

The movie he was watching was stupid. People clopping across a field like zombies, their arms outstretched. They reminded her of herself and Justine when they were little, playing blind. Even the makeup looked phony.

“What are you watching?” she asked.

“Night of the Living Dead. Flick’s a classic. Hey, haven’t I seen you someplace before?”

Maybe, though she couldn’t imagine where. Todd couldn’t possibly have remembered her from high school. She was only a freshman when he dropped out.

“Leah Tyler, right? You’re that soccer chick.”

The wind swished through the trees. Leah shivered and Todd shrugged out of his worn leather bomber, draped his jacket over her shoulders. He reached into the pocket of his jeans, retrieved a small plastic bag half-full of weed, began rolling a joint. He licked the edge of the paper, lit the joint, inhaling deeply, and handed it to her, the smell rich and exotic and sweet.

Leah had never smoked marijuana until she met Todd. She used to be scared, which was dumb: weed was totally harmless. (The first few times she smoked, she had to admit, she’d been disappointed.) She pulled, her chest searing, struggled to hold the ice-hot smoke in her lungs.

Suddenly, she was coughing, waving her arms.

“You OK, babe?” Todd rescued the joint. With the other hand, he patted her back.

Once she was breathing easily again, he laughed, a sweet laugh that left her feeling dignified, rather than cheesy or stupid. He pinched the joint between his index finger and thumb, took a hit to demonstrate, and brought it to her lips, holding it for her. “That’s it, babe. Good.”

They smoked the joint to its stub, and he showed her how to fashion a roach clip from twigs. Afterward, he offered to drive her home. “Don’t want you getting in trouble or nothing.”

“That’s OK,” Leah said dreamily. “I don’t have to go yet.”

Todd hopped off the hood of the Jeep, pulled a flannel blanket from the back of the truck, and spread the blanket on the grass, under a giant oak tree. Leah watched him smooth it out, his hands dancing, the whole world intensely colored, brilliantly alive. She heard the lonely trill of a cricket, calling from deep in the valley, smelled the damp autumn earth, felt the cool blue breeze on her face. Todd was gliding toward her now, floating on air. He scooped her into his arms, lifting her from the hood of his Jeep, and laid her on the blanket. And kissed her.

At eleven thirty, Zoe dialed Leah’s cell phone again. When Leah didn’t pick up, she tried Cissy, both times reaching voice mail. “I don’t believe those two,” Zoe said, infuriated. “I’ll bet they changed their ringers. The little devils probably know it’s us.”

“That’s your daughter for you,” Will huffed.

“She’s my daughter now?”

By eleven forty-five, Zoe was chewing her cuticles. And Will was pacing.

“This is it,” Will announced. “I’m calling the cops.”

“You can’t be serious. What do you plan to tell them?”

He opened his cell phone. “I can’t sit here, doing nothing.” He glared at the screen.

“You can’t call the cops. She’s forty-five minutes late. They’ll think we’re crazy.”

He clicked his cell shut, dug his keys out of his pocket. “Fine. I’ll find her myself.”

Find her? Where on earth did he plan to look?

“I’ll start at the high school.”

“The game was over hours ago.”

“I’ll drive by the Hanson’s.” He headed for the garage, Dog at his heels.

“And do what?” Cissy’s mom, a nurse, worked the early shift at St. John’s. Judi was probably in bed by now. He would frighten her if he knocked on the door. “Will? Answer me.”

He swiveled to face her. “Look for the car,” he snapped, and ushered Dog out the door.

Zoe stood in the mudroom, at a loss, staring blankly at the door her husband had closed. The house, she realized when she came to, was an icebox. She rooted through the hall closet, found a fleece jacket of Will’s, and pulled it on, kicked off her shoes, the ceramic tile cool under her bare feet, went to the bathroom, crossed the hall to the laundry, tossed a load of clean clothes into the dryer, and wandered back to the kitchen. She poured a glass of water, gathered the dishes they’d left on the dining room table, and emptied the uneaten chips into the compactor. She loaded the dishwasher. After she finished washing the counter, she flung the rag into the sink, and grabbed the cordless phone, so she would have a phone handy if Will or Leah tried to call.

A family portrait, commissioned last year, hung over the stone fireplace in the family room. For the photograph, the four of them had dressed in blue; their blue period, they’d joked when the photographer showed them the proofs. In the photo, Zoe is sitting on a stool, leaning toward the camera, Will standing behind her, flanked by the girls. Looking at the portrait, you’d never guess how hard it had been for the photographer to capture the shot, the kids squabbling, Will impatient, Zoe frustrated, both parents clenching their teeth. Restless, Zoe stepped down into the family room, sank into the oversized chair next to the fireplace, and curled her legs under her, clutching the phone.

Waiting, she tried to think positive thoughts. Leah’s responsible. She can handle herself. If the girls had been in a car accident, the police would have contacted them by now. As usual, her effort to avoid negative thoughts conjured them up. Something wasn’t right. Leah had been late a few times before, never like this. A half hour was one thing. Zoe often lost track of time herself. She would be at her office, transcribing her notes, look up, notice the clock, and realize she was supposed to have picked up one of the girls—at school, at the mall, at a friend’s—fifteen, twenty minutes before. She would rush around her office in a tizzy, collecting her folders and purse, cursing herself for being a neglectful mother, and drive like a madwoman to her destination. But an hour? She checked her watch. And fifteen minutes? This wasn’t like Leah.

She wondered if she had missed something. A signal. A hint. This morning, Leah, out of bed by seven, had moseyed into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. Spotting the sauce pan on the front burner, she’d whined about having to eat oatmeal again. But she always whined when Zoe made oatmeal, which on certain days she found “revolting,” on others “disgusting” or “gross.” Zoe set the bowl in front of her. “Quit bellyaching,” she said. “Oatmeal is good for you.”

They were running late. So the girls wouldn’t have to rush to catch the bus, Zoe offered to drive them to school. Justine rode shotgun, while Leah dozed in the backseat. At two, Leah called Zoe at work to remind her that she and Cissy planned to go to the game. She was headed directly home after practice, Leah had said; she would fix dinner. At six thirty, when Zoe opened the back door, she smelled Leah’s spicy, cumin-laced chili. On the island counter, Zoe found place settings for her, for Will, for Justine, three glasses filled with ice water and lemon. Justine was upstairs in her room, doing her geometry homework. Leah had already left for the game.

Zoe closed her eyes, breathing deeply, attempting to center herself, and, counting backward from ten. . . eight, seven, six. . . summoned an image of her daughter. Leah’s face materialized, and her body slowly came into focus. Directing her energy outward, Zoe enclosed her daughter in a protective circle of light. Be safe, baby, she whispered. Be safe.

Will drove along country roads canopied by the boughs of towering oak trees, the winding streets bordered by stone walls erected in the late 1700’s, by the farmers who’d settled the town. In those days, the stone walls served as boundary markers, the average farm occupying fifty acres of land, most of it orchards. It was a hard life, Will thought, working eighteen hours a day, building walls, cultivating the land. He reached for Dog, on the passenger seat, ruffled her ears. “What do you say, Girl?” Dog cocked her head. “Was life harder then? Or harder today?”

The Hansons lived a mile outside the center, on a corner lot in a modest sub-division, built in the late-eighties, a neighborhood of center-entry colonials, garrisons, expanded Capes, set on cramped one-acre lots. Will slowed as they approached the Hanson’s newly remodeled Salt Box, he and Dog rubber-necking together. Onion lamps flanked the entrance and the garage doors; matching pole lights lined the drive. The house was dark, the driveway empty. Will turned left, onto the adjacent street, hoping to find a light on in the back of the house, in which case he would knock on the door. Nothing, not even a porch lamp. Frustrated, he rounded the block, passed by the front of the property again, in case he had somehow managed to miss Cissy’s car the first time, and headed for the high school, on the off-chance that the girls were still there.

The parking lot was dark when Will pulled in, the lights extinguished hours ago. He pulled down the sloping driveway behind the school, passing the rubberized track, where the soccer players practiced their sprints. He swung by the service entrance, then by the gym, doubled back, and circled the deserted lot, scanning the playing fields. At the ticket booth by football stadium, he parked, and just sat, thinking, Dog curled beside him on the passenger seat.

They’d had no idea, he and Zoe, how easy they’d had it when the girls were young. In their eyes, every little thing seemed like a crisis. They would glance at the window, catch three- year-old Leah zooming down the drive on her Big-Wheel, her legs outstretched, little hands reaching for the sky. In a panic, they would tear out of the house, always an instant too late, too far from their daughter to do anything except cross their fingers and watch. “Leah—” Will would holler, his stomach churning, “hold on.” And Zoe would cover her eyes, both parents envisioning the worst, the Big-Wheel rocketing off course, crashing into a tree. Later, the rope swing he’d hung by their deck replaced the Big-Wheel as the most obvious threat. They’d worried about random accidents, obsessed over tragedies they watched on News Center 5 or read about in the Globe: that the girls would fall into the hidden shaft of a well or drown in a neighbor’s backyard pool, that a stranger would kidnap one of their daughters when she was outside playing or taking a walk. It was tough being a parent, the welfare of their children utterly dependent on them, yet as long as they were vigilant, as long as they did their job, kept a trained eye on their daughters, their children would be safe. Now that she was older, they had no way of keeping tabs on their daughter. Once the car she was riding in rolled out of the drive, her fate was out of their hands. She could be anywhere, doing anything, with anyone. They had no way to protect her.

“What do you say, girl?” he said finally. “Doesn’t look like she’s here, does it?”

In a last ditch effort, he took another run by the Hanson’s place.

Zoe had fallen asleep clutching the portable phone, her head resting on the wing of her chair. He brushed a curl out of her face, touched her shoulder gently, so he wouldn’t startle her.

His wife blinked up at him. “Did you find her?”

He shook his head, dejected.

Dog nuzzled Zoe’s leg. Yawning, she scratched the dog’s head. “What time is it?”

“Close to one.”

“My God.” She pulled herself to an upright position. “What do you think is going on?”

Hard to say at this point, he told her. “She didn’t call, did she?”

Zoe shook her head in alarm. “You don’t think anything’s happened, do you?”

“We’d have heard by now.”

“I’m worried, Will. This isn’t like her.”

Will rubbed his neck, squeezing the trapezius muscles, hoping to release some of the tension. “I don’t know where else to look. Figured it’d be stupid to keep driving in circles.”

His wife attempted to stifle a yawn.

“You look beat,” he said. “Why don’t you go to bed? I’ll wait up.”

“You’re as tired as I am.”

“Go. I can sleep in. You’ve got to get up in the morning.”

“Maybe I should,” she said, shifting position. “Have to be up at six. Had to—” She paused, her glazed eyes fixed on the palladium window at the far end of the room. “Sorry.” She blinked. “I had to shift my schedule around. Workshop Sunday. Wake me when she comes in? You won’t forget?”

“I won’t forget.”

Will helped his wife out of her chair, walked her to the front staircase, kissed her, and told her to sleep well. From the foot of the staircase, he watched her climb the stairs and wander down the hall to their bedroom. When she closed the door, he went to the kitchen, filled a glass with spring water, brought the glass to the living room, sat on his leather recliner by the window, adjusted the back, and put up his feet. Dog lay on the floor, next to his chair. In ten minutes, she was snoring. He plucked an old issue of Sports Illustrated out of the pleated leather pocket on the side of his chair, flipped through. Unable to focus, he tossed it on the floor.

On the windowsill, in front of an eight-by-ten studio portrait of the girls, taken when Justine was a toddler, sat a framed snapshot of Leah. He picked up the photo. They’d been in Cortland for about a year when he snapped the shot. Leah was not quite seven, the youngest child on the under-ten team. Her uniform was two sizes too big, her baggie blue T-shirt skimming the hem of her shorts. The team was in the midst of a game, Leah racing to the net, blond ponytail flying, the ball jouncing in front of her, her tiny face focused, intense.

His daughter was an exceptional player, fast, agile, fiercely competitive, the best player from Massachusetts ever, some coaches said. Since she was a child, Will had been grooming her, encouraging her, fostering her talent. Youth soccer, traveling teams. Scholarship to Harvard—that was their plan. They’d practiced, strategized, prepared. Through the rain, the snow, he’d been right there with her. All in service to the crimson uniform she would one day wear. That was her dream, wasn’t it? She hoped to play pro. But Harvard first. Time and again, they’d discussed the importance of a good education, the one thing in life that can never be taken away.

Will pushed her, he knew. He wanted the best for his kids. He would do whatever it took to help them succeed, prevent them from repeating the mistakes he’d made. In the spring of his junior year, he’d left Penn State, surrendering a full scholarship, trading his education for a long shot at a music career. In one hour, the time it took to inform his dean he was quitting, walk to the registrar’s office and sign a couple of forms, he’d managed to screw up his life. Look at him: forty-five-years-old, stuck in a dead-end job, kissing the asses of people who ought to be working for him. He refused to sit back, watch Leah throw her life away. Kids needed guidance, a motivational coach to push them, keep them focused, drive them when they didn’t feel like practicing, pump them up when they lost confidence, spur them on when they wanted to quit.

Will closed his eyes. God help him. Tell him he hadn’t pushed her away.

The end of the world as we know it

2011-08-24T09:11:00.001-04:00

Prepare yourself for some self-pitying melodrama. My life since 8/15:

Stomach Flu for me
Family Visit to In Laws (unusually fun actually, this was the highlight)
Other Grandmother passed away after long battle with dementia
Family Drama including but not limited to parental antics
Amazingly well behaved children
Sinus/Ear Infection for me
Menstrual Fun
My Mother is headed to the hospital for unknown reasons and I'm 2 hours away

Things weighing on me:

August Bills still unpaid
August Invoices still not sent out
Pile of work undone
Book unedited despite needing to go to the printer in two weeks
Editing for David Klenda and Steven N Marshall still undone

I'm seriously considering burning the book, quitting my jobs, selling everything I own, abandoning my family and running away to Wichita.

Guest Blogger - Marting King

2011-08-20T09:00:00.002-04:00

Please welcome my looney friend Martin King to my blog :) He's a great guy, a talented writer and is doing something called the 100 Blogs Tour during August. That's right, he's writing 100 guest blogs during the month of August. Looney Tunes right? Well here's what he wrote for us today. Check out his books and his website: http://martinkingauthor.com/

When you were a kid, a day was measured not on its importance or weather or day of the week. Life was split into two categories; was it a good day or a bad day.

This tale I am about to share with you definitely falls into one of these two. When I was about nine years of age, I used to walk to school which was roughly three mile away. Can you imagine letting you child do this nowadays? But it is okay, we were safe because a few of us would always walk together.

Half way through our journey to school was a Post Office that also sold sweets. We would sometimes get sweets from the half-penny tray. But another reason we would stop off is to call for our friend who lived there. he was also in our year.

Well one morning we went through the same ritual of stopping off and entering the shop. We would always get a sweet or two (but never penny-bubberleys – I wasn’t allowed) while we stood and waited for him to come down. Only on this particular day we were told he wouldn’t be coming today and it would be best if we didn’t call again.

Although it didn’t make sense, we quickly forgot about the strange occurrence and arrived at school as normal, only to be asked to step into the headmaster’s office. Two oddities in one day - this was teetering on becoming a bad day.

There we were told that our friend had died. It had all happened very suddenly and he had caught this nasty disease called meningitis. And that was that, we never saw him again or had chance to say goodbye. That day was definitely a bad, bad day.

These blogs are all about fun and sharing. Thank you for reading a ‘#100blogfest’ blog. Please follow this link to find the next blog in the series: http://martinkingauthor.com/blog/7094550076

Sick Day

2011-08-17T09:21:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I lounged in bed trying not to get sick and watched movies. Movies I have wanted to see but never do because I'm either too tired or with someone else who invariably isn't interested in what I'm interested in. As you'll see I have ecclectic tastes. Here's what I watched:

The Final Storm - this stars Luke Perry, Lauren Holly and Steve Bacic (name might not ring a bell but you'll know him when you see his manly man chest). This movie is SO bad. There really aren't even words. The plot makes no sense and seems to be completely unsure of what genre the movie is. Of course I LOVED it. Anything with Luke Perry is going to be bad and worth watching.

Arranged - An orthodox Jew and Muslimah in Brooklyn become best friends? Who'd have thought. But in this story it makes total and complete sense. The prejudices surrounding these two women from their own families and the world around them are depicted sensitively and pointedly. I didn't expect it to be this good but it's definitely worth watching even if you aren't particularly interested in the subject matter. I'd be willing to bet you'll learn something.

Skin - This is the true story of a South African woman born to two white parents with African characteristics. She lives through apartheid, through a time when people are classed by race based on appearance not genetics. This is the BEST movie I've seen in years. I cried as I watched the family torn apart trying to navigate their own prejudices and definitions of identity. Sharon Lainge is an amazing woman.

The Missing (Widescreen Edition) - As a general rule I don't like Westerns and it's usually a guarantee I won't like something if Tommy Lee Jones is in it. I don't know if it was the stomach flu or if this really was a good movie but I thoroughly enjoyed this one. The plot was sophisticated, sensitive and exciting. There were elements of the Supernatural (without being stupid) and a lot of family drama. The cultural prejudices between the different Indian tribes and whites were dealt with in a new and interesting way.

Here's hoping I keep the trend of good movies up today. I'm going back to bed. I feel like crap.

Book Snob - A Line in the Ice by Jaimie Craig

2011-08-16T10:13:00.000-04:00

A Line in the Ice by Jamie Craig

Bloodthirsty monsters are emerging from the Antarctic ice, the same creatures that once stalked the battlegrounds of World War I. Back then, a group of soldiers valiantly fought off the beasts—and were never seen again. A century later, an elite military squad stands between civilization and the mysterious return of the enemy.

Captain Charlie Weller thinks she's seen everything—until a man crawls out onto the ice, barely alive and muttering about a place called Illyria. Lysander Davies claims to be the descendant of one of the missing soldiers. He insists the monsters are actually gentle creatures, under the control of beings far, far more dangerous...

Drawn to the stranger, Charlie believes his stories and agrees to help him. But they both know nothing can come of their feelings for one another, for the only way to save earth is for Lysander to return to Illyria and close the rift behind him, forever...

Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book as a part of Novel Publicity's Blog Tour program. I am a blog tour host for them but receive no compensation and only participate for the books I want to, there is no requirement for a review or a positive endorsement as a participant in this program.

A Line in the Ice by Jamie Craig (the pen name used for the combined writing of the erotica-super team Vivien Dean and Pepper Espinoza is a genre mindbender: Sci-fi, Fantacy, Erotica. The story weaves in and out of genres easily and without jolting the reader. This is how real life works right? When the neuroscientist is at work its not all heaving bosoms, but in his off hours... hells yeah! And there are real ramifications and consequences for the choices you make. A Line in the Ice manages to be realistic and believable while still having monsters and outbound ice science stations and phenomenal sex.

I won't go into the plot too much because the description of the book is spot on. What I will say is that this is a fun read, a fast read, and something that will make you use your mind as well as titillate with it's erotic scenes. I really enjoyed reading this. Questions of morality, personal responsibility, honor and love were all tackled in a fun easily digestible way.

An interesting thing that the authors did with this is they used a lot of Shakespeare. I have a theater background so all of the little asides and references really deepened my experience and enjoyment of the book. For those who don't enjoy or know Shakespeare, the inclusion will not diminish the experience at all, which again, is something which takes a tremendous amount of skill.

I did have a couple of things that bothered me about the book which I'm going to list, but I want to say I think these all have more to do with me than with the authors. Sometimes things just rub me the wrong way but my overall assessment of A Line in the Ice is that you should check it out. I think anyone would enjoy it. Men don't usually pick up erotica but I think they might like this one.

"Pussy" - I hate the word pussy. It sounds awful, like moist or sweat. It's just an ugly sound and every time I read it I lose any of the smexiness of the writing. However, I know a lot of people use it and it's fine and the author has the right to use whatever they want but to me, the sex scenes went from fucking-awesome to ewww with just one word.
Thigh hair - I do not find the hair on the inner thigh of a man sexy. Please stop telling me about it. Once was fine, but now it's making me giggle.
The Cover - The cover art is fine, but I don't think it's a good representation of the book. I'm glad they didn't go for the Romance style cover but I think it could be better.
Charlie (The MC) - In the beginning of the book Charlie is very hard to get a read on and her attraction to Lysander is difficult to believe. By the time you're into the story her character settles down and becomes really interesting and dynamic, I'd have liked to see more of that in the beginning.

All in all, this is an awesome book. I think it's really something special that arcs over what we've come to expect from women writers, especially romance writers. Hat's off to you ladies, I hope lots of people buy A Line in the Ice.

Tour Notes

Remember when I won this last time and I had a giveaway? I'll do it again! Go vote for me and if I win I'll come up with something so awesome for you you'll be chomping at the bit to win. Or maybe I'll give away broccoli. One or the other :)

Remember I'm My Life of Books and Beauty

Please vote for my blog in the traffic-breaker poll for this tour. The blogger with the most votes wins a free promotional twitterview and a special winner’s badge. I want that to be me! You can vote in the poll by visiting the official Line in the Ice blog tour page and scrolling all the way to the bottom.

Learn more about this author duo by visiting their website, blog, Facebook or GoodReads pages or by connecting with them on Twitter.

The Fragrant Taste of Rain and Adventures with CreateSpace

2011-08-09T09:16:00.007-04:00

The printed product. The final revision. The feel of your book in your hand. There’s nothing like it. Recently I received the proof copy of my fanfiction The Fragrant Taste of Rain. This item is NOT for sale, never will be, and is not intended for profit of any sort. Instead it’s just something I wanted on my shelf because I’m proud of it. I wanted copies of it to give to the friends and supporters of my writing and Rain in particular.

Despite the entertainment only purpose of this book (It’s a hobby, not a business. Remember that distinction Indie Book Event Folks?) I wanted it to be as perfect as possible. I love this story. I’m proud of it and so excited every time I read it to realize I made this. I never thought I could. The success and quality of Rain is what inspired me to take a stab at writing original fiction. Shadow on the Wall is very different from Rain in terms of genre, but the writing is still mine and I would have never imagined taking this leap without it.

So, what I've done is taken this piece of fanfic and edited the hell out of it. Gotten a ton of people to read over it and edit (YNot, Shawnie, JKane180, and LadyRIP to be precise), moulded it into something a little more professional and uploaded it to CreateSpace. CS is Amazon's Print on Demand company which is easy to use and very user friendly. I'm not using them for Shadow because I intend to pursue having it in books stores, requiring a return policy and wholesale discount, which CS doesn't do. However, for printing quality and ease it really can't be beat. Indie Authors have been using them to great success.

Yesterday I received the proof copy of The Fragrant Taste of Rain and about came with the excitement of seeing my book, my title, my name. I held it and it smelled like a book. I open it to read and it has the weight of something real. No longer is it just on the internet. Now it's something I can hold and cherish.

Rain is 486 pages long when printed in 5.25 x 8 trade paperback size. The cost of printing alone is $11.22 per book, plus shipping which is $3.59. This means that each copy of Rain I give away costs me $14.81 plus the cost of shipping to whoever I'm sending it to. For those of you who know, I was giving this away as a part of the Kickstarter fundraiser I did for Shadow. This was the gift for a $20 donation, so as you can see I made pennies on that donation. But I don't care. You know why?

People will have my book on their shelves. Like I said, this is a hobby. I do not and will not make any profit on it and that's ok. The characters belong to Stefanie Meyer, not me. Honestly, I'd love to send her a copy of it! Anyone know her address?

CreateSpace has been amazingly easy to use. From uploading the doc, to uploading the cover art to calling customer service when I couldn't figure out something (due to my stupidity, not their system) they were friendly, easy and the product I received was quality. For those of you thinking about publishing who aren't concerned with the issues I mentioned above. If you are only looking to sell online or by yourself (as opposed to in a book store), then CS is definitely the way to go.

Cover for Shadow on the Wall

2011-08-06T12:20:00.002-04:00

It wasn't easy to pick. There were a number of good designs. Some evocative, some beautiful. The thing about Damon's design though is the feeling of being drawn into something. His image shows the mystery of Recai: hidden and faithful and full of turmoil. In this design I saw the beauty I hope to share as well as the internal conflict of the main character.

Thank you Damon. I'm thrilled to have your work on the cover of my book.

Genre Mayhem

2011-08-04T10:08:00.004-04:00

I've been having simultaneous conversations with multiple people about genre and I wanted to pick your brains, darling readers. And I mean that in the, I'm curious about what you think way, not the ZOMBIES EAT BRAINS way.

While at the Indie Book Event, one of the interesting conversations that took place was about being an independent publisher/author meant that we were free from the confines of genre in our writing. This is freeing and exciting and allows many of us whose muse is schizophrenic to worry less about marketability and more about story. We can write the story we have to tell without being pigeon holed or forced to re-write to fit some pre-existing mold. But can we?

I've had two converstations in the last 24 hours which indicate otherwise. One was with a fellow erotic-horror author who has found, like I have, that this market simply doesn't sell. Now with Consumed by Love I have no problem with that. It's only 5k words long and it's more of a proof of concept work than an attempt to profit from my writing. I'm proud of it and know I've created something unique and amazing, but I've made a whooping $1.34 in royalties and honestly don't expect to make much more. I give it away to fellow authors and friends left and right, I want you to read it. I want you to know what I'm capable of.

For my cohort in dirty dirty horror writing, however, this is a full novel and something she is excited by, but no one is buying it. So as Indies we are freed from the mold, but without that mold can we ever get anyone to read what we're writing? I'm not suggesting she change her book. In fact I commend her for sticking to the story in her mind, but the marketing is going to be so much harder for her than it will be for the next vampire teenage romance, Indie published or otherwise.

In editing Shadow on the Wall, the question keeps coming up, who is my target audience? To quote my brilliant crit partner: "You're not really writing a sleeper. You're not writing a thriller. You're not writing an action/adventure novel, or a suspense novel. It isn't a romance. It's not YA or vampire stuff. But what is it?"

He has an excellent point. But is it one I care to tackle? I sincerely don't know. If I'm writing a pure literary piece then I need to take out some of the close POV writing and the more visceral scenes. If I'm writing an action story I need to take the pace up a notch and cut some of the exposition. I don't particularly want to do either. I have to decide, do I reshape to fit a genre, thereby increasing the marketability of the work? Or is it possible to have an action adventure piece with a slow introspective pace?

The Indie Book Event 2011

2011-08-02T19:50:00.003-04:00

I go to a lot of conferences for my real life job as an accountant. The IRS, The National Association of Tax Preparers, The Maryland Association for Enrolled Agents. In general they are dry, informative and painful. I go to them because I have to, to keep up on the law and make some industry connections. This is what I had expected the Indie Book Event to be. Another in a long line of dry presentations and overly self-important attendees. Imagine my surprise.

The Indie Book event was none of these things. It was dynamic, exciting and full of authors and publishers who were excited and passionate about the industry. Perhaps its the nature of the fact that we are all creative types, but even in those environments (in theatre primarily) I'm used to finding people more interested in competing and outshining others. At IBE were collaborators, educators and most excitingly, new friends.

I'm not going to try to list out all of the amazing people I met or give you a blow by blow of the event, instead I want to take a second to recognize the amount of work and passion I found there. The organizer; Melissa, did an amazing job. This is something I never thought would happen, a group of Indies and Self-Publishers getting together to have a collaborative and dynamic discussion about what we do and why we do it. It takes the motivation and initiative of only one person to start a movement, and this is what Melissa gave us. She gave us a sense of community beyond the boundaries of the internet and a supportive environment that pushes me to be and do better.

I gained insight into marketing, editing, blogging and writing. I found that, for the most part, when a group of people get together to share what they know and support each other the end result is inspiration and motivation. The presenters were passionate and knowledgeable, the books represented were quality and the authors all came to the table with different approaches and points of view.

For me, the books I brought home are not only exciting new stories to dive into but memories of friends I want to support and succeed. The notes I took outline my next steps and in some cases ideas on how to rectify mistakes I've met. Whenever you get a group of people together tensions and emotions flare, but the level of mutual respect between the attendees and organizer's shone bright.

Despite a few missteps and me almost losing my temper once, the event was a huge success. I have had clients who have attempted expos in different industries and usually they are a money hole. This event was professional and organized and I see great things for it's future. I can't wait until IBE 2012 and I sincerely hope that all of you will join in the fun. If nothing else, the momentum of the Indie Book Movement gained a foothold that day and will continue to grow and thrive thanks to the amazing artists and business people like the ones I met there.

Happy Ramadan

2011-08-01T13:19:00.002-04:00

Without Mercy by Belinda Boring

2011-07-31T02:42:00.003-04:00

Without Mercy Blurb:

What would you do if a simple errand takes a deadly twist, turning you from cautious prey to dangerous predator?

When Darcy’s outing takes a turn for the worst and tests her to the point of breaking, she struggles to maintain her humanity. Where loyalty and pack mean everything, she surrenders to the inevitable and only an act of complete trust can touch her. When all is said and done, with memories flooding her mind, Darcy holds tightly to the only thing that makes sense – it was all a dream. Or was it?

Comment here to enter to win a chance to win an ecopy of Without Mercy!
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Author Bio:

A homesick Aussie living amongst the cactus and mountains of Arizona, Belinda Boring is a self proclaimed addict of romance and all things swoon worthy. When she's not devouring her latest read, you can find her celebrating her passion for book on her blog The Bookish Snob.

With all that excitement, it wasn't long before she began writing, pouring her imagination and creativity into the stories she dreams. Whether urban fantasy, paranormal romance or romance in general, Belinda strives to share great plots with heart and characters that you can't help but connect with. Of course, she wouldn't be Belinda without adding heroes she hopes will curl your toes.

Surrounded by a supportive cast of family, friends and the man she gives her heart and soul to, Belinda is living the good life. Happy reading!

Books I Love - Sci-Fi

2011-07-28T07:53:00.006-04:00

This was originally posted at NYX Book Reviews but she's closed shop so I wanted to share with you!

I don’t like Star Wars.

I tolerate Star Trek (mostly because of my love of The Shat)

So when I say I am in love with science fiction few people understand how that’s possible. Well as much as those two iconic franchises’ happen in space there’s not much science in either of them; really they are more correctly classified as general fiction. Hey, stop throwing things at the screen and hear me out!

The fundamental issue is that so few people understand what sci-fi actually is. There have been thousands of books listed as sci-fi which under the true definition don't remotely resemble pure science fiction.

This confusion happens most commonly with the fantasy genre. Somehow fantasy and sci-fi have become interchangeable for so many that the differences are blurry; however, there is a clear and solid line separating them. Sci-fi is possible. Fantasy is not.

In the words of L. Ron Hubbard: “...science fiction, to be credible, has to be based on some degree of plausibility; fantasy gives you no limits at all.”

This is an incredibly important distinction. In sci-fi there are no wizards, no magic, no nymphs or elves or fairies. Fantasy is wonderful; this is not a rant against it. But let's let fantasy be fantasy, call a moose a moose, and give sci-fi its due.

The thing I find so thrilling about science fiction is exactly what Hubbard is referring to: it is possible. This doesn't mean that it's going to happen now or that it's going to happen at all, but the possibility of life on Mars or alien invasions or even the simplicity of space travel lifts my hope for the future. Sci-fi, when done well, is at its core inspirational.

Even Dystopian books within this genre possess that glimmer of hope. There is something about what human kind has or can create that propels a simple fiction tale into the ranks of pure sci-fi and gives the reader permission to dream, and dream big. Hey, we created a kind of energy that is consuming the Earth and we all have to find a new planet. WOW. My imagination is on fire with what that energy could be and where we could possibly go.

If done well a science fiction novel will include not only technology but psychology, anthropology and sociology; creating some of the most realistic and fleshed out cultures that have ever existed in fiction. The reason for this is the writer's commitment to describing the real and the possible. Once you've researched how a nuclear reactor works and figured out a way to make it propel a space craft, it's only natural to put the same effort and commitment into every aspect of the work.

The other door science fiction opens is for the author to explore issues of philosophy, religion and culture. Because technological advancement and cultural shifts are fundamentally tied - this is proven throughout history, but I think Celine will kill me if I start waxing poetical about that too - it is logical to think through the effects that the imagined technology will have on the people who live with it.

One of the most famous quotes from one of the best written sci-fi books is not about technology but about philosophy:

I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when my fear is gone I will turn and face fear's path, and only I will remain. - Dune

To further my point I want to take a moment to discuss three of the classic sci-fi novels I think show how broad a genre it can be, without losing its purity: Battlefield Earth, Dune, and Lilith's Brood.

Battlefield Earth by L. Ron Hubbard is by far one of the best books I've ever read. Go ahead, laugh, you know you want to. Yes, he invented Scientology. No, I'm not a Scientologist. But yes he did write one of the best pure Science Fiction novels ever written. Hubbard's look into the year 3000 includes science so detailed I almost believed I could build it from his descriptions. He showed us a culture so torn apart it had mutated into something recognizable as human, but fundamentally different. He also introduced aliens whose customs and language were so clearly depicted they rose out of the confines of fiction and into the realm of possible.
Dune by Frank Herbert takes us out of our modern time but also out of the comforts of what we consider religiously/morally/biologically possible. His science does not stop at hover-copters or galactic space travel; by introducing the concept of "Spice," sand worms and the culture of the "Fremen," Herbert is able to explore some of the fundamental questions of human existence. Who am I? Why am I here? What is my purpose?

Further in the series he explores questions of authority, government, multi-cultural conflicts and even addiction. Few books span across history and culture as completely as Dune. The science in many ways takes a back seat to the other issues discussed, but in spite of that, and I would propose because of it, Dune is a model of pure sci-fi.
Lilith's Brood by Octavia Butler is one of the very few sci-fi books of this caliber written by a woman. And not just a woman, but a black woman in the 1970s. Lets all take a moment to recognize the immense achievement of that: she stood against race, gender and genre and wrote what she loved. And what she wrote blew my mind.

Lilith's Brood spans generations of humans from the first awoken from cryogenic sleep by aliens who rescued them from World War III to her youngest child, a hybrid between aliens and humans and the beginning of a whole new society. The science of the ship and biology of the alien race she introduces to her readers is unlike anything else I've read and so beautifully detailed it becomes real.

Three completely different books, with completely different approaches to science and culture but all three are examples of old school, pure sci-fi. The thread that connects them isn't only the science but the realism of the possibilities entailed.

So when looking for a quality book, full of thought provoking issues and deeply affective stories, check out the sci-fi section. There are a few in my book reviews here that I can recommend, mainly Gabriel’s Redemption by Steve Umstead, The Dome by Nova Sparks and Perfect Copy by Judith Gaines.

What's your favorite sci-fi book? Do you believe there is a difference between fantasy and science fiction? Does realism of possibility appeal to you and does it add to the story?

To Infinity and Beyond!
Pav