Rachel Thompson

Author Interview – Dermot Davis @dermotdavis1

How do you do that? What kind of resistances are you concerned about?

Resistances come in many flavors and can be very hard to ascertain. It can require some deep introspection but doing so usually pays dividends so I try to stay as aware and alert to them as I can because if I don’t, ultimately the work can suffer. Sometimes, it’s just a question that I have been working too much at the expense of play or relaxation and the playful part of myself feels restless and maybe a little cheated. A simple remedy would be to take some time off and go to the beach or do something fun. A more serious kind of resistance could indicate that I’ve lost my way in the story or rather that I’ve strayed from the truth in some way. Maybe I’m forcing the characters to follow some plotting that I want to have happen and it’s not being respectful to the characters and may come across in the read as being false.

Explain how following a plot can be disrespectful to the characters of the story? Are you suggesting that in some way the characters that you have created have opinions and feelings so that they may feel “disrespected” in some way?

(smiles) Yes, that’s exactly what I’m suggesting. One of the keys for me when writing characters is getting to that point when the characters in the story have, in some sense, taken on a life of their own, almost as if they have become real people in my head and on the page. When that starts to happen, I know that I am writing a story that has life in it; a passion or perhaps an integrity… which is very hard to define. When I’m writing a story and I don’t reach that point where the characters have become real, then I know that the story is not as good as it can be and a reader won’t be as engaged as when the characters have more… dimensionality, is perhaps a good description to use.

Do the characters then have “feelings”? I’m trying to understand how some imaginary characters that you have made up can feel “disrespected?”

I don’t know how common this is among writers, it’s not something that I have discussed a lot but one thing that I noticed from an early point in my writing is that in a lot or if not in most of my stories, it’s the characters – yes, that I have created – have told me what the story is and how things would naturally unfold given the character traits and combination of characters that are interacting in the story. Despite the fact that I’m following a plot outline of where I think the story should go, when I try to write my characters to follow that plot, they offer resistance as if they are telling me that what I wanted them to do was actually going against their character and not something that they would do in that situation. To continue to do so, would then feel to me like I was forcing the story. If I’m being sensitive to my characters, then I change the plot or rather have them tell me what the plot should be.

If that’s the case, then my next question almost answers itself. Do you outline a story before you begin?

Sometimes, but usually not, or rather, I may start with a very broad outline and know that that may or may not be the way the story is going to go. I stay very flexible.

Because your characters may tell you a different way to go?

Yes. I experimented with “characters determining the story” in one of my early plays where I decided to put two characters into a confined space (an elevator that stalls between floors) and based on some brief descriptive parameters (one is male, one female, both middle-aged), and through their interaction with each other have them tell me who they were and what was going to happen. I simply let them talk to each other and have it develop from there.

What happened? Did anything happen?

Yes, surprisingly. Being confined in a shared space, they had to talk to each other. They slowly developed very strong personalities that were so different to each other that through exploration and conversation, they ultimately clashed and went to some very weird places between and within themselves.

Stormy Weather

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Genre - Literary Fiction

Rating – PG

More details about the author and the book

Connect with Dermot Davis on Facebook, Twitter & Goodreads

Website www.dermotdavis.com

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Author Interview – Dana Hui Lim

What’s the reason for your life? Have you figured out your reason for being here yet? Coming face to face with mortality at a young age taught me the meaning of life, which is that it ends. Get on with it, appreciate the little things in life,don’t wait to be happy and like they say, dance like no one is watching.

How many friends does a person need? About 42….hey, wait a second!

What does love mean to you? Being able to trust someone more than you trust yourself.

What social issues interest you the most? The plight of refugees is a raw wound in Australia at the moment. I don’t have the answers but I know that the resolution is not to demonise people who are running from a nightmarish situation. I find it very difficult to blame people for wanting just a little bit of what most people in Australia take for granted.

What is your favorite quote, by whom, and why? “If there’s no great glorious end to all this, if nothing we do matters…, then all that matters is what we do”. I just looked up who said this, and it turns out it was Angel from Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

When and why did you begin writing? I was telling my partner about my life soon after we first met, and he said that I should write a book. I thought about it for a while and decided that I wanted my story to still be here after I am gone. All that lives on after us is the impression we’ve made on others, be it in writing or via a personal relationship. I didn’t want to go quietly.

How did you come up with the title? The title is from an incident where my Mother defended us from an actual flesh, blood, toothed and clawed tiger. After all we had been through there was no way she was going to allow some overgrown tabby to take one of us.

Who designed the cover? Michelle, my wonderful publisher from Odyssey Books.

Mother and Tiger

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Genre – Memoir

Rating – PG13

More details about the author & the book

Connect with Dana Hui Lim on Facebook & Twitter & Goodreads

Website http://odysseybooks.com.au/

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Author Interview – Diana Bocco

Where do you see yourself in five years?

Can I dream big? In five years, I’ll have at least one title in the USA Today or the New York Times bestsellers list. And I’ll be living somewhere cold. I miss snow terribly so I’m looking forward to moving in the next year or so.

Are you reading any interesting books at the moment?

I’m reading book 3 in the Dollhouse trilogy. It’s a YA horror story. Highly recommended!

What contributes to making a writer successful?

Passion and persistence. The publishing world is a strange beast and it’s often hard to understand. Besides that, it’s just hard work. Sit down and write. Then write some more.

What do you do to unwind and relax?

I’m very lucky that in Thailand you can get a great massage for under U$10, so I try to get one every week. I’m so spoiled about it that I’m probably going to cry when I go back to the West and have to pay $100 or more for the same thing. I also love taking little day trips.

What dreams have been realized as a result of your writing?

I’ve been able to travel a lot thanks to my writing. Part of it it’s because of the freedom that writing gives you – as long as you have a laptop and an internet connection, you can set house anywhere you want.

When you wish to end your career, stop writing, and look back on your life, what thoughts would you like to have?

I’ll never stop writing. I just can’t imagine myself doing anything else. My writing will probably evolve and change throughout the years, though – and I’m perfectly ok with that. I do want to look back and know that I’ve written the books I wanted to write.

City of the Fallen

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Genre - Paranormal Romance/Dystopian Romance

Rating – R

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Connect with Diana Bocco on Goodreads

Website http://www.dianaboccobooks.com

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Constantinopolis by James Shipman @jshipman_author

His father! Mehmet stewed when he thought of him. His father had never shown him any real affection or spent significant time with him. He was not, after all, originally the heir to the Sultanate. He was a second son and only became heir when his older brother died. Mehmet had been forced from then on to endure a frantic and often harsh tutoring process. He was just beginning to grasp his responsibilities when at the age of 12 his father had retired and named him Sultan. He had done the best he could to govern, but in short order Grand Vizier Halil had called his father back to take over the throne. The Sultan felt Halil should have helped him, should have supported him. Instead he had watched and reported Mehmet’s shortcomings to his father, betraying him and leading to his humiliation.

From then on Mehmet had bided his time. He had learned to keep his thoughts and emotions to himself, to trust no one. He had studied everything: military art, languages, administration, and the arts. He had worked tirelessly so that when he next ruled he would not only equal his father but also exceed him. He would be the greatest Sultan in the history of his people, Allah willing.

His chance came when Murad finally died only two years before, as Mehmet turned 19. Mehmet quickly took power, ordering his baby half brother strangled to assure there would be no succession disputes, and set to organizing his empire. He had learned to be cautious and measured, leaving his father’s counselors and even Halil in power to assist him. From there he had slowly built up a group of supporters. They were young and exclusively Christian converts to Islam. These followers, many of whom now held council positions, were not nearly as powerful as the old guard, but they were gaining ground. They were the future, if Halil did not interfere.

Halil. His father’s Grand Vizier and now his own. He had always treated Mehmet with condescending politeness. He was powerful, so powerful that Mehmet could not easily remove him. So powerful it was possible he could remove Mehmet in favor of a cousin or other relative. Mehmet hated him above all people in the world, but he could not simply replace him. He needed Halil, at least for now, and Halil knew it.

This dilemma was the primary reason for Mehmet’s nighttime wanderings. He needed time away from the palace. Time to think and work out a solution to the problem. How could he free himself from Halil without losing power in the process? He could simply order Halil executed, but would the order be followed or would it be his own head sitting on a pole? The elders and religious leaders all respected and listened to Halil. Only the young renegades, the Christian converts who owed their positions to Mehmet were loyal to him. If Halil was able to rally the old guard to him, Mehmet had no doubt that the result would be a life or death dispute.

Mehmet needed to find a cause that could rally the people to him. The conversations he had heard night after night told him this same thing. The people felt that his father was a great leader, and that he was not. If he could gain the people’s confidence, then he would not need Halil, and the other elders would follow his lead.

Mehmet knew the solution. He knew exactly what would bring the people to his side, and what would indeed make him the greatest Sultan in the history of the Ottoman people.

The solution however was a great gamble. His father and father’s fathers had conquered huge tracts of territory in Anatolia and then in Europe, primarily at the expense of the Greeks. Mehmet intended to propose something even more audacious, to conquer the one place that his ancestors had failed to take. If he succeeded he would win the adoration of his people and would be able to deal with Halil and any others who might oppose him. If he failed . . .

The Sultan eventually made his way back near the palace, to the home of his closest friend, Zaganos Pasha. Zaganos, the youngest brother of Mehmet’s father in law, had converted to Islam at age 13, and was Mehmet’s trusted general and friend. He was the most prominent member of the upstart Christian converts that made up the Sultan’s support base.

Zaganos was up, even at this late hour, and embraced his friend, showing him in and ordering apple tea from his servants. Zaganos was shorter and stockier than Mehmet, a powerful middle-aged man in the prime of his life. He had receding dark brown hair. A long scar cut across his forehead and down over his left eye. He looked on Mehmet with smiling eyes extending in to crow’s feet. He smiled like a proud uncle or father.

Constantinopolis

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Genre – Historical Fiction

Rating – PG

More details about the author and the book

Connect with  James Shipman on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://james-shipman.com

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Nobody Has to Know by Frank Nappi @FrankNappi

http://www.dreamstime.com/-image23713420

Nobody Has To Know, Frank Nappi’s dark and daring new thriller, tells the story of Cameron Baldridge, a popular high school teacher whose relationship with one of his students leads him down an unfortunate and self-destructive path. Stalked through text-messages, Baldridge fights for his life against a terrifying extortion plot and the forces that threaten to expose him. NHTK is a sobering look into a world of secrets, lies, and shocking revelations, and will leave the reader wondering many things, including whether or not you can ever really know the person you love.

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Genre - Thriller

Rating – PG-13

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Connect with Frank Nappi on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://www.franknappi.com

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In Love With My Best Friend by Sheena Binkley

1

Camille

How did my life get so complicated? One minute, I, Camille Anderson, was living a pretty normal life in which nothing ever happened to me, and the next I'm practically being hauled away from the premier wedding venue in Houston, The Corinthian, by security because of my sudden outburst to the groom.

I should have known I was setting myself up for disaster, but I had to do it. I had to tell my best friend that I'd been in love with him since I was thirteen.

I really didn't expect the scene to unfold the way it did, especially while Trevor was getting married, but I couldn't hold my feelings in much longer. I felt he was making a terrible mistake, because he was marrying the wrong woman. He should have been marrying me.

I guess I should backtrack to when Trevor and I first met. It was seventeen years ago, when the Williams family first moved into the house next to ours. I was outside waiting for my friend Tia Simmons to come by when I first noticed Trevor. He was absolutely gorgeous as he stepped out of his family's SUV. He had that "boy next door" look, with wavy black hair and smooth ivory skin. He looked over at me and gave me a huge grin, which I greatly returned.

After that day, not only did we become friends, but our parents became great friends as well. We always went by each other's homes for dinner or for game night (until we were too old to appreciate hanging out with our parents on a Friday night).

We were practically inseparable during our high school years, and many of our friends thought we would eventually get married and have lots of kids. When anyone mentioned that to Trevor, he would shrug it off and say, "We're just friends, and it will stay that way until the day we die." Usually those words would tug at my heartstrings, but being the shy person I am, I never let my feelings show.

As we went to college, Trevor and I went into the same major, public relations. That was when he met Chelsea Parker, who was also my roommate. At first I liked Chelsea because she was basically a sweet person, but when she set her sights on Trevor, I quickly disliked her. Not because she took Trevor away from me, but because she became a different person.

If only I could go back to four weeks ago, or even seventeen years ago, I would be with the man I loved...

~

Four weeks ago....

"I don't know why you dragged me to this," I said as I looked at my friend Tia. The two of us were inside the Aventine Ballroom of Hotel Icon waiting for our friend Trevor and his fiancée, Chelsea, to arrive for their engagement and welcome home party. The two had announced their engagement to everyone a while back when Trevor was visiting his parents before going back to Dallas. Not only did he announce his engagement, but he also said that he had accepted a new position at a prestigious PR firm and was moving back to Houston. Although I was happy that my best friend was moving back, I was not thrilled that he was getting married.

"For once, why can't you be happy for Tre? He and Chelsea are finally getting married."

I gave Tia an evil stare as I looked toward the revolving door to the ballroom.

"You know how I feel about Trevor and Chelsea getting married."

"Oh please, Cam, when are you going to get past the fact that Trevor found someone? I told you to admit your feelings to him, but being the person you are, you decided not to."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You felt you would have been rejected if you told Trevor your true feelings."

"If I remember correctly, in high school when Charles asked him why we never hooked up, he said, and I quote, 'We're just friends.'"

Tia rolled her eyes at me and started to stare at the door as well. This was not the first time we'd had this conversation about my feelings for Trevor, so I'm pretty sure Tia was tired of hearing it.

Tia was my other best friend and the complete opposite of me. While I was quiet and reserved, Tia was wild and carefree. She always did what she wanted and didn't care about the consequences. People always thought we were sisters, with our caramel-colored complexion and long, dark-brown hair. But that was where the similarities ended. I looked down at my black sequin dress that went above my knees, wondering if I was dressed appropriately for the occasion; but as I looked at the hot-pink dress Tia was sporting, I figured my outfit was perfect.

"So how are things between you and Eric?"

"Finished; I broke up with him a couple of days ago."

"I'm assuming because he's not Trevor? Cam, you have got to move on."

I sighed as I noticed two figures coming through the door. I started to breathe slowly as I watched my friend walk in with his fiancée. Trevor always was attractive, but tonight he looked really handsome in a dark blue suit, white shirt, and blue and white striped tie. His black, wavy hair was cut short, bringing out his beautiful brown eyes. He walked hand in hand with Chelsea, the woman I wish I'd never met, who was positively glowing in an ivory-colored empire dress. Her reddish brown hair was pulled into a tight ponytail and her makeup was flaw- less. Although I was completely jealous of Chelsea, I had to admit the two made a stunning couple.

Tia gave me a frown.

"You OK?"

"I'm cool. Let's just get this over with."

While the crowd of family and friends were clapping and whistling for the happy couple, all I could do was just stand in my place, looking at Trevor as if he was the only person in the room. He gave me a smile that showed the deep dimples on each of his cheeks. As he went to greet a couple of his family members, I took a deep breath to control any tears from flowing.

I shouldn't have come tonight.

~

Trevor

"Why did we plan a huge engagement party? Everyone knows we're engaged," I asked my fiancée, Chelsea, as we were walking hand in hand down the corridor inside Hotel Icon.

"Sweetie, I just wanted everyone to celebrate in our happiness and what better way than a huge party?"

I sighed as I continued to walk, not realizing how frustrated I was becoming.

Chelsea was the love of my life. I instantly knew I wanted to marry her when I first laid eyes on her in Camille's dorm room. The two were roommates their junior year at University of Houston, which was great for me, considering I was able to see my best friend and my girlfriend at the same time. Although Camille and I were really good friends, I got the sense that something had been bothering her since I'd been dating Chelsea. Call me crazy, but it seemed as if Camille was jealous of our relationship. I hope not, because Chelsea loves Camille and considers her a good friend.

As we walked into the ballroom, everyone from our family and our friends were clapping and cheering for our arrival. We started to wave at everyone as we entered. Once I turned my head toward the center of the room, I had to stop and admire the person staring straight at me. My heart jolted several beats at the beauty who was giving me a dazzling smile. Camille Anderson had always been a beautiful woman, from her caramel-colored skin to her deep chocolate eyes; she definitely stood out in a crowd.

Just looking at her long hair flowing around her face and the black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places made me feel sort of embarrassed, because I shouldn't have been looking at her in that way. I always considered her my best friend and nothing more, so why was I looking at her differently now?

Chelsea turned her attention to me, wondering what was wrong.

"Is everything OK?"

I suddenly realized I was staring a little too long as I turned to Chelsea.

"I'm fine," I said as I squeezed her hand.

I gave Camille a huge grin as I walked over to talk to a nearby guest. I snuck another peek at her; she was talking to our friend Tia near the bar. I don't know what was going on with me, but hopefully this feeling I was having about my best friend would go away soon.

That's if I want it to.

In Love With My Best Friend

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Genre - Contemporary Fiction

Rating – PG13

More details about the author

Connect with Sheena Binkley on Twitter

Website http://sheenabinkley.wordpress.com/

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Birth of an Assassin by Rik Stone @stone_rik

Jez turned his head and saw jeeps stacked up one behind the other, coming at him. They were equipped for combat with mounted mortar cannon and sub-machine guns rigged on the integral bases behind the front seats. The heads of soldiers bobbed behind mortar blast protectors as the vehicles maneuvered over snowdrifts. He couldn’t tell how many vehicles, but seeing them fan out and fire, the number no longer seemed relevant.

He ran. He wanted to drop the ski jacket to quicken his pace, but he’d lose his weapons. The only thing he could do was wind in his head and race flat out. WHUMP! A mortar shell exploded 50 meters forward and to the right of his position. Shrapnel whizzed by, and though he could hear it, he felt nothing. He hadn’t been hit. He crouched lower, but the rabbit-skin hat fell off. No time to pick it up. Stop for nothing. With the rifles set to automatic, they traced straight black lines in the snow on either side of him and then swept horizontally across his horizon – Kalashnikov AKMs. They didn’t quite have him in their sights, but they would get there soon enough.

Not safe running in a straight line, he zigzagged, sacrificing distance for evasive tactics. Even so, it wouldn’t take them long to get a bead on him. He looked ahead for anything that might impede his progress, and saw a murder of crows take to the air on the opposite side of the nearest hill. If only he could join them, he thought. Instead, he ran a short distance to the left and then a longer distance to the right, on occasion reversing the strategy so as not to reveal a pattern.

WHUMP! WHUMP! One after another, mortar shells exploded; and while Jez’s evasive actions proved successful, progress slowed. The jeeps occasionally stopped to drop-blast their mortar shells more accurately, but it didn’t stop them gaining ground.

Clearly, while the snow slowed him, it had no such effect on the pursuit vehicles. They would catch him before he could get to the hills. He had to make a stand. WHUMP! A shell exploded 30 meters ahead. That would do, fight from the mortar’s footprint, die like a soldier. He ran towards it. The jeeps closed in. WHUMP! Another explosion – and it was in the same hollow he was headed for. He ran in the opposite direction to make them realign their weapons.

The aim moved. Shells exploded away from the crater, so he veered back and got close enough to jump. Any other time of year the landing would have been soft, but now solid ground jarred his bones as he made contact with the fissure’s base. The earth moved and rumbled, feet banged against brittle crust that cracked and broke beneath him. A thin layer of earth had been all that remained after the two explosions and Jez crashed through the crater into another hole.

He dropped the depth of the first hollow and through into the hole below. But he couldn’t see out to shoot. If his life hadn’t been about to end he might have laughed. Too low to make a stand, he would have to… but just a minute, what was that? He wasn’t in a hole, but a pothole, a chance, a slim chance, but a chance.

He pulled the landfall aside, squeezed through and scrambled along the tunnel in a direction in line with the hills. The cave got bigger. He could stand up straight. He started running again, and half a minute carried him 100 meters in. WHUMP! Grit and soil blasted along the chasm behind him, stung his legs, back and buttocks as fragments struck. They’d realigned a fix on the crater too soon. It had to be Mitrokhin up there. The regular army weren’t that good.

With adrenalin pumping, he gave that extra push, but the channel narrowed and lowered. Lack of headroom forced him to his hands and knees. Movement slowed. The ground shook. Tremors shuddered through his arms and legs, and then a blast was followed by a rumble.

The channel collapsed and fallen earth charged towards him. Rapid breathing, his heart raced, but he had to steady his thoughts. He couldn’t lose control, but the ground rumbled, ever closer.

Still on his hands and knees, he pushed his back hard against the roof. Earth fell around his feet and legs as the miniature cave fell in. But his body remained rigid, acting as a stanchion. His part of the crown hadn’t fallen, but ahead and behind, the rumble continued and the fragile earth crashed down. The structure of the hollow folded, and when it stopped he’d become entombed. Panic engulfed him. There was no way out.

Birth of an Assassin

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Genre – Thriller, Crime, Suspense

Rating – R

More details about the author

Connect with Rik Stone on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://rik-stone.simdif.com

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The Color Pink by Parker Paige

The_Color_Pink_Cover_for_Kindle

Can wearing the color pink attract true love?

That is the question Summer Jones intends to answer.

In her early thirties, Summer Jones thought that she had found the perfect man, the man she planned to marry until she learned that he still had feelings for his first love. Now, at age thirty-five, Summer is ready to fall in love again. After she hears that wearing the color pink can attract true love, she sets out to do just that–and finds more than just true love.

Follow Summer as she journeys into the world of color magic and find out how she uses that magic to help her choose between one man from her past and another man who is destined to become her future.

This romantic drama serves up something fun and sexy, proving that the road to love can be paved with many painful lessons and memorable moments. It’s a story about paying attention to your past so that you don’t always have to repeat it.

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Genre - Romance

Rating – PG-13

More details about the author

Connect with Parker Paige on Twitter

Website parkerpaige.wordpress.com

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Birth of an Assassin by Rik Stone @stone_rik

Birth of an Assassin

Set against the backdrop of Soviet, post-war Russia, Birth of an Assassin follows the transformation of Jez Kornfeld from wide-eyed recruit to avenging outlaw. Amidst a murky underworld of flesh-trafficking, prostitution and institutionalized corruption, the elite Jewish soldier is thrown into a world where nothing is what it seems, nobody can be trusted, and everything can be violently torn from him.

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Genre - Thriller, Crime, Suspense

Rating – R

More details about the author

Connect with Rik Stone on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://rik-stone.simdif.com

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Bette Lee Crosby – 10 Tips for Becoming a Better Writer

10 Tips for Becoming a Better Writer

by Bette Lee Crosby

1)      First and foremost, be yourself. Discover your own voice and never try to emulate someone else. Trying to be like another author because he or she sold a million copies of their book, will not work. Every author has originality in their soul. It’s what makes us want to be authors, so dig down and discover your own originality.

2)      If you follow in the footsteps of another author and start writing what you think readers will buy, your characters will sound shallow and superficial. If you remain true to yourself and work to develop your own voice it will ring loud and clear with believability.

3)      Create memorable characters. Before you write about them, get to know them. Understand how your characters think and how they will react to a given situation. If you don’t know and love (or hate) your character, neither will your reader.

4)      When your story takes a wrong turn and your character starts acting uncharacteristically, don’t balk at going back and chopping out that portion of your manuscript.  Yes, I know you loved those when you wrote them, and removing them is painful, but in the long run you will have a better story.

5)      Use beta readers to find the weak spots in your story. Do not expect them to edit your manuscript or correct typos.  Beta readers usually offer thoughts and suggestions that can help make your story better, listen to them but remember they are not proofreaders.

6)      If you aspire to be a professional author – use an editor. You cannot and should not edit or proofread your own work. It is virtually impossible to see your own mistakes, Even if you proofread the manuscript seventeen times, you will still only see what you think you wrote.

7)      Do not just upload your book to Kindle and Nook. Use a formatter and you will save yourself a huge number of headaches.

8)      Read often. Read in your genre and outside of it. The good books will teach you what works and the not-so-good books will teach you what doesn’t.

9)      Take a break. When you sit there looking at your computer screen and typing words that simply don’t work, get up and go for a walk. You’ll find as soon as you walk away from the computer you can see the story so much more clearly.

10)  Don’t expect to be an overnight success. It takes time and patience to develop your craft and you have to work at it. Everyday. You may hear stories about first novels being a bestseller, but what you don’t hear is that the author has drawers full of edits and rewrites. Be persistent and focus on refining your craft. If you do that, you won’t have to go looking for success, it will find you.

Reviewer’s Choice 2012 Award Winner! In a story that’s been compared to John Grisham’s The Client, eleven year-old Ethan Allen Doyle has witnessed a brutal murder and now the boy is running for his life. In the time-tested tradition of Southern Fiction, Crosby unveils the darkest side of human nature and then rewards her readers with a beautiful tale of love, loss and unexpected gifts.

Olivia Westerly is the only person Ethan Allen can trust, and he’s not too sure he can trust her. She’s got no love of children and a truckload of superstitions–one of them is the belief that eleven is the unluckiest number on earth. Olivia avoided marriage for almost forty years. But when Charlie Doyle happened along, he was simply too wonderful to resist. Now she’s a widow with an eleven-year-old boy claiming to be her grandson.

With a foul mouth, dark secrets and heavily guarded emotions, Ethan Allen Doyle is not an easy child to like. He was counting on the grandpa he’d never met for a place to hide, but now that plan is shot to blazes because the grandpa’s dead too. He’s got seven dollars and twenty-six cents, his mama’s will for staying alive, and Dog. But none of those things are gonna help if Scooter Cobb finds him.

Winner of Five Literary Awards,BookBundlz Finalist, Voted Goodreads Best Unknown Fiction, FPA President’s Book Award Gold Medal Finalist

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Literary Fiction

Rating – PG13

More details about the author

Connect with Bette Lee Crosby on Facebook & Twitter & GoodReads

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Review: Spare Change by Bette Lee Crosby

Spare ChangeSpare Change by Bette Lee Crosby
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

What major emotion did the story evoke in you as a reader? Optimism for the future.

Did you like the way the story ended? Totally loved the ending. So glad to know how Ethan turned out and have a glimpse into his later life.

Top 3 things I liked about the main character. Olivia – strong, independent, knew how to enjoy life

Disclosure: I received a review copy of this book from the author.

View all my reviews

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Leadership: The Ultimate Accountability – Dianne Worrall @DiWorrall

Leadership: The Ultimate Accountability

Leaders have a choice – to lead people toward achievement by ethical means or to lead them toward unethical gain. History has taught us how easily individuals can succumb to the temptations of power, money and greed. The Enron debacle provides a perfect example of unethical leadership and employees seduced and girded by the allure of power and prestige.

Followership is a human need, especially in times of economic and emotional strife.  Indeed, an article in Medill Reports by Natalie Brunell, October 6, 2011, highlighted a study by Stanford University that demonstrated a troubling possibility: That generous leaders may be regarded as ideal commanders only in situations of limited competition, whereas tough, power-wielding leaders are more desirable in times of hardship.  Sigmund Freud explored this phenomenon in is book “Moses and Monotheism”, which he penned on the eve of global conflict in 1936. The book explained that Hitler’s tyrannical behaviour earned him the support of a nation at a time of great emotional and economic need. According to Freud “We know that the great majority of people have a strong need for authority which they can admire, to which they can submit and which dominates and sometimes even ill-treats them”.  The ability to persuade and to seduce is apparent in many a successful leader. But that power can also be perverted when the need for ethical leadership is greatest.

So often those in power are not held accountable. Many financiers, when the house of cards finally tumbles, walk away chagrined only by the need to keep a low profile at the country club. The mansion in the Keys remains, and a colleague provides a lucrative consultancy position. Many a national leader is able to leave office, passing the shattered ruins of a nation to a new leader who must begin to unearth the harsh realities of economic disaster.

The bottom line is that leaders are the ultimate model of accountability. The words and actions of influential leaders set the tone and direction for those who follow. So it’s crucial that leaders take their own responsibility and accountability seriously, as their legacy of consequences – both positive and negative – might just spread a lot further than they think.

Post by Di Worrall

Award-winning Business Transformation & Strategy Consultant, Best Selling Author, Executive Coach

www.diworrall.com.au

Find out more about the link between high performance and high accountability in Di Worrall’s #1 Amazon best selling book: Accountability Leadership – How Great Leaders Build a High Performance Culture of Accountability and Responsibility (2013) at http://amzn.to/1cphIpl

Di Worrall

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre - Business, Leadership, Workplace Behaviour, Human Resources, Executive Coaching

Rating – PG

More details about the author

Connect with Di Worrall on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://www.diworrall.com.au/

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Author Interview – Brian Cormack Carr

How do you feel about self-publishing? Very positive indeed.  I think it’s such an exciting innovation.  I know there’s some stigma still attached to it, and that when some people hear “self-publishing” they think “vanity publishing” and have visions of boxes and boxes of unsold books cluttering up their garage!  But with digital publishing and print-on-demand options, that really can be a thing of the past.  And why wait until a publisher gives you “permission” to publish your work?  Many great writers had their work regularly rejected by publishers before making it big.  If you’re a writer and want to be read, life’s too short to wait for someone else’s permission. It’s possible to get your work out there.  I think the writers who are serious about it will do it.  But it’s not the soft option – it’s still hard work.  And of course, you have to figure out and manage the process yourself, which in itself can be a challenge.  But it’s a challenge that’s so worth it!  I’ve written about the process of writing and self-publishing on my blog: http://www.cormackcarr.com/2013/06/16/how-i-wrote-and-self-published-my-first-book-part-1/

Do you find the time to read? I make the time to read.  I think it’s vital for writers; it helps remind us of what good writing looks like! In fact, I often have several (too many) books on the go at once.

What is your favorite quote, by whom, and why? I love the W.H.Auden quote: ““You owe it to all of us to get on with what youre good at”.  That sums up my philosophy really.  For better or worse, here we are.  The gift we can give back to life is what we’re good at, whether it’s writing, wallpapering, studying chemistry or doing accounts.  There’s something we can do in a way that’s not quite like anyone else.  How To Find Your Vital Vocation (http://www.viewbook.at/vitalvocation) – my first book – is about helping people to find out what that is.

When did you first know you could be a writer? I don’t really remember ever not being a writer, but I think I first realised that other people would want to read my work when I was at school, and teachers and other pupils said they enjoyed reading my stories.

What inspired you to write your first book? I wanted to share what I’d learned about finding and building an “ideal career” with other people.  I’d moved from work that made me unhappy to work that made me very happy indeed, and I discovered that the process itself was simple.  That’s not to downplay how difficult things are out there in terms of the employment market, of course.  But even given those difficulties, there are ways to maximise your chances of finding and getting your dream job, and my book outlines how to do this.  I started writing a blog to promote my career coaching practice, and that developed into a very successful online membership site for job-hunters and career-changers, and then into my first book – How To Find Your Vital Vocation (http://www.viewbook.at/vitalvocation).

Did writing this book teach you anything and what was it? Yes – get started.  In fact, start before you’re ready. I realised I could wait around for years waiting until I had the confidence to write my first book. Then I realised that writing that book would be the thing that would give me confidence, and I got on with it!

Can you share a little of your current work with us? I’d be glad to – in fact, you can download quite a substantial extract of my first book – How To Find Your Vital Vocation – from my website: http://vitalvocation.com/vital-vocation-the-book-download-your-free-sample/

How did you come up with the title? The book is based on the premise that we all have a “calling” – a voice inside us that’s telling us what we’re most suited to do.  That suggested “vocation” to me, and I came up with “vital” because when we find that calling, it makes us fell alive.  I actually used the title for a website first – http://www.vitalvocation.com – which was originally an online coaching membership site for job-hunters and career-changers.  Then I turned it into a book.

Who designed the cover? The cover was designed by Jane Dixon Smith of JD Smith Design.  She did a terrific job.  She also handled all my interior formatting, and she was endlessly patient with me as I muddled my way through my first self-published book.  Some writers worry that hiring a professional cover designer will stop them from having an influence on the look of their own book, but the opposite is true.  Jane and I generated some options between us, and I narrowed things down to a couple of favourite ideas for her to work up.  I had the final say – along with some help from my blog readers, who voted on which cover option they liked best.

Who is your publisher? I am – I’ve set up my own imprint, Albus Press, which is the vehicle through which I publish How To Find Your Vital Vocation (http://www.viewbook.at/vitalvocation)I’ll publish more under this imprint, and who knows – maybe one day I’ll publish other writers too.

bc07ccac3671120e3d75ffcc0333f67a050ea5c4-thumb

Ready to choose or change your job? Stuck in work you hate? Think the career of your dreams is beyond your reach?
IT’S NEVER TOO LATE TO FIND YOUR VITAL VOCATION

If you don’t love your work, you deserve better – and with this book at your side, you can get it. A lively and potentially life-changing guide,How To Find Your Vital Vocation sets out a simple-to-follow yet profoundly effective process that will take you step-by-step from wherever you are now to a working life based on your most cherished dreams.

LEARN HOW TO:
  • Hear the inner call that’s telling you what will make you truly happy
  • Rediscover your gifts and use them to build a perfectly-tailored career
  • Identify and overcome the obstacles that stand between you and your ideal work
  • Create powerful networks to help you find great jobs that are never advertised
  • Find out what it takes to become an entrepreneur of the future
  • Maximise the impact of your job applications
  • Ace every interview
  • Attain reward levels that will help you thrive – even in this tough economy!

Put yourself in charge of your career – once and for all. Packed with valuable insights, powerful exercises and illuminating self-coaching questions, How To Find Your Vital Vocation will help you chart a practical path to a fun and fulfilling livelihood. In this comprehensive resource, expert career coach Brian Cormack Carr shows you how to find your passion and purpose and finally start doing the work you were born to do.

WHAT THEY’RE SAYING:

“Too many of us have gone about finding our livelihood in a haphazard way. Before long, we become a statistic in a job dissatisfaction survey. Happily, it doesn’t have to be that way and Brian Cormack Carr proves it. If you think that work should be about more – much more – than just a way to pay your bills, this book is the roadmap you’ve been looking for. Work with How To Find Your Vital Vocation for a short time and you’ll be working at your real work for a long time.”

~ BARBARA J. WINTER  Bestselling author of Making a Living Without a Job

“Warm, witty and wise. I highly recommend this book. Brian knows his stuff and How To Find Your Vital Vocation is a breath of fresh air.”

~ GRACE OWEN  Executive coach and author of The Career Itch

“I appreciated the step-by-step nature of Vital Vocation. It made finding a new career that much easier, and I’m still amazed at how well it helped me clarify what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.”

~ DAVID  Member of the Vital Vocation Online Coaching Programme

Vital Vocation helped me focus after I had spent too long panicking and going nowhere. Now my part-time hobby has grown to a full-time occupation and I’ve finally given up the day job that was making me sad!”

~ STEVEN  Member of the Vital Vocation Online Coaching Programme

Buy Now @ Amazon & Smashwords

Genre –  NonFiction / Careers

Rating – G

More details about the author

Connect with Brian Cormack Carr on Facebook  & Twitter

Website http://vitalvocation.com/

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The Photo Traveler (The Photo Traveler Series) by Arthur J. Gonzalez

CHAPTER ONE

I can’t ask for a better day to be out shooting. Man, what a view. Something about how the sun’s rays press against the faint distant outline of the mountains. Sick! If it can seem so dominating from all the way over here, I can only imagine what it must feel like up close. I don’t know. It just always kind of does something to me.

I know, I know. Lame, right? But trust me, if you lived in the hellhole I live in, anytime alone is sacred. You start to appreciate all these little not-so-particular things. Yeah—even the outline of the mountains.

Carefully, I focus the lens on my Canon 7D to capture the effect of the clouds drifting across the peaks of Mt. Rose and get my shot. A few seconds later, the sunlight dims. I hadn’t realized it was so late. I glance at my watch, wondering what’s taking Melinda so long. She promised to pick me up by five, even though I knew that would mean five-thirty. It’s five-forty-five.

I call her on my cell. It rings four times, then goes to voicemail. “Come on, Mel!” I mutter. “It’s getting late!”

I’ve had a good day so far, probably because I’ve been alone for most of it, and I really don’t want another confrontation with Jet. I can still taste the faint copper tinge of blood at the corner of my mouth where he split my lip the last time around. Two days ago.

I hit redial. Straight to voicemail. “Dammit, Mel!”

I tell myself to breathe, but my anxiety is really starting to kick in. Sweat is beading on my forehead and my heart is jolting in my chest. Why does she always have to be so impossible? I don’t get it.

The moment I hear the loud thrum of an engine roaring up the dirt road, I jump up from the boulder I’ve been perched on. It’s about damn time!

She screeches up to me in her new, cherry-red Mini Cooper and slams on the brakes. I dodge around to the passenger side. Grab the door handle. It’s locked.

“Mel!” I shout. “Open up!”

But she’s sitting behind the wheel pretending not to hear me. Eyes glued to her phone, purple nails tapping out a text message. With a tiny smirk on her glossed-up lips.

I hit the window with my fist. “Stop messing around! Jet’s gonna be pissed!”

She finishes her text, sends it … and adjusts the rearview mirror so she can check out the jet-black curls at her temples. She still hasn’t given me one look. Is she really serious right now?

I pound at the window again, as hard as I can. “Open up, dammit!” My anxiety is turning into rage. And rage is something Jet’s modeled for me only too well over the years, ever since he and his first wife, Leyla, took me in as a foster kid. Mel was just six at the time, but “my sister,” which she became after they finally adopted me, was a full-fledged brat from Day One, and she’s only gotten worse.

My fist hurts. I’m afraid of what Jet will do when we get back, since he ordered me to be home by six so I can start dinner.

But as far as Mel’s concerned, I might as well not be there. I can’t control it any longer. I take a step back, lift my knee, and kick the passenger door with all my strength. The hollow metal frame vibrates against the sole of my shoe. Mel’s prized car now has a six-inch dent right in the middle of the passenger door.

I guess that got her attention. Her mouth is hanging open. For a moment, she’s so astonished that she can’t speak. She swings her door open and charges around to the passenger side.

“MY CAR!” she screams, staring at the dent. “Are you crazy?!”

“Why couldn’t you just open up?” I yell back.

“Gavin, you’re an asshole! I was just messing with you! You’re never gonna learn to use your head, are you?”

“Go to hell!”

She goes still, then raises her eyebrows with an “Oh, really?” expression. Then she hauls off and slams her fist into the right side of my face. All I can feel is the large stone of her ring jabbing into my cheek. She stalks back to the driver’s side with a wicked smirk creasing her lips and snaps, “You can walk home!”

She slides behind the wheel, slams the door, and peels off so hard and fast that the car kicks up a stinging cloud of gravel and asphalt dust all over me.

She can’t be serious. But as the Mini disappears around the first bend in the road, I realize that she is.

* * *

Photo Traveler

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre - Young Adult Science Fiction

Rating – PG

More details about the author and the book

Connect with Arthur J. Gonzalez on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://www.arthurjgonzalez.com/

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Author Interview – Dermot Davis @dermotdavis1


What’s your weakest character trait?
Procrastination (smiles). As much as I know that I have to sit in that chair and face the empty page again and again, I still can come up with hundreds of reasons why I shouldn’t and many pressing chores to do rather than write, like check my twitter feed and see what others are up to on Facebook.
Why do you write?
There’s no other feeling quite like it and I’m more “me” when I write than the grumpy and unfulfilled person I become when I don’t.
Have you always enjoyed writing?
Not at all. Sometimes it’s the hardest thing to keep motivated and I have to force myself to continue. That’s usually when I’m stuck in a storyline that I don’t know how to solve or when I’m continuing down the incorrect storyline that doesn’t serve the story’s characters and I’m forcing it. When the story flows and the characters all agree on the direction I’m taking… then it’s bliss.
What motivates you to write?
I’m miserable and impossible to live with if I don’t.
What writing are you most proud of? (Add a link if you like)
The most proud I’ve felt about my writing was seeing that kindle users were highlighting some passages from my books that appears on the Shared Highlights and notes section of the Amazon sales page. That’s the best kind of review!
For example, in Stormy Weather, several people have highlighted these passages:
“Dreams are such ingenious creations of the mind, he considered. They show up in your world as challenges when all they are are messages of the soul, showing you “out there” what is but a reflection of what is hidden “in here,” deeply buried from view.” “What is a life lived without passion? he asked himself. And what is passion, but a yearning of the soul for recognition and self-expression?
The beauty within seeks beauty without. Perhaps we require beauty as a needed reflection and acknowledgment and confirmation of its own existence. If we fail to recognize beauty, it may wither and die.” “…they never even refer to dreams as dreams but rather like to refer to them as experiences of the heart and mind.”
“A life lived with an open heart and mind can access all aspects of self, of experienced reality and of the imagination and that the language that each actuality speaks – symbol and metaphor – can be understood and hence the heretofore mysteries of the mind and of consciousness itself can be demystified and decoded.”
Shared passages from Zen and Sex:
“Could the entire notion of finding one’s soul mate be a simple case of looking for ourselves in another body? Is the “soul mate” really just the best approximation of ourselves that we can find?”
“Buddha was right: pain and suffering are the only true constants in life.”
“In the absence of social restrictions, the human male would be promiscuous throughout the whole of his life. Women, however, tend to be more monogamous. Women want a lot of sex with the man they love; men want to have a lot of sex with a lot of different women.”

Zen & Sex
Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre - Romance
Rating – PG13
More details about the author
Connect with Dermot Davis on LinkedIn, Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads!

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Author Interview – Greg Sandora @gregsandora

What are you working on now? What are some of your other projects? I’m currently working on the sequel to Jack Canon’s American Destiny – which will be titled Jack Canon – Clean Sweep. The sequel will be available in about three months. Some of my other projects include a children’s book called Sammy the Sea Turtle – about an infant sea turtle taken from his nest the night he was to find his way to the sea. Sammy lives with the family until their son – the boy who took him, graduates from high school. On that day Sammy, backpack in tow – begins the long journey home. My second project, in the works, involves angels – a man during a visit to Bar Harbor Maine encounters an angel; quite accidentally, he is told – she was not supposed to make him aware of her existence. Only three others have ever seen the real thing. Naturally he falls hopelessly in love with the beautiful creature.

Tell us a bit about your family. Originally we were from the Portland, Maine area. My mom graduated from Westbrook High School and lived in the same small town her entire life. My dad was in the Air Force stationed in Guam; he returned to work in accounting and went back to school to earn a degree in art. My Dad and Mom were artists, my father painted and my mother wrote poetry and loved to garden. Most Saturdays we loaded up the 1970 Chevy Impala to trek to a one-man show somewhere or other. I took a different track graduating with a business degree, owning and operating an Award Winning Franchise Fitness Center. I am currently a professional manager living in Florida with my beautiful wife and children, following my passion.

Why did you feel you had to tell this story? I always wanted to tell this story. Jack Canon is the everyman in us that dreams of setting things right. The story has tender moments of deep intimacy and romance, woven throughout a real thriller. The characters are true friends, working for the common goal of winning the Presidency. The story is basically set in Washington and on the campaign trail and has plenty of corruption, billionaires, and beautiful woman to keep the reader entertained. All the following components are featured: Washington Politics, Corruption, Romance, Love, Tenderness, Murder, Love, Suspense, Presidential Politics, Power, Passion, and Thrills. Jack and his friends stop at nothing to make a better America for all citizens.

How do your family and friends feel about the book? My family and friends have been supportive. Funny story – I sat down in the living room in our most comfortable chair and wrote the first paragraph. I liked it even though it didn’t end up making it into the book. Finishing that paragraph I announced to my wife and 22-year-old son that I was writing a book. We still laugh about the eye rolling. The idea came to me all at once – the entire story. I wanted to tell a story of great characters that are the best of friends. There’s tenderness, romance, political corruption at the highest levels, not to leave out murder and revenge.

Do you ever experience writer’s block and how do you overcome it? I don’t get writers block because I wait until the story literally explodes onto the page.

Buy Now @ Amazon & Smashwords

Genre – Political Thriller

Rating – PG

More details about the author & the book

Connect with Greg Sandora on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://www.gregsandora.com/

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#Free - Night of the Purple Moon by Scott Cramer @cramer_scott

image

Abby, 13, is looking forward to watching the moon turn purple, unaware that deadly bacteria from a passing comet will soon kill off older teens and adults. She must help her brother and baby sister survive in this new world, but all the while she has a ticking time bomb inside of her--adolescence.

"Cramer creates a picture of our world that's both frightening and inspiring in this heartfelt story that both young adults and adults can enjoy.A heartwarming but not overly sentimental story of survival." KIRKUS REVIEWS

"Outrageous and completely 'out of the box'."
MY HOME AWAY FROM HOME review blog
"Three words: Gripping. Palpable. Well-developed." WORD SPELUNKING review blog

Buy Now @ Amazon & B&N & iBooks & Kobo

Genre - Science fiction

Rating – PG-13

More details about the author

Connect with Scott Cramer on Facebook & Twitter

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Colony East (The Toucan Trilogy #2) by Scott Cramer @cramer_scott

Colony East
When the bacteria that killed most of world’s adults undergo a deadly mutation, 15-year-old Abby must make the dangerous journey to Colony East, an enclave of scientists and Navy personnel who are caring for a small group of children. Abby fears that time is running short for the victims, but she’s soon to learn that time is running out for everyone outside Colony East. (Parental discretion advised for readers 13 and under)
Colony East will be specially priced at $2.99, 60 percent off the regular price.
Night of the Purple Moon (Book 1 of the Toucan Trilogy) is free.
Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre - Science fiction
Rating – PG-13
More details about the author
Connect with Scott Cramer on Facebook & Twitter

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Author Interview – Zarug Thane @ZarugThane

Do you have any suggestions for writers facing writer’s block?

I always begin by praying to Thoth.  He’s Egyptian, but he’s not bigoted in any way.

Beyond that, it depends.  If I’m not sure what should happen next in a story, it usually means the conflict isn’t intense or immediate enough.  Or it might mean that my character lacks a strong enough motivation, goal, or drive.  In either case, the solution really requires fixing what has already been written, more than writing something new.

If you’ve set up a conundrum and then discover you don’t know how to resolve it, that’s actually a wonderful problem, provided you’re not on a deadline.  It means you’ve really challenged yourself and your protagonist.

To resolve that sort of problem, you pick a solution that you know won’t work, and you write it out and force it to work.  Then, you try a different solution that you know won’t work, and you write that out….  This is how you prime your subconscious to give you the one solution that will work.  Usually, it seems obvious once you see it.

Do you have suggestions for coming up with ideas?

Read, write, and keep track of all ideas that occur to you.  This is how you feed, exercise, and reward your subconscious.  Never shrug off an idea as being without value, because that provides negative reinforcement to your subconscious.

To avoid madness, try to keep all your ideas together.  I like to get one of those five-subject, college-lined notebooks.  The ones with pocketed dividers are best, because you can keep loose notes and clippings there as well.

It’s good to read through your notebook once a year or so.

Do you have lots of ideas for stories?

I have lots of ideas, but most of them are vignettes, sketches, snippets.  Great writers could take two or three such things and turn them into a story, but unfortunately, this isn’t the case with me.  Most of my stories arrive only after many false starts and much wandering.

Do you use outlines when you write?

I’ve used outlines several times, and I need to do more.  Free-writing is what I prefer, but I have to accept that without planning, such as what goes into an outline, I tend to wander aimlessly.  Sometimes our natural inclinations have to be overruled if we want to maximize our abilities.  Even in artistic pursuits, discipline is required.

What modern books or authors have influenced you the most?

Roger Zelazny is one writer I admire, especially his Chronicles of Amber.  There’s been so much Tolkienesque fantasy written, it’s always a joy to find someone doing epic fantasy that isn’t derivative.  Zelazny just had that crazy imagination.  He also figured out a way to have godlike main characters in his books without losing the conflict or the sense of balance.  That’s hard to do.

Agushaya

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre - Erotic Fantasy

Rating – NC17

More details about the author & the book

Connect with Zarug Thane on  Twitter

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Tempted: The Dark Hart Chronicles (Book 1) by Alexandra Anthony

I hadn't expected to have a voice mail like this one waiting for me.  I was exhausted, kicking off my heels as soon as I'd locked the door behind me.  The light flashing on my phone alerted me to a message.  I pressed the button for my voicemail and let the message play through the speaker.

"Savannah, this is Elliott Winters.  I'd like you to stop by my office tomorrow around 11.  I have a job opportunity I'd like you to interview for...one of my clients is in need of a personal assistant.  This interview will be a two step process."

The message droned on to give me other basic information about the meeting.  The client’s name was never revealed.

And that is how I came to be standing in the bathroom of Elliott Winters office building, adjusting my blouse in the mirror and leaning in closer to apply a thin coat of nude lipstick.  Rubbing my lips together, I smiled widely at my own reflection.  My blond hair was expertly tousled and my make-up was impeccable.  It was important...no, it was a must that I looked perfect for this interview.  I knew I wasn't taken seriously in this business for quite a few reasons.  My blond hair, blue-eyed good looks and plentiful curves made me seem like every other bubble headed actress wannabe.  God knows I'd been approached more than I could count on both of my hands twice.  The casting couch didn't just apply to actresses.  It also applied to washed up teenage models who wanted a career instead of being a mindless, needy fool.

I'd been the personal assistant to up and coming singer, Sam Stricker for nearly three years.  After his fourth failed, highly publicized stint in rehab had crushed his fledgling career, I'd had no choice but to walk away before he managed to drag me down with him.  He was a nice guy, but he'd let his addiction to alcohol, cocaine and hookers demolish the good-guy image he'd tried so desperately to construct.  It crumbled around him faster than a house of cards in an earthquake.

That was Hollywood for you.  Being famous was a smoke and mirrors game.  It was fickle, fleeting and if you weren't careful, you'd be yesterday's news in the blink of an eye.  Personal assistants were on first name basis with the paparazzi.  We knew when we needed to call to arrange a ‘surprise’ photo op to help bolster your employer's image.  I was lucky to have a best friend in the business.

You either played the game or threw in the towel and went home.

When I called Elliott early this morning to confirm, he refused to tell me who his client was, only telling me they needed a new PA and he wanted to know if I was interested in finding out more.

Of course I was intrigued and Elliott was savvy enough to know I would be.  I had to land this job for more reasons than one.  My self-inflicted unemployment had me burning through my savings.  And yes, I could live off my Daddy's money, but I'd never wanted a free ride.  And this job could propel me career-wise.  In five years, I wanted to be representing clients.  This job was an all around win/win for me.

With a final sigh, I turned away from the mirror and glanced at my watch.  I had five minutes to spare before my interview.  Plastering on my emergency smile, I pushed the butterflies down and smiled a final time at my reflection.

I could do this.

Let's get this over with.  I have to get this job, I thought to myself.  Yanking the door open, I strode purposely down the hallway to Elliott Winters office.  The initial interview would be between Elliott and myself.  If I passed the crucial first phase, the next step was to meet with the mysterious client, hoping I'd be able to win their approval as well.

Drawing a deep breath, I entered the agent's office.  A gaunt faced receptionist glanced up and did her best to arrange her mouth into something that resembled a smile but made her appear constipated.  Another case of too much Botox and more than likely, too much Adderall.

"Can I help you?"

"Savannah Wood to see Elliott Winters." I replied confidently.  I didn't let women like this intimidate me, even though they always tried.  I'd played the game long enough to know everyone had a role to play.  She was the going to be the self-important gatekeeper to her boss.

"Is Mr. Winters expecting you?" She sneered coolly.  She made a production of scrolling through her computer, squinting at the screen absently.

Tempted

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Genre – Erotica

Rating – R

More details about the author

Connect with Alexandra Anthony on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://www.alexandra-anthony.com/

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Guinevere: On the Eve of Legend by Cheryl Carpinello

Chapter 1

The Hunt

Guinevere stared into the shadows along the edge of the forest. She could hear Cedwyn shifting from foot to foot beside her, unable to stand still. She sighed, the bow made of sturdy pine in her hand growing heavier like her heart. Her thirteenth Birth Day was in a few days, but she wasn’t excited. Birth Days were supposed to be fun, but not this year. Not for her, not for a princess.

She frowned as Cedwyn adjusted the leather quiver of arrows on his back again. Sometimes, like today, her patience with the seven-year-old was short.

“Guin’ver?”

“Hush!”

“But ...”

“Hush!”

She stamped her boot on the ground, her displeasure clearly showing.

“Cedwyn,” she snapped. “What is so important that you can’t be quiet?”

“I’m hungry, and the bottoms of my trousers are wet. Can’t we go back to the castle?” His face showed his confusion at her tone.

Guinevere realized that she shouldn’t have directed her anger at Cedwyn. It wasn’t his fault. Glancing down at her own clothes, she saw the bottom of her green ankle-length tunic wet with the morning dew. Her stomach chose that moment to begin grumbling. It started as a low vibration but grew louder as if it hadn’t been fed in days. Cedwyn heard it and started giggling. He tried to smother the sound by covering his mouth with his small hand, but he was too late.

Trying to keep from laughing also, Guinevere shook her head. “How are we ever going to shoot a rabbit with all this noise?” She reached down and tousled his blond hair to let him know that she was not serious and to apologize for her crossness. “Let’s try for just ten minutes longer. Then if we find nothing, we’ll go back. Is that all right?”

Cedwyn shook his head, not wanting to make any further noise. She let her eyes move across the blue sky. The English summer sun had barely reached above the far hills when they had first arrived at the forest. Now, it was well on its way in its climb toward the dinner hour, and they hadn’t even had a proper breakfast yet. Cedwyn’s mum was sure to be upset that they had been gone so long.

“Come on,” he whispered. “The only creatures we’ve seen moving have been badgers and Cornish hens. We could of had five bloody hens by now.”

“I told you, it’s good luck to bag a rabbit on the eve of your thirteenth Birth Day,” Guinevere informed him.

Cedwyn studied her face, unsure if she was telling the truth or not. Then his blue eyes widened, and he grabbed her arm as she turned to continue hunting. “Wait a minute! You promised to help me bag a rabbit on the eve of my tenth Birth Day. You said that was lucky!”

She turned to him, her balled fists on her slim hips. “You need to listen closer when I talk to you. I explained the difference be- tween boys and girls. Boys have to seek luck on the eve of their tenth and fifteenth Birth Days. Since girls are naturally luckier than boys, they only have to seek luck once, on the eve of their thirteenth Birth Day.”

Cedwyn eyed her suspiciously, and then his eyes lit up.

“But I thought that the eve was the night before. Your Birth Day isn’t until the day after tomorrow.”

“That’s true, but the eve of something can also be anytime close to the day.”

“Are you sure?”

Guinevere

Buy Now @ Amazon @ Smashwords

Genre - Arthurian Legend

Rating – G

More details about the author and the book

Connect with Cheryl Carpinello on Facebook & Twitter & Goodreads

Website http://www.beyondtodayeducator.com/

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Making Wishes by Marilyn Holdsworth @m_holdsworth

Chapter 1

The persistent ringing of the phone shattered the early morning quiet. Even before Elloree could reach the phone to shut off the annoying sound, she felt an intuitive stab, and her hand hesitated before lifting the receiver.

Then her crisp, cheerful answer went across the wire. “Good morning.”

It only took an instant for her to recognize the gruff, deep voice at the other end. Not a “Hello, how are you?” or “It’s been a long time.” But of course it was as it always had been with him. “Hell of a day here, El. I’m up to my ass in work as always. And it’s raining—just a sloppy, dreary muck.” He made a sort of snorting sound of disapproval.

She had to smile as she pictured him pacing at the other end of the line. She could see his craggy face set with determination as his broad, flat fingers ran restlessly through his coarse, graying hair. My God, hadn’t she sat across from him at too many staff meetings to ever forget the intensity in those dark brown eyes?

“Well, I guess the weather is one thing you can’t control, Mark,” she replied. “But it’s good to hear from you,” she added, surprised that she meant it. “How are things going?” and there was a question in her voice—not a longing, just a question. She couldn’t help feeling curious about a call that had come so unexpectedly, bringing a flood of memories with it.

“Things are not just going, they’re growing, and in leaps and bounds,” he boomed. “We’re about to launch a new promotion that should take us into both national and international markets we’ve been trying to tap into for a mighty long time.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Mark.” But still she waited. He hadn’t called to tell her idle news about his business growth.

“I’ll get right to the point.”

Her breath caught in her throat as he said it. Same old Mark—hit it hard, hit it fast, and nine times out of ten, you get what you want. Wasn’t that what he’d always told her?

“What I want, Elloree”—he spoke quickly, firing his words into the phone at her as if his rapid delivery would convince her—“what I need and what the company has to have is someone to head up this operation. Someone, not just to work up designs, but to get the goddamned thing rolling like I know it can and must. Someone to handle the artists—kick some temperamental butt, you know, while making them love every minute of it—and then put together some presentations that will knock the balls off those son-of-a-bitch buyers. I need a multidimensional person to get this off the ground and pull the whole campaign together.”

Elloree’s hand tightened around the receiver. “I know you have a very large and capable staff now, Mark,” she said. “Alex Tenner is one of the best, and I read you stole him from Hallmark just last year.”

Mark laughed, the deep bellowing sound shaking the phone. “You’re right there, but we call it ‘making an offer he couldn’t refuse.’ Yeah, we’ve got him on our side now. But between you and me, the guy’s a light-footed ass who spends too much time thinking with what’s below the belt. No, this operation needs someone special.”

How very like him, Elloree fumed, pacing the kitchen, still clutching the phone. Today, without warning, one phone call had transformed an ordinary Saturday morning into something that was anything but. Impulsive, aggressive Mark Williams had always known what he wanted. And as he phrased it this morning, “I want and need you to come back to work, El. This project can’t fly without you.”

I wish I’d just let the answering machine pick up the call, she thought, I wouldn’t have had to talk to him and hear those persuasive words. Just like that, go back to work. Damn him. But even as she thought it, she knew she’d made her decision when she’d heard his voice. Still, she answered carefully. “You know I can’t just come back, Mark. I would need time.” She hesitated and then added, “Time to talk to Tom. And there are things here to work out before I could even think of it.” She tried to sound firm and in control, but her heart was racing with excitement.

“Fine, fine; take all the time you need. Call me on Monday with your answer.”

She wondered if he could detect the quiver in her voice when she promised to call on Monday.

Elloree stood for a moment staring at the kitchen counter. Mechanically, she rinsed the few dishes that had been left there. “All the time I need,” she muttered. “Call on Monday. Time, what does he know about time?” She shook her head angrily.

She could hear the children in the backyard, their voices high-pitched from play. They were still a marvel to her—those perfect little hands and feet, such distinct personalities emerging as they grew. She was always amazed how two boys could be so entirely different. Paul was the oldest, a tall, sturdy, blond boy with piercing blue eyes in a round, cherubic face. Paul regarded the world with a serious curiosity that sometimes seemed too intense for such a small child. Thick, curly hair framed a round, freckled face that was most often thoughtful. His sensitive mouth could be drawn into a determined line one moment and then break into a quick grin the next. But despite all his seriousness, Paul had an infectious laugh. Most children of his age giggled shrilly, but Paul had a deep chuckle that seemed to come from the very depths of his well-worn sneakers.

Timmy was as opposite to his brother Paul as anyone could be. Timmy owed his looks to neither of his parents. In both appearance and personality, he belonged strictly to himself. Although not a handsome child, he had a winsome appeal, and his small-featured face was dominated by ears that protruded abruptly from a mass of carrot-colored hair. From his earliest playpen days, Timmy had displayed two distinct sides to his character—Timmy the comedian and Timmy the crab. He could be laughing one moment and then change swiftly into an irritable whiner the next. Timmy would always have a personality that few would take the trouble to understand.

Elloree abruptly brought herself back to the present. Mark Williams had offered her the career opportunity of a lifetime. She would have to convince Tom that her work at Wishes was important to her. Her love for her work had never been replaced by her roles as wife and mother.

The doorbell chimed, interrupting her thoughts. A messenger from Wishes Inc. handed her an envelope addressed to Elloree Prince. Mark Williams never had accepted her married name. She dismissed the boy with a quick, “Thank you,” and tore open the seal. “Need your answer Monday. Come on in; the water’s fine,” was scrawled across company letterhead in Mark’s bold, strong handwriting.

“Just like him to make the decision sound so easy,” she muttered. “Damn, he’s really pushing hard.”

“Hey, Mom. Hey, Mom,” came an anxious call from the backyard, and she sprinted for the kitchen door.

Timmy, in his army helmet and cowboy boots, was perched high in the peach tree lobbing fruit grenades at his brother. An overripe one exploded in a direct hit on Paul, who, with splattered pants and injured spirit, hollered his objections.

“He’s not supposed to be up in that tree, Mom. Tell him to come down. Timmy, Mom’s gonna get you,” Paul yelled at his brother, who promptly retorted by tossing another gooey peach that landed squarely in Paul’s hair, producing a wail of protest.

Elloree intervened just in time to prevent Paul from shinnying up the tree after his brother. “Okay, okay, let’s straighten this war out. Come on down, Tim.”

Paul stood angrily at the base of the tree watching his younger, more agile brother swing monkey-like from a limb. Paul’s heavier build and more cautious nature usually kept him on the ground, while lithe, little Timmy could shinny up a tree faster than a cat and, once up there, be completely at home. He never had fallen, although he engaged in breathtaking aerial leaps that made his mother shudder. Disciplining Timmy for daredevil tree climbing acts never discouraged him. No one in the Randall household could successfully curtail his death-defying hobby. Everyone had accepted it but Paul, and it infuriated him to have Tim scamper up a tree out of his grasp. It simply was unfair for a little brother to possess such a talent and use it to such unsporting advantage. At this moment, Paul felt keenly insulted and glowered fiercely at the teasing Timmy.

“Aw, Mom, we were only playing,” Timmy protested as he landed at his mother’s feet.

“Oh yeah! Look at my pants. And I’ll bet I’ve got a bruise as big as a pumpkin on my leg,” Paul countered.

“A pumpkin! Boy, get you. I couldn’t even throw a pumpkin from up there, and there aren’t any around here anyway.”

Both boys plodded toward the house at first jostling each other as they went. But as the temporary cease-fire in their war worked its magic, the boys forgot their recent anger and the threesome linked arms and walked across the yard together. Elloree wondered how she was going to tell them about her offer at Wishes, and she knew she could never explain why she would have to leave them. They reached the house, and the boys flung themselves down at the table in the bright, sunny breakfast room.

When Elloree and Tom had purchased the sprawling, old place, the breakfast room had been a dingy green, but she had redecorated it in creamy whites and colorful wallpaper. It had taken months of work for an old German craftsman to strip away the layers of paint to restore the finish of the fine wood floors and paneling throughout the house. Even the high, exposed beam ceilings and rusted, wrought-iron banisters had regained their original luster. And when finally finished, the house had an elegant, stately charm. Ornamental gates across the driveway and a bubbling fountain in the front courtyard completed the transformation of the once run-down, old place. But Tom remained practical to the end, grumbling about inadequate heating and antiquated plumbing.

Months ago, sitting in this very room, Elloree had tried to talk to Tom about her work. She wanted to submit her freelance artwork to some local publications. With her background, she knew she could sell some pieces and begin to build a client base that could grow into her own small company. Tom had listened patiently while she’d outlined her plans, smiled, and then suggested she accept the post of art director for the spring community hospital benefit. He pointed out it would be a perfect outlet for her talents since the hospital would need brochures, posters, and advertising layouts planned. He had stubbornly refused to discuss her wish to work any further, using the boys and their schedules as a final objection. Since there was no financial need for her to work, Tom considered the subject closed. He had patted her shoulder and left the room, reminding her to call the hospital benefit chairman on Monday.

Frustrated and bewildered, Elloree resented his attitude and lack of understanding. In the beginning, Tom had seemed intrigued with her work, but after their marriage, he’d discouraged her from continuing with it. At first, she’d resisted, but gradually, she had given in to him. The last assignment she had done professionally had been six years ago, just before Timmy was born, and now she did have the two boys to consider.

At this moment, Paul was looking at her expectantly, waiting to be reprimanded for the morning’s activities with his brother. Both of their smudgy faces turned toward her with large question marks stamped across them.

“Well, Mom?” asked Paul.

“How do you feel about Mrs. Clive coming to live with us for a while?” Elloree plunged in hopefully. Mrs. Clive had been the Randall’s part-time housekeeper for several years and would be the ideal one to take over.

“Why?” questioned practical Timmy. The boys eyed their mother, concern and suspicion creeping into their faces.

“Well, I’ve been offered …” Elloree’s words trailed off and stopped. Those faces suddenly made her very uncertain.

“Are you going somewhere, Mother?” Paul asked seriously. For these adult conversations, he always used “Mother” rather than the less formal and usual “Mom.”

The boys looked young and vulnerable sitting there before her, like two helpless puppies, she thought. Instead of the unemotional, factual conversation Elloree had planned, she found herself blurting out, “Oh, I love you both so very much. You must never forget that, no matter what I do.” First she hugged Paul and then moved quickly around the table to gather Timmy into her arms for a moment.

“Never mind, boys, it’ll keep. Go on outside to your play, but stay away from those peaches.”

Timmy and Paul exchanged puzzled glances then raced for the door.

“Beat you to the garage, Shrimp,” Paul’s challenge echoed after them.

Elloree sat down at the table, cradling her head on her arms for a minute. “Oh God, what will I say to Tom if I can’t do better than that with the boys,” she moaned.

Making Wishes

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre - Women’s fiction

Rating – PG-13

More details about the author

Connect with Marilyn Holdsworth on Facebook & Twitter

Blog http://MarilynHoldsworth.wordpress.com/

Giveaway

The author is giving away 1 soft cover books and 3 kindle books in this tour.

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