Not for the living. Not for the undead. Nor for me.
I stand halfway between the two.
I am Captain Samuel McCord, cursed with the blood of the Angel of Death in my veins.
New Orleans is called a Twilight City by many, for it rises from civilized slumber to bustling life at night.
Performers line the streets, pushers sell their brands of death, prostitutes promise sex as if it were love, dancers weave through the partiers on the street, and music throbs through the veins of the French Quarter.
The undead walk lazily down streets in front of buildings dating back hundreds of years. In that sense, they are at home. It is you, the living, that are intruders here.
An odd feeling comes over me as I look at these people, living and undead, strolling the dark streets in search of ... entertainment.
For a fleeting moment, I see the overgrown square of trees and brush it once had been.
I remember when I was young, when every moment had been crisp and fresh, where happiness and heartache quickly changed positions, and life was full of hope and promise.
Now, things are crowded, ugly, and the only hope is for a good death.
What had Elu, my Apache blood brother, once told me?
"When you were born, you cried and those around you rejoiced. Live your life, Dyami, so that when you die, those around you will cry, and you will rejoice."
Covering the bare essentials while teasing with promises of mysteries to be unveiled.
A compelling cover design that captures your story and genre while still standing out and being special is a must!
The cover and blurb power combo will get readers to pick you your book.
Your writing should get them to see it through to the end.
The cover has to still look good and be readable in thumbnail size since people will be browsing on their phones, their e-readers, online etc.
Cover art is one of the most effective marketing tools an author can use.
You brand yourself with that image and it will be seen over and over again in conjunction with whatever promotion you do for your work.
Buyers WILL judge your book by its cover - because they have to!
Apart from the sales copy on your web page, the cover of your ebook is the only thing they've got to go on when deciding whether or not to buy.
1: The Title
Your ebook title needs to be short and punchy.
Thumbnails are cruel to long titles. I, of course, have to be different!
But you, my friends, have to write tight!
2: Choice of fonts Ebook covers are small so you need to use fonts that are compact and easy to read.
3: The Illustration
An ebook cover that's just plain text can be pretty boring.
An image will liven up your design.
Whether you use a photo or some other graphic, the image you use needs to key into the theme of your ebook and help to get your message across.
4: Color Color is another useful tool in the design of your ebook cover. Colors have their own energies - red is forceful, blue is conservative, green is calming, yellow is exciting, and so on.
Pick one main color that ties in with the theme of your ebook and use other colors sparingly. Like fonts, using too many can obscure your message.
5: Image quality
Your cover image must be razor sharp and crystal clear to sell your ebook! Too many of the ebook images you see on the Internet are fuzzy and flat.
One way to get good image quality is to design at a larger scale that the final image size. it's easier to work on and reducing the design to the required size will enhance its clarity.
People WILL judge your ebook by its cover so design it well. Remember, the better the cover, the bigger the sales!
So?
What do you think of Leonora Roy's new cover for THE THREE SPIRIT KNIGHT?
You've heard it said ... I've said it myself ... Success with eBooks? Lightning strikes where it will. Meteorologists will tell you that lightning bolts strike for a reason. Let me pull back the curtain of misinformation and tell you about some of those reasons. John Locke - Every struggling eWriter would like his success. He wrote a book on how to copy his plan for success. It cost $5 for an ebook and $10 for print -- it was 170 pages. After the scandal, he now sells the ebook version for $3. What scandal? He bought 300 reviews for $6000 from Todd Rutherford's now defunct review mill. Can you imagine the impact on YOUR book if within days 300 copies sold, each receiving a glowing review? http://www.nytimes.com/2012/08/26/business/book-reviewers-for-hire-meet-a-demand-for-online-raves.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0 E.L. James - Fifty Shades of Grey, which began as self-published Twilight
fan fiction but wound up making 2012 so bountiful for Random House that it gave
a $5,000 bonus to each employee. She rode the coat-tails of TWILIGHT buzz with kinky sex scenes. Fifty Shades, which some have taken to be the definitive evidence in
favor of self-publishing, is more accurately a demonstration of the opposite:
The book became a massive commercial success only after Random House got
involved, placing giant stacks of paperbacks in bookstores everywhere and buying
huge ads in the London Underground. Amanda Hocking - The 26-year-old Minnesotan who worked days at an assisted-living facility, grossed
about $2 million on ebooks in a little over a year with her paranormal romances
and zombie novels for young adults. She was one of the first to capitalize on twitter connections but now Twitter is a hailstorm of sad pleas for you to buy their books. Hugh Howey - The 36 year old college drop-out, while working at a bookstore in Boone, North Carolina, started writing a series of sci-fi novellas called Wool. His stories
were set in a postapocalyptic world where all human survivors live in an
underground silo, a microsociety where resources are so scarce that one person
has to die before another can be born. He decided to put out the new books himself, selling digital downloads and print
editions through Amazon. In the first six months he sold 14,000 copies. Each new
installment met with immediate enthusiasm. Within hours he’d receive emails from
readers hungry for more. By January of last year, agents were calling Howey, looking to publish the books
through more established channels, but he was reluctant. At that point, the
Wool series was already making him close to $12,000 a month. Nelson
Literary Agency founder Kristin Nelson won Howey over when she admitted that she
wasn’t sure traditional publishing could offer him anything better than what he
was doing on his own. By May, Wool was bringing in $130,000 a month, and Howey and Nelson had
sold the film option to 20th Century Fox and Ridley Scott. A couple of
publishers made seven-figure offers for the rights to sell the book in
hardcover, paperback, and ebook, but Howey and Nelson turned them down. He’d
make that much in a year of digital sales alone. Howey had discovered the NEXT BIG THING: serials. Amazon smelling profits began their own serial program. But now the Gatekeepers are back. Like Samuel Goldwyn, they want "the same thing -- only different." They will accept Romancerotica and Same Old Thrillers but little else. SO WHAT DO YOU DO? 1) You position yourself for success -- You do Yeoman Work, pun intended of course. :-) Yeoman refers chiefly to a free man owning his own farm, especially from the Elizabethan era to the 17th century. Work requiring a great deal of effort or labour, such as would be done by a yeoman farmer, came to be described as yeoman's work. Thus yeoman work became associated with hard, dedicated toil. Day, week, month, year out you write ... as best as you can, editing your work as best you can. 2) You submit your work to magazines, anthologies, getting your work and name out there like Milo James Fowler. 3) You ePublish the best product you can, as many titles as you can. The worst nightmare of a salesman is having a hot brand and no product to sell. If a reader is wowed by you -- you want him to be able to go and buy more titles of yours. FIFTY SHADES OF GREY had three titles from which to reap the profits. 4) You throw out the most alluring hook you can -- Make your title teasing. Make your cover gorgeous (both in thumbnail and full). The title and cover are what will make the eReader pause and consider your book. 5) Bring as many fellow authors with you as you can. Alex Cavanaugh excels at this. Is there a profit in this for you? Life is not all about profit. Sometimes it's just about enjoying the journey. And good friends make for a better ride, right? 6) You look for that new way to get your eBook out there. If a new twist to publishing your book occurs to you, try it. If it fails, then you've learned a method that doesn't work. Keep thinking of what would startle you into buying a stranger's book. One day, you or I will come up with that magic way. Bet on it.
Some kill their love when they are young, And some when they are old; Some strangle with the hands of Lust, Some with the hands of Gold: The kindest use a knife, because The dead so soon grow cold.
My murder scene is taken from my historical fantasy, ADRIFT IN THE TIME STREAM, set in 1853. The Texas Ranger, Samuel McCord, is hunting a sadistic killer, who left the body of a young woman on the docks of Galvestion but took her face -- as a mask if Marie Laveau is to be believed. He has tracked the killer to the transatlantic steamer, DEMETER. And once on board, McCord finds fully a third of the passengers are undead. It is not a pleasure steamer. It is a stocked pond. But unknown to everyone, another killer has crept on board, and no one, living or undead, is safe.
As the scene opens, Samuel is his cabin, after having spent the night with the mysterious and immortal Meilori Shinseen. Her lifelong companion, Lady Inari, has intruded upon them. She is furious with Meilori for her choice of lovers. Humans only see a beautiful Japanese aristocrat when they look upon Inari. Samuel, no longer human, sees the truth: a chilling fox head resides upon her lovely shoulders. Things are about to come to blows when a furious knocking shakes Sam's door:
***
After nearly being killed at Daniel Webster's party last night, I wasn't about to answer that door unarmed. I belted my Colt on my hip. Then, I shrugged into my shoulder holster. The hilt of King Solomon’s knife touched reassuringly at the nape of my neck. Next, my fringed Thunderbird jacket and black Stetson went on, and I was ready to meet whoever was pounding on my door.
Lady Inari sighed as she studied me, adjusting my weapons. “Mortals cannot choose their nature. It is bred into them by incident and intuition. And, alas, their nature chooses their destiny for them.”
I shook my head. “I choose the path I walk not destiny.”
Her eyes gleamed in the shadows of the room. “I will remind you of that one day.”
The pounding on my door got heavier. I glared at it. But the knocking didn’t take the hint. It just kept on rapping.
I sighed, “If it’s Webster again, I think I’ll shoot him. All the parties he invites me to end up trying to kill me in some way.”
I walked to the door, pulling Solomon’s mystic blade. It was better suited to up close and personal than any of my Colts. And a mite quieter. Better for the nerves of my neighbors. And better for any innocents.
I slowly opened the door. It wasn’t Webster. That was the good news. The bad news was that it was the revenant, Prince Strasser. And he looked like he had lived a couple of unhappy centuries in the last few hours. If a revenant can be said to do such a thing as live.
His satin jabot at his throat was loose. His face was tight. His expression was creased in the hard lines of a sneer that didn’t match the uncertainty of his eyes. His purple vest was misbuttoned, so that one edge of it was lower than the other. His right arm was in a black silk sling. His left hand reached out to grab me, but I snared it.
“Only one person can nibble on my throat, Strasser, and you’re not her.”
A razored katana in velvet tones murmured behind me as Meilori spoke low, "You forget in whose presence you stand, revenant."
I turned my head slightly to flick a look her way. Slanted jade eyes that had watched Rome burn, had gazed on scented flowers blooming in Babylon's Gardens, and had smiled at the screaming sacrifices offered up to her, stabbed into Strasser. He went as pale as a revenant can get.
He glared at me as if I were the cause of his danger, then noticed Solomon’s blade in my left hand. He looked sick which said he was smarter than I had given him credit for. He worked at getting control of himself. When he looked like he had managed it, I let go of his hand.
“Where have you been all night?,” he husked.
“Minding my own business.”
His eyes were wild, hot. “You haven’t taken revenge for the fiasco at Webster's party?”
I shook my head slow. “I believe the best revenge is to live well. And that’s just what I was doing last night -- living well.”
Lady Inari laughed. And for the first time, Strasser saw her. His eyes widened.
“A menage a trois?”
Inari literally growled, “Do not task me, leech. I am not as merciful as Meilori.”
Strasser buried his face in his left hand. “Then, it was not you? It was not you. Gods, then, we are worse off than I had supposed.”
“You want to explain yourself. I’d like to eat breakfast before it’s time for lunch.”
His mouth working in pain as if his words were crushed glass, he said, “You are a policeman. Perhaps, there is some clue that I have missed. Will you come with me?”
He looked so damn desperate, and it had taken so much out of him to ask me, that I didn’t have much choice. “All right, Strasser. I’ll come with you. But where am I going?”
“Our -- my suite.”
My stomach knotted. “If it’s no longer our suite, that must mean someone’s been killed.”
Inari snorted, “You cannot kill what is already dead.”
Strasser looked like he was going to hurl himself at her. “Claus was all too alive.”
But grief took him over as he sobbed, “All too alive. Now, he’s -- he’s -- I cannot bear to put it into words.”
I clamped a hand on his shoulder. He actually cared for someone other than himself. I had judged the man wrong. I had lost too many to be cruel to someone hurting from the loss of a loved one.
“Just take me there, Prince. I’ll see if I can make some sense of whatever happened there.”
He looked haunted at me. “Claus didn’t want to go on this damned cruise. Said he had a premonition. But I insisted.”
I gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Hindsight’s alway perfect. Let’s see if we can find ourselves a murderer to make miserable.”
He nodded as if not trusting himself to speak. He led us down the passageways at a fast clip. He heard voices ahead of us and stopped, then turned up the stairs to the main deck.
“It is raining up there, but I cannot bear to face anyone this morning.”
Inari growled low in her throat as she pulled up a very reluctant rear. I feared for a frog-drowner, but it was only a faint mist. It felt good. And my Stetson kept most of it out of my face. I turned, worried about Meilori. But she was looking up into the drizzle, her whole face a’glow with esctasy.
“Oh, Samuel, how lovely. A steady, pleasant rain.”
Inari husked, “There is no such thing as steady, pleasant rain, Meilori. There is only loathsome, miserable, hair-ruining precipitation.”
Meilori laughed gaily, “Since I am born of mist, the rain troubles me not at all.”
“Look, Meilori. See? I am telling you that you are first in my affections.”
“Ah, sister, you are using the wrong finger.”
“Yes, and I am using both of them.”
Seeing them snipe at each other made me feel better. Somehow, I knew that things were almost back to normal for them -- at least, for a little while. Strasser seemed to be lost in his own personal fog of pain and failure. I knew that feeling all too well. He was a murderer of little girls, and I knew I shouldn’t feel sorry for him. But I did, just the same. I shook my head. There was something seriously wrong with me.
He strode wooden-legged through the drizzle until we passed several empty deck tables and made it to the next stairway down. He trudged, head slumped like a depressed zombie. Hell, maybe that was what he would become without someone to care for and someone to care about him.
We stepped down the stairs and took the first right. I was completely lost in this maze of a ship. It didn’t matter. I just kept my senses alert for the smell of decay that came from those who no longer breathed but only preyed on those who did. I’d known many a Ranger that was so fixed on where they were, that they walked smack into an ambush. And then, they immediately knew where they were -- in an unmarked grave.
But no ambush exploded around us. Strasser merely stood in front of a clawed marked door, staring at it as if he looked at it long enough, the scene inside would change. Finally, he opened the door and walked in. I eased in, stepping sideways to the left, my Paterson hip Colt in my hand. Nobody sprang at me. The only enemy a smell. The smell of recent, bloody death.
Meilori hushed in a breath. Even Inari let out a low growl. I looked down on what remained of Claus. Earlier, I had quoted a poem of a woman seeking where the shadows were. I figured I had found that place in this stateroom.
The stateroom was a shambles. Broken furniture tossed everywhere. Curtains, bedding, and wallpaper ripped as though by claws. Even the carpet was slashed.
"Were you here when this happened, Strasser?," I asked.
He shook his head. "There was an argument."
Inari sneered, "So we can see."
He hadn't even heard her, lost in choices he'd wished he could go back and change. "I -- I left in a rage. H-His last memory of me is ugly, so ... ugly."
Strasser walked stiff-legged as if not feeling the deck beneath his feet until he stood over the ravaged thing that used to look human. Sobbing loud, he sank to his knees with a dull thud. He took the withered hand in his and held it tenderly to his face, cradling it as if it were an injured dove.
“Claus, oh Claus! Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird.”
Inari looked down upon him and sneered, “Life. After you’ve removed the wit, irony, and ambiguity, what have you got?”
Again Strasser seemed not to have heard her. I looked to Meilori. Her face was haunted, as if this scene was too close to one she had played out long ago. She stared off into the distant horizons of her mind. She seemed to be listening to the bitter refrains of a mournful song. Perhaps the selfsame song that had found a path through the sad heart of Ruth, when sick for home, she stood in tears among the alien corn.
I kneeled beside Strasser and whispered, “When did you find him like this?”
Strasser gently laid the husk of a hand down upon the bloody, shredded chest of his lover. As if I had not spoken, he pulled out the bent collar of the white satin shirt over the black velvet smoking jacket, straighting it to match the other one. He ran his fingers along the broad shoulders of Claus. They went for the withered, contorted face, then flinched away.
I looked at Claus’s right forefinger. Its end was smeared with his own blood. And with it, two words had been written : El Chupacabra.
“No clues, eh?,” snorted Inari. “How could you have missed this one?”
Meilori gave her sister a scolding look. “Perhaps he could not see it through his tears.”
“Sister, you are letting your human’s maudlin sensibilities infect you.”
Strasser shook his head. “This was not here when I left.”
He looked bewildered at me. “El Chupacabra? What does that mean?”
I smiled bitter, “It’s Spanish for 'Where are your goats tonight?'”
He grabbed me by the right arm. “That is not funny! What does it mean?”
“It means that the hunters have become the hunted.” ****************
And so that is my murder scene. Hope it kept your interest. I have always pictured Samuel McCord as Quigley with moon-white hair:
I didn't know there was a blogfest today on the A-Z THEME ... for most of the day my blog was so empty that MercyThompson changed into her coyote form and bayed at the cyber-moon. {And I am puzzled -- does no one read Mercy Thompson by the talented Patricia Briggs?} Anyway, if A-Z does this for a one day blogfest, is there any reason to post if you are not participating? A IS FOR ALONE. The ghost of Ernest Hemingway strolled by my laptop and murmured, "Lemming." But you know how he feels about group writing. And for those of you who are participating ... Admit it. You are feeling rather daunted by the thought of posting daily. What are you going to write about daily? Then, there are the number participating this year. C'mon -- there are some 3rd World nations with smaller populations! You are feeling more than a little daunted, thinking about visiting and commenting on so many blog posts. Most that are posting now are demanding SHORT, VERY SHORT posts so that they and others can hit and run so to speak. The Father willing, I am participating ... No themes. Themes limit the imagination, stifle the moment. As for short? The ghost of Mark Twain started to laugh at those words. He's going to write a post or two. Short is not in his vocabulary. Nor in mine he darkly says. LOL. If you visit me, fine. If I am too long. At least I will have fun. With my center possibly voiding my position, my posts might be short due to circumstances beyond my control. But really? If you are going to consume a whole month on A-Z, why not write words that matter? Let the length be dictated by the subject matter. AND MOST OF ALL, HAVE FUN!!
Oh, and you are denying yourself worlds of entertainment if you are not delving in the world of Mercy Thompson, a fragile coyote-changer in a world of monsters, who will not yeild if a soul is wounded and in need.
I was reading a female complaint on MOON CALLED, the first Mercy Thompson urban fantasy:
that there was precious little steamy content ... which was appreciated by this male.
A male complained about RIVER MARKED that it was nearly a third of the book before the action
started.
It brings to mind the conventional wisdom that MEN DO NOT READ BOOKS WRITTEN BY WOMEN.
What do you think of that, by the way?
A study of reading habits showed almost half of women are 'page turners' who finish a book
soon after starting it compared to only 26 per cent of men.
Men are also more likely to have shelves full of books that have never been opened.
If that woman next to you on the train or bus seems unusually engrossed in her
e-reader, there may be a good reason.
Electronic readers, and the reading privacy they provide, are fueling a boom
in sales of sexy romance novels, or "romantica," as the genre is called in the
book industry. There is sex in romantica—a lot of it. Yet unlike traditional erotica, romantica always
includes what's known as "HEA"— "happily ever after." Men see a problem and want to see action taken to resolve it. Women want to see empathy evoked. Erotica on the Mischief Books site is tagged with icons. Handcuffs denote
"kinky"; an upraised palm means "discipline." The HarperCollins imprint says it
plans to publish at least 60 e-titles a year. Then, there's ... It works like this. Girl meets boy, preferably in a quaint seaside town. Happiness. They clash. Sadness. Gradually they realize that opposites attract and fall in love. Happiness. But they cannot be together because of leukemia/difficult parents/war/Alzheimer’s/a psychotic ex. Sadness. They get together anyway. Happiness. Somebody dies. Huge sadness. But the survivors lead richer, fuller lives for having known each other. Happiness. Publish, collect millions, turn the story into a film, collect more millions, repeat. Massive happiness. That’s the algorithm that has fueled Nicholas Sparks’ success for the past decade and a half. It is a male's nightmare. Where are the fast cars, blazing bullets, and sizzing hot femme fatales? Which is why I, as a card-carrying/dues paying male, read Mercy Thompson. Who's she? Mercedes is a Volkswagen mechanic living in the Tri-Cities area of Washington. Her Native American heritage has gifted her with the ability to take the form of a coyote at will. She's surrounded by far more powerful supernatural beings, including werewolves, vampires and an assortment of fae. Her world seems real. She is surrounded by powerful entities, while she is fragile in comparison. She survives by wit, courage, and endurcance. Throughout the first book, Mercy kicks ass. Adam, the love interest, tells
Mercy that he values her for her independence. He isn't threatened by a strong
woman, but finds that strength attractive. Then he's the one kidnapped and
drugged and helpless - it's Mercy who rescues Prince Charming. And after being
rescued, he turns around and leads werewolves into battle - he isn't any less
awesome or less of a man for needing a woman's help once in a while. There are three women in the pack besides Mercy. Auriele is the second's mate,
but it's emphasized several times that her air of authority doesn't come from
him, but from her job as a teacher controlling a classroom of teenagers. (If you've ever been a teacher, you can relate.) She
draws strength from her occupation and her own experiences instead of someone
else. There's Honey, who's highly dominant in her own self - Adam says that if
she were a man, she'd be second or third in the pack. But she chose to mate
with a submissive werewolf, sacrificing the status she desires and deserves, so
that she wouldn't have to live with someone who'd try to control her. What do you think? Do you know men who read (besides writers). Do men read less than women? Is erotica all that women read? For a woman to read a book must it contain romance? Do you read non-fiction?
HOW TO GET A MILLION HITS ON YOUR BLOG? {No, I haven't quite made it all the way there yet -- but I can dream, right?} You get them just like you get a million readers for your book. You get them one at a time -- like you write your book one word at a time. And you get them by giving them what they want to read, what they can get at no other source. {I will, indeed, tell you how to get a million hits on your blog further on down in my post.} Talking about giving readers what they want to read ... What do writers want to read on a blog on writing? HOW TO SUCCEED AS A WRITER. I. KNOW IT IS ATTITUDE OVER TALENT. A. What key factor will you find in every successful writer? It's a desire to succeed as a writer mixed with the right attitude. You have to pick yourself up and keep going. Because you know in your heart you're on the right path and you won't allow those nasty people derail you. B. YOU ARE WHAT YOU DO. Each day your butt should be in the chair and your fingers typing. If not, you're a dreamer not a writer. II. Failure Shows You How To Get Better A. CASE STUDY:
Bob Dylan was booed off the stage in 1967 when he went
electric. He was booed off the stage in 1974 when he went Gospel. He’s been
booed off the stage since then and yet he still fills theaters. The Monkeys, on
the other hand, have never been booed off the stage and they’re just an oldies
act. Being booed off the stage is a key part of being an artist.
B. Don't write to please everyone. If you do that you'll please no one, starting with yourself. Write authentically. Write honestly. III. Now about how to get a million hits on your blog ... A. Some writers work smart. Some writers work hard. Others are lucky. I can't help you with the luck ... but with the smart and hard -- B. Write stuff people might want to read, doing so with humor and kindness; and Compulsively e-mail your posts to bloggers who might possibly consider linking you. C. If somebody's throwing you traffic, you should either (a) give them a link-back
update, or at a minimum (b) keep them in mind for future linkage. D. Aye, Matey, I'll be showing ye where the treasure be buried! The easiest place to find blog fodder is Memeorandum, which has an algorithmic
formula that automatically updates to tell you what the hot topics are in the
'sphere. Along with http://www.wesmirch.com/ E. SEX SELLS - Once upon a time Stacy McCain was blogging in promotion of the book, DONKEY CONS. Because the subtitle of the book was "Sex, Crime, and Corruption in the
Democratic Party," he got lots of traffic from people Googling donkey+sex. Sex sells. F. A ROSE BY ANY OTHER NAME and other hints -- One: have a cool name. Something memorable. Something different. Two: make lots of friends. Pretty self explanatory. Friends link you. Friends click over to read you. Friends put you in their blogrolls.
Three: post about celebrities. Preferably the good-looking female kind. People google-searching for Megan Fox may very well come here because of her photo. Four: Enjoy yourself. This is the most important thing. A blog can eat your life. Blogging can become addictive. If you’re going to do it, you’d better do it in some way that you enjoy.
Dreamer. Writer. Believer in the worth of each soul I meet.
It is not so bad a thing to have been born with the gift of laughter and the knowledge that the world is mad.
Book 4: Victor Standish risks all reality to bring back from the dead those he loves.
WOLF HOWL HAS HIS OWN BLOG!
VISIT IF YOU DARE
THE LAST SHAMAN AUDIO BOOK!
Mankind's time is nearly up. Can the last Lakota shaman save the soul of the assassin he loves before the end?
McCorkle Creations!
Let Heather McCorkle design covers and promo materials for you. You will be amazed.
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Sometimes it is death, not life, that brings us love
A GHOSTLY WRITING MANUAL
Twain, Hemingway, Lovecraft & More!
An Age Is Ending & Ancient Evil Returning
Like PENNY DREADFUL? This is for you.
A SUPERNATURAL LONGMIRE
In Egypt, the dead never rest easy
NO ONE HEARS THE SCREAMS IN SILENT FILMS
An isolated Hollywood film crew is hunted by Nightmare
A SAMPLER OF MY HEROES
Mysteries Explained, Secrets Exposed
The Origin of Toomey Starks!
Hellhounds were never this much fun! Only $4!
VOODOO & LOVE IN THE FRENCH QUARTER
Now available in PRINT!
FRENCH QUARTER NOCTURNE AUDIO BOOK!
The supernatural predators come out after Katrina. Can two undead legends stop them?
AFTER KATRINA, THERE IS NONE BUT TWO TO STOP THE UNDEAD
ONLY $1.99 WHEN YOU BUY THE KINDLE BOOK!
LISTEN to GHOST OF A CHANCE
Can an author be drawn into his own fictional world and killed by his own characters?
HIBBS HAS FOUND HIS VOICE!
A tale of enchantment
Souls At The Crossroads
Where do you need to be?
THE DEADLIEST ENEMY IS WITHIN
What if Stephen King wrote of the life of a blood courier?
Listen to this haunting tale of horror and love
It is 1853. An undead Texas Ranger is on board a cursed ship in search of a murderer who is wearing the face of her last victim as a mask.
Listen to the LAST FAE
When the world is mad, there is little else to do but show them what true insanity is!
Can a man marry both the moon and the sun?
In the eclipse of myth, he can
What Defense is an innocent soul against the Powers of Darkness?
Let Hibbs, the cub with no clue, show you
Before Indiana Jones or Allan Quartermain
There was Sam McCord and his doomed love for Meilori Shinseen
Alice and Victor in 1834 New Orleans
Do a review and have a 1 in 13 chance to win a Johnny Depp autograph!
Buy_FRENCH QUARTER NOCTURNE
Hurricane Katrina has cast New Orleans into darkness. Predators, living and undead, close in on the helpless survivors. Can Samuel McCord and a vampire priest keep the French Quarter from being drowned in blood?
Buy_LET THE WIND BLOW THROUGH YOU
Enter the dangerous world of a Native American Noir thriller where forbidden love clashes with the politics of crime
You will never see the end coming
In his beginning is his end
My 1st SERIAL TRILOGY continues
There are none so lost as those who refuse to see
The 1st SERIAL TRILOGY!
In the dark, we are all orphans
In Memoriam - Maukie my cyber friend
RITES OF PASSAGE link
The earliest Samuel McCord adventure: Dare to board a fantasy Titanic as it sails into the Bermuda Triangle
VICTOR'S HERE!
BOOK 1: No one talks openly of the misty figures seen walking along New Orleans' iron-laced terraces, casting no shadow. Of the shapes seen rising from sewer grates. And no one willingly visits the crypt of Marie Laveau at midnight. Into this strange world arrives the street orphan, Victor Standish, from Charon's Greyhound. Charon has to keep up with the times ... the End Times. And the teen destined to be called the "Ulysses of the French Quarter" has come just in time for Hurricane Katrina, the End of All Things ... and the deadly love of the Victorian ghoul, Alice Wentworth.
VICTOR AND ALICE ARE BACK!
BOOK 2: Victor's a street kid. Alice is a Victorian ghoul Their love breaks the chain of reason. Their new adventures bring the French Quarter back from the brink of nightmare.
THE RIVAL
BOOK 3: Victor & Alice are in the French Quarter of 1834. Voodoo. Demigods. Revenants. And the hilarious Menage a Trois of Death! Oh, and someone we love dies at the end.
END OF DAYS is here!
St. Marrok's. The most eerie high school in which you will ever die. Its curriculum? The End of Days. Alice Wentworth plans to get an A+.
ADRIFT IN THE TIME STREAM link
SEQUEL to RITES OF PASSAGE: Come aboard the doomed DEMETER with undead Texas Ranger, Sam McCord, and sail with her into the depths of madness in ADRIFT IN THE TIME STREAM.
Buy_CREOLE KNIGHTS
SEQUEL to FRENCH QUARTER NOCTURNE: The dead rise. Elder Beings strain to enter our world through Katrina devastated New Orleans. And the Angel of Death is kidnapped to clear their way. Can Sam McCord stem the tide of madness in time?
Buy_THE LAST FAE
Once there was an age undreamed where legends walked this earth … and nightmares, too. Terrible were the battles, tragic the outcome of the wars. Until finally there were only two survivors : the nightmare and one bruised legend. These are the legend’s stories, each one a different facet of the same priceless gem – a jewel that has come to believe herself worthless. So come. Listen to her. Listen to THE LAST FAE.
GHOST OF A CHANCE
What if what you wrote became real?
BURNT OFFERINGS
When dreams are sacrificed, it is the soul that burns.
CHECK OUT THE FUN!
Explore if you dare
Buy_THE LAST SHAMAN
Journey with the last Lakota shaman, Wolf Howl. The white govenments call him Drew August. Those who hunt him call him Death. The last day of Man has dawned. Watch as Wolf Howl turns to meet his human hunters. Shadow, the love of his life, returns to aid his hunters. Then, Mankind's death descends. Can he save Shadow before the world's time runs out?
BRING ME THE HEAD OF McCORD!
Only 99 cents. C'mon. Take a chance.
GHOST WRITERS IN THE SKY
LEARN TO WRITE BETTER AND LAUGH ALONG THE WAY
LAST EXIT TO BABYLON
At the dawn of the End of All Things, the Last Fae finds there is no hope ... but love.
IT'S HERE TO BUY!!
The trilogy concludes. Not even the eclipse of myth is forever. But love is. And eclipses return. Listen. The voice of Blake, son of Man, is calling across the night skies.
Buy THE PATH BACK TO DAWN
Only in the eclipse of myth can a young man find himself with both the Moon and the Sun as his brides. Can he survive what follows?
Buy_LOVE LIKE DEATH
From the pages of THE LAST FAE springs this paranormal romance/thriller. Fallen, the last fae, discovers the name of the young teenager to whom she lost her heart : Blake Adamson.But she also discovers what happens when you believe your fears over your love : heartache and loss. And so Blake Adamson finds himself torn between two loves : one fae, the other an alien drinker of souls. Their love is deadly, but love, like death, will have its way.
THE BEAR WITH 2 SHAD0WS link
Based on the stories my Lakota mother told me as a child when I was deathly ill in a freezing Detroit basement apartment. Think a Native American LORD OF THE RINGS.
FROM THE GREAT BEYOND HOP!
You dare not miss it!!
ZOMBIE PREPAREDNESS!
LISTEN TO THE CDC
Thanks, Alex!
THE WORLDS OF ROLAND YEOMANS
Donna Hole astonishes with her insights on my linked worlds
FANTASTIC REVIEW OF THE LEGEND OF VICTOR STANDISH
Michael Di Gesu does a masterful review. I am honored by his friendship
LIFE LESSONS taught me by GYPSY
Dedicated to GYPSY
PAPYRUS PRODUCTIONS
Have Wendy make your book into a trailer that wows the reader!
HELP THE HURTING
100% of the profits for ALL my books this FEBRUARY are going to THE SALVATION ARMY. My Valentine's gift to the hurting.
Buy_BLOOD WILL TELL
One lone telepath finds himself a helpless spectator as the race of Man is subjugated into mindless drones by the very blood within their bodies.When the war is over, and he finds himself totally alone ... How can he go on and why?
CALL ME TOMBS
The last Lakota Heyoka faces voodoo and ultimate evil in the Carpathian Mountains of Transylvania with his Hellhound, Puppy
CATCH FIRE!
BLOG TOUR FOR ALEX J, CAVANAUGH'S NEWEST NOVEL
SIV'S BLOGFEST!
The Norse Gods Are Watching You!
NERDY IS THE NEW SEXY!
BECOME A JEDI KNIGHT FOR TEENS
THE SECRET OF SPRUCE KNOLL
Help save the endangered species of Earth by buying THE SECRET OF SPRUCE KNOLL!
AMAZON KEEPS SELLING OUT!
Written by the author who could very well turn out to be the new William Faulkner, Elliot Grace
FABULOSITY GALORE bookstore
Visit an online bookstore and help a blogging friend!!
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