Thursday, December 20, 2012

End of NaNoWriMo

National Novel Writing Month has come and gone. I didn't stick to the schedule as planned. Unfortunately, work got in the way. However, I've got a few thousand word start on the sequel to FEBs. That certainly helps break the ice on this new novel.

Christmas is just around the corner. Tomorrow is the end of the world. If we survive the holidays, my next post will probably be in the year 2013. Happy Holidays!

Fayetteville St., Raleigh, North Carolina Christmas 1938
State Archives of North Carolina


Sunday, October 14, 2012

Will Write for Nanowrimo 2012

I'm planning on participating in Nanowrimo again this year to get the second book in the FEBs series off to a good start. I used Nano in 2007 to get Flesheaters and Bloodsuckers Anonymous started and only made it to about 15,000 words. This year will hopefully bring in a much higher word count.

My author profile on Nano is writeontheinternet. Drop by and check it out to cheer me on or just watch me fail. :)

A word count widget will be available in the side bar showing my overall progress throughout the month of November. There were a lot of widget options, but the monthly calendar appeals to my OCD tendencies.

It looks like this:




Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Cover Redesign for Short Story: Til Death

The other day I read a lovely post called, 14 Tips for Good Kindle Cover Design, over at Humble Nations. The post is filled with lots of book cover samples and design suggestions. They inspired me to take another crack at some of my book covers with an eye for redesign. 

I've started with my most recent Kindle short story, Til Death. Below is a before and after. It's probably still not up to professional design standards, but the newer cover is much more in line with the overall feel of the story. It conveys some suspense and gives an idea of what happens in the story. The other cover felt too, primary school cartoonish to me.

Before
After

Sunday, April 8, 2012

New Short Story: 'Til Death

The new horror short story, 'Til Death, is available on Amazon. Fans of psychological suspense and urban fantasy will enjoy this quick read. It's about 4,000 words long and I've added a chapter of my novel, Flesheaters and Bloodsuckers Anonymous at the end. If you are looking for something with a little dark humor, this is it.

________________________________________________________________

Meredith's marriage is in trouble, but that's not the biggest problem in her life. She's being plagued by a small creature. It haunts her during those long lonely hours at home and taunts her when her husband turns away. When Meredith reaches her breaking point, there's only one thing to do.


Jack stood... He walked towards her, a smoking cigar in one hand and one of the empty rattraps in the other. Meredith's lips drooped the closer he got. She saw the noticeable, purpling flesh on the hand that held the trap.

"What the hell is the meaning of this?" He held the sprung trap out to Meredith. His hand swelling and a thin red line running across the tops of his fingers.

"You should have a doctor look at that."

"It was in my cigar box, Meredith."

"Your fingers could be broken."

"Is this some sick attempt to get my attention? You've certainly got it now," he said. Jack towered over Meredith, his eyes narrowed.


-Excerpt from 'Til Death

Sunday, March 25, 2012

Excerpt From Book Sequel to Flesheaters and Bloodsuckers Anonymous

I've started working on the sequel to Flesheaters and Bloodsuckers Anonymous. Hopefully, this book will go much faster. It's already a lot of fun. I'm taking a different approach to the writing this time, starting out with a basic plot and letting myself write up scenes as they come to me instead of trying to write the story in a linear fashion. Here's little snippet from the story for Sample Sunday:


Harold eased into the door. The room was lit only by a single small lamp by the bed. Within, lay the tiny creature which caused all of this trouble. Harold didn't know whether he would live or not, but he felt guilty for his earlier anger towards Zork. 
So much trouble from one small alien.

Now, that alien lay in bed, ass full of buckshot from a farmer's gun. If Harold had gotten there sooner. He might've been able to grab Zork and yank its slimy butt back to the safety of the hotel room before that farmer figured out that it was hunting their cattle.

This is an excerpt from the sequel to Flesheaters and Bloodsuckers Anonymous, currently in progress. If you want to read the first book in the series, check it out at Amazon.com


Sunday, March 4, 2012

Sample Sunday: Flesheaters and Bloodsuckers Anonymous

It's Sample Sunday on Twitter. I thought I'd release a small sample from the casino scene in Flesheaters and Bloodsuckers Anonymous.


A sultry seductress wandered by Harold, waving a bag of warm and fresh blood under his
nose. He turned tail to follow her box of edible goodies as she called out to Casino patrons.
Blood, flesh, oranges. Sweets for the little ones. Get your warm blood for the parched throat!


Zork’s harsh call pulled Harold away from the girl and back to the task at hand. There
would be time for food later. He had an eternity to check out this wonderful place. Although,
Harold had to admit as he stepped up to the cage to hand over his small cache of chips he was
beginning to feel a bit like a kid in a candy store. He didn’t know where to go next!


The zombie completed his transaction first, handing chips to another zombie working
inside the cage. He split his chips with the house seventy cents on the dollar. Harold didn’t
know a lot about gambling, but they sure had a racket going. They’d been playing away from
the casino. Maybe there specific rules for games held off casino property. It certainly wasn’t
legal. Instead of cash, the zombie behind the window handed over a small slip of paper.


Harold stepped up to the cage window. He handed over the chips, keeping one for
himself as a souvenir. The blank faced zombie behind the window counted out his chips.
Although, it could be the creature’s facial muscles were frozen in place with various degrees of
decay. According to Harold’s estimates he got a cut of sixty to forty and a slip of paper of his
own.


“I think you miscounted,” Harold started as the zombie looked up at him. He got shouted down before he could get going by Zork and a few other creatures in line. They pushed him aside. Harold looked down at his dinky slip of paper. So far tonight he was hungry and out one hundred twenty bucks. Last time he ever comes to a poker game with Zork.


Harold muttered softly about the cut, pointing it at the slip in his hand and the slip in the
dealer’s hand for emphasis. His dealer zombie scratched its head, causing a dry chunk of scalp
to come out.


Zork oozed over to the two of them with a slip of paper clutched into one eyestalk.


“Never argue with the house,” Zork shrilled at Harold. “A good way to get yourself
kicked out of here with no invitation to return.”


Sunday, February 19, 2012

Molecular Cloud Barnard 68: Poem

Earlier this month JA Marlow posted a blog about the dark and mysterious Molecular Cloud Barnard 68 and it reminded me of a short poem written seven years ago on this interesting phenomenon. I haven't done anything with this poem since writing it, so I'll give it a home here on the blog. It's below:



Molecular Cloud Barnard 68
Barnard 68
Photo Courtesy NASA.gov


I found a place to hide from you.
It took forever, glancing over
this Universe.

It's so cold here, so very cold.
I cannot even huddle to the warmth
of another, as you so casually assume

because I am alone in this place.

This frosty womb holds me,
protects me from the outside, conceals.
You'd like this place, if it weren't for the fact
that you've no one to bully. You couldn't
even find me here.

The vastness, the lack of gravity--the lack of air to breathe.

Sometimes pinpricks of light
     shine
through the eternal gloom,
different from the blank firings
of rods and cones at the backs of my eyes.

They are stars; swirling vortexes of matter
and energy pulling in, condensing, changing,
being born.


Space is a minor obsession of mine when it comes to poetry topics. The Universe is full of contradictions, mysteries and beautiful structures that evoke strong emotions in everyone. I'm sort of surprised that more people don't write space poems.