How to Handle Negative Criticism by M.F. Sullivan – Spotlight and Giveaway


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

How to Handle Negative Criticism

Ah, negative criticism. Being a writer is difficult when you have an ego, and it’s almost impossible to avoid developing an ego as a writer. What’s a person to do? It seems like a lot of websites have cliched advice about lighting candles in the tub and confiding in friends, and by all means, please do. (Whatever you do, don’t respond!)
But I find that I go through a detailed mental process—a review of the review, if you will—regardless of whether I want to or not. That said, this mental process helps me shake off the odd bit of criticism (which, for what it’s worth, is usually motivated not by poor writing, but by soliciting the wrong audience members for the type of market—I suspect this is a problem with much negative criticism of good books), so perhaps a young writer plagued by thoughts of negative criticism can use my advice well.

First, examine the feeling the review instills in you. Are you angry? Insulted? Upset? Why are you having that reaction? With any strong emotional response, investigation is called for. Not to mention emotional honesty. Ultimately, with every negative critique or review, we have to stop to ask ourselves, “Am I reacting this way because this person has a point, or because they’re wildly off-base?”

A good example of this: my second novel, The Lightning Stenography Device, was a pretty controversial release. As a mix of intense literary fiction with a dash of horror which then morphs into a fantasy fable, a lot of readers expecting swordfights were turned off by literary pontificating, and a lot of people loving the literary stuff got upset at the fabulous turn halfway through. In between those, quite a few people loved it—the book has 21 reviews on Amazon.com at the time of this writing, the vast majority of them very positive—but because I used NetGalley to find reviewers, I got a lot of people who just weren’t the intended audience.

That said, I was still struck by the comments about the slow pacing of the first half of The Lightning Stenography Device, and I was forced to admit I agreed. It was a slow book for the first half; it wasn’t designed to be a fast-paced book, and for a second release while I’m building an audience, that might not have been the best idea. It became all the more important to me to apply these more valid critiques to my next work. As a result, The Disgraced Martyr Trilogy is fast-paced, funny, and sometimes horrific—I was pleased during proofreading galleys of The Hierophant’s Daughter to find I got through it in two days, which had yet to happen with one of my own final novels. So sometimes, when you listen to advice, good things can happen.

Next, isolate and ignore parts of the message which are negative messages about you, or which are baseless (sometimes seemingly intentional) misunderstandings or misrepresentations of your work. A lot of articles about negative reviews fail to take into consideration the utter vitriol with which a reader somehow slighted by a book is capable of responding. Understand that reading can be a very challenging experience on an emotional level, sometimes for reasons readers don’t consciously understand. They may be angry that you’ve inspired certain feelings or made certain points, but they may be unable or unwilling to articulate that anger in a coherent way—instead, they’ll leave you a one-star Amazon review with a tone like you’ve just taken their cat out back and shot it. Once the bitter anger they’ve bounced back onto you with this digital poison pen letter dissipates, you’ll see they’ve made themselves look like clowns by getting angry at a piece of artwork, and they’ve increased the standard of deviation for your book, and left the true source of their displeasure in the subtext of their review.

Remember, too, all classics have a vast standard of deviation; when I was bemoaning The Lightning Stenography Device’s harshest review, I looked up a review of the Philip K. Dick masterpiece, VALIS, which was almost identical and had the same complaints. Hard-working writers are always despised as much as they’re revered. You’ll hit the people you’re meant to hit.

Finally, ignore the rude. I once got a letter from a woman who said, “Maybe people would respect you as a writer if…” This was the only bad letter to which I’ve ever responded, because she did point out a valid grammatical error I’d made, and I wanted to know if she had a few examples so I could correct them—but oh how I grit my teeth while I did! Had to let that little line of hers whizz right by my head while I did it, of course, but that’s what an adult’s self-control is all about—and that’s what negative reviewers, and people who are generally rude, don’t have.

After all this mental processing is done—go to bed! Sleep on it. Take a nap. If I’ve done the emotional processing I need to undergo, by the time I wake up the next day, the emotional impact of any bad review is cut drastically. In fact, the impact of sleep on our emotions is a prominent theme in The Disgraced Martyr Trilogy: I strongly believe we should sleep on our problems and let them sort themselves all out tomorrow! Adopt my strategies, and maybe you’ll come to agree with me.

By 4042 CE, the Hierophant and his Church have risen to political dominance with his cannibalistic army of genetically modified humans: martyrs. In an era when mankind’s intergenerational cold wars against their long-lived predators seem close to running hot, the Holy Family is poised on the verge of complete planetary control. It will take a miracle to save humanity from extinction.

It will also take a miracle to resurrect the wife of 331-year-old General Dominia di Mephitoli, who defects during martyr year 1997 AL in search of Lazarus, the one man rumored to bring life to the dead. With the Hierophant’s Project Black Sun looming over her head, she has little choice but to believe this Lazarus is really all her new friends say he is–assuming he exists at all–and that these companions of hers are really able to help her. From the foulmouthed Japanese prostitute with a few secrets of her own to the outright sapient dog who seems to judge every move, they don’t inspire a lot of confidence, but the General has to take the help she can get.

After all, Dominia is no ordinary martyr. She is THE HIEROPHANT’S DAUGHTER, and her Father won’t let her switch sides without a fight. Not when she still has so much to learn.

The dystopic first entry of an epic cyberpunk trilogy, THE HIEROPHANT’S DAUGHTER is a horror/sci-fi adventure sure to delight and inspire adult readers of all stripes.

Enjoy an Excerpt

The Disgraced Governess of the United Front was blind in her right eye. Was that blood in the left, or was it damaged, too? The crash ringing in her ears kept her from thinking straight. Of course her left eye still worked: it worked well enough to prevent her from careening into the trees through which she plunged. Yet, for the tinted flecks of reality sometimes twinkling between crimson streaks, she could only imagine her total blindness with existential horror. Would the protein heal the damage? How severely was her left eye wounded? What about the one she knew to be blind—was it salvageable? Ichigawa could check, if she ever made it to the shore.

She couldn’t afford to think that way. It was a matter of “when,” not of “if.” She would never succumb. Neither could car accident, nor baying hounds, nor the Hierophant himself keep her from her goal. She had fourteen miles to the ship that would whisk her across the Pacific and deliver her to the relative safety of the Risen Sun. Then the Lazarene ceremony would be less than a week away. Cassandra’s diamond beat against her heart to pump it into double time, and with each double beat, she thought of her wife (smiling, laughing, weeping when she thought herself alone) and ran faster. A lucky thing the Governess wasn’t human! Though, had she remained human, she’d have died three centuries ago in some ghetto if she’d lived past twenty without becoming supper. Might have been the easier fate, or so she lamented each time her mind replayed the crash of the passenger-laden tanque at fifth gear against the side of their small car. How much she might have avoided!

About the Author: M.F. Sullivan is the author of Delilah, My Woman, The Lightning Stenography Device, and a slew of plays in addition to the Trilogy. She lives in Ashland, Oregon with her boyfriend and her cat, where she attends the local Shakespeare Festival and experiments with the occult.

Blog | Twitter | Amazon Author Page | Goodreads

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The Character Interview by Bishop & Fuller – Guest Blog and Giveaway


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Bishop & Fuller will be awarding a $25 Amazon or BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour and see our review here.

The Character Interview

Some writers, to pull out of the doldrums or to access other parts of the brain, switch from keyboard to notepad, jump to another project, get drunk—many options, and we use them all, to some degree and with mixed degrees of success. A less common technique for fiction writers—but of great value—is the character interview.

We have the advantage of being veteran actors for whom “embodiment of the other” is the heart of the trade. But we’ve offered countless workshops for folks ranging from priests to felons to teachers, and have vivid memories of the “characters” who’ve emerged. Anyone can do it. No different, really, than what happens when you put on a tux, high heels, or just a different hat or hair-do: a new “you” emerges.

For the writer, the process is simple. You choose one of your characters. You turn on a recording device. You embody the character. A colleague asks you questions. You reply as the character. You might spend ten minutes, you might spend an hour. Afterward, you listen to what you’ve recorded, take notes or transcribe sections that are useful.

There’s a difference between sitting at the keyboard and embodiment. Start with putting on the character physically: what feels right at each stage: the spine, the way the person sits, the breath pattern, the variations of eye focus, the physical points of tension. What does the person do with his/her hands? How often do they shift? Vocal placement? How does adopting different physical elements affect how you think, vocal patterns, pauses, compulsive flows?

This isn’t a performance: it’s an exploration. Lots that’s said will be irrelevant, some will be contradictory, some will be dead stupid. But it’s like a first draft: it’s up to you what stays and what goes. Granted, it can feel for a moment as if you’re stark naked, but if you’re simply focused on being the character, that quickly passes.

It requires a partner—friend, spouse, fellow writer—but with no special skills. It’s not playing a scene, a cross-examination or therapy: it’s just asking questions that occur, from the sublime to the ridiculous. We’ve had a question like, “What’s your favorite color?” result in a major new character element. It’s good to give them a brief summary of the character and what the character does—but make it brief. One value of the session is to see what questions arise in the questioner.

Another value, sometimes, is to see what your character doesn’t answer, and how he/she avoids it. We all have our bounds, and the “wrong” question might receive a hard stare, a stammer, or a circumlocution worthy of a Presidential candidate. Those are as useful as the most brilliant flow of words.

With BLIND WALLS, based on our 1997 play, which involved a great deal of improvisation in its development, the one character that was greatly expanded in the novel was the blind tour guide, Raymond Smollet, who serves as the unwilling narrator of the story he encounters on his final tour before retirement. We had talked a lot about his backstory, but what came to us in the interview was more his “manner” than any concrete information. His gestural pattern, his slightly-arch, slightly self-deprecating humor, his willingness to accept what life might offer him—all these were there, sorta, in earlier drafts, but the interview gave us a solid grasp.

And same as with any editorial comment, review, or nightmare, the real challenge is in deciding what’s useful.

[If you do happen to try this, we’d love to hear how it worked for you, or how it didn’t. We’ve done it many times in workshops, but never tried to coach long-distance. Email us at eye@independenteye.org.]

It’s a monstrous maze of a mansion, built by a grief-ridden heiress. A tour guide, about to retire, has given his spiel for so many years that he’s gone blind. On this last tour, he’s slammed with second sight.

He sees the ghosts he’s always felt were there: the bedeviled heiress, her servants, and a young carpenter who lands his dream job only to become a lifelong slave to her obsession. The workman’s wife makes it to shore, but he’s cast adrift.

And the tour guide comes home to his cat.

The pairing of Bishop and Fuller is a magical one. . . . It’s a brilliant opus, melding the past, present, and future with intimate, individual viewpoints from a tightly arrayed cast of believable characters in as eerie a setting as might be dredged out of everyman’s subconscious searching. . . . Blind Walls offers a weird alternative world, featuring a blind man with second sight and an acerbic wit as its charming, empathic hero.

—Feathered Quill

These characters are so well developed that one has to think of them as live people – laughing with them and crying with them, even getting old with them. This is an amazing story based on the Winchester Mansion and told with such quiet, compelling, raw humanity that the reader simply can’t stop until the entire tale is told. A wonderful, spooky look into others lives and what may or may not happen on any given day.

—Dog-Eared Reviews

Bishop and Fuller have constructed a story rich with imagined detail and visionary ideas about life’s possibilities. The cast of ghostly characters, servants, workman, and family light up the story with dramatic effect as their actions and choices are observed. . . . The authors’ prose is effortless and moves easily from humorous to weighted seriousness. The dialogue is perceptive, giving voice to compelling characters and particularly to the tour guide whose second sight he confers on the readers. The latter will not want to look away from the myriad rooms of Weatherlee House.

—US Review of Books

Enjoy an Excerpt

As always, I stood by the Here sign under a fig tree sprinkled scantily with small ripe figs. Behind me, as always, I felt the looming massive labyrinth of Weatherlee House.

Being a short man, I habitually assumed a military stance, stretching myself upward at least a quarter of an inch. My clipped hair, which I’m told is mostly gray, added gravitas to my otherwise bland face, or so I imagined. My tour guide’s uniform—crisp navy blazer, burgundy rep tie—bulged only modestly at the midriff. A brass name plate, over the buttoned pocket where my heart might be, labeled me Raymond Smollet. My round wire-rimmed black glasses were the only discordant feature in my demeanor. The fact is that I am blind.

The figs and my necktie hue I knew only by report. The wire-rims made my nose itch. I had tried wrap-arounds, but my supervisor Mr. Bottoms said they looked creepy. In fact, Management surely discerned that I looked even creepier with wire-rims. I could intuit patrons peering in sideways at my fixed milky orbs, a perfect match for those haunted-house billboards that sucked them in. People would pay top dollar to visit alien worlds where the only true risk was blurring a snapshot.

Today was the final day of my life and now the final hour. Final, at least, for life as I had lived it. I stood cockily under my fig tree on the brink of my retirement—a Friday that marked the completion of thirty years as a tour guide of Weatherlee Ghost House.

About the Authors: Conrad Bishop & Elizabeth Fuller’s 60+ plays have been produced Off-Broadway, in regional theatres, and in thousands of their own performances coast to coast. Their two public radio series Family Snapshots and Hitchhiking off the Map have been heard nationally. Their books include two previous novels (Realists and Galahad’s Fool), a memoir (Co-Creation: Fifty Years in the Making), and two anthologies of their plays (Rash Acts: 35 Snapshots for the Stage and Mythic Plays: from Inanna to Frankenstein.)

They host a weekly blog on writing, theatre, and life at www.DamnedFool.com. Their theatre work is chronicled at www.IndependentEye.org. Short videos of their theatre and puppetry work are at www.YouTube.com/indepeye. Bishop has a Stanford Ph.D., Fuller is a college drop-out, but somehow they see eye to eye. They have been working partners and bedmates for 57 years.

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Murder by Munchausen by M.T. Bass – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn commenter via Rafflecopter. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

A police procedural sci fi thriller ripped from future headlines!

After Jake shoots and kills a murder suspect who turns out to be the son of a powerful city councilman, he finds himself demoted to the Artificial Crimes Unit, tracking down androids hacked and programmed to be hit men.

When his case of an “extra-judicial” divorce settlement takes a nasty turn with DNA from a hundred-year-old murder in Boston and a signature that harkens back to the very first serial killer ever in London, Jake finds himself tangled up in the brutal slayings of prostitutes being investigated by his former Robbery/Homicide partner, Maddie–who is now his lover.

But a madman, The Baron, is just getting started with his AI recreations of Jack the Ripper’s brutal crimes. And Maddie and Jake are teamed up again to stop the carnage as the Baron’s army of human replicants imitate history’s most notorious serial killers.

“It might not make sense, but the beloved Media tags it ‘Murder by Munchausen.’ For a price, there are hackers out there who will reprogram a synthoid to do your dirty work. The bad news: no fingerprints or DNA left at the crime scene. The good news—at least for us—is that they’re like missiles: once they hit their target, they’re usually as harmless as empty brass. The trick is to get them before they melt down their core OS data, so you can get the unit into forensics for analysis and, hopefully, an arrest.” [excerpt from Murder by Munchausen]

Artificial Intelligence? Fuhgeddaboudit!

Artificial Evil has a name…Munchausen.

Enjoy an Excerpt

The Three Laws

1. A civilian-owned and operated synthetic humanoid entity may not act in any manner so as to engage in or cause any harmful or offensive contact against a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.

2. A civilian-owned and operated synthetic humanoid entity must obey the directives and orders given it by human beings except in those instances where such directives and orders would conflict with the First Law.

3. A civilian-owned and operated synthetic humanoid entity may protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws.

Federal Technology Administration Regulations

About the Author:

M.T. Bass is a scribbler of fiction who holds fast to the notion that while victors may get to write history, novelists get to write/right reality. He lives, writes, flies and makes music in Mudcat Falls, USA.

Born in Athens, Ohio, M.T. Bass grew up in St. Louis, Missouri. He graduated from Ohio Wesleyan University, majoring in English and Philosophy, then worked in the private sector (where they expect “results”) mainly in the Aerospace & Defense manufacturing market. During those years, Bass continued to write fiction. He is the author of eight novels: My Brother’s Keeper, Crossroads, In the Black, Somethin’ for Nothin’, Murder by Munchausen, The Darknet (Murder by Munchausen Mystery #2), The Invisible Mind (Murder by Munchausen Mystery #3) and Article 15. His writing spans various genres, including Mystery, Adventure, Romance, Black Comedy and TechnoThrillers. A Commercial Pilot and Certified Flight Instructor, airplanes and pilots are featured in many of his stories. Bass currently lives on the shores of Lake Erie near Lorain, Ohio.


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How I Write by Robert Sells – Guest Blog and Giveaway


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Robert Sells will be awarding a $40 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

How I Write

Would that I were a more clever writer. Better writers than me start with an outline, a description of characters, a plot. Not me. I start with an idea, the tiniest seed of a story. And then, BOOM, I start writing a long novel.

Okay, what was the “thought” launching my latest novel, Revelations? My college and graduate education in physics and math propelled me into teaching. Along the way, I had a love affair with astronomy and, in fact, taught a few introductory courses in astronomy. While I admit to being enthralled with both Star Wars and Star Trek, the physics for both simply doesn’t work. There won’t be spaceships whizzing around the galaxy, far too costly. And, heck, if it was true, then where are they? You and I have only seen the Enterprise or the Millennium Falcon type ships in the movies and on television. And, that is the only place they will show up.

Damn! No First Contact! Who doesn’t love a good First Contact story? So (here comes the thought)… is there a way for First Contact without the fantastic spaceships that don’t exist? Well, yes. Hmm. Maybe.

We could interact with a distant species through electromagnetic waves. Faster than a “speeding bullet” or any spaceship and certainly less expensive. While the technology for such communication is not quite there yet, the science is sound. We just send large, information-packed messages, wait a few decades (or centuries) and get a response. So, we can have First Contact. Hurray. But, let’s face it… long distance phone calls are simply not as much fun as fighting aliens face to face. Hmm.

We all want real First Contact. Mano a mano. Nose to nose. But… but… how? Ahh. Another idea. A secret embedded message within the main message. Yeah! That’s it! Now, I had it. The seed to start my story. Now, let’s see, how where should I start this story start? At an observatory. Maybe Arecibo. Okay. Got it. I started typing.

And, three years later, I was done. Oh, it took over twenty rewrites, a dozen or so characters birthed and thrown out, ten serious edits. Then I gave it to some friends who just happened to be English majors and they helped me clean up the prose. My final reviewer was my wife who, God bless her, found over twenty more errors and made some great suggestions improving the manuscript.

As ever, it was a long, annoying, wonderfully exciting process. In the end I have a love story intertwined with a unique First Contact story. Oh, and big-time scary stuff with strange creatures and edge of your seat battle scenes. All from one little idea… how could aliens get here without spaceships.

Aster Worthington spearheads the First Contact Team who are unraveling a message from an alien race. The altruistic extraterrestrials promise free energy and an excited Earth builds a massive structure called the Dome to house the alien enterprise

Seven years later, no “free energy” and strange things are reported in and around the Dome. When Aster and her colleagues mount an expedition to investigate the interior, they are shocked to find it filled with humanoids having insect-like deformities. It becomes obvious their true purpose is to take over our planet. Now Aster and the scientists are trying to come up with a defense to fend off the invasion. A defense that is tied to a 2000 year old document hidden by the church. But, will it be too late?

Enjoy an Excerpt

The Message

“Maybe it’s just a coincidence,” Stenton suggested.

“No. There won’t be coincidences in this message, Dr. Stenton,” said Demarco in a dismissive voice. He then went to the podium, which Henry ceded, tapped some keys and a moment later, the ones and zeros of the binary message aligned themselves in the form of a perfect square. With a flourish, Demarco pushed the last button. A black square appeared for every zero in the message and a white square for everyone. A black and white array appeared, rendering a clear, unambiguous picture of a planetary system. One with four planets, the second one from the sun circled.

“My God!” someone shouted from the back. “They sent us a picture.”

Henry smiled and yelled to Louis. “Hey, Louis, I told you a picture would be easy.”

Without taking his eyes off the screen, Demarco asked, “Is that the Lambda system, Dr. Worthington?”

Heads swiveled to Aster. She nodded. “Yes. That is the correct spacing for the Lambda star system.”

“Another large number after the last spacer. Different one, but the same number of bits,” Jeremy announced, speaking loud over the din.

Demarco did his magic again, and a humanoid body filled the screen, strikingly similar to a human, except for a slightly larger head. Their hands had three digits, not five.

“It’s them.”

“They’re like us.”

Someone from the back shouted, “The Lambdons.” Now the aliens had a face and a name.

Louis, however, scrunched his face in consternation. He shuffled close to the screen, studying it.

Aster watched the muttering biologist. “Louis, what’s wrong?”

Louis turned around, his face worried. “These Lambdons… they look like us.”

“Not exactly like us. They have three fingers and a larger head.”

“Too close,” mumbled the biologist.

About the Author: Robert Sells has taught physics for over forty years, but he has been a storyteller for over half a century, entertaining children, grandchildren, and students. He has written the award-winning novel, Return of the White Deer, historical fiction about Penda of Mercia. His second fiction book, Reap the Whirlwind, was a thriller about the dawn of artificial intelligence and the subsequent decline of humanity. His third book, The Runner and the Robbery, was a young adult novel about a teenager and his grandfather who had Alzheimer’s disease. Revelations, a science fiction novel, is his fourth book.

He lives with his wife, Dale, in the idyllic village of Geneseo, New York with two attentive dogs who are uncritical sounding boards for his new stories. He is intrigued by poker and history, in love with Disney and writing, and amused by religion and politics.

Amazon Author Page | Goodreads

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Top Five Things I wish I’d Known Before I Was Published by Angel Martinez – Guest Blog


Long and Short Reviews welcomes Angel Martinez who is visiting with us today to celebrate yesterday’s release of Mage on the Hill, the first book in The Web of Arcana series.

Top Five Things I wish I’d Known Before I Was Published

Ha! How about everything? I started seeking publication in the late ’90’s, when submissions were all snail mail and I knew NOTHING. My mistakes were legion. But top five would have been:

1. How to write a query letter

The query is that first contact, the first piece of paper an acquisitions editor sees. These days, it serves as the body of your email and the purpose is straightforward: pique the editor’s interest in your story. Some of my early query letters are just awful pretentious nonsense and I only pull them out so I can cringe at early author me.

2. How to punctuate modern dialogue

Hey, when I went to college, there were no MFA’s in Creative Writing. You got your degree in English Lit or in Journalism and you were happy with it. Now you kids get off my lawn. Seriously, though, this isn’t something any of my English teachers taught, in high school or in college. It just didn’t come up. I had to learn, through tons of mistakes, how the mechanics of dialogue work—beats vs. tags, how to break up a sentence with an action, and when not to, where the commas went instead of periods. Gah.

3. What a cover should look like

Honestly, I had no idea. With some publishers, you’re handed a cover as a fait accompli. You may get to make requests beforehand, but once it’s done, it’s done. With others, you get to work with the artist—and I had no clue. Negative integers of clues with no idea if something looked good or how to explain it if something didn’t seem right. Nor did I realize I really had a valid voice in those discussions until later. Again-gah.

4. What a legitimate publisher looks like

It’s not quite as difficult now. The internet makes researching publishers much easier these days. But back then, I was often sitting on the floor of the public library with the latest Writers Digest, trying to find addresses for publishers who might, possibly, conceivably want to look at my work. Without good, targeted criteria, I got a lot of rejections. A Staples paper box full, if you must know. So when a publisher finally sent a letter of acceptance, I was ready to sign that second, in blood. This turned out to be a terrible mistake. Four times. Boy, did I not know things.

5. Why you should do Amazon searches of proposed book titles

Holy buried novel, Batman. This is so important. Want people to find your books? Don’t give it a title that three million authors have used before you, regardless of genre, especially when you’re just starting out. Yeesh.

A young magic user who wants desperately to live. A jaded recluse who has forgotten what living means. They’re each other’s only chance.

Toby’s wild magic is killing him. The mage guilds have given up on him, and it’s only a matter of time before he dies in a spectacular, catastrophic bang. His only hope is an exiled wizard who lives in seclusion—and is rumored to have lost his mind.

The years alone on his hilltop estate have not been good for Darius Valstad. After the magical accident that disfigured him and nearly drowned Pittsburgh, he drifts through his days, a wraith trapped in memories and depression. Until a stricken young man collapses on his driveway, one who claims Darius is his last chance. For the first time in fifteen years, Darius must make a choice—leave this wild mage to his fate or take him in and try to teach him, which may kill them both. The old Darius, brash and commanding, wouldn’t have hesitated. Darius the exile isn’t sure he can find the energy to try.

Enjoy an Excerpt

It’s killing him. We have to end this.

Too cruel to force him to keep struggling.

I don’t understand. He should be finding a minor channel at least. Something. He shouldn’t be at this level of physical distress and still be able to throw so much.

We can’t condone pushing on. Dangerous for him and for everyone in a five-mile radius. We’ll have another Darius situation on our hands.

You’ll tell him?

As soon as he’s able to hear it, yes.

Toby drifted from gray misery to scarlet agony, the voices floating to him in fits and starts. His instructors, the director—they were talking about him and they sounded done with him, just like the previous six guilds that had tossed him to the curb. Wild magic. Unplaceable on the web of Arcana. Unsustainable and eventually deadly. The only remaining bets anyone could make now were how many people he took with him when he went out with a catastrophic bang.
Hands lifted him. The familiar sensations of stretcher and rolling followed him down into the dark.

“What’s this?” Toby peered at the papers on the rolling tray, not quite up to focusing through his pounding headache.

The director pulled a chair close and cleared his throat uncomfortably. “We discussed that this might be a possibility someday, Tobias.”

“We’ve talked about a bunch of stuff.”

Director Whittaker let out a sharp sigh.

“Not saying it to be a smartass, sir. I can’t get my eyes to read this just yet.” Toby shifted on the infirmary bed. His fifth stay in this wing of the guildhall and the mattresses hadn’t managed to grow any more comfortable. “Couple hours I should be able to.”

“Ah. My apologies.” The director returned to a concerned parental pose, hands clasped between his knees as he leaned forward. “These are your separation papers from the Montchanin Guildhall.”

Toby swallowed hard. “You’re giving up on me? Already?”

“I’m so sorry, Tobias.” Director Whittaker patted his arm. “The Kovar method is nearly infallible—”

“Nearly. You said nearly.” Despite his pounding head, Toby sat up, hanging on to the director’s hand as hard as he could. “Please don’t do this. You said you’d help me.”

“We said we would do the best we could. Wild magic…. It’s unusual, certainly, but cases of unplaceable wild magic like yours aren’t unheard of. We should have seen some sign of channeling by now. Some directed trickle that would have let us help you find your place in the web.”

Toby let go to fall back against the pillows, hurting, nauseated, and dizzy. His uncontrolled magical explosions, each one harder on him than the time before, had only been getting more volatile and unpredictable. “I don’t have anywhere else to go. Can’t I stay here? Until, well, until….”

“It’s too dangerous for the other students. For the staff and other guild members.” Director Whittaker took his hand again. “Tobias, you blew a hole in the guidance room’s wall today.”

Ten feet of weapons-grade Kevlar and steel—that shouldn’t have been possible. Holy crap. “Did I hurt anyone?”

“Not today. But I can’t risk lives any further. It’s reached that point where we’ve tried everything we could. When you feel up to it, read the packet. There are several wonderful hospice options nearby. Beautiful places where you’ll be cared for and made comfortable. The guild will take care of you and cover any expenses.”

Drugged to the eyeballs so I won’t do any more damage. Allowed to starve to death in the nicest possible surroundings. Toby closed his eyes, his exhausted brain banging up against walls of possibility, trying to find him a way out. All this time he’d been sure one of the guilds would find a way. They were the experts. Now? Now he was terrified. The experts were telling him he needed to accept his impending death. No, no, no, fuck that. “Sir, who’s Darius?”

“Ah, you heard that, did you?” The director sat back and pulled out a microfiber cloth to give his glasses a meticulous cleaning before he went on. “Darius Valstad caused one of the greatest magical disasters in recent memory. He nearly destroyed Pittsburgh. He pulled magic too far from his channelings, the result much like a wild magic accident. The catastrophe was narrowly averted.”

“Oh. That sounds about as bad as it gets. What happened to him?”

“He nearly died. His guild status was revoked, his teaching of any more students forbidden.”

Toby turned that over a few times, his brain fumbling and dropping concepts along the way. “So, but he’s still alive?”

“As far as I know. He lives in isolation, oh, not far from here, with the promise that he will no longer attempt anything beyond personal magic.”

“But he was once like me? And he lived?” Toby knew it was conclusion jumping, but he was desperate enough to reach for anything.

The director’s sigh was slower this time, more melancholy. “Tobias, he found his channels long ago, both his major and minor Arcana. Yes, he lives because as long as he respects the web, his magic won’t tear him apart. He had some early success with teaching unplaceables, but Pittsburgh was the ultimate result of his unorthodox methods.”

“Yes, sir. Of course.”

Director Whittaker rose with one last pat to Toby’s shoulder. “Get some rest. We’ll talk again in the morning. Please keep in mind we’re not simply turning you out onto the street. We want to be certain you’re looked after properly.”

Toby nodded, no longer trusting his voice. He didn’t turn his head to watch the director leave, staring at the white ceiling tiles instead. Ugly ceiling tiles. Places where you have to lie in bed like hospitals and infirmaries should have nice ceilings with meadows and bunnies painted on them. I don’t want to die. Oh gods… I don’t want to die.

About the Author: Building worlds. Constructing Fantasies. Angel Martinez, the unlikely black sheep of an ivory tower intellectual family, has managed to make her way through life reasonably unscathed. Despite a wildly misspent youth, she snagged a degree in English Lit, married once and did it right the first time, (same husband for over twenty-five years) and gave birth to one amazing son (now in college.) While Angel has worked, in no particular order, as a state park employee, retail worker, medic, LPN, call center zombie, banker, and corporate drone, none of these occupations quite fit. She now writes full time because she finally can, and has been happily astonished to have her work place consistently in the annual Rainbow Awards. Angel currently lives in Delaware in a drinking town with a college problem and writes Science Fiction and Fantasy centered around queer heroes.

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Ten of the Top Interesting Tidbits About Me… by Ann Crawford – Guest Blog and Giveaway


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Ann Crawford will be awarding a $25 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Ten of the top interesting tidbits about me…..

I’m fairly quiet and look like such a mild-manner author…of ten books…but still. If you can ever get me talking, though, I’ll be happy to tell you:

1. My husband—truly the love of my life—and I met on eHarmony…13 years ago.

2. I’ve been to all 50 states as well as 70+ countries – and counting. I’ve also lived in every continental time zone, in/near New York City, Boston, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Denver, and Topeka. Yes, one of these is not like the others.

3. I perform improv on a regular basis.

4. I can fly a plane and I actually aced the FAA (Fed Aviation Admin) exam, which has to be my most surprising feat because I’m not exactly known for being mechanical or technical.

5. I’m a scuba diver.

6. I’m an award-winning documentary filmmaker. I accompanied a group of veterans to Viet Nam and filmed them doing humanitarian work, going back to their Areas of Operation, and healing their wounds of war. That was definitely one of the biggest honors of my life.

7. More along the movie vein, I was an extra in a few films, including Sister Act with Whoopi Goldberg, plus I worked in talent management in LA for a bit.

8. My height is all in my legs, so if you meet me when I’m sitting down, you’ll be very surprised when I stand up…I’m 5’11. (Before we met, my husband wrote out a list of all the things he wanted in his wife, and one of them was “she’s between 5’10” and 6’ tall.” Uhhhhhhh…way to call me in!) Also, when people meet me after initially knowing me just online, they often say, “You look so much shorter in your Facebook picture!”

9. I’ve known, worked with, and interviewed some amazingly cool people, even including heads of state. Some names you might recognize are Peter Tork, Barbara Marx Hubbard (no relation to L. Ron), Jean Houston, and Thich Nhat Hanh.

10. My husband and I have this thing for the world’s fastest roller coasters.

I also want to add the main thing I learned from my heroine, Missy: look at this being-a-human thing as if with new eyes as often as possible to keep up the gratitude and appreciation for the big, the small, and even the Starbucks Caramel Macchiatos.

Love to laugh? You’ll enjoy this feel-good tale.

A starbeing skyrockets to Earth from the other side of forever with a specific assignment: to help steer humanity away from the collision course it’s on. But we all know how travel can get drastically diverted–instead of landing in Washington, D.C., where she could assist on a grand geopolitical scale, she ends up in…Kansas!

Wrong place, right time? Join our shero on this whimsical journey as she pursues her purpose as well as discovers the beauty of life and love on Earth.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Ohhhhhhhh—what a strange place this is! Loud noises, awful smells, strange beings looking at me.

The woman struggles to lift her hand just a few inches off the bed, clearly shocked to see it. Oh. Right. I’m one of those strange beings now.

She stares up at the group staring down at her.

This is odd. Do humans just stare at each other?

“Well, you’ve had a very, very long journey back here,” the doctor says.

You’re not kidding.

“We should give you some time,” the doctor continues.

When can I go back in the other direction?

“Don’t push her,” the doctor emphasizes to the other three humanoids. “Give her lots of time and space.”

Time and space. Oh, you have no idea.

“Where am I?”

The group, obviously ecstatic that she can talk but dismayed by her question, turns to the doctor.

“Missy, yer in a hospital room. You had a terrible accident a few months ago, and we thought we lost you at one point. But yer a tough survivor and fought yer way back here.”

That’s truer than you know.

“Perhaps we should just let her sleep some more,” the doctor tells them. “That’s when most of the body’s healing takes place.” She ushers them out of the room. “Amnesia can be a strange, strange thing,” the doctor starts to say. “The brain—” But she shuts the door and the voices are muffled.

Ohhhhhhh, I have a feeling I’m not in the Andromeda galaxy anymore.

About the Author: I’m a fun-loving, world-traveling, high-flying, deep-diving, and living-to-the-max author of eight books. When I’m not flying planes, scuba diving, climbing every mountain (on the back of my husband’s motorcycle) or riding the world’s fastest roller coasters, you can find me in my writing nest with a view of Colorado’s Rocky Mountains out the window. I’ve lived all over–from both oceans white with foam, to the prairie, and now to the mountain. Yes, a little backwards, but what the hey.

My bestselling and award-winning novels go as high and deep as I do—they’re profound yet funny; playful although poignant; heart-opening and heart-lifting; thought-provoking and inspiring; and edgy while universal. I’m also a screenwriter and award-winning filmmaker and humanitarian.

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Ten Things People Don’t Know About Natalie Johanson – Guest Blog and Giveaway


This post is part of a virtual book organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Natalie Johanson will be awarding a signed physical copy of book (US only) to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Ten things people don’t know about me

1—I’m allergic to cats but I have two. They’re long haired Blue Russians (Nebelung for those that are pedantic) We adopted them from a rescue and are litter brothers. They’ve never been apart from each other and they are absolutely adorable. I joke that they identify as dogs because they act like lap dogs and follow us around the house.

2—I live in the state known for the greatest snow on Earth but I can’t stand snow. It’s cold and wet and unless it’s in the mountains looking pretty, I can’t stand it.

3—I love reading and writing fanfic. I think it’s a great exploration of creativity. I know a lot of authors think fanfic is an infringement on copyright but I think it shows my story touched other enough to make them want to write.

4—I love tattoos and have three. My first tattoo was an English dragon chasing a person. I want to get more and have plans to get a Selkie on my leg next to my Siren.

5—I have an eclectic music taste and can listen to classic Mozart and Beethoven mixed in with Five Finger Death Punch, Meatloaf, Abba, and Sheppard. It makes no sense. I don’t understand it.

6—I love the reboot of Battlestar Galactica and have a huge lady crush on Mary McDonnell.

7—I’m a detective and love it.

8—I’m a ridiculous tea snob and will spend obscene amounts of money on really good black tea.

9—I will never answer the question: who would I like to see play my main character. I think one of the things that makes reading so much better than movies is your ability to make the character who you need/want them to be. You can identify with different parts of the character or envision them as whoever you want. If I say I want so-and-so to play the heroine, I might take away someone’s ability to identify with them. I don’t want to do that. I want Rose to be who you want her to be.

10—I love random history facts. If you ever have any…share them with me! I will legitimately appreciate them.

Rose Trewin is on the run. Pursued by memories of her father, she runs from city to city, seeking normalcy. But Rose can’t escape her past, or the magic running through her veins, the magic that allows her to slip through the shadows unnoticed. The magic her father once used to mold her into a mercenary sent to destroy his enemies.

Now her magic is growing and changing, becoming something new and untamable. Rose is unable to rest. Wolves wrapped in fog follow her relentlessly along the countryside. Desperate, she uses her magic to escape, but the shadows are pushing her towards the center of a
conspiracy.

Now, her country teeters on the brink of a civil war as a Lord Governor gathers power against the king. An enemy, with magic similar to her own, emerges in the chaos of political intrigue. Faced with a country at war and a king brought to his knees, Rose must accept who she is and harness her powers in order to save her country and herself.

Enjoy an Excerpt

With the dagger in her bodice, she slipped into the hallway, peering through the shadows in each room as she passed it. It was an easy enough trick, looking through the shadows as though they were nothing more than windows.

She found him back in his room, bent over at the short table in the corner. The soft glow from an oil lamp distorted any more details. Rose looked up and down the hallway, saw no one else, and stepped into the shadow casted by the still lit candles. She fell into the darkness, became part of it, and was in Gavin’s room. She didn’t know how it worked, where the magic came from, or why she could use it when no one else apparently could.

When she’d still attended the lectures at the small schoolhouse in town, before her father made her work, she was told there were different planes of the world. The gods lived in one, the world in another. Rose often wondered if the shadows were another plane, and that was what she was touching.

It scared her back then. It scared her still. Maybe if she wasn’t afraid of it, she’d know what she could truly do with it. Rose had never pressed herself with her magic. Never challenged herself.

She drew her small knife as she moved closer. She paused in the shadows, the cool mist that always seem to be present ghosting over her skin. This would be difficult. His back was straight and rigid. Even through the loose sleeves of his shirt, long lines of muscle were visible. She had one shot, one try for this to be easy and finished. Good thing I’ve had practice. Rose moved closer in the light shadow.

About the Author:Natalie Johanson grew up and lives in the valley of Salt Lake City surrounded by the beautiful Rocky Mountains. Her days are spent trying to herd her two cats, Holmes and Watson. Natalie’s summers are spent camping with her fiancée or doing obstacle races with her best friend. She usually spends her winters hiding from the snow. This is the first of what will hopefully become a trilogy, but sometimes the characters do what they want.

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Two Ways to Overcome Writer’s Block by Cristelle Comby – Guest Blog and Giveaway


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Two Ways To Overcome Writer’s Block

As writers, our minds are filled with creativity and passion. We think about parts we can add to our story. We have awesome ideas to share on our blog. We can’t wait to sit down and write.

We want to always feel this enthusiasm but there’s one problem: inspiration doesn’t always strike. You will hit a block no matter how passionate you are. I don’t say this to be discouraging, becoming stuck happens to the best of us.

You have two options when you hit a block. The first option is to let the block bring you down. The second option is to view the situation as an opportunity to creatively work around the problem. In this post, we are going to explore the second option.

Writer’s block isn’t what people make it out to be. It’s really isn’t that bad! Trust me, once you sit down and begin to write, ideas will pop up left and right. You won’t even remember you had writer’s block in the first place.

In this post, I will share two tips to help wiggle you out of your creative rut.

Tip #1: Step Away

You may be frustrated, bored or tired. You need to allow your mind to breathe a bit. Go for a walk. Read a book. Take a nap. Do what calms you down and forget about writing for a moment. Take as much time as you need, you want to be fully recharged by the time you get back to your keyboard.

The mind has an amazing ability to quickly change moods. If you choose to remain frustrated, your creativity will be hindered. If you relax and clear your thoughts, you’ll find your mind has room for ideas again. Not the most sciency explanation, but it works! Be kind to yourself and avoid stress, your body and mind will thank you.

Tip #2: Close Everything But a Document and Timer

I’m sure you’ve heard about this before, but this tip is worth repeating over and over again. Why? Because it works like a charm. Close any app that has nothing to do with writing. Don’t leave a single app open. Procrastination will only strengthen your block. Now open your document and have a timer ready. Take a minute to commit to a set time. There are a couple of ways you can go about this.

Set a Timer For a Fixed Amount of Time

Set a time limit that you can commit to. Does an hour sound like too much? Set the timer for 30 minutes. Does 30 minutes sound like too much? Set it for 15. All that matters is you commit to a time. When this timer is active, you do nothing but write. Your writing can be about a story, what you had for lunch, or even the first thing that pops up in your head. It doesn’t matter what you write about. Keep writing until the timer stops.

At this point, you’ll find yourself wanting to write more. The more you write, the more engaged you become. Your ideas will come back to you. If not, take a break and repeat the process again.

Pomodoro Timer

You’ve probably heard of the Pomodoro technique. The idea is simple, your work block is 25 minutes long. Once you complete the work block, take a break for five to ten minutes. After the break, start the timer again. This works well for many people since 25 minutes is an easy commitment, and there’s a promised break at the end. Anybody can sit down for 25 minutes and write about what pops up in their head.

Writers find that this technique works fantastically when it comes to writer’s block. I encourage you to try it yourself. If you google ‘pomodoro timer’, you’ll find hundreds of results for a timer. Tomato Timer is a good start.

Conclusion

These two techniques can work as a dynamic duo to getting you out of your rut. I know it feels like you’re forcing yourself to write, but sometimes it’s necessary for getting your mind to tick. Sometimes your creative mind doesn’t want to move, so you have to push it a little to get the flow going. I hope you find these techniques as useful as I did. What are you waiting for? Set that timer and start writing!

After narrowly preventing the destruction of Cold City, PI Bellamy Vale needs a rest. Or rather, he needs a plain and simple vanilla case—no monsters or otherworldly creatures involved!

When foreign businessman Eli Smith shows up at his doorstep with a thick wallet and a request to find his missing sister, Vale doesn’t think twice before agreeing.

If he’d known body-hopping demons and smoke monsters came attached to this job, however, he might have.

Enjoy an Excerpt

The door slammed shut as something grabbed at me. And by “grabbed”, I mean “lifted me off the ground and rammed me into the nearest wall”.

The structure bent under the impact while a nightmare that would have fit in an old-school John Carpenter movie screamed at me. With my gas mask on, I never heard it coming.

Dazed, I glanced up and faced sharp, yellow-tainted teeth. They formed a circular pit of canines, ready to swallow my head whole. I pulled a knife from my boot and slashed the creep at the center of its mass. The fiend’s scream rose an octave as the cold steel struck home.

The creature dumped me back on the floor before dissipating into nothingness.

The attack sucked the air out of my lungs, and I spent the next few minutes coughing through the mask. I felt like kicking myself. I spent my first week here carving wards around the entire six-block area before going in for the first time. I should have known better than to cut one on this house’s front door and move on. I forgot the back door. That mistake left that damned poltergeist way too much room to attack.

The monster du jour was a ghost, an escapee from the realm of death—the Underworld, Hell, or whatever else you call the place people go to once they’re done with life. From what I knew, not everyone turns Casper in their afterlife. However, those who do become near-mindless creatures stuck in their own plane of existence. When they make it to our side of the border, they turn into full ectoplasmic savages.

The dead guy I stepped over near the open back doorway was proof enough of that. What was once an engineer working for the city now had his chest cavity cut down to the bone and his head severed from his body. Blood splatters all but drowned out the muted yellow of his shredded biohazard suit. Judging from the angle of what remained of his corpse, he was trying to flee the house when the poltergeist got him.

“Dammit,” I muttered as I tightened the straps on my gas mask. Whoever this engineer was, I was pretty sure he didn’t come in here alone, which meant I may have to explain what a six-foot PI in a surplus army jacket, a gas mask right out of the First World War and second-to-thirdhand leather gloves was doing in an area strictly reserved for city workers and engineers.

About the Author: Cristelle Comby was born and raised in the French-speaking area of Switzerland, on the shores of Lake Geneva, where she still resides.

She attributes to her origins her ever-peaceful nature and her undying love for chocolate. She has a passion for art, which also includes an interest in drawing and acting.

She is the author of the Neve & Egan Cases series, which features an unlikely duo of private detectives in London: Ashford Egan, a blind History professor, and Alexandra Neve, one of his students.

Currently, she is hard at work on her Urban Fantasy series Vale Investigation which chronicles the exploits of Death’s only envoy on Earth, PI Bellamy Vale, in the fictitious town of Cold City, USA.

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Soul Dark: Chosen by E.L. Reedy and A.M. Wade – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The authors will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

War is coming between Lukas’ Goddess and an ancient Demon Lord. But the death of his parents shakes his faith, and with the loss of his remaining family it is shattered. Blinded by rage, Lukas turns away from his friends and trains under a deceptive, yet formidable master to hone his magic and prevent the demon’s final objective–obliteration of all life on earth.

War begins! A forged weapon, Lukas rejoins his friends and sets after the Demon King. From a hidden crypt, where evil lies waiting, to the Iowa countryside, they battle to prevent the end of all they know. Lukas must overcome his doubts and allow the Light to work through him–to defeat both the foe of his Goddess and a new more familiar one.

Soul Dark: Chosen is a coming of age tale in the modern-day world when a war between ancient deities and demons culminates in a winner-takes-all battle that could determine the fate of all mankind.

Read an Excerpt

ACT IV____

SUNSET

Though he could not say why, the old man recognized it as his last awakening. His every arthritic limb and digit ached to the bone. His wrinkled skin hung over loose worn muscles too weary to move. His every haggard breath came with fire but also brought the scents of summer air—he was outside, of all places—rain was coming. The blessed rain—he had not felt a welcoming drop touch his face since that fateful moment he had fallen prey to the Other—so long ago.

The stars shone beyond a super moon in a black velvet sky he had not seen in four centuries. He settled to his popping knees and ran his hands through tall grass. Darkness settled over him, and for the first time in ages, instead of fear it brought instead an overwhelming sense of peace.

She appeared before him, a familiar woman from his youth, a great lady made of light and grace. Her compassionate eyes shone silver as she wiped an errant tear from his cheek that matched one on hers and said, “My dearest Theo,” she said. “My dear, dear friend… Taketh mine hand into thine own. Thou art free at last!”

And the old man, who was in truth a young boy of thirteen summers, felt at last the final rest he had been denied since when as a youth, he had been Chosen by the Ancient Enemy, known also as the First Fallen, the Great Deceiver, the Prince of Darkness. 

About the Author: E. L. Reedy was born and raised in Iowa, where he devoured tomes of fantasy, sci-fi, and young adult novels as a child. In his free time, he is an avid gamer (D&D and Pathfinder). He has traveled the world as a soldier in the U.S. Army, and now lives in Iowa, where with his writing partner, he continues to pen works in the realms of Fantasy and Horror in the Young Adult Universe.

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A. M. Wade was born the only girl in a family with five boys, she readily escaped into fantasy, sci-fi, and other fiction novels. Having traveled through most of the US, she enjoys using scenery and characteristics of the different states in the story adventures she created for the little ones in her family. Now, she writes sci-fi, fantasy and horror with a lifelong co-conspirator.

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Together: Having lost many friends, associates, and even children from their home town over the years to suicide, they wrote their first novel, Upon Broken Wings. Told from the point-of-view of a young witness, the story teaches that suicide is not an end to suffering, but rather the beginning of unimaginable pain for those left behind and that there is always hope if we choose the path of life.

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Mimadamos by Chadi Ghaith – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Chadi Ghaith will be awarding a copy of Mimadamos: The Eden of Choice, (US only) to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Lebanese author Chadi B. Ghaith brings beliefs that were held in secrecy for a thousand years to awareness in Mimadamos: The Eden of Choice (Fifthscience Inc., July 5, 2017). Ghaith’s book revolves around an ancient triangle of the most significant characters on earth, paralleled by three of the most significant forces in life, and their combined story in space and time. Journey through this fable and explore the ideas that have mystified mankind for centuries: good and evil, heaven and hell, the beginning and end of the world.

Did the ending precede the beginning? Are we only here on earth to comprehend its machinations? Is there room for choice to shape our destiny in the wake of fate and its brutal logic? Mimadamos is a unique, philosophically-rich fantasy which journeys through the depths of conflict and harmony that we understand as the spirit. It decodes the magic of the most ancient scripts known to man, the symbolic fall from Eden and the long anticipated armageddon, revealing a logic so unique that it brings history to its conclusive end.

Enjoy an Excerpt

She had all the power in the world—could turn sand into gold if she so desired—but she had refrained from using it. What was the point of using magic? It was like playing a video game in which one was granted unlimited lives regardless of performance. Instead, Destiny had agreed to play the game of reality with all its inherent rules and unpleasantness.

So, although she had the ability to think herself into any place she liked, she preferred to travel there with sunshine, good food, the company of beloved souls, and unexpected adventures along the way. For it was in the journey, not the destination, that she took the most pleasure.

A person cannot wield unlimited magic, she thought. If one became all-powerful, one could create his own reality at will, which would make the person his own creator. But no one could stand being both the Creator and the Created in the same world, for that would engender
unbearable solitude.

Just then, the women started to ululate, pulling Destiny from her musings. The truth was, even without their celebratory wailing, she would have known that her groom was nearby; she could sense him.

It’s all been preordained, she thought as she steeled herself.

About the Author: CHADI B. GHAITH has spent many years introducing an ancient mind science called Fifthscience to the public; Mimadamos is his first attempt at translating the magic of Fifthscience into a modern narrative. He is a native of Lebanon; however, he acquired his high school and university levels in Texas. Ghaith studied Arts and Film at Southern Methodist University in Dallas. He now lives in Beirut with his wife and three children.

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