tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70527411894110101762024-03-06T04:00:17.227+00:00One Thousand Worlds in One Thousand WordsRichie Earlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11556365610232281695noreply@blogger.comBlogger91125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7052741189411010176.post-17863874394442230632016-01-07T07:30:00.000+00:002016-01-07T21:17:37.975+00:00The Reaper - Twin Worlds Trilogy, Vol 3 (Dominic H. King) in One Thousand WordsToday <b>One Thousand Worlds</b> welcomes back a long time friend and supporter of this blog, <b>Dominic H. King, </b>with <b>The Reaper</b>, the brilliant conclusion to his Twin Worlds Trilogy. If you missed his earlier features on this site you can still check out Vol 1 <a href="http://onethousandworlds.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/DHK.html" target="_blank">The Chamber</a> and Vol 2 <a href="http://onethousandworlds.blogspot.co.uk/2014/02/DHK.html" target="_blank">The Black Gate</a>.<br />
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<b>The Reaper - </b><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Synopsis</span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">"This is the end; the final reckoning. We are now at the crossroads of all that has gone before. For this world, the sun will rise or it will set. It is you against him; for one of you, there is no tomorrow." - Juquor.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Kal and Daine escaped through the Black Gate in the stone troll city of Urth to find themselves back in Kal's world in an abandoned fort in the middle of the ocean, the Reaper and his deadly arrochom hot on their heels. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Kal meets old friends and foes as he battles his way back from slavery to reach Murucia in a bid to see his father again. Daine is lost, trying to make sense of her life an assassin, caught between her father and her mother who sit on opposite sides of the war. And all the while, the Reaper is gathering an army to end the war he started a generation before. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Salvation or damnation awaits. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">The Reaper is the thrilling conclusion to the Twin Worlds trilogy, an epic tale of swords and sorcery; travel and adventure; love and loss; good and evil. But most of all, a tale of adolescence and growing up.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Meet the author-</span></b><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">Dominic was born in Bath, UK in 1982. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He is the author of the Twin Worlds trilogy that follows Kal and Daine in their epic battle against the Reaper. The first two instalments, The Chamber (2012) and The Black Gate (2013), were published in 2012 and 2013 respectively. Dominic cites writers such as Tolkien, Pullman, Martin and Bernard Cornwell and time spent in China, India, Nepal and Latin America as his major inspirations.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sports-mad he aspires to greatness as a football, cricket, rugby, hockey, golf and squash player, but has to settle with mediocrity. He has been more successful at charity challenges including the Blenheim Triathlon, the 3 Peaks Challenge and the London Dragon Boat race.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He works as an in-house economist at a global consultancy for whom he has written over 100 reports on the world economy. He lives in London with his Mexican wife Liz (and, from October, daughter Elena).</span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><b>Section 1.i (Kal)</b></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB">He floated in darkness, drifting soundlessly across an invisible current. There was no time before this, no time after this. The present was all and it consumed him, pressing down, suffocating him, enveloping him in a thick black shroud. He did not breathe; he did not move; he merely existed.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">But I do more than exist; I live.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">The thought tore through the darkness like a streak of lightening, illuminating a path to a slit in the dark cloak that surrounded him and he willed his being towards it. At first, it resisted, holding him in its ethereal embrace, but he pushed harder and harder until it relented. The gap grew larger and the brightness so intense that he wished he could avert his gaze; but he was not looking through eyes. As he passed through the slit, the darkness fell away. Now there was only light.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">He blinked.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">The light was intense and he closed his eyes quickly. He lay face down on a hard surface. Small stones dug gently into his palms, chest and hips, and his back burned hot but he did not roll over. Sounds flittered down from around him but something inside, a deep instinct, told him not to make any sudden movements. He heard rough shouts and calls in a language he could not decipher that seemed to be getting louder.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">I cannot just lie here.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">He opened his eyes again, blinking furiously as the light bore into his skull. Squinting ahead, he could see a curved stone wall with four layers of arched walkways stretching up into a bright blue sky. It had clearly once been a magnificent piece of architecture but there was an overriding sense of decay about the place. The masonry was cracked and chipped, and more than one of the arches had buckled. The circular courtyard in which he lay alternated between baked earth and dusty stone. Small clumps of weeds grew up from the patches of earth, like brown snakes, their skin flaking, climbing up the first tier of arches. Many of the paving stones had been torn up, as though someone had been looking for a way out, although nothing but dark rock was exposed beneath.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">He froze as a deep groan came from somewhere behind him.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">What the hell was that?</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">He turned his head as slowly as he could, trying to make the motion as smooth as possible. A girl lay next to him, wearing a black suit that covered her from head to toe. Her face was turned away from him and a wooden quarterstaff was strapped to her back.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">I know her.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">He reached out a hand to touch hers but froze as a shout echoed around the courtyard. It was followed by another and dark shapes flitted between the columns, their voices more agitated now. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Kal knew who he was now. He pushed off the ground and gripped the girl by the shoulders.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Her name is Daine. And I have to get her out of here.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Section 1.ii (Daine)</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">She felt a great wrench; a sharp tug from an immeasurable distance that jerked her backwards. The darkness around her trembled and then it was still.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Something is trying to break in. Or break me out.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Another great wrench, this time more insistent causing her black shroud to shudder and then crack. A bright light pierced the gloom and she soared towards it. She heard a voice, hard and rough in her ear. Her fingers grazed against a hard surface and she tried to open her eyes, but the light seeping through was blinding. The voice again, more conciliatory; warning her of something. A firm pressure across her stomach.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Then the ground moved.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">She rose away from the hard surface, bent in two at the waist. Her face collided with something softer, rebounding away, then bouncing back. There was no strength in her body. Urgent shouts and calls echoed around her but she could not make out the tongue. The air had a salty cleanliness that stung her nostrils, but it was tinged with mild decay and the musty sweat of the person carrying her which was somehow familiar. A wave of cold air washed over her just as a great roar erupted from somewhere overhead, followed by the sound of wood splintering. The light was weaker here and when she was felt the touch of cold stone on her legs and back, she opened her eyes to find herself in the corner of a cell, some ten paces square. Ahead of her, a figure dressed from head to toe in black was dragging the remnants of what might once have been a bed across the only entrance. His long blonde hair hid his face but as he succeeded in partially blocking the doorway, he turned to face her.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Her eyes snapped wide open.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">I know you.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">“Daine...” he began.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">But she could already feel her grip on the room slipping away. He grabbed her face between his hands but his touch was little more than a gentle stroke like the breeze on her cheeks.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">“...you have to fight it. Stay with me...”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">His face swayed as the room about her pitched and buckled. She was being sucked backwards into her mind. Her brain whirred, the cogs of recognition spinning faster and faster.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">The boy’s face split into a thousand different images.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">And she was drowning.</span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Available to buy from </span></b><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B00GVESU2E" style="text-indent: -18pt;" target="_blank">Amazon</a></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Links</span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">:<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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Richie Earlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11556365610232281695noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7052741189411010176.post-16949885203176108432015-12-08T14:30:00.000+00:002015-12-12T20:51:14.058+00:00James & the Dragon - The Farloft Chronicles (Theresa Snyder) in One Thousand WordsSo One Thousand Worlds is alive and kicking, and back up and running. To get the ball rolling again, I'm reposting the first ever feature from September 2013 which welcomed <b>Theresa Snyder</b> to One Thousand Worlds. Theresa was the first author to showcase her work in one thousand words and has since become a great supporter of this blog. So if you haven't already, take a sneak peek at the opening of <b>James & the Dragon (The Farloft Chronicles</b><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>)</b>.</span><br />
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<b>James & the Dragon-</b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">What would you do if you were adopted by a dragon? When ten-year-old orphan James nearly drowns in a bog, he finds himself rescued by Farloft, a centuries-old dragon with a glittering collection of treasures and an even richer collection of stories. But, dragons and boys are not meant to live together – or are they? When Laval – a wizard harboring a secret hatred for Farloft finds out about James, he sees his chance for revenge.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">Theresa has worked as restaurant hostess, zoo keeper, dog groomer, professional make-up artist, dispatcher, jeweler, bookstore owner, legal assistant, retail manager, marketing coordinator and print shop supervisor among other things. She used to say, “The only thing I haven’t done is go to jail and be a nun.” A few years ago she did make-up for a documentary in the state penitentiary. At this stage of her life, she feels it is more likely she will be a renowned author then become a nun. She hopes you all follow her on her quest to fulfill that dream.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 115%;">Farloft, the dragon, had been living in this region for centuries. Once a friend of man, over the years he had become shunned. Now he lived quietly in his mountain top retreat - an observer rather than a participant in the lives of humans.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 115%;">Farloft sat on his rocky perch above the entrance to his lair, his piercing golden eyes following the approaching wizard.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 115%;">The cold morning air had no effect on a dragon for he felt neither hot nor cold. His observation of Laval began early this morning. He first caught sight of the wizard through the fog on the valley floor as he emerged from the forest below out onto the plain. The human would need another hour or so to wind his way up the path to the cave.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 115%;">Farloft flexed his iridescent green wings in the morning sun that caressed the mountain top - his wing span as large as any sail on the ships at sea. His massive claws bit at the stone of the ledge to keep him from involuntarily taking flight. He wanted to hunt this morning, but with the wizard's pending arrival his stomach would have to wait.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 115%;">Farloft's last experience with Laval was a most unpleasant memory. The dragon did not intend to leave his lair unguarded. He gave only a momentary thought to flying down to meet the wizard, than thought better of it.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 115%;">Best to sit and wait.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 115%;">Best he let the wizard come to him.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 115%;">Best to be on your own ground when dealing with someone that could not be trusted.</span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 115%;">Chapter Two</span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /><b><span style="letter-spacing: -.15pt;">- THE WIZARD -</span></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 115%;">Laval rode steadily on in the bitter cold. Only an escaped lock of his long, raven black hair and his crooked nose could be seen from the depths of his crimson colored robes. He was a man on a mission. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 115%;">The King always kept a ‘master wizard,’ as his father and his grandfather before him. No one could remember how Laval came to be at court or how long he had been there. It was as if the kingdom had never been without his powerful magic. The wizard was the King’s most trusted advisor. His magic struck fear in those that were his enemies, and awe in those few that were his friends.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 115%;">The road took Laval through the sparse countryside. Nothing had grown well this past year, not crops or children. The young and the elderly had been the first to die of the plague. The villagers had been hardest hit. The King had closed the castle to visitors at the first sign of plague and therefore kept the ruling class free of the disease. But, beyond the walls of the castle, the land and its people were barren and cold.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 115%;">As Laval approached yet another village he noticed the vacant, hungry look of the people as they peered out their doors or looked up from what duties could not be ignored that brought them out in the bitter cold. He heard the sound of the mucus filled coughs that accompanied those that were bound to die from this horrible plague. He reflexively pulled his cowl up higher from around his neck to over his mouth and nose. No sense taking chances. There were thatched roof houses in this village with no signs of life – no smoke from the chimneys – no coughing – only silence.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 115%;">Laval steadily urged his mount forward. A peasant rose up from nowhere and grabbed his leg above the leather of his boot.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 115%;">“Somethin’ for the children? A crust of bread?” he begged, as he walked beside the wizard’s steed.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 115%;">Laval knew better than to give into the man. If he gave to this poor wretch, he would be mobbed by all who saw he had anything to give. He pushed the man away with his booted foot, almost knocking him to the ground even though the push had been light. The man was that weak.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 115%;">“I have nothing to give.” He spurred his horse and rode on through the village at a trot.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 115%;">Laval looked back. He could remember when that place had been full of laughing children with round faces. Now there were only the sights and sounds of death. This past spring and summer during the long months that the plague ravaged the land, he had worked all his considerable magic to stop the spread of the disease. But, it was no use. The people continued to die.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 115%;">Laval’s mission was to obtain a portion of the wing from Farloft the dragon. Combining the magic within that wing with his own considerable wizard's magic, he was sure he could create a potion that would stop the ravaging disease. Dragon’s wings were known for their healing power.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 115%;">Even with Laval’s considerable skills, it had taken over a week to locate the dragon’s lair. The last time he had seen the dragon was years ago when he was wizard to the former King. Dragon and wizard had exchanged heated words over an error of judgment on Laval’s part, he was sure Farloft would remember. Dragons had excellent memories. That past transgression would make it difficult to convince the dragon to give up the needed portion of his wing.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; line-height: 115%;">Laval rode on for the rest of the day. He fought his way through the dense forest at the edge of the kingdom and emerged below the western ridge where the dragon’s lair perched on the highest peak. It would take him another hour, a least, to reach Farloft. The wizard pulled his heavy robe tighter around his lean frame. He hunched lower in his saddle against the bitter wind through the valley he must cross to the mountain heights.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Where to buy <b>James & the Dragon:</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia,serif; line-height: normal;">Books Available on </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Theresa-Snyder/e/B00DLS7BOG/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1425923346&sr=1-2-ent" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 21.3px;" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: georgia,serif; line-height: normal;">Amazon</span></a><span style="font-family: georgia,serif; line-height: normal;"> / </span><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/TheresaSnyder19" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 21.3px;" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: georgia,serif; line-height: normal;">Smashwords</span></a><span style="font-family: georgia,serif; line-height: normal;"> / </span><a href="https://www.createspace.com/pub/simplesitesearch.search.do?sitesearch_query=theresa+snyder&sitesearch_type=STORE" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 21.3px;" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: georgia,serif; line-height: normal;">CreateSpace</span></a><span style="font-family: georgia,serif; line-height: normal;"> / </span><span style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-family: georgia,serif; font-weight: inherit; line-height: normal;"><a href="https://play.google.com/store/search?q=theresa%20snyder%20books&hl=en" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 21.3px;" target="_blank">Google play</a></span></div>
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Where to connect with <b>Theresa Snyder:</b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Website: <a class="" href="http://www.theresasnyderauthor.com/" style="cursor: pointer; line-height: 21.3px;" target="_blank"><span style="line-height: normal;">www.TheresaSnyderAuthor.com</span></a></b></span></div>
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<b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Theresa-Snyder/e/B00DLS7BOG/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1378162511&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Theresa Snyder - Amazon Author Profile</a></b></div>
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<b><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7077138.Theresa_Snyder" target="_blank">Goodreads</a></b></div>
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<b><a href="http://theresasnyder.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Theresa's Blog</a></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: purple;"><a href="https://twitter.com/TheresaSnyder19" target="_blank">Follow Theresa on Twitter</a></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: garamond,serif;">“Scifi reminiscent of Isaac Asimov and Robert Heinlein”</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: garamond,serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: black; font-family: garamond,serif;">“Paranormal like a breath of fresh air in a genre that has become formatted”</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: garamond,serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: garamond,serif;"><span style="color: black;">“Fantasy beautifully written with complex characters that children to adults can appreciate”</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: garamond,serif;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span><span style="color: black;">“Memoirs that are heartwarming, funny and soothing to the spirit”</span></span></div>
Richie Earlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11556365610232281695noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7052741189411010176.post-40869332228028491112015-12-08T01:31:00.001+00:002015-12-08T01:31:34.836+00:00One Thousand Worlds is back!The title says it all. After a very long period of inactivity, I'm delighted to say that <b>One Thousand Worlds in One Thousand Words</b> is back in the business of supporting and promoting fantasy and sci-fi writers. Hopefully the first feature will be out within a week, so if you want a piece of the action check out the <a href="http://onethousandworlds.blogspot.co.uk/p/how-to-submit.html" target="_blank">submission </a>page.Richie Earlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11556365610232281695noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7052741189411010176.post-38380766264164811632014-04-15T10:30:00.000+01:002014-04-15T10:30:01.575+01:00One Thousand World Interview with Mark Boyd<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeVNu0rmUR5Usc4_0QEODVaYETywT34tlGu0Pgu8hyphenhyphenac0zG-6tKqp7gzha-1CI1ZzAzDz7il37dcwjyJcfKJBkNmpj6LqciXf92b-o8psPZweMlR-2FEZdUAgZ06LRHCKYHOfFcz_kFRuJ/s1600/book+cover+Mark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeVNu0rmUR5Usc4_0QEODVaYETywT34tlGu0Pgu8hyphenhyphenac0zG-6tKqp7gzha-1CI1ZzAzDz7il37dcwjyJcfKJBkNmpj6LqciXf92b-o8psPZweMlR-2FEZdUAgZ06LRHCKYHOfFcz_kFRuJ/s1600/book+cover+Mark.jpg" height="200" width="137" /></a><span lang="EN-US"><b> One Thousand Worlds</b> is delighted to welcome back <b>Mark Boyd</b>, who showcased the first one thousand words of his debut novel, <b><a href="http://onethousandworlds.blogspot.co.uk/2014/03/MB.html" target="_blank">The Prophecy</a>, </b>here last month. The Prophecy is the first book in his trilogy, <b>A Dragon's Tale.</b></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US">Tell
us about The Prophecy.</span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The Prophecy is the first book of ‘A Dragons Tale’ trilogy. It sets
the storyline and introduces the dragon/human element of the trilogy. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">To backtrack, Mishmakon, The Dragon King is the third book. The Dragon
King is born of human/elven/dragon blood and unites the races in the final
battle for control over life or death of the world. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The Prophecy tells of this foretelling and of its initiation with the
love between Anaterri (a blue dragon in human form) and Prince Leandro
Sargovia. There are those that fervently seek to stop this union before it goes
any further and thus the story is told. </span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US">How
many books have you written?</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The Prophecy was the first and I have just
completed Book 2, The Book of Genevieve. </span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US">What
are you working on at the moment?</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The
Book of Genevieve is now in the final editing stages and should be released,
April 2014. I have already started writing on the third and final book of the
trilogy, Mishmakon, The Dragon King.</span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US">What
are the most important attributes to remaining sane as a writer? </span></b><span lang="EN-US"> </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Patience, humility and a
dedication to your reader base tends to keep one sane. Also listening to and trusting in where your
story is coming from. A must is also trusting
that the Universe will deliver all of that when it is required.</span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US">How
much impact does your childhood have on your writing?</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">A lot. I lived in a
fantasy world much of my young adult life. It was easy to get lost in books
when my world was not going well. It opened my mind to universe’s and realms to
discover and conquer.</span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US">What
was the greatest thing you learned at school?</span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Making out with girls, you asked.</span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US"> </span></b><b><span lang="EN-US"> </span></b></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US">If
you could meet any of your own characters, who would it be?</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">It would have to be
Anaterri, a female blue dragon that chooses to live in human form. When she
came to my mind, she was my ultimate fantasy for a partner, loving, sexy,
tough, intelligent, beautiful, and a healer.</span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US">Do
you have a favorite character among the ones you've invented?</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I would say Leto Sargovia
is my favorite at this point. </span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US">What
do you want to be when you grow up?</span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I can let you know...if I ever decide to
grow up.</span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US">If
you could trade places with any other person for a week, famous or not famous,
living or dead, real or fictional, with whom would it be?</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Gandhi. </span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US">What
do you think about when you are alone in your car?</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Why are all these idiots on their cell
phones? Get a clue people.</span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US">What
song best describes your work ethic?</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Wow, this is a tough one but the first song
that came to my mind was Free Bird by Lynard Skynard. I love the idea that I am
free to write, free to publish at my discretion and free to speak my story. My
mentor, Terri Valentine, an award winning romance author told me to never let
an editor take my voice away. The traditional world of publishing has been
bogged down with so many self interests that it will soon be a dying breed.
Right now, it’s better to be a Free Bird.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Where you can purchase <b>The Prophecy</b>:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span class="ecxprojectsummarydescription"><span style="color: windowtext; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dragons-Tale-The-Prophecy-Book/dp/1480064629/ref=pd_rhf_ee_p_t_1" style="cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">Amazon Page</a></span></span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span class="ecxprojectsummarydescription"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Connect with <b>Mark Boyd:</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Website: <a href="http://www.adragonstale.net/" target="_blank">A Dragon's Tale website</a><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span class="ecxprojectsummarydescription"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6853890.MR_Mark_Boyd" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Goodreads</span></a></span></div>
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Richie Earlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11556365610232281695noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7052741189411010176.post-55519342818332531062014-04-10T07:30:00.000+01:002014-04-10T07:30:05.530+01:00Jason's Indie Review - Fiona Skye's "Faerie Tales" on One Thousand Worlds<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Faerie Tales</h3>
<u></u><br />
<u>Faerie Tales</u> is the first book of the "Revelations" trilogy by Fiona Skye. Ms. Skye can be found on Twitter (<a href="http://www.twitter.com/FionaSkyeWriter">@FionaSkyeWriter</a>), Google+ (<a class="g-profile" href="https://plus.google.com/117482787688044741887" target="_blank">+Fiona Skye</a>) or at her blog (<a href="http://fiona-skye.com/">http://fiona-skye.com/</a>). I met her on Twitter and she gave me a copy of <u>Faerie Tales</u> for an honest review. You can find the book on Amazon (<a href="http://amzn.to/1imESg0">http://amzn.to/1imESg0</a>).<br />
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Faerie Tales was featured on One Thousand Worlds in February 2014. You can read that post <a href="http://onethousandworlds.blogspot.co.uk/2014/02/FS.html" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://fiona-skye.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/BookCoverPreviewSmall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://fiona-skye.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/BookCoverPreviewSmall.jpg" height="320" width="211" /></a><em>Riley O'Rourke is a werejaguar responsible for exposing the world of the Preternatural to the rest of Humanity. But not all the things that go bump in the night are happy with the new world order.<br /><br />The Queen of the Winter Court, a cruel and vicious faerie, is determined to punish Riley for her role in the Night of Revelations and sends some of the nastiest storybook characters imaginable after her.<br /><br />Salvation comes from the Summer Queen, who asks Riley to steal a magical artifact from the Winter Queen, a mirror that will determine the winner in the eternal war between the Fae Courts. Riley's reward for returning the mirror is the protection of the Summer Court.<br /><br />Joining Riley on this quest are her mentor, a 3,000-year-old vampire, and Riley's lover, a federal law enforcement agent with a secret of his own.<br /><br />Their successful completion of this quest has unexpected consequences that could doom the entire world.</em><br />
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Fiona Skye writes well in <u>Faerie Tales</u>. She has a sharp command of language, and the book comes across well edited. I was impressed with how Ms. Skye's prose flows throughout the book. <br />
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As I read this book, I most enjoyed the way Ms. Skye intertwines several different types of modern fantasy details into the novel. There are were-creatures (not just wolves either, but many animal types), vampires, faeries, and magicians. Magic exists, both old and new. Ms. Skye takes the time to mix various real life myths and superstitions into one universe, and I found it worked to move the story along.<br />
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The book is written in the first person, from Riley's point of view. It makes sense then, when Riley transforms, so does the author's writing style. The character changes to something more primal and instinctual, no longer concerned with telling a story. The glimpses of "Jaguar's" motivations and understanding of the world added to Riley's own emotions about being a preternatural.<br />
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If there was one part of the book I had trouble connecting with, it is with Riley and her romantic relationships. As a man married most of my adult life, I could not relate to Riley in this regard. Riley struggles with her feelings toward a love interest throughout the book. Still, Ms. Skye spends ample time explaining Riley's troubled past, which helps put Riley's struggles into perspective. <br />
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I wonder if in the future Riley will come to realize some of her issues with relationships are actually based in how the character approaches relationships and sexuality in the first place. It would be interesting to see her grow in this regard in future books, and not fall into some sort of "love conquers all" simple solution.<br />
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While the book is a little slow to build up to the action, I was satisfied in the end. I felt the book successfully sets up the world in which Riley lives and builds the necessary tensions and antagonists that will take the trilogy forward into book two.<br />
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I am excited to see how Fiona Skye continues the Revelations Trilogy. She most impressed me with her clean writing style and ability to intertwine a number of disparate elements into a cohesive world. <br />
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I recommend <u>Faerie Tales</u> to anyone looking for a modern fantasy tale of magic and preternatural action with a little romance thrown in, and look forward to seeing more of Ms. Skye's work in the future.</div>
Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7052741189411010176.post-68180109982562251322014-04-08T07:30:00.000+01:002014-04-08T08:00:50.870+01:00Author Interview - Raymond Bolton on One Thousand Worlds<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>One Thousand Worlds</b> is delighted to welcome back <b>Raymond Bolton,</b> who featured here last month with the first </span><a href="http://onethousandworlds.blogspot.co.uk/2014/03/RB.html" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;" target="_blank">1000 words</a><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> of <b>Awakening</b>.</span><br />
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<span lang="EN"><b>About Raymond Bolton:<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">My goal is to craft gripping stories about the human condition, whether they are set here or another world. I've written poetry, for which I've received some recognition, and four novels. Two are explorations in science fiction: Awakening, an epic, released in January, 2014, and Thought Gazer, an adventure, part of a planned trilogy and prequel to the epic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">In 2013, under its working title, Renunciation, Awakening was one of eight finalists among 950 entries from the <st1:country-region w:st="on">U.S.</st1:country-region>, the <st1:country-region w:st="on">U.K.</st1:country-region>, <st1:country-region w:st="on">Canada</st1:country-region>, Europe and <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Australia</st1:place></st1:country-region> in the Pacific Northwest Writers Associations Literary Contest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HMSEVVC" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisamVMCaLr8bmv-PKWZ5Pj9LsPjMcVh7mPrc3mUCLU7dm_OkcIW1QIHFL0mtEODuptTxmF8gTfhNwn_aDb4WrV_QPZYEIN720eIxIpKRXOT6kFEy0on0lvD_qD35DfPQgI_Ck_4OY7Qy2d/s1600/Awakening-Amazon.jpeg" height="400" width="266" /></a></div>
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<b style="text-indent: 18pt;">Tell us about your
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I assume by this you mean my most recently published book,
which would be my debut novel, <i>Awakening</i>.
This was the first book I ever wrote, and when I finished it for the first
time, it read like it. Even now, I have a hard time rereading the original
draft, a meandering 174,000 word behemoth my wife rightly termed verbose. Over
the course of several more years spent honing my craft by studying accomplished
authors and writing other books, I kept returning to it, tightening the
language, strengthening the plot, eliminating unnecessary subplots. You see,
despite my inadequacies as a writer, I always believed in its underlying story.</div>
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Today, the recognition it is winning, like being one of
eight finalists among nearly one thousand entries in a major literary
competition, and the stellar reviews it has earned, tell me the efforts were
worth it.</div>
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<b>How many books have
you written?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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I have completed four novels. Two, including <i>Awakening</i>, are science fiction
explorations. Two others are political thrillers. While I enjoy basing my
stories in the real world, the amount of research it takes to produce compelling,
credible work draws out production time to two years or more per book. In order
to maintain a readership, I believe I would need three or four completed novels
at the ready, while working on another, to be able to publish a series at the
rate today’s readers demand. Consequently, I will probably stick to the sort of
other-world sci-fi stories I can produce annually.</div>
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<b>What are you working
on at the moment?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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I am developing <i>Awakening</i>’s
prequel trilogy. Currently, I am engaged in the second rewrite of <i>Thought Gazer,</i> the trilogy’s first
volume and have already completed seven chapters of <i>Foreteller,</i> the volume to follow.</div>
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<b>What are the most
important attributes to remaining sane as a writer?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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You mean aside from caffeine? Hah! I, for one, need to keep
in touch with other people, not only through the social networks, but face to
face, skin to skin. Fortunately, my day job as a high-end hairdresser working
in two cities 1,100 miles apart helps incredibly. The people in my chair, as
well as those in the seat next to me as I fly, have stories to tell that keep
me in touch with my humanity. And, eventually, these stories turn into
characters.</div>
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<b>How much impact does
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Like many, I was bullied as a child. I was always the nerdy
one. Fortunately for me, instead of allowing my tormentors to claim victory by
beating me into docile submission, I fought back—not only physically, but
psychologically and emotionally. The sensitivity I developed manifests as
multi-dimensional characters.</div>
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<b>What was the greatest
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That life’s greatest lessons are not learned in school.</div>
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<b>If you could meet any
of your own characters, who would it be?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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I suppose I would like to meet Pithien Dur—a telepathic
outlaw with an attitude.</div>
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<b>Do you have a
favourite character among the ones you've invented?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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No. I love them all. I hope that shows when people read
about them.</div>
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<b>What do you want to
be when you grow up?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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You mean “if.” Although running businesses in both Portland,
Oregon and Santa Fe, New Mexico requires a great deal of maturity and
responsibility, I would hate to lose the child-like imagination that spawns my
stories.</div>
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<b>If you could trade
places with any other person for a week, famous or not famous, living or dead,
real or fictional, with whom would it be?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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There was a time when I could have named someone. Not any
more. After years trying to get to the heart of me, to work out who I am, I am
finally content with whom I have become. In the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson, “<span lang="EN-US">We shall not cease from exploration,
and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know
the place for the first time.”</span><b><o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 12.25pt;">You can purchase <b>Awakening </b>from Amazon:</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 12.25pt;">In paperback at</span><span class="apple-converted-space" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 12.25pt;"> </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/0991347102" style="background-color: white; cursor: pointer; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 12.25pt;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #0068cf;">US</span></a><span class="apple-converted-space" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 12.25pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 12.25pt;">Kindle edition at </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 12.25pt;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HMSEVVC" style="cursor: pointer; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 12.25pt;" target="_blank">US</a></span><br />
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In paperback at <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Awakening-Ydron-Saga-Raymond-Bolton/dp/0991347102" target="_blank">UK</a><br />
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Kindle edition <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Awakening-Ydron-Saga-Raymond-Bolton-ebook/dp/B00HMSEVVC" target="_blank">UK</a><br />
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Connect with <b>Raymond Bolten</b>:</div>
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<span style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/RaymondBoltonAuthor" style="cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">Facebook Author Page</a></span>
</span><a href="http://www.raymondbolton.com/" style="cursor: pointer; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 12.25pt;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #0068cf;">Website/blog</span></a></pre>
<pre style="background-color: white; line-height: 12.25pt;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;">
Twitter at <a href="https://twitter.com/RaymondBolton" target="_blank">@RaymondBolton</a> </span></pre>
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Richie Earlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11556365610232281695noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7052741189411010176.post-70935295464600324122014-04-05T07:30:00.000+01:002014-04-05T07:30:01.917+01:00Author Interview - Jeffrey G. Roberts on One Thousand Worlds<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">One Thousand Worlds </b><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">today has the pleasure of interviewing </span><b style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Jeffrey G. Roberts</b><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">.</span><br />
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">About
Jeffrey Roberts-<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I was born 2/24/49, in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">New York City</st1:place></st1:city>. I graduated from North Miami
Senior High, in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">N. Miami</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">Florida</st1:state></st1:place>, in 1968. I attended <st1:placename w:st="on">Northern</st1:placename> <st1:placename w:st="on">Arizona</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype w:st="on">University</st1:placetype>, in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Flagstaff</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">Arizona</st1:state></st1:place>,
receiving degrees in writing and history. My hometown is <st1:city w:st="on">Ft.
Lauderdale</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">Florida</st1:state>, but 3 years
ago I moved to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Tucson</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">Arizona</st1:state></st1:place>. I have written 7 novels and 10
short stories; mostly science fiction, fantasy, horror, and comedy. <i>The Healer</i> is the 1<sup>st</sup> to be
published, by BookLocker.com. I have a life-long interest in aviation, having
soloed in 1968, while attending <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Miami-Dade</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype w:st="on">Junior College</st1:placetype></st1:place>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrGAYfYMTqU_s-pkAHiymuLRTyVJVWCxpS3U-T1di4pFpeB6RRtmlsiyXsew2tQVanhRYwggPfLFRD-xUAeeAzIDKVPhN3pf3Z-6fNJRrQ6TLsOKlYoRp7EoIQuidWOx0ONPvWSW2LsnIX/s1600/Front2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrGAYfYMTqU_s-pkAHiymuLRTyVJVWCxpS3U-T1di4pFpeB6RRtmlsiyXsew2tQVanhRYwggPfLFRD-xUAeeAzIDKVPhN3pf3Z-6fNJRrQ6TLsOKlYoRp7EoIQuidWOx0ONPvWSW2LsnIX/s1600/Front2.jpg" height="400" width="285" /></a></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Tell us
about your latest book.</span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My latest book <i>The Healer,</i> is a science fiction novel set in the year 2181. Dr.
Reynolds Cully is awarded a Harvard grant to travel to Mars with his family.
His assignment is to research the physiology of an ancient race there, now long
extinct. All their recorded history lies within the titanic edifice known as
The Face on Mars. But while there, authorities discover an eons old Martian
time/space travel device. This is apparently how they explored the universe,
when dinosaurs still ruled our Earth. But a mystery has always intrigued him:
he is granted a National Science Foundation grant to use the ancient device,
and travel to Earth in the year 2013, to try and solve the medical mystery
known as The Great Alaskan Plague of 2012. Eventually he does reveal the cause.
But unbeknownst to him, back in 2181 Mars, a sinister group of religious
zealots known as the Creation Purity Brigade, believe unearthing of Martian
artifacts and cultural icons is sacrilege and blasphemy to Judeo-Christianity.
And they blow up the time/space travel apparatus! Dr. Cully is now stranded in
a violent & primitive world – ours; 168 years and 150 million miles from
his wife & children. How will he survive? How will he heal using 22<sup>nd</sup>
century technology, without exposing his real identity; and possibly altering
the course of history in doing so? It is a crisis of conscience he must grapple
with. But he has no choice. For he is – THE HEALER.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">How
many books have you written?</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I have written 7 books. THE HEALER is the first
to be published, by Booklocker.com.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">What
are you working on at the moment?</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">At the moment I am working on # 8, a novel entitled
<i>The Horror on the H.M.S. Cottingly; </i>a
comedy science fiction story, <i>My Pet
Carrot Speaks Norwegian; </i>and an essay, <i>The
Cult of Infinite Complexity.</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">What
are the most important attributes to remaining sane as a writer?</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The most important attributes to remaining sane
as a writer are: faith in a higher power, enough sleep, treating yourself
occasionally to comfort foods, good friends, a hobby or diversion, and a
55-gallon drum of industrial strength Ibuprofen right next to your computer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">How
much impact does your childhood have on your writing?</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My childhood impact on my writing had to be more
nature than nurture: my father was a writer for the radio show <i>Duffy’s Tavern</i>, after the end of WW II.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">What
was the greatest thing you learned at school?</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The greatest thing I learned in school (<st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Northern</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Arizona</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype w:st="on">University</st1:placetype></st1:place>)
is that creativity & imagination cannot be taught. They are innate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">If you
could meet any of your own characters, who would it be?</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">If I could meet any of my characters, it would
have to be Dr. Reynolds Cully, of <i>The
Healer.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Do you
have a favourite character among the ones you've invented?</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">One of my favorite characters would have to be
Ogden D. Fwipplesnifter, from my fantasy/comedy novel <i>The Weird and Wondrous Bottle.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">What do
you want to be when you grow up?</span></b><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">What do I want to be when I grow up? Who says I
have any intention of growing up? But when I <i>was </i>growing up I wanted to be a test pilot. My ultimate dream job
would have been to work for NASA on the Mars exploration team. But math
aptitude was never my strong suit. So much for astronautical engineering. <i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">If you
could trade places with any other person for a week, famous or not famous,
living or dead, real or fictional. with whom would it be?</span></b><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">If I could trade places with someone for a week,
it would probably be either Donald Trump- for his money- or Dr. Franklin Chang
Diaz, former NASA astronaut, and physicist who now heads Ad Astra Corp.,
developer of the VASIMIR engine for interplanetary flight, which will be
capable of speeds of 123,000 miles per hour.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">What do
you think about when you are alone in your car?</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I don’t think about anything in my car because I
no longer own one. Eventually I will again. But when I did own one, I usually
concentrated on where I was going, and my driving.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">What
song best describes your work ethic?</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The song that best describes my work ethic? <i>I Did It My Way</i>, by Frank Sinatra.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Where you can purchase <b>The Healer:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/1626468648/ref=cm_sw_r_fa_dp_mwi-sb1BJAAVXKNE" id="ecxyiv0276673600yui_3_13_0_ym1_1_1395168044453_5890" rel="" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-healer-jeffrey-g-roberts/1118201363" rel="" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">Barnes and Noble</a></span></div>
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Connect with <b>Jeffrey G. Roberts:</b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://twitter.com/talejotter" rel="" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">Twitter</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20691277-the-healer" id="ecxyiv0276673600yui_3_13_0_ym1_1_1395168044453_5891" rel="" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">Goodreads</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://www.atalespinner.weebly.com/" rel="" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">Website</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://booklocker.com/books/7244.html" rel="" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">Publisher page</a></span></div>
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Richie Earlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11556365610232281695noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7052741189411010176.post-67241718524983160172014-04-04T07:30:00.002+01:002014-04-21T15:16:00.792+01:00Whispers of a Storm (Book One of the Storm Trilogy) by Anthony Lavisher - A One Thousand World Review<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4_mhFwnSAZE0dfxxfcY6mQQJEW7GXLvEsN6wmdqZuFdUF8GNHZiz54yCLxwO8Nm5QUy-4kCbaTGmkMRv-B-9BSPgoWNa7fh_T8kAy-WrtIzu6P4L-pnnDBpbPq_82Gl9t4JxDRZUfvMcv/s1600/Whispers_of_a_Storm_Cover_for_Kindle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4_mhFwnSAZE0dfxxfcY6mQQJEW7GXLvEsN6wmdqZuFdUF8GNHZiz54yCLxwO8Nm5QUy-4kCbaTGmkMRv-B-9BSPgoWNa7fh_T8kAy-WrtIzu6P4L-pnnDBpbPq_82Gl9t4JxDRZUfvMcv/s1600/Whispers_of_a_Storm_Cover_for_Kindle.jpg" height="400" width="250" /></a>If you enjoy a well written epic fantasy adventure, then you won't go far wrong in reading <b>Whispers of a Storm</b><b>. </b>It is the first book in what promises to be a great trilogy and no doubt the start of a blossoming writing career for its author <b>Anthony Lavisher. </b>Anthony is kindly offering a signed copy as the first prize in a giveaway, with an ebook version for the first three runners-up. For a chance to win, scroll to the end of this post.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><b>The Blurb</b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">The inhabitants of the Four Vales have enjoyed over fifty years of relative peace, since its armies defeated the Reven Hordes threatening their homeland. Under the fair rule and guidance of the high duke, its people have thrived and prospered, free from the shadows of war. The Vales are peaceful and the capital city Karick is quiet. But in the gardens of the high duke's keep, dark plots are whispered and fell deeds being planned. A humble stonemason falls asleep whilst working in the gardens and upon waking, inadvertently overhears a conversation that plunges him deep into the heart of the coming storm. A young noblewoman is to be kidnapped and used as a pawn in this dark game... Whispers of a Storm follows the stonemason and noblewoman's fortunes as they unwittingly become involved in a dangerous game of survival, as they try to find out what dark storm is about to break out across the Four Vales. Who would seek to unsettle this harmony? Why would they want to? How can the stonemason and noblewoman discover what is going to happen and more importantly, expose those behind the plot, before it is too late. A tale of political intrigue and high adventure, Book One of The Storm Trilogy follows the fortunes of two individuals, whose personal journey of survival may yet help to save and shape the future of their homeland</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 8.5pt;">.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_r0Oi8O-UyAG2qZHdqWFL9MFz_xAGcX5VYEmLaFSmG532vWvL5XI3DZvSOHSkh7z51bRhmh5mNK3IctlcqwyOtsFTwk-BYcZ53QjWYam21fEWc5ak67EkE2xZlyUaMVzBG0MauyM4Aw5U/s1600/Anthony+Pic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_r0Oi8O-UyAG2qZHdqWFL9MFz_xAGcX5VYEmLaFSmG532vWvL5XI3DZvSOHSkh7z51bRhmh5mNK3IctlcqwyOtsFTwk-BYcZ53QjWYam21fEWc5ak67EkE2xZlyUaMVzBG0MauyM4Aw5U/s1600/Anthony+Pic.JPG" height="200" width="138" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: blue;">Richie's Review</span></h4>
Although this is Anthony Lavisher’s debut novel, he is clearly a wordsmith of much merit. Whispers of a Storm is an intriguing, beautifully written story following the fortunes, or more like the misfortunes, of the immigrant stonemason Khadazin, and Cassana, daughter of the Lord of the North Vales.</div>
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The story sets off at a great pace, jumping straight into the action. Lavisher paints vibrant scenes which appeal to all the reader’s senses. He expertly builds a believable world populated by some great characters, tantalising the reader with many as yet unanswered questions – this is the first instalment of a trilogy.</div>
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I certainly enjoyed all the different strands of the story, especially the parts concerning Khadazin. Whispers of a Storm is a fast-paced page turner, which maintained its inexorable pace more or less throughout, switching from one story line to the other. Being harsh, there was a very occasional typo, but this in no way spoiled my enjoyment of an excellent book.</div>
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There’s a great cliff-hanger ending, which left me looking forward with excitement to reading the soon to be released second book of the series.</div>
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Overall, Whispers of a Storm is a thoroughly enjoyable and beautifully written story.</div>
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<b><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: large;">One Thousand Worlds' rating: 5 stars<i>.</i></span></b></h3>
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<b><i>(Buy it now!)</i></b></div>
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<b><i><br /></i></b></div>
<b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">You can purchase Whispers of a Storm from</span></b><b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">:</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://viewbook.at/B007TN9VE2" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/whispers-of-a-storm" target="_blank">Kobo</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.bookdepository.co.uk/Whispers-Storm-MR-Anthony-Lavisher/9781494400125" target="_blank">Book Depository:</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/book/whispers-of-a-storm/id595762729?mt=11" target="_blank">iTunes</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/274265" target="_blank">Smashwords</a><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/whispers-of-a-storm-anthony-lavisher/1101567214?ean=2940044256262" target="_blank">Barnes & Noble</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Connect with <b>Anthony Lavisher:</b></div>
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<a href="http://alavisher.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Website</a><br />
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<a href="http://twitter.com/alavisher" target="_blank">Twitter</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4242577.Anthony_Lavisher" target="_blank">Goodreads</a></div>
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<a href="https://plus.google.com/102712490566399197548/posts" target="_blank">Google+</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Anthony-Lavisher-Author/118025884963443" target="_blank">Facebook</a><br />
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<a href="http://allianceindependentauthors.org/a/91" target="_blank">Alliance of Independent Authors</a></div>
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Reviewed by Richie Earl. Please note that I purchased this book after recently coming into contact with the author via Twitter.<br />
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Richie Earlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11556365610232281695noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7052741189411010176.post-24504303479514200602014-04-02T07:30:00.000+01:002014-04-02T07:30:01.431+01:00Further Explorations (David Russell) in One Thousand Words<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 20.99431800842285px;"><b>Further Explorations</b></span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b style="line-height: 22px;"> </b><span style="line-height: 22px;">by </span><span style="line-height: 21.988636016845703px;"><b>David Russell</b></span><span style="line-height: 22px;"> </span>is today's feature on <b>One Thousand Worlds</b>.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><span style="line-height: 20.99431800842285px;">Further Explorations</span>-</b></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18.933332443237305px;">Energised by their lovely liberating experience, Janice and Cedric are determined to ‘spread their wings’ and take the world by storm, a two-person conspiracy. They head off physically in different directions, but remain in constant depth communication electronically, ever comparing notes, monitoring each other’s minds and experiences for a depth of mutual understanding. They may meet again fully equipped with a great depth of self-knowledge, and a knowledge of each other’s depth. They negotiate giddy peaks of high finance; Janice even does into ‘dreamscape’, making a pact with the devil. Further delights of sensuality are explored by both, with exotic partners; the depths and shallows of life are all embraced …</span></span>
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<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">About the author-</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">b. 1940. Resident in the <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">UK</st1:place></st1:country-region>. Writer of
poetry, literary criticism, speculative fiction and romance. Main poetry
collection <i>Prickling Counterpoints</i>
(1998); poems published in online <i>International
Times.</i> Main speculative works <i>High
Wired On </i>(2002); <i>Rock Bottom</i>
(2005). Translation of Spanish epic <i>La Araucana</i>,
Amazon 2013. Romances: <i>Self’s Blossom</i>;
<i>Explorations</i>; <i>Further Explorations</i>; <i>Therapy
Rapture</i>; <i>Darlene, An Ecstatic
Rendezvous </i>(all pub Extasy (Devine Destinies). Singer-songwriter/guitarist.
Main CD albums <i>Bacteria Shrapnel</i> and <i>Kaleidoscope Concentrate. </i>Many tracks on
You Tube, under ‘Dave Russell’</span><i> <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="background: white; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-highlight: white;">They beamed at each other, sizing up their physiques
again, comparing their respective performances which had led up to that climax.
Then Janice breathily broke the silence. “You were an astral rocket, surging,
grounding, resurging.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="background: white; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-highlight: white;">“And you the booster supreme.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="background: white; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-highlight: white;">After a final hug, they wistfully shrugged, along with
smiles and suspicions of tears. “We’ve both got our planes to catch,
darling…we’re all wired up.” They turned their backs on each other going down
their separate lanes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="background: white; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-highlight: white;">Janice and Cedric’s bittersweet parting, executed with
watertight composure, froze that moment of perfection. Their state-of-the-art
arrangements, so efficient in sustaining long-term contact were so effortlessly
executed—miraculously, none of the hitches either of them experienced with
their other contacts—that they simply had to have been exquisitely
premeditated, but all the more because, regarding functioning in the immediate
present, they were both prone to fumble and stutter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="background: white; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-highlight: white;">Yet, there was a sense of permanence in that kaleidoscope
world of fleeting acquaintances. Shattering glasses always sharpens, enriches
the vision. Closet pyromania fantasy makes every dreamer dynamic—visions of the
inferno, crashing of all solid architecture, but with the stench of charred
flesh blanked off. Such an abundance of good looks and vibrant expressions
passing by on the streets; it felt that any one of them had destructive
potential, mighty cataracts at close quarters. The diffusion of that potential
sustains the world’s equilibrium, global spark potential.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="background: white; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-highlight: white;">As they lived so exclusively for the depths, the buoyant
currents of life had forced them up to the surface, to embrace the shallows,
while sustaining their ability to forsake them, in perfect control of their
natural buoyancy. That was the precarious stability engendered by their
conjoint imbalance, melding of premeditation and blind panic, undermining and
invigorating—generating a zest for life through the threat of its loss. But
privately, they both missed the comfort of a little warming clumsiness. Living
without it was like negotiating ungritted ice on a road—so easy to be injured
if the path is too smooth, and the ugly, grinding monster can be a saviour.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">If it was a matter of being nourished by
the celebrity images, there was some potential there of Hugh Grant meeting
Renée Zellweger—weights adjusted just right without painful drab dieting,
though they were both thorough in burning away the calories. Perhaps next time,
they could let go a little, though each of them always looked naturally spruce
and together. Their negatives were revealing full images in the darkroom, the
changing room, the transformation room, under the common denominator of its red
light—great to contemplate the universal monochrome, fabulous the flaunting,
waving of the leanness to reach out for their ideals. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">It is good that kindred souls sustain
contact when travelling in opposite directions. Vacua are good for slow-tempo
reflection… <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">Geographically, their paths and areas had
been quite close since childhood. Their respective parents’ careers had been
near parallel in terms of both town and position in the hierarchy. Minute
adjustments, of course, could easily have driven them oceans apart. But as
things actually mapped out, in the cold, fluorescent light of reality,
early-life setbacks were happily avoided while their protective shells
hardened. Their respective cynicisms had come to full fruition and then their
sophistication cracked and burst with full pollen prior to their encounter.
From the bottom of the jaded fatigue of disillusionment, they could only rise,
bubbles in the bottle, beaming at all their onlookers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">Now they would expand their disrobing into
global recklessness. The repartee, live and
electronic, proliferated and ricocheted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN">They’ve got the right to do
what they want to do with each other and keep themselves to themselves, and
don’t bother anyone, </span></i><span lang="EN">thought Janice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">“Yes, I appreciate that the
boundaries of tolerance are shifting dramatically, but we can’t just stand
still…” mused Cedric.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN">Having speculated so long, so
timidly about becoming swingers—and with a great deal of initial revulsion,
they had at last done so. Having lagged so long in the rear, they had jumped to
the head of their queues without jostling, without pushing. The tides of change
had broken down each one’s formidable, well-tried barriers. And in this case,
miraculously, the reality made a snug fit with the anticipation and reverie.
They made high fidelity recordings with their memories. Ok, so there might be
subsequent evaporation, a dry, crumpled-parchment residue, but perhaps
renewable with a suitable inundation.</span></i><span lang="EN"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN">The museums are so
state-of-the-art now when there is such a polarity between their
structure-shells and their contents. Those obscure vaults long ago lost the
allure of their inaccessibility. So many now can be satisfied by reproductions
or flickering images of their contents. The antique facades are now so brazenly
open to the stonemason. Mentally, perhaps physically, they would become
daredevil athletes</span></i><span lang="EN">…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">They simultaneously fired that
starting-gun of supreme adventure at each other. “It’s time to burn the boats!”
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">Theirs was the ice-skating
giddiness of euphoria, with its swirling skirt concomitants—its figure eights.
Janice felt a few querying ripples about her orientation. Sometimes it felt it
was fuzzying and melting round the edges, the aesthetics of concocting an
eclair. She did appreciate beautiful women, those ballerinas, runners,
swimmers—yes, and skaters! <i>She loved to see herself as she would love others
to see her, galvanise the cameras, be their elusive, flirtatious magnet. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">Cedric did indeed have some
androgynous, near-feminine grace about him. Perhaps this had been a precious,
isolated incident to compare, contrast and counterpoint, manipulate the borderlines,
her mirror-image, melting the gender barriers including her gaining some
desired hardness—or maybe massed mirrors, modulating every angle. <i>Or did
she, at heart, wish to stand before eternity as a crystalline statue</i>—<i>posthumously
fulfilled? </i>A pilgrimage to the great melting-pot seemed called for. In her
fantasy, she could coach him to become her ideal. <i>They had both enjoyed
their mudlarking as kids, before appearances took over and they polished their
presentable interfaces for the smooth world.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="background: white; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-highlight: white;">Again, they had attended many of the same cycling
rallies, but never meeting, each radiating impeccable chic with
state-of-the-art crash helmets, elbow and knee pads. Superbly enjoyable events,
great heady highs without hangovers, defiantly streaming past those harassed
motorists in their traffic-jam queues—neither had witnessed a crash.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />
Where you can purchase <b>Further Explorations</b>:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Further-Explorations-David-Russell-ebook/dp/B0076RXE62" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Further-Explorations-David-Russell-ebook/dp/B0076RXE62/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1396394395&sr=1-1&keywords=further+explorations+david+russell" target="_blank">Amazon US</a></div>
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Richie Earlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11556365610232281695noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7052741189411010176.post-1332324100546905982014-03-25T05:30:00.000+00:002014-04-14T14:44:19.722+01:00The Prophecy - A Dragon's Tale, Book 1 (Mark Boyd) in One Thousand Words<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 20.99431800842285px;"><b>The Prophecy</b></span><b style="line-height: 22px;"> </b><span style="line-height: 22px;">by </span><span style="line-height: 21.988636016845703px;"><b>Mark Boyd</b></span><span style="line-height: 22px;"> </span>is today's feature on <b>One Thousand Worlds</b>. </span><span style="font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21px;">Mark is the author of the trilogy - A
Dragons Tale. You can preview all three books and excerpts at
<a href="http://www.adragonstale.net/" target="_blank">www.adragonstale.net</a> Book 1 - The Prophecy has been available for a little over a year. Book 2 - The Book of Genevieve
is due out in mid to end of April this year.</span></span><br />
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The Prophecy-<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span class="ecxprojectsummarydescription">The prophecy, a
foretelling of a great king born of dragon-human-elven blood that unites all of
the races in a millennium of peace is an ancient story told to all dragon
hatchlings from the Dragon Book of Lore. A foretelling born of old majic,
through the centuries, became just another story to give the young hope. The
old believed…the young cannot perceive how it could ever manifest; who would
ever want to be other than pure blood dragon? The prophecy existed in story
only, until Anaterri Strayarth, a blue dragon living in human form and the
daughter of Stragor Strayarth – Head of the High Council of Dragons, saves the
life of Prince Leandro Sargovia with a transfusion of her dragon blood. The
unification of human-dragon blood sets in motion the beginning of the once
dormant tale and a love that transcends time. </span><br />
<span class="ecxprojectsummarydescription">Grand Magi Aloysius Alamaris, a black
dragon hiding in human form, learns of the initiation of the prophecy and plots
the ultimate destruction of all who seek to bring the prophecy to fruition.
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<span class="ecxprojectsummarydescription">Anaterri and Leandro are now pitted
against the ultimate evil, fighting not only for their own lives but also the
lives of their children…and they must insure the prophecy is allowed to
manifest…at all cost.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">About the author-</span></b><br />
<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
<span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I began reading fantasy at an early age; the Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings trilogy was one of my first and favorite. Fantasy was my escape when my own world wasn't going so well. I never thought I would be blessed to add to the world of fantasy but my dragon friends had other ideas. I only hope you enjoy reading the trilogy, as much as I have in writing it. I am forever grateful to the dragon intelligence that has infused my consciousness, awakening memories and giving me the ability to bring their story to life.</span></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Chapter 1<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> The
outlaws were close, he couldn't see them but sensed them near; soft murmurs of
their voices carried back to him through the unnatural fog. There was
no time for indecisiveness. He had trained his entire life for a moment such as
this. Drawing his long sword he spurred his stallion forward unconcerned with
the fallen tree lying across the trail. His mount would clear it easily.
Half way over his mind screamed, "<i>Trap</i>!"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">~~~~<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
Anaterri Strayarth looked forward to a quiet afternoon in her kitchen.
Discovering several plants growing in the forest, not previously known to her,
she was excited about blending them for new remedies. She enjoyed being in human
form, not typical for most dragons. It was important when creating delicate
healing remedies that she have fingers with which to work instead of talons.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> She’d
taken human form when moving to the Northland two hundred years ago. It allowed
her to practice her healing arts without scaring the local outlanders. She had
become known as “the healer in the forest.” She healed as many animal
friends as people. Although the Sargovia family was the official warden of the
Northland forests, she was truly the “hidden” warden.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Going
about her day in joy, quietly humming a favorite tune, Anaterri was suddenly
invaded with a heart-stopping vision thought causing her to drop the bowl of
flower infusion she had just created.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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“Prince Leandro is going to die soon. You must get to him immediately.”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> The
stag, she recognized his vision thought. Leaping the shattered bowl she rushed
to the window, her knowings confirmed. Standing at the edge of the clearing,
his large brown eyes were firmly fixed on the cottage. She’d encountered him a
number of times in the last two hundred years. He’d never engage her in thought
exchange but his eye contact was now unmistakable.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Visions past from him were usually dream like, allowing her time to plan a
solution or at least an ending with a successful outcome. <span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="color: #444444;"> </span></span>However,
this visitation was like none she’d ever experienced. It was clear and precise
and demanded immediate action. Appearing only when there was a need to save a
life, he was the messenger but not the answer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Prince Leandro Sargovia was in the forest and about to be ambushed by outlaws
he’d been tracking. One of the outlaws possessed majic and the Prince’s life
was in extreme danger. Distracted temporarily by the impact of the stag’s
vision thought, Anaterri looked back but he was gone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Moving quickly toward the door, she extended her right hand drawing her short
sword to her from its place on the wall. Slipping the scabbard easily down the
back of her gown, the door opened automatically as she approached it; a red fox
was waiting to lead her to Leandro.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Amidst the jeers and taunts she could hear from a distance, she silently found
her way to the site. Before her was a pit, narrow and deep, filled with large
spikes protruding from all directions. Her anger flashed as she saw Leandro
struggling to free himself. Acting immediately, knowing the majority of human
men to be predictable, she stepped from her hiding place in the woods. She was
instantly aware of the one with majic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> The
leader turned instinctively as if sensing her presence. She knew exactly what
he saw. It was her intent to distract him with the vision of a strikingly
beautiful woman, tall and slender with raven black hair and emerald green eyes.
The light blue gown she wore accentuated her breasts and slender waist. While
he leered at her, she stood perfectly still assessing the situation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> The
outlaws following the focus of their leader, turned from the pit. Lustful looks
revealed their thoughts. Their quarry, impaled on stakes, was going
nowhere. <span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="color: #444444;"> </span></span>Staring at her like a pack of hungry wolves
as to a lamb separated from the flock, they moved to surround her, not able to
take their eyes from her. The leader closed on her first, licking his lips as
he rubbed his groin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
Staying calm, Anaterri let them get within striking distance. From the scabbard
concealed on her back she wielded the short sword with lightning speed and in
one swift movement severed the head of the leader, cutting through the jugular
of the man beside him. <span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="color: #444444;"> </span></span>The third man
started to draw his sword. It never made it out of his scabbard; he was dead
before he knew it, a short sword through his heart. The fourth man turned to
flee making it no farther than a few feet before she caught him from behind.
His head slapped the ground at an unnatural angle, his body lifeless.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> <span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="color: #444444;"> </span></span>She
did not care for killing, unless it was for survival, especially killing humans
and yet she did not have any compunction for killing the likes of these
four. <span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="color: #444444;"> </span></span>She’d witnessed their sick delight taunting
Prince Leandro in the pit. No, no, she felt no remorse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> <span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="color: #444444;"> </span></span>Turning
to the pit, she saw the limp body sitting atop a steed who was struggling
desperately in the last throes of life. The spikes, driven through the great
beast, were penetrating Leandro’s lower body. There were also spikes lodged in
the sides of the pit that had punctured areas of the prince’s sides as he’d
struggled to free himself. Shifting immediately to her dragon self Anaterri was
large enough to straddle the pit, gently pulling the prince free from his
horse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Clear
of the pit, she reverted to her human form. Gazing at the still body before
her, she proceeded to tear Leandro’s clothing open attempting to stem the
bleeding. Using her majic, she ran her hands over the wounds effectively stopping
the blood flow. In the process, she sensed a poison in the wounds she was not
familiar with. Having lost a lot of blood, Leandro appeared lifeless; his pulse
was weak. <span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="color: #444444;"> </span></span>Focusing on the wounds already taking on a
gangrenous look, she cast a spell to stem the flow of poison through his body.
She needed to get him to Queen Angeline in the Southland. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Where you can purchase <b>The Prophecy</b>:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Amazon page:<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="ecxprojectsummarydescription"><span style="color: windowtext; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dragons-Tale-The-Prophecy-Book/dp/1480064629/ref=pd_rhf_ee_p_t_1" style="cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">http://www.amazon.com/Dragons-Tale-The-Prophecy-Book/dp/1480064629/ref=pd_rhf_ee_p_t_1</a></span></span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="ecxprojectsummarydescription"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Connect with <b>Mark Boyd:</b></span></span></div>
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<span class="ecxprojectsummarydescription"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span class="ecxprojectsummarydescription"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Website: <a href="http://www.adragonstale.net/" target="_blank">A Dragon's Tale website</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="ecxprojectsummarydescription"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6853890.MR_Mark_Boyd" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Goodreads</span></a></span></div>
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Richie Earlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11556365610232281695noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7052741189411010176.post-66861585884227514372014-03-22T06:30:00.000+00:002014-03-22T16:22:13.555+00:00Awakening (Raymond Bolton) on Sci-fi Saturday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Sci-fi Saturday is back and today's featured author is <b>Raymond Bolton</b> who kindly shares the first one thousand word of his novel <b>Awakening</b>. T<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 12.25pt;">hrough March 31st, Raymond is giving away 10 signed copies of Awakening via </span><span style="background-color: white; cursor: pointer; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 12.25pt;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20257287" style="background-color: white; cursor: pointer; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 12.25pt;" target="_blank">Goodreads</a>.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; cursor: pointer; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 12.25pt;"><span style="font-size: 15.199999809265137px; line-height: 21.299999237060547px;">See what Stephan J. Myers thought of Awakening on </span><a href="http://bit.ly/1nnIlAy" style="cursor: pointer; font-size: 15.199999809265137px; line-height: 21.299999237060547px;" target="_blank">Book Viral</a>.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN"><b>Awakening:<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">How does a world armed with bows, arrows
and catapults, where steam power has only begun to replace horses and sailing
ships, avert conquest from beyond the stars?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">Prince Regilius has been engineered to
combat the Dalthin, a predatory alien species that enslaves worlds
telepathically, and to do so he must unite his people. But when his mother
murders his father, the land descends into chaos and his task may prove
impossible. Faced with slaying the one who gave him life in order to
protect his world, he seeks a better way. Set in a vast and varied land where
telepaths and those with unusual mental abilities tip the course of events,
Awakening goes to the heart of family, friendship and betrayal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN"><b>About Raymond Bolton:<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">My goal is to craft gripping stories about
the human condition, whether they are set here or another world. I've written
poetry, for which I've received some recognition, and four novels. Two are
explorations in science fiction: Awakening, an epic, released in January, 2014,
and Thought Gazer, an adventure, part of a planned trilogy and prequel to the
epic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">In 2013, under its working title,
Renunciation, Awakening was one of eight finalists among 950 entries from the <st1:country-region w:st="on">U.S.</st1:country-region>, the <st1:country-region w:st="on">U.K.</st1:country-region>,
<st1:country-region w:st="on">Canada</st1:country-region>, Europe and <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Australia</st1:place></st1:country-region> in
the Pacific Northwest Writers Associations Literary Contest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HMSEVVC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisamVMCaLr8bmv-PKWZ5Pj9LsPjMcVh7mPrc3mUCLU7dm_OkcIW1QIHFL0mtEODuptTxmF8gTfhNwn_aDb4WrV_QPZYEIN720eIxIpKRXOT6kFEy0on0lvD_qD35DfPQgI_Ck_4OY7Qy2d/s1600/Awakening-Amazon.jpeg" height="400" width="266" /></a></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;">Father!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;">Regilius awoke with a gasp. He attempted to sit,
but the damp prickling bedding entangled him. Drenched with perspiration, he
tore off the covers, propped onto his elbows and peered into the darkness. On a
table to his right, dimly silhouetted against a blinded window, stood a light
globe. Rocking onto one arm, he stretched toward the sphere and tore off its
cover, bathing the space in soft blue light. The room was plain, sterile, and
while he could not say where he was, he was certain this was not the palace.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;">He was trembling as he tried to remember where
he might be and how he had arrived. The hand he ran through his hair came away
dripping, while his mouth was parched and his tongue, thick and leathery, stuck
to the roof of it. He reached for a glass of water, but as he tilted it to his
lips, the room began to spin. Confused, he managed to empty it into a vase of
morrasa blossoms before the world turned black.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;">He awoke again, this time his mind awash with
images of murderers entering his home, of carnage and things that should not
be. Yet, unlike childhood nightmares that become ethereal and fade, these
coalesced into semblances of truth, of substance. Struggling to clear his head,
he pushed them aside and searched for the tumbler. Miraculously, it lay
unbroken on the nightstand. He was looking for a pitcher when his eyes fastened
onto the vase. The blossoms, once white and fragrant, were now black, twisted,
grotesque.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;">The door opened and he jumped. Light poured in
and a woman wearing a nurse’s cap peered into the room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;">Ah!</span></i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;">The utterance was not spoken. It filled his head
and settled among his thoughts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;">Still alive, young prince?</span></i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;">She stepped inside and closed the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;">You are truly remarkable. I have never sensed
one such as you. You perceive my thoughts. Such a predicament for me and mine.</span></i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;">The nurse—no, the thing, for it felt as wrong as
the flowers—approached his bed and the hairs on his arms, neck and scalp stood
erect. His instinct was to bolt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;">Stay where you are.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;">He had not moved, yet it had anticipated him. As
the creature neared, it started to shimmer. Its shape and color began to change
and the abdomen of its now soft, gray, wormlike body rippled. Something like a
mouth opened where its belly should have been, then closed, followed by another
mouth and another until there were several opening and closing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;">An appendage sprouted from its torso and snaked
toward him. He had once seen something similar under his tutor’s microscope
when a tiny cellular predator reached out to snatch a meal. Eyes wide, unable
to move, he was following this manifestation when, faster than he could react,
it wrapped around his ankle and began pulling him toward it. As he opened his
mouth to scream, light flooded the room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;">He tore his eyes from the thing around his leg
and turned to see a doctor and two orderlies entering. The physician paused,
regarded his patient closely and asked, “Your Highness? What in the world have
you been doing?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;">Prince Regilius found himself at the foot of the
bed, clenching a handful of sheet. The covers, seemingly frozen as they
streamed from the pillow, marked how he had been dragged. Yet, except for his
odd location, all else appeared normal. His eyes went from the physician to the
nurse and saw she appeared quite ordinary, her face betraying nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;">“I want to get you into something dry and change
your bedding,” the doctor was saying, but as he followed the prince’s gaze, he
started when he noticed the woman in the corner. “Nurse, why are you here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;">“I was on my way upstairs and saw the light. I
thought I would look in,” she replied.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;">“Well,” said the doctor, releasing his breath,
“since you’re here, perhaps you can assist us.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;">She and the orderlies set to work, and after
several minutes the prince was clean and dry, wearing a new gown on a freshly
made bed. The doctor ordered them out, and after a brief examination said to
Regilius, “You have improved some, Your Highness. That is encouraging. I will
check back again in a few hours. Meanwhile, please try to sleep.” He covered
the light globe and left, closing the door behind him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;">Were it not for the flowers, Reg might have done
as the physician had ordered, but their misshapen forms insisted he was not
safe. Instead, he padded barefoot to the closet where he located his clothing.
As he shed his gown and with trembling hands struggled to dress, an odd
awareness overtook him: a cold certainty the nurse, sensing he was leaving, was
returning. Assuring himself he had forgotten nothing, he went to the window,
struggled briefly with the latch, and as the blackness of night gave way to the
deep green sky of morning, he slipped out and down to the street below.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;">Glancing over his shoulder, still sensing the
presence behind him, he hurried along the cobblestone streets between the
granite and marble edifices of the upper city. Eventually, however, his
weakened state returned him to a walk. Feverish and thirsty, he spotted a
fountain. He approached it and plunged his face into its waters. Stunned by the
cold, he tossed back his head and gasped, sending a shower skyward. Then,
leaning against the wet stone lip, he brought hand after handful of crisp
refreshment to his lips. Satisfied, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve,
breathed deeply and pressed on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;">There was no question now he would walk. After
drinking so heartily, he knew he would cramp if he pushed too hard too soon and
the pace gave him time to consider the event that had brought him here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Garamond; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Garamond;">Just yesterday, he had been engaged in a brisk
game of platter with his friends, Danth, Leovar and Ered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 12.25pt;">You can purchase <b>Awakening </b>from Amazon:</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 12.25pt;">In paperback at</span><span class="apple-converted-space" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 12.25pt;"> </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/0991347102" style="background-color: white; cursor: pointer; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 12.25pt;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #0068cf;">US</span></a><span class="apple-converted-space" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 12.25pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 12.25pt;">Kindle edition at </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 12.25pt;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HMSEVVC" style="background-color: white; cursor: pointer; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 12.25pt;" target="_blank">US</a></span><br />
<br />
In paperback at <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Awakening-Ydron-Saga-Raymond-Bolton/dp/0991347102" target="_blank">UK</a><br />
<br />
Kindle edition <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Awakening-Ydron-Saga-Raymond-Bolton-ebook/dp/B00HMSEVVC" target="_blank">UK</a><br />
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Connect with <b>Raymond Bolten</b>:</div>
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<pre style="background: white; line-height: 12.25pt;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7690905.Raymond_Bolton" style="cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #0068cf;">Goodreads</span></a>
Please note that through March 31 Raymond is giving away 10 signed copies of Awakening via Goodreads: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20257287" style="cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #0068cf;">https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20257287</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></pre>
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Richie Earlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11556365610232281695noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7052741189411010176.post-66099216413505674412014-03-06T06:30:00.000+00:002014-03-06T06:30:02.063+00:00The Gray Isles, Book Two in the Chronicles of Ealiron (F.T. McKinstry) in One Thousand Words<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>The Hunter's Rede (Book 1 in the Chronicles of Ealiron series)</b></span><b style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </b><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">by </span><b style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">F.T. McKinstry</b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><span style="line-height: 20.99431800842285px;"> </span></b><span style="line-height: 20.99431800842285px;">is</span> today's featured book on <b>One Thousand Worlds</b>. Book 1, Hunter's Rede has already been featured on this site and you can find that post <a href="http://onethousandworlds.blogspot.co.uk/2014/02/FTM.html" target="_blank">here</a> and you can also read One Thousand World's Interview with </span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">F.T. McKinstry <a href="http://onethousandworlds.blogspot.co.uk/2014/02/FTM1.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</span><br />
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<b><span lang="EN-US">Synopsis:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">In the Gray Isles, a northern
realm cloaked in legends and storms, lives a secret. For thousands of years it
lay in the Otherworld, known only in the imaginations of sailors. Now, it has
surfaced; first to Eadred, a wizard banished by his kind after being cursed by
a witch; and then to Hemlock, a fisherman’s son orphaned by the sea. When their
paths collide, a change is set into motion that the heavens watch with dread;
for the legends tell, it heralds the birth of an immortal and the death of the
realm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><a href="http://ftmckinstry.com/2013/11/17/lorth-of-ostarin/" target="_blank" title="Lorth of Ostarin"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Lorth of Ostarin</span></a>, a formidable wizard and
servant to the old powers, arrives to the Gray Isles on a diplomatic mission to
discover what Eadred has not told his masters. What looks like a quarrel
between Eadred and Hemlock swiftly deteriorates into a manhunt that plunges
Lorth into a tricky world of visions, myths and politics, which he navigates by
joining forces with unlikely company. Eadred, while attempting to end his
curse, has gathered great knowledge of Hemlock’s origins. Through him, Lorth
reaches the sobering conclusion that Hemlock is not what he seems, but
something powerful enough to destroy the realm with a thought.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Unfortunately, Lorth is not the
only one who has discovered Hemlock’s secret. Racing time, he must bare his
sword against an army, violate discretion and risk his own stature in order to
free Hemlock from the clutches of daimonic transformation before he unleashes
the forces of earth and sea on the mortal world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">F.T. McKinstry is the author of the <i>Chronicles of Ealiron,</i> an epic fantasy series by Double Dragon Publishing; and <i>Water Dark,</i> a novella by Wild Child Publishing. Her short stories appear in <i>Tales of the Talisman, Aoife's Kiss,</i> and a collection called <i>Wizards, Woods and Gods</i>. When she's not writing or reading weird things, she's hanging out with her cats and fishes, tinkering in gardens, shoveling snow or smearing paint on canvases.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtGHBytcL7th1CfgGhBhzcO8C4aaq9rx3zZJ05-xHZYoYusWWL1T0ASSmUPsi_v0jHnwVtcQOR_TkwEQzT7dHlYwAx1dUYOXsOxCS-a7fu51TJKIic_ujT23wlQQKseYjLyv0V00ta6xgR/s1600/GrayIsles-510.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtGHBytcL7th1CfgGhBhzcO8C4aaq9rx3zZJ05-xHZYoYusWWL1T0ASSmUPsi_v0jHnwVtcQOR_TkwEQzT7dHlYwAx1dUYOXsOxCS-a7fu51TJKIic_ujT23wlQQKseYjLyv0V00ta6xgR/s1600/GrayIsles-510.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></div>
<b>The Gray Isles</b></div>
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Ciron, the brightest star in the constellation of Eala, the
Swan, came into focus on the evening horizon over the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">North</st1:placename> <st1:placename w:st="on">Derinth</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype w:st="on">Sea</st1:placetype></st1:place>. The warm wind of
midsummer gently rippled the grasses and brush on the northern-most point of
Solse Isle, parting and threading like new wool to the breath of a cold tide.
Below, the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">village</st1:placetype>
of <st1:placename w:st="on">Lafin</st1:placename></st1:place> glimmered amid
the trees crowding a crescent harbor.<o:p></o:p></div>
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With the eyes of the wind, an
assassin followed the movements of a young woman in the shadows of stone
houses. Like a feral cat, she moved here and there in the peaceful silence,
making her way to the rocky path that led up to the point. The hunter drew
around his bow, deftly nocked an arrow with an obsidian tip, and waited.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Cloaked in ash gray, she
emerged onto the outcropping at the edge of the field. A maelstrom of invisible
shadows surrounded her. Near the edge of the cliff, three standing stones stood
with the patience of an age. The woman approached the stones as she did each
evening, moved gracefully widdershins, and then faced north.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The waters beyond the cliff's
edge swirled into a rough band, as if agitated by a strong rip current or a
shoal of large, air-breathing creatures.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The witch knelt to make an
offering. To what or whom she held out her elegant hands, the hunter could not
guess. She spoke in the Dark Tongue, the language of formlessness. Raw and
primordial, the sounds flowed from the essence of nature, bending it. Though
trained as a wizard to the highest order of the Keepers of the Eye, the
assassin could not discern her intent in the obscure weave of the ancient
tongue.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In much the same way, he had
knelt before the Aenlisarfon, an ancient and venerable council of high wizards
who watched over the patterns of consciousness that draped the world of
Ealiron.<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="color: #444444;"> </span></span><i>Master
Eadred,</i><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="color: #444444;"> </span></span>they
had said, their thoughts stirring the center of his mind like a pine-scented
breeze.<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="color: #444444;"> </span></span><i>Raven
of Nemeton, Siomothct of the Third Regard. Honor us with a mission.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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And not just any mission: the
Masters had sent him to this remote place to hunt a shadecaster. No mere
village witch, she made an art of seducing wizards, collecting their pearly
seed, and using it to create shades to do her bidding. Eadred clearly perceived
the rift that surrounded her, a chasm in the delicate balance of the world.
Darkness flowed on the north wind, the voices of death without life, pain
without joy, dissolution without initiation. Shapeless and yet distinct, they
surrounded her like bees, whispering under her warmth and attention.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Council would raise his
assassin's rank to Second, after this.<o:p></o:p></div>
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With the stealth of a viper,
he lifted his bow and drew back the string, focusing on the vibration of the
homing spell singing in the tension of the arc.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The witch rose and turned,
pulling the hood from her face. Beautiful as a summer meadow, she had
lily-white skin and reed-straight, dark red hair that flew like fire in the
wind. Eadred had spent a half moon tracking and identifying his mark,
camouflaging his presence with the soul of the isle—and yet her gaze settled on
him as simply and dispassionately as moonlight.<o:p></o:p></div>
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She smiled.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He released the arrow.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The force of the blow knocked
her from her feet. Eadred rose and went to her as she writhed by the
northernmost stone, clutching the arrow in her chest with a mewling cry. As he
knelt by her side to watch her fly into the unholy, narrowing crack of her
magic, she moaned a word that sounded like a wing crunching under a boot.<o:p></o:p></div>
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An eerie roar from the north
brought him to his feet. The tide bent and rose to the setting sun as an
enormous serpent the size of a harbor strand surfaced as if responding to a
call. Its force on his heart bore the unmistakable mark of the Destroyer, the
aspect of death and transformation inherent in the Old One, the Mother of all
things.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Stunned beyond thought, Eadred
returned his attention to his dark deed. Just then, something moved on the edge
of the field in the direction of the path. "Mummy!" a child cried. A boy
ran into view, then stopped and gaped at the woman splayed in blood by the
standing stone.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Bow in hand, Eadred stepped
back and turned to leave. His stomach flipped over like a fish in a pool as the
child began to cry. The Aenlisarfon had not told him the witch had children by
her intercourse with wizards. How could they not have known that?<o:p></o:p></div>
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They had not told him she had
the power to invoke sea dragons, either.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He crossed the field, merging
with the shadows of dusk. Behind him, the boy screamed a tangle of words in the
Dark Tongue that hit the hunter in the gut like a volley of poisoned darts. He
stumbled and fell as the howling blast passed through his body and mind,
splintering it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Thunder rent the sky as Eadred
peered up, trembling, weak and disoriented. The child had gone. His mother's
cloak and hair flapped in the gale like the feathers of a dead bird. And the
sea wept and crashed against the isle, driven by the icy north hand of the
Destroyer herself, bent on avenging the death of her own.<o:p></o:p></div>
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***<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sailors called his realm the
Swan, for so it appeared to them, the pattern of stars shining on dusk's fading
arc in the seeding time of year. They knew his name, Ciron, as its heart and
brightest star. But she knew his touch. She had lain with him in the warm
waters on the shortest night, when the wind from the stars caressed the depths
and revealed the Gates of the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">Palace</st1:placetype>
of <st1:placename w:st="on">Origin</st1:placename></st1:place>, and conceived.<o:p></o:p></div>
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On that night, Ciron sang a
spell that brought their child into a human womb.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US">Where to buy </span>The <span lang="EN-US">The Gray Isles:</span></b></div>
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<a class="ecxmoz-txt-link-freetext" href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Gray-Isles-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B007UPV79Q/ref=sr_1_4?s=books&amp%3bie=UTF8&amp%3bqid=1334609594&amp%3bsr=1-4" style="color: blue; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 20.82666778564453px;" target="_blank">Amazon</a></div>
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<a class="ecxmoz-txt-link-freetext" href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1110272433?ean=9781554049547" style="color: blue; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 20.82666778564453px;" target="_blank">Barnes and Noble</a></div>
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<a class="ecxmoz-txt-link-freetext" href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-gray-isles/id571794662?mt=11" style="color: blue; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 20.82666778564453px;" target="_blank">iTunes</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px;">Connect with </span><span style="line-height: 21.30000114440918px;">F.T. McKinstry</span><span style="font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px;">:</span></span></b></span></div>
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Richie Earlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11556365610232281695noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7052741189411010176.post-21923087855307719792014-03-04T06:30:00.000+00:002014-03-04T06:30:01.439+00:00Fairy, Texas (Margo Bond Collins) in One Thousand Words<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 20.99431800842285px;"><b>Fairy, Texas</b></span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b style="line-height: 22px;"> </b><span style="line-height: 22px;">by </span><span style="line-height: 21.988636016845703px;"><b>Margo Bond Collins</b></span><span style="line-height: 22px;"> </span>is today's feature on <b>One Thousand Worlds</b>.</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Fairy,
Texas. A small town like any other.<br />
<br />
Laney Harris didn't want to live there. When her mother remarried and moved
them to a town where a date meant hanging out at the Sonic, Laney figured that
"boring" would have a whole new meaning. A new stepsister who
despised her and a high school where she was the only topic of gossip were bad
enough. But when she met the school counselor (and his terminal bad breath),
she grew suspicious. Especially since he had wings that only she could see. And
then there were Josh and Mason, two gorgeous glimmering-eyed classmates whose
interest in her might not be for the reasons she hoped. Not to mention that
dead guy she nearly tripped over in gym class. <br />
<br />
She was right. Boring took on an entirely new dimension in Fairy, Texas.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">About the author-</span></b><br />
<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt;">Margo Bond Collins</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt;"> is the author of a
number of novels, including <i>Waking Up
Dead</i>, <i>Fairy, <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Texas</st1:place></st1:state></i>, and <i>Legally Undead</i> (forthcoming in 2014). She lives in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Texas</st1:place></st1:state> with her husband,
their daughter, and several spoiled pets. She teaches college-level English
courses online, though writing fiction is her first love. She enjoys reading
urban fantasy and paranormal fiction of any genre and spends most of her free
time daydreaming about vampires, ghosts, zombies, werewolves, and other
monsters. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<h4>
<span lang="EN-US">Chapter One</span></h4>
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<span lang="EN-US">Of all the things that frightened me about starting a new
school, <i>finding a dead guy on day one</i>
didn’t even made it into my top hundred. I guess it should have.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> But I didn’t know that when I got up early that first
morning and went for a run.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> The best part of running is that it keeps me from crying.
It doesn’t matter how bad I feel, timing the beat of my footfalls and the pace
of my breathing to the music coming through my headphones always helps.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">As I rounded the last bend of the caliche road that wound
through the ranch, I could taste the dust in the back of my throat. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Better than tears, anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I slowed down, breathing hard, and walked toward the front
porch of the long, low house I now had to call home. I ducked past the living
room and scurried down the hall, anxious to be alone. But instead, I ran almost
smack into one of the ranch hands. “Please, please be careful with that,” I
begged the enormous man who had just tossed another cardboard box onto the top
of the growing pile in my bedroom—or at least, the room that was going to be my
bedroom for the foreseeable future. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Mom stuck her head around the door-frame, her disheveled
brown curls appearing first, followed by her blue eyes. “Laney, you be nice to
Bruce. He took the whole day off from work just to help us out.” She eyed my
running gear. “You’re not wearing that to school, are you? Hurry up and get
ready.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> “Okay, Mom.” I used my most agreeable voice, but it took
every ounce of self-control I had. I’d been working really hard to get along
with Mom since we’d started the move, but it hadn’t been easy. Leaving <st1:city w:st="on">Atlanta</st1:city> for the middle of nowhere, <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Texas</st1:place></st1:state>, was not, in my opinion, her best idea
ever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> I didn’t want my mom to be an idiot. I mean, no one does,
right? But I guess it’s kind of part of the whole being-a-parent thing, at
least to some degree. It’s just that Mom tried so hard to be the cool parent.
Not the buying-me-alcohol-and-letting-me-have-wild-parties kind of
“cool”—that’s lame. She wanted to be the kind of Mom who knows all the latest
music and slang, who tried to be as much my friend as my mother. Which was fine
most of the time, even if she did make me want to die every time she turned on
the radio and started singing along to Christina Aguilera. (I hated to tell her
that “used to be Top 20” doesn’t equal “cool.”) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> But then she got back in touch with her high school
sweetheart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> For as long as I could remember, it had just been Mom and
me. My dad took off before I was born—I saw him a couple of times when I was
younger and Mom was on a kick about me needing a male role model, but then he
got remarried and had another family. Not that he’d ever had all that much
interest in me to begin with. And what kind of role model would that have been,
anyway? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> Never in a million years would I have thought that some
rancher back in Mom’s hometown in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Texas</st1:place></st1:state>
would be The One. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> I still wasn’t convinced. Now I kind of wished I hadn’t
done my level best to get her not to join a dating site. But once she started
emailing John Hamilton, I relaxed a little bit. No way would Mom give up her
life in Atlanta, her job, her friends, for some random guy who lived a thousand
miles away in a town Mom hadn’t been back to since she left when she was
eighteen, right before she had me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> I should have paid more attention. I should have tried to
talk her out of seeing him when he came to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Atlanta</st1:place></st1:city> to visit. It might not have done any
good, but at least then I would know I had done everything I could to save our
lives.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> And maybe it would have worked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> Instead, though, here I was. Moving into my new bedroom
in my new stepfather’s house. While Bruce the ranch hand manhandled all my
stuff.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> In Fairy, <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Texas</st1:place></st1:state>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> That’s right. I moved from the greater metropolitan <st1:city w:st="on">Atlanta</st1:city> area to a ranch in central <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Texas</st1:place></st1:state> just outside of a tiny town that was
actually named “Fairy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> And from what I’d seen so far, I wasn’t going to like it.
John had taken me on a tour of the ranch the day before and had pointed out
disgusting things on the ground like cow pies and buzzard vomit. And he’d shown
me the body of a dead coyote hanging from a fence. He said it kept other
coyotes away from the ranch, but I’d heard a bunch of them howling when I went
to bed that night. Clearly they weren’t that scared.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> “That’s not your desk,” Kayla’s voice interrupted my
thoughts. “It was my mom’s. And that makes it mine, not yours.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US"> I sighed. “Your dad said I could use it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US"> “Still not yours.” She leaned against the door frame and
surveyed the boxes stacked up in my new room. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> “You really going to unpack all that crap?” she drawled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> “That’s the plan.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> “You might as well not bother,” Kayla said, flipping her
long blonde hair over her shoulder and sliding into her own room across the
hall. “You’re not staying long, you know.” She slammed the door behind her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> I shut my own door and leaned my forehead against it. Bad
enough my mother had married Old Flame Rancher Guy. Worse that she had moved me
to Fairy. I hoped that the worst was that I had a new stepsister who was
turning out to be a bitch. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> I was wrong, of course.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Fairy-Texas-Margo-Bond-Collins-ebook/dp/B00I7BTMJ4/%C2%A0" target="_blank">Amazon (Kindle)</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt;">Connect with Margo:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt;">Amazon Author Page: </span><span lang="EN-US"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/author/margobondcollins"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">https://www.amazon.com/author/margobondcollins</span></a></span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt;">Email:
</span><span lang="EN-US"><a href="mailto:MargoBondCollins@gmail.com"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">MargoBondCollins@gmail.com</span></a></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt;">Website:
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt;">Twitter:
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Richie Earlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11556365610232281695noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7052741189411010176.post-19230058397577493062014-02-27T06:30:00.000+00:002014-03-31T23:55:38.508+01:00The Black Gate - Twin Worlds Trilogy, Vol 2 (Dom King) in One Thousand Words<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 20.99431800842285px;"><b>The Black Gate</b></span><b style="line-height: 22px;"> </b><span style="line-height: 22px;">by </span><span style="line-height: 21.988636016845703px;"><b>Dominic H. King</b></span><span style="line-height: 22px;"> </span>is today's feature on <b>One Thousand Worlds</b>. Volume 1 of the series was featured on this blog in October 2013. You can find that post <a href="http://onethousandworlds.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/DHK.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><span style="line-height: 20.99431800842285px;">The Black Gate</span>-</b></span></span><br />
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Kal and Daine are back in the world where they first met. Daine’s world. The Reaper’s world.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Temple Elders sent them back through a portal between the twin worlds as bait for the Reaper’s army of arrochom, the creatures trying to break the bond between Kal and his father, so allowing their master to cross the void.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But will the creatures follow? Can Kal find a way back to his father in the chamber? Will Daine find the answers she is looking for at the Commune? Can a plan forged by an old mage before they were born really help them to defeat the being who has conquered a world? And how long can they both keep out of the Reaper's path?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21px;">The Black Gate</i><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21px;">is the second volume of the Twin Worlds trilogy, an epic tale of</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21px;"> swords and sorcery, travel and adventure, love and loss, good and evil. But most of all, a tale of adolescence and growing up.</span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">About the author-</span></b><br />
<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Dominic was born in Bath, UK in 1982. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He is the author of the Twin Worlds trilogy that follows Kal and Daine in their epic battle against the Reaper. The first two instalments, The Chamber (2012) and The Black Gate (2013), are currently available. He cites writers such as Tolkien, Pullman, Martin and Bernard Cornwell and time spent in China, India, Nepal and Latin America as his major inspirations.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Sports-mad he aspires to greatness as a football, cricket, rugby, hockey, golf and squash player, but has to settle with mediocrity. He has been more successful at charity challenges including the Blenheim Triathlon, the 3 Peaks Challenge and the London Dragon Boat race.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He works as an in-house economist at a global consultancy for whom he has written over 100 reports on the world economy. He lives in London with his Mexican wife Liz (and, from October, daughter Elena).</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">You can follow Dominic's blogs about publishing, economics, hockey and his pet hate, tiny trolley bags, via his website – dominichking.com.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b>Chapter 1.i</b></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Something pulled her through the darkness, dragging her towards the light. Snapping back into consciousness felt like bursting to the surface of a lake after having dived to its depths. Instantly, a high-pitched whining battered at her eardrums. The air tasted gritty and dry and she lay face down on a hard surface. Not wanting to make any sudden movements, she cracked her eyes open. Huge shapes moved slowly across her vision, and a dull light flickered from behind them. She closed her eyes again and slowed her breathing.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Play dead until I find out where I am. And what else is here.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Instinctively, she reached out into her mind, searching for the level from where she could feel for the beings surrounding her. She slid with practised ease onto her plateau, basking briefly in a familiar sense of blue, fiery euphoria. She looked down from her mountain at the myriad of colours that marked the thoughts of those nearby. Creatures surrounded her, their flows dark and menacing. But there was something else; brighter flows which flickered dully. They were closer to her, within touching distance.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Suddenly one of the dark flows below her burnt blood red and she slid off her mountain, every muscle in her body tensed as she waited for the creature to strike.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">This is going to hurt.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b>Chapter 1.ii</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Something sharp slashed across his back, ripping him away from the darkness and he cried out in pain. He tried to roll away onto his side but the pain in his back doubled and he stopped moving. Opening his eyes he could see nothing but a great mass of hairy limbs so he slowly twisted his neck to look upwards. The creature holding him down was grotesque. Beady, black eyes and a pair of pincers set into a small head on a huge, multi-limbed body. It looked familiar somehow but the pain in his back was flooding his senses and he was unable to retrieve the memory.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">What the hell is it? And what am I doing here?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Something dark flashed across his line of sight. The creature snapped its head round to follow the blur and its grip on his back weakened. He rolled away quickly, feeling its claws tear at his flesh. As he did so something dug into his hip. The creature took a swipe at him with one of its many legs but he had already reached down without thinking to withdraw the sword that was tucked under his cloak. As he slid it out, the sharp blade severed the creature's leg. It screamed in pain and threw another of its huge, hairy legs at him but he rolled backwards rising lithely to his feet. Without taking his eyes off it, he tried to look for an escape route. He seemed to be in some sort of high-walled compound, around thirty paces square. In his peripheral vision he was aware of other figures lying on the ground. The creature swung at him again, howling in displeasure and he staggered as he deflected a blow to his right side and then to his left.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">It’s trying to pin me against the wall.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">He was just about to launch a reckless counterattack when he saw something moving rapidly up behind the creature, little more than a blur of black. He retreated, reasoning that whatever it was, it could hardly make his predicament worse. The figure in black soared upwards, vaulting onto its back and bringing the end of a long black quarterstaff down hard on the back of its head. As the quarterstaff sunk in, the creature gave silent shudder then collapsed to the ground. The figure jumped neatly off its back and walked purposefully towards him.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">“Your name is Kal,” the figure said, lowering her hood, “and I am called Daine. Come on, we must rouse the others. More of the daemonspawn will be on their way.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">He stared back, his eyes wide in disbelief. The figure was a girl of perhaps nineteen summers, with dark hair that fell past her shoulders and beguiling oval eyes that seemed to suck him in. Something about her was familiar. A deep, heavy memory was pulling him away from consciousness.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">The girl in front of him began to blur and sway.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b>Chapter 1.iii</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Daine watched Kal’s eyes flicker madly as he looked at her and she rushed forward to grab him as he fell forward. She laid him down gently and decided to check the others whilst he was incapacitated. Caephillius, the half-goblin, half-man, Wai Lin, the warrior monk, and Beatrice, the Chief Temple elder lay face down on the ground around her.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Why are they taking longer to wake up? Because they’re older? Or because they’re not from this world?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">She crouched down next to Wai Lin. The monk was breathing, a look of serene calm on his face; she gently stroked his cheek, then gripped him by the shoulders and shook him, but he remained motionless. She shook him more firmly, but still nothing moved on his handsome light-brown face. She moved over to Caephillius, but the ranger was as impassive as the monk. She walked across to Beatrice and studied the thick strands of silvery hair on the Chief Elder’s head for a moment.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">The arrochom was calling for help when he found us. I’m sure of it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Daine stood and listened hard. The sun hung blood red in a dirty grey sky and she coughed as the cloying air caught in her throat. She glanced back at the boy convulsing on the floor and found herself grinning at the complete role reversal, tracing the thin scar on her arm he was responsible for.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Of course. That’s how the boy regained consciousness before the others.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">The sudden realisation wiped the smile from her face. She withdrew a dagger from her boot and ran across to Wai Lin.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">“Sorry”, she said as she dug the blade into his bicep and traced it down about the width of four fingers.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Connect with <b>Dominic H. King:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>One Thousand Worlds </b>today has the pleasure of interviewing <b>Alan Denham</b>. Alan is co-author with Graham Buckby of several books (four published so far) set in a world of carefully structured magic. We like to tell the stories, so we don't get too involved with violence, the puzzles are more interesting - and the magic is fun.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Alan and Graham were featured on this blog, in November 2013. You can see that post </span><a href="http://onethousandworlds.blogspot.com/2013/11/GBAD.html" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Interview with Alan
Denham, co-author of:-<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzcwjNEDnrLmqEZDC4ZdcoDruapASSWAiL8XV6V5CEz8OAGIIuHUjUl7Hn0GlHf_QYQCPL2ZBouuvJntXToUpLCASQz2jzhDbQxULg8d1jbI8jLoCxXsKJ_xH8osAEm3nhB6VJvyHDJSeD/s1600/MagiCoverMicro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKhPUx3zdSIHQHYCvpOv4eHErl8dMX5non21BafVNRubA33B7FJzq6Ix_GD_1YLCespIOSgOxu-BYa33gPM3COZ04atmuZ1ApU59D3VFCAp3l8G31A8C9_MOJMXyNh5dVpiO1N_ubwlfNU/s1600/LAYCOVERmicro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKhPUx3zdSIHQHYCvpOv4eHErl8dMX5non21BafVNRubA33B7FJzq6Ix_GD_1YLCespIOSgOxu-BYa33gPM3COZ04atmuZ1ApU59D3VFCAp3l8G31A8C9_MOJMXyNh5dVpiO1N_ubwlfNU/s1600/LAYCOVERmicro.jpg" height="200" width="140" /></a><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzcwjNEDnrLmqEZDC4ZdcoDruapASSWAiL8XV6V5CEz8OAGIIuHUjUl7Hn0GlHf_QYQCPL2ZBouuvJntXToUpLCASQz2jzhDbQxULg8d1jbI8jLoCxXsKJ_xH8osAEm3nhB6VJvyHDJSeD/s1600/MagiCoverMicro.jpg" height="200" width="133" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifAt7cQ6MS6fiDrENau67OSdM_RgIsKFcVEB9R53kpB1GlHzrAyTc79GKRwI5ZtugToqbK7IdIlpjQV9R3dSklCXgvG0CQ7eIlps_BT82CWDpdaaArMPhERzjLAA8hFsHy_Gb8OWnb6khk/s1600/CoverSmokemicro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifAt7cQ6MS6fiDrENau67OSdM_RgIsKFcVEB9R53kpB1GlHzrAyTc79GKRwI5ZtugToqbK7IdIlpjQV9R3dSklCXgvG0CQ7eIlps_BT82CWDpdaaArMPhERzjLAA8hFsHy_Gb8OWnb6khk/s1600/CoverSmokemicro.jpg" height="200" width="138" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPh8ya3p4lkoixpkQhfSYUOWcY40CQOSccyPWDbKO2OFp35NsxfhAcYwYiiSKkvbGCR0DpuqwVCuAcAXg6KyRT7DDJfrFE3ClnY6Ygni9Y8WPxrcEYVmRuSMZ5zxhHlU4-WjnjHkyzMrqq/s1600/GoldCovermicro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPh8ya3p4lkoixpkQhfSYUOWcY40CQOSccyPWDbKO2OFp35NsxfhAcYwYiiSKkvbGCR0DpuqwVCuAcAXg6KyRT7DDJfrFE3ClnY6Ygni9Y8WPxrcEYVmRuSMZ5zxhHlU4-WjnjHkyzMrqq/s1600/GoldCovermicro.jpg" height="200" width="132" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Tell us about your latest book.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Latest? That’s difficult. Most of my writing (all my published writing) is co-authored with an old friend, Graham Buckby – and stuff gets written, rewritten, argued over, put on one side for three or four years, argued over again . . . Latest published (Shades of Gold) was among the first actually written, many years ago, and it has been hacked about a lot in the mean time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>How many books have you written?</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I have had a hand in about six, maybe seven. Three of the four we have published so far, the other one is pretty well pure Graham – see above. It’s difficult to keep track! Those four are Shades of Smoke, Shades of Gold, Shades of Magic, and Clissa’s Lay - all on Amazon and Smashwords. Find links and more details on our website at <a href="http://www.planetnuome.co.uk./" target="_blank">http://www.planetnuome.co.uk./</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What are you working on at the moment?</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">At one point we decided we needed some short stories, and we each wrote a few. One of mine (mostly mine – Graham tweaked it quite a bit!) looked good enough to be a stand-alone short, and also to be the first chapter of a larger book. The short version is already published (‘New Beginnings’, in Shades of Magic) and now I am working – very slowly, it is not going well - on the development.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What are the most important attributes to remaining sane as a writer?</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Sane? Whoever said I was sane?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What do you want to be when you grow up?</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Who said I have to grow up?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>If you could meet any of your own characters, who would it be?</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Cormell, from Shades of Smoke. He isn’t me, but we have things in common – and no, I am not going to explain any further.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>So what inspired your world?</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Now that’s a long story! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">First answer:- As we said on our website, Graham started writing first, then I tried because I thought if Graham could do it then so could I . . . but it was harder than I thought! However, we found that some of my ideas, my frameworks, polished up with Graham’s tweaks and background improvements worked rather well. Then we spent YEARS treating the world as a private joke, until one day we realised we had something good.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Alternative answer – I have to refer to specific parts of our work. Could I talk about Cormell? (Shades of Smoke). He started because we wanted a short story. It didn’t work – once we started he wanted to be quite a major character. He is an Illusionist – an artist - mostly working in coloured smoke.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">That idea originally came from something I read when I was about 15. It was in one of those big yellow Gollancz SF books from the early 1960s, and I can’t remember whether the story I read was a short or a full length, or who it was by – probably Pohl or Anderson – but one small scene made quite an impression, and this is what grew out of it. Cormell is also a leatherworker, partly because a decent character needs some hinterland, some backstory, and partly because it was only after my father died that I discovered he had been quite an artist in embossed leather when he was young – but he never taught me how! I got quite annoyed about that. I work in wood, instead – there is one relevant picture on the website, and some more if you search for my name at <a href="http://www.coquetdale.org.uk/" target="_blank">http://www.coquetdale.org.uk</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">As for our other work – Thales, our ‘magician’ (he would hate to be called that!) is a user of the old ‘Like-to-Like, Part-to-Whole’ style of magic that is probably the easiest way to write ‘magic-with-rules’ that can be made to look like science, and is also a relatively ‘weak’ form of magic – so the users can’t just wave their arms and achieve miracles, they must prepare, and work at what they do, and apply some logic – so the reader can see the twists. Vordan, the Assassin, started off as a stereotype – gentleman thug/murderer for hire – but we soon realised he also needed some complexity and some backstory, so we made his Assassin’s Guild grow up into an organisation having some law enforcement and policing responsibilities – and then we gave him a conscience, to make life even more difficult for him!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">However – after all that, I also have to admit that the principal motivation for writing all these stories was to have a bit of a romp – adventures without the militarism and violence that characterises far too much of modern SF and Fantasy, and also without the elves, dwarves, unicorns and talking dragons that characterise much of the rest.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>So your books deal with magic – and anything else?</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nuome is a mediaeval sort of world – lots of Fantasy is set in this sort of environment – it could go on into Sword and Sorcery, like the old ‘Grey Mouser’ series – or various forms of magic. We have a world that is a failed colony. I suppose there are hints of Dragonflight in there somewhere – but this colony has failed because our magic, the old ‘Like-to-Like, Part-to-Whole’ is endemic in all the raw materials of the world. So when the colonists try to build an electrical generator using locally-mined copper for the wire, they get power surges that burn out other equipment. When they try for an oil-based plastics industry, the plastics are reluctant to form – and then all go at once, so the machines get clogged. As they go back to more and more primitive technologies, the blacksmiths discover that they can save fuel by softening or even melting quite a lot of iron by working on a small piece and letting that influence the rest – but they also learn to store their metal stockpiles a safe distance from their working area! This is going to lock them in a technological stage just short of steam power – they are stuck!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">That’s the scientific/magical background. Socially, they develop a mediaeval-style society – fairly severe poverty by our standards, swords and armour – so the trappings of wealth and social status are very important. They have no advanced communications – and that means problems with what we would regard as basic law enforcement. It is a society that will accept ‘vengeance’ as a reasonable way to behave, if kept in proportion to the original offence. We have also given them a medical condition that restricts the birthrate and hence keeps the population fairly low – and under those conditions, some restrictive religions are likely to develop, akin to the worst excesses of the Catholic Church in the days of The Inquisition. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What did you read when you were young, and what do you read now?</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I discovered SF in my early teens – or maybe even younger if you count one extremely battered children’s space adventure by W.E Johns. I was reading fairly ‘hard’ SF for preference – Clarke, Asimov, Heinlein, Niven. I didn’t read much Fantasy at that time – things like Anderson’s Broken Sword felt too much like a simple reworking of Norse mythology, and I never took to Conan or The Grey Mouser. I rather liked Tolkien, but regarded it as a ‘one off’ – way different from the rest of the genre. And I had no time at all for Moorcock’s Elric stories – they just didn’t appeal to me. I read early McCaffrey, but didn’t much like her later stuff. And Zelazny’s Amber series, of course – that also stands out from the crowd, enormously! Then I read Cadfael (of course- didn’t everybody?) and some police procedurals (Stuart Pawson). I suppose that was about it until I hit my late forties. I was a Pratchett addict by then, of course – but by then Graham had started writing on the F/SF boundary, and I had joined in. Now, I read a lot more Fantasy, but I still read SF. I don’t think there is a clear separation between those two – they are opposite ends of a scale. That said, there are not many works around the middle of the scale, but what there is, I generally like.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>You write as a hobby rather than as a career – what are you professionally, and do you have any other hobbies?</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">That’s going to be another long answer! Professionally, I am retired. I spent most of my career in education, and most of that as a Science Teacher in Junior schools, with children aged 8-13 (ish) – but that went wrong back in the late 1990s, I ran into a bullying boss and didn’t learn to keep my head down (I kept my professional integrity instead, but I lost the job) – so I did the last 12 years as an Open University Tutor. The final outcome is that I have taught all ages from 4 to 90, all abilities from Special Needs to real Spectacular High Flyers (are you reading this Elliott?) and a fairly wide range of subjects at Junior school level, and computing at first year University level, and tutor’s professional development for Adult and Community Education. Quite a career!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">As for the ‘other hobbies’ – I took up woodcarving about 20 years ago, and my work now sells in a small gallery in Rothbury, Northumberland (England!). Yes, I know I said I wasn’t too impressed with dragons in Fantasy books, but woodcarving is different, OK?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 15.555556297302246px;">Connect with Alan Denham on </span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7336561.Alan_Denham" style="font-size: 15.555556297302246px;" target="_blank">Goodreads</a></div>
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Richie Earlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11556365610232281695noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7052741189411010176.post-71727255462848775282014-02-20T06:30:00.000+00:002014-02-24T21:49:17.869+00:00Author Interview - Marsha A. Moore on One Thousand Worlds<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy9KQSz7saAYcnSgV4xjZ7Gn9BbfdTGnomyqnnSCxJK9UZjB6hCdIWLXRq808ayxn-5P6gNIzkV3ReQ_XZdil_EJ4plyLX3-jThs-9rGBlOfE-mygUTYKEtj-9vhenBFShunF8E6b7FzKS/s1600/Marsha+A+Moore.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy9KQSz7saAYcnSgV4xjZ7Gn9BbfdTGnomyqnnSCxJK9UZjB6hCdIWLXRq808ayxn-5P6gNIzkV3ReQ_XZdil_EJ4plyLX3-jThs-9rGBlOfE-mygUTYKEtj-9vhenBFShunF8E6b7FzKS/s1600/Marsha+A+Moore.jpg" height="320" width="264" /> </a></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>One Thousand Worlds </b>today has the pleasure of interviewing <b>Marsha A. Moore</b>.</span><br />
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<b><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Author Bio:</span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18.399999618530273px; text-indent: 21.6pt;">Marsha A. Moore is an author of fantasy romance. Much of her life feeds the creative flow she uses to weave highly imaginative tales.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18.399999618530273px; text-indent: 21.6pt;">The magic of art and nature often spark life into her writing, as well as watercolor painting and drawing. After a move from Toledo to Tampa in 2008, she’s happily transformed into a Floridian, in love with the outdoors. Marsha is crazy about cycling. She lives with her husband on a large saltwater lagoon, where taking her kayak out for an hour or more is a real treat. She never has enough days spent at the beach, usually scribbling away at stories with toes wiggling in the sand. Every day at the beach is magical! She’s been a yoga enthusiast for over a decade and recently completed a year-long Kripalu-affiliated yoga teacher training program. The spiritual quest of her yoga studies helps her explore the mystical side of fantasy.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Tell
us about your latest book.</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 21.6pt;">The </span><b style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 21.6pt;"><i>Enchanted
Bookstore Legends</i></b><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 21.6pt;"> are about Lyra McCauley, a woman destined to become
one of five strong women in her family who possess unique magical abilities and
serve as Scribes in Dragonspeir. The Scribes span a long history, dating from
1,200 to present day. Each Scribe is expected to journey through Dragonspeir,
both the good and evil factions, then draft a written account. Each book
contains magic with vast implications.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Lyra was first
introduced to Dragonspeir as a young girl, when she met the high sorcerer,
Cullen Drake, through a gift of one of those enchanted books. Using its magic,
he escorted her into the parallel world of Dragonspeir. Years later, she lost
that volume and forgot the world and Cullen. These legends begin where he finds
her again—she is thirty-five, standing in his enchanted bookstore, and
Dragonspeir needs her. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="EN-US">When Lyra
reopens that enchanted book, she confronts a series of quests where she is
expected to save the good Alliance from destruction by the evil Black Dragon.</span><span lang="EN-US"> </span><span lang="EN-US">While learning about her
role, Lyra and Cullen fall in love. He is 220 years old and kept alive by
Dragonspeir magic. Cullen will die if Dragonspeir is taken over by the evil
faction…Lyra becomes the Scribe. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What
are you working on at the moment?</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">After the super-interwoven plot of a 5-part, high fantasy
epic series, I’m looking forward to shifting gears a bit. I’m excited to be
working on a few magical realism books, a slightly different fantasy subgenre.
The next release will be magical realism with a paranormal mystery set in a
yoga studio. I’m eager to work with new parameters of magical realism—a more
character driven plot than I’ve done before. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What
are the most important attributes to remaining sane as a writer?<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I need my hobbies to balance the concentration of detailed
writing work. I enjoy gardening, knitting, kayaking, and reading. My husband
and I live on a large saltwater lagoon outside of Tampa. I kayak from our dock
and make regular visits to talk with the brown pelicans. Reading or knitting
while relaxing in the lanai is a real treat too.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>How
much impact does your childhood have on your writing?<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Childhood books had a big impact on my
interest in writing. I still have my much-loved and well-thumbed copy of Grimm’s
Fairy Tales. </span></strong><span lang="EN-US">In
addition to those tales, a story that sticks with me is a verbal tale my father
and I made up over years, adding new adventures—called <i>The Land of Wickee Wackee.</i> I loved creating new stories in that
world!<span style="color: #333333; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>If
you could meet any of your own characters, who would it be?<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I feel like I’ve already met the character I love most—my
heroine, Lyra McCauley. The more I look at this series, the more of myself I
see. Lyra, is very much connected to me. Even in the first chapter of the first
book, the childhood memories brought to her mind by Cullen’s magical tea are
actually all mine. How Lyra interacts with her Aunt Jean has been a way for me
to work through my own issues with my mother’s failing health and passing. Some
scenes intentionally connect to my own experiences, like those, and others
surprise me much later when I’m polishing my draft to send to my editor. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Do
you have a favourite character among the ones you've invented?<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">This is a truly
epic tale with a large and wonderful cast of otherworldly characters, including
many talking animals and trees.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">My main
characters, Lyra and Cullen, must attempt difficulties that stretch their
abilities and test their love for each other over numerous quests. But my
secondary characters often bring laughter and lighten the couple’s load, or
encourage their strength to persevere. Kenzo, a giant tiger owl, and Noba, a
pseudodragon, are among my favorites, and the readers’ also. Their innocence is
charming as they draw out deeper emotions from everyone. </span><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">An extra note about pseudodragons—they’re not true dragons,
being much smaller, only three feet long. In my legends, we get to know Noba,
the pseudodragon Cullen keeps as his wizard’s familiar—a typical role for this
species. Noba has a heart of gold that makes people melt. He always manages to
find some mischief. I smile thinking about how he helped Lyra raise a dragon
hatchling. She had no idea what to do with a baby dragon. I’ve had many readers
tell me they want a pseudodragon of their own! Me too!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>What
do you want to be when you grow up?<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I’m doing my dream job now. I don’t think I’d change anything
in my immediate life. All the past happy times and hardships have helped me
know myself more deeply and to be more compassionate toward others. I value
each step and each lesson along my path. I feel fulfilled being able to share
those experiences with my readers.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Social
Media Links:<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></b></div>
<div class="NoSpacing">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://marshaamoore.com/" target="_blank">Website</a></span></span></div>
<div class="NoSpacing">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="NoSpacing">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/marshaamooreauthorpage" target="_blank">Facebook</a></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="NoSpacing">
<a href="http://twitter.com/MarshaAMoore" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Twitter @MarshaAMoore</span></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://google.com/+MarshaAMoore" target="_blank">Google+</a></span></span></div>
<div class="NoSpacing">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="NoSpacing">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://amazon.com/author/marshaamoore" target="_blank">Amazon author page</a></span></span></div>
<div class="NoSpacing">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="NoSpacing">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/marshaamoore" target="_blank">Goodreads</a>
</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="NoSpacing">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://pinterest.com/marshaamoore/" target="_blank">Pinterest</a></span></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Enchanted Bookstore
Legends purchase links:<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-left: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZxV2bWifQrSlkWOUesZT4xvpE4ybHrKIibevUwd1cpo_iqqsIJXTwM9G7ukOwQSCH8aSNCbMOmTO8_79fcFjcbErqtQ55TxYlsAl7p1fLetMSPdfVmOkMRr5D9ipYvZRKRaJ_Rs_FtwAg/s1600/Seeking+a+Scribe+300+x+450.jpg" height="320" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="212" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="NoSpacing" style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">
<b><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Seeking a Scribe: Enchanted Bookstore Legend One<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<div class="NoSpacing" style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Amazon: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007JVYSSI">http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007JVYSSI</a></span></span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBPqNHdTw6kMWCd90LqGfxlGpnZhZ5mbNBkF-FD7gS2kW2mZb0hX-sF6S-zW__bRkPMGHcZBIUimS6iboBGd0qMxWliVhY3zzBSecYnSlzXzH4UdHrk0CfMr52apP8W-F6H5FHZDser8b7/s1600/Heritage+Avenged+300+X+480.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBPqNHdTw6kMWCd90LqGfxlGpnZhZ5mbNBkF-FD7gS2kW2mZb0hX-sF6S-zW__bRkPMGHcZBIUimS6iboBGd0qMxWliVhY3zzBSecYnSlzXzH4UdHrk0CfMr52apP8W-F6H5FHZDser8b7/s1600/Heritage+Avenged+300+X+480.jpg" height="320" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="NoSpacing" style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">
<b><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Heritage Avenged: Enchanted Bookstore Legend Two<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<div class="NoSpacing" style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Amazon: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0086OO07G">http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0086OO07G</a></span></span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiJ1WuJScYbEU-yHMjSegJwccfX4ylvisyTRf1Uj5PFlFdtWd2t9C3q1I92OJsY2RunsHJ3NWZQiMgeu58e7pyKiN6R08g3JscKpuwYReFJu9fBl2NI_sSANCINxKpUKeZXi9Q7mAFKdyV/s1600/Lost+Volumes+300+x+480.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiJ1WuJScYbEU-yHMjSegJwccfX4ylvisyTRf1Uj5PFlFdtWd2t9C3q1I92OJsY2RunsHJ3NWZQiMgeu58e7pyKiN6R08g3JscKpuwYReFJu9fBl2NI_sSANCINxKpUKeZXi9Q7mAFKdyV/s1600/Lost+Volumes+300+x+480.jpg" height="320" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="NoSpacing" style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">
<b><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Lost Volumes: Enchanted Bookstore Legend Three</span></span></b></div>
<div class="NoSpacing" style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Amazon: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B009YNY18Q">http://www.amazon.com/dp/B009YNY18Q</a></span></span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLQN6g29dtUkC3u_W8RBUb9wtkMvrm4fX4rk3uVWkBA7d1MzvYp8-Jbg6U-I054eqP9UQL6gHP-HtzA9fRQguoVCjWcJXPiYm_bdFuoLjPZyZhS7FPloog18jKBDze9xvXetoqZJfq8ybX/s1600/Staurolite+300+x+480.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLQN6g29dtUkC3u_W8RBUb9wtkMvrm4fX4rk3uVWkBA7d1MzvYp8-Jbg6U-I054eqP9UQL6gHP-HtzA9fRQguoVCjWcJXPiYm_bdFuoLjPZyZhS7FPloog18jKBDze9xvXetoqZJfq8ybX/s1600/Staurolite+300+x+480.jpg" height="320" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="NoSpacing" style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">
<b><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Staurolite: Enchanted Bookstore Legend Four<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<div class="NoSpacing" style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Amazon: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CCW98P2">http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CCW98P2</a></span></span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3fCKdw7-fKgIHWSny6vEgAhsbJo4YFvmlWodnCTUXt84WKYpPWEu_ZsGRFG_z1bfsC1q8cYAtLko61rPsCWZzd2Aw4NDEUlozJ9sKpVARDRhuU9QZiTWDNFg-VVhsDX-QUVwirSpRibyP/s1600/Quintessence+300+x+480.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3fCKdw7-fKgIHWSny6vEgAhsbJo4YFvmlWodnCTUXt84WKYpPWEu_ZsGRFG_z1bfsC1q8cYAtLko61rPsCWZzd2Aw4NDEUlozJ9sKpVARDRhuU9QZiTWDNFg-VVhsDX-QUVwirSpRibyP/s1600/Quintessence+300+x+480.jpg" height="320" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="NoSpacing" style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Quintessence: Enchanted Bookstore Legend Five</b></span></span></div>
<div style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18.399999618530273px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Amazon: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00H6LSFX0">http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00H6LSFX0</a></span></span></div>
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Richie Earlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11556365610232281695noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7052741189411010176.post-69445615210516917422014-02-18T06:30:00.000+00:002014-02-19T21:01:42.146+00:00Author Interview - F.T. McKinstry on One Thousand Worlds<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-uinhyphenhyphenOpey5KjjISHuKOOfw0XP3OJWwfahkmVfnWhmLgjoFYNOVFAAVSymrtIExdRlkJvKpdb83Ik0cEovnyR2fVF09-5360dMiJ4khGnu8KtEiVCgbh55f0e8AeqH-jdk7ZWRbTwIN0A/s1600/Faith%2527s+picture.jpg" /></div>
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<b><a class="t_atc ICName" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7052741189411010176" id="rmic1_senderName" style="background-color: white; cursor: pointer; font-family: 'Segoe UI', 'Segoe UI Web Regular', 'Segoe UI Symbol', 'Helvetica Neue', 'BBAlpha Sans', 'S60 Sans', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.99359893798828px; white-space: nowrap;">F.T. McKinstry</a><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></b><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">is today's interviewed author on </span><b style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">One Thousand Worlds. </b><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This follows on to her feature on this blog last week and you can read that post <a href="http://onethousandworlds.blogspot.co.uk/2014/02/FTM.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>Tell us about your latest book.</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ascarion</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">
is the fourth book in the <i>Chronicles of
Ealiron.</i> This story begins on a cold backwater isle that harbors some dark
secrets. When a woman with royal blood and a rugged disposition crosses an
order of warlocks under the king's command, she sets in motion a war that gets
the attention of wizards and gods. This is a story of hunters and hunted,
spies, thieves, sorcerers and otherworldly beings with private agendas. Beneath
this lurks a god with something to hide; if discovered, it will alter the
world's timeline and plunge it into desolation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This book introduces some new characters while
also giving protagonists from the other books, including immortals, a big role
to play.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>How many books have you written?<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Four novels in the <i>Chronicles of Ealiron</i>: <i>The
Hunter's Rede, The Gray Isles, Crowharrow</i> and <i>Ascarion.</i> The books in this series stand alone as individual
stories that happen in the same world, sequentially in time, with some of the
same characters appearing throughout. It is character intensive, heavy on
swords and sorcery, mythology and pagan themes. I've also published a novella
called <i>Water Dark</i> that takes place in
Ealiron; and a short story collection called <i>Wizards, Woods and Gods,</i> eight tales with a fairytale flavor that delve
into tree and animal lore, magic, cosmos, love, war and mysticism. Some of these
stories were originally published in fantasy magazines.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>What are you working on at the moment?<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A fantasy novel with scifi undertones and Norse
mythological themes. It involves warring immortals and the mortals who traffic
with them. It will probably start a new series, but we'll see about that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">What are the most important attributes to
remaining sane as a writer?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Most days I think one has to be <i>in</i>sane to do this. But many things keep
me between the worlds: music, cats, fishes, gardens, woods, long winters, reading
books and coffee. I also paint. This is a different kind of space that has a
way of feeding my writing, and vice versa. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>How much impact does your childhood have on your
writing?<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I spent my childhood reading fantasy and scifi novels,
encyclopedias, dictionaries, psychology, mythology and other such things. I
found answers in unlikely places and at some point I decided I wanted to write and
offer the same thing to others. The first "book" I wrote was a
housecleaning exercise for childhood trauma: evil gods, wizards, princesses, monsters—nearly
300,000 words of it. It could have been a psychological case study in dealing
with difficult archetypes. I wanted to publish it, but that never happened and
many years later I realized that wasn't the point. It got my head together,
taught me things and built foundations. It was the beginning of my writing
career.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>What was the greatest thing you learned at
school?<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I often think I learned more from my books (this
was before the internet) than I did in school, but the few things that did interest
me there were telltale and gave me a sense of personal identity. Later, when
school became all about making a living, I took a stark detour into high tech
and discovered that I'm kind of a geek. I wasn't looking for credentials or a
future, I just wanted to survive so I could do what I wanted with my life. But I
took to computers and software like a fish to water and this came in handy when
I forged my way into publishing. It gave me an incredibly versatile structure
for expressing myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>Do you have a favourite character among the ones
you've invented?<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Lorth of Ostarin. He is a complex character and
a driving force throughout the Chronicles of Ealiron. He is a well-paid
assassin with the rough skills of a wizard and an uncanny sensitivity to the
Otherworld. A bit tormented and utterly lawless, he is ambivalent in his
loyalties to humans, but he likes animals, finding them to be true guides and
companions in his dark business. He is a paradox, and as he develops throughout
the series, he becomes a force to be reckoned with.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>If you could meet any of your own characters,
who would it be?<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">While Lorth is my favorite character, I'm not
sure I would want to meet him because I would be a babbling idiot. What do you
say to a man like that? So I'll go with Hemlock, the protagonist of <i>The Gray Isles</i>. He is a seer with a
mysterious past and a link to the sea that ends up being his undoing—or so it
seems, until it changes him into something...else. He is all about the struggle
to know oneself and I have some questions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>What do you want to be when you grow up?<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A shaman.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>If you could trade places with any other person
for a week, famous or not famous, living or dead, real or fictional, with whom
would it be?</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">That would be a toss-up between Jimi Hendrix and
Gandalf.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>What song best describes your work ethic?<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Applying the word "ethic" to the way I
work is pretty dicey. How about "Ramble On" by Led Zeppelin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="line-height: 21.30000114440918px;">Connect with<b> </b></span><span style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 21.30000114440918px;">F.T. McKinstry</span><span style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 21.30000114440918px;">:</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Berylium; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18.399999618530273px;"><a class="" href="http://ftmckinstry.com/" style="color: #6060ca; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 22.720001220703125px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="color: purple;">Website</span></a></span></div>
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Richie Earlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11556365610232281695noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7052741189411010176.post-7264439725334437832014-02-15T06:30:00.000+00:002014-02-15T06:30:02.131+00:00Once Humans - Vol.2 of the Daimones Trilogy (Massimo Marino) on Sci-fi Saturday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Once Humans</b><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>- Vol.2 of the<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><b>Daimones
Trilogy<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></b>by<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><b>Massimo Marino </b>is today's Sci-fi
Saturday feature on<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><b>One
Thousand Worlds.</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>About Massimo Marino</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm Italian, and because
even in Italy that means everything and nothing at all, I should say, I am
Sicilian. I was born in Palermo, and as it happened with countless Sicilians, I
left it, back in 1986. I lived more years abroad than in my home country, and I
have changed in many and different ways than my old friends there. It is always
a pleasure to go back, but it is now 6 long years since my last visit. Saudade?
Maybe, a little.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><u1:p></u1:p>
</span><br />
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I lived in Switzerland,
France, and the United States. I am a scientist as a background, and have spent
over 17 years in fundamental research. Most of my writing are then academic
stuff, and I always wonder at how much Google is able to find about everyone. I
am sure one has to Google oneself so not to forget too much...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><u1:p></u1:p>
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I worked for many years at
CERN—an international lab for particle physics research near Geneva,
Switzerland—then in the US at the Lawrence Berkeley National Lab. Fantastic
moments and memories from those years. In 2005 I moved to the private sector,
worked with Apple Inc., and then for the World Economic Forum.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><u1:p></u1:p>
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I wrote since I was a kid,
short stories and novellas, but never had anyone read it. It was a personal
thing. Then, work and life took their toll and I stopped. Slightly over a year
ago, for various reasons, I started again with some burning inside that needed
to come out. On the first weekend I got over 15000 words, then subscribed to
critters.org for peer review, lurked a year keeping on writing and getting
feedback.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><u1:p></u1:p>
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">On September 2012 my debut
novel, "Daimones", saw the light. It received the 2012 PRG Reviewer's
Choice Award in Science Fiction. Last February it was awarded with the Hall of
Fame - Best Science Fiction by Quality Reads UK, and received over 64% of the
1600+ readers votes. To the day, Daimones has sold over 4,000 copies. Both
novels are available as digital and printed editions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><u1:p></u1:p>
</span><br />
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The sequel, "Once
Humans", was published last July and has sold more than 1,000 copies
since. I'm writing Vol.3, "The Rise of the Phoenix”. Its Prelude (chapters
1-4) has been published last November and readers can have a taste of what’s
coming in the trilogy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><u1:p></u1:p>
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">In January 2014, the
“Daimones Trilogy” won the 2013 PRG Reviewer’s Choice Award as Best Science
Fiction Series.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><u1:p></u1:p>
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The novels have been
optioned by an Independent Audiobook Publisher in the US, Sci-Fi Publishing
LCC, and both Daimones and Once Humans are now available as audiobook, too.
(From audible.com, Amazon and iTunes).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><u1:p></u1:p>
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">My
Amazon page is: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Massimo-Marino/e/B008O53L5O">http://www.amazon.com/Massimo-Marino/e/B008O53L5O</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><u1:p></u1:p>
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">my
blog: <a href="http://massimomarinoauthor.com/">http://massimomarinoauthor.com</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><u1:p></u1:p>
</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOYZBavx3HyEEIRAuILuLpBGv2Uhgxd6pxBVXKS7NIdl0_3COClk2Ga-JA2ULvIe_EShSoqpoGn4Mum2tZlre3ghfaDTlrYfBjnDGRuNbWPEqNAR9VFOf-I8t9Mppw_7UNK2yLnMwpJVK4/s1600/OHFrontCoverLong.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOYZBavx3HyEEIRAuILuLpBGv2Uhgxd6pxBVXKS7NIdl0_3COClk2Ga-JA2ULvIe_EShSoqpoGn4Mum2tZlre3ghfaDTlrYfBjnDGRuNbWPEqNAR9VFOf-I8t9Mppw_7UNK2yLnMwpJVK4/s1600/OHFrontCoverLong.jpg" height="400" width="246" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="body" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 16.2pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
We had the
perfect life in the French-Swiss countryside until that mysterious windstorm in
February. No one realized anything unusual has happened, but the next morning,
while driving Annah, my daughter, to school, I discovered that vehicles
littered the highway, with their dead occupants still inside.<u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="body" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;">
Returning home, no one answered
the phone at any of the emergency departments nor could I or my wife, Mary,
reach our relatives and friends. Checking on the neighbors, I found them dead.<u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="body" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;">
We soon realized we might be the
only survivors of a global catastrophe. We stocked up on emergency supplies,
turned the house into a stronghold, and collected food and medicines. The
Internet still worked so I launched a large, online campaign to find other
survivors with the hope of learning more about what we were facing. While
waiting for any response at all, I managed to befriend some neighborhood dogs
and we armed ourselves with survival gear.<u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="body" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;">
At first, it felt weird and
disturbing to go into stores and take things without paying but, of course,
there was no one to pay. The whole world had become a ghost town.<u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="body" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;">
At home, to keep a sense of
normalcy, we went by the calendar and home-schooled Annah. After lessons and on
weekends, we trained the dogs, practiced shooting with the arsenal I had
gathered, and patrolled the surrounding area to nurture the hope of finding
others alive.<u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="body" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;">
More changes came as the months
went by and our lives took some turns we couldn’t have predicted in our wildest
dreams. Yet, now, it became a case of survival and adapting to what would come
our way.<u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="body" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;">
Finally, we discovered others had
also survived and that some strange entities were behind the human
extermination.<u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="body" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;">
We met Laura, and her presence
made us question what was right and wrong in our new existence. Mary chose to
support Laura's infatuation with me rather than chasing her away and possibly
condemning Annah to an isolated life, waiting alone for her own death. We
became a multi-partner family and Laura became pregnant to give birth to our
daughter, Hope.<u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="body" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;">
Those behind the extermination of
humans manifested themselves to me, and my family experienced the horror of the
first encounter. I learned from the aliens—the Moîrai Alaston, Mênis, and
Algea—what the extermination entailed: the genetic transformation of a small
group of people, the Selected, and a planned process for the creation of a new
race with others survivors spared in the culling.<u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="body" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;">
Through the Palladium, an alien
artifact that modified us genetically and provided the Selected with a means of
direct communication, I recovered the lost memory of the frightening history of
mankind; a disturbing revelation I could’ve never envisioned.<u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="body" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;">
Yes, I’m one of the Selected on
the planet and I’m charged with the reconstruction of the race of man. Mary
became the mother of my first transgenic baby and, together with Laura, we
settled with the first survivors we met beside Laura: Jean-Claude and Liliana,
Camille and Sarah, and others who joined us in the medieval city of Civita,
Italy.<u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="body" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;">
The communities of spared ones,
each led by at least one of us Selected, grew under the benevolent eyes of the
Moîrai. The aliens instructed the survivors thanks to the Palladiums and we all
developed technical skills that were crucial in the initial months and years.<u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="body" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;">
The final events brought some
closure about the catastrophe to everyone... but also laid a heavy burden and
responsibility on the Selected and myself.<u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'MS Mincho';">⁂</span></div>
<div class="ecxcaptiona" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="body" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;">
We kept in touch with other
communities and the Moîrai, the humanoid glowing aliens who culled the race of
men with their twisted salvation plan. They became a constant presence although
they tried not to become an intrusive one.</div>
<div class="body" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="body" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;">
Early during the first year,
another Selected, Marina, and her rescued people joined us in Civita; other
spared ones found our community, too. They said they followed the Palladium’s
beams, visible from afar. People still feared the future, the uncertainty, and
the way the Selected had been changed scared many of the spared ones. We knew
people thought of us as aliens—the same as the Moîrai—and suspicion took hold
in the minds of those who refused to join us. They were suspicious...we are
different...though, in many respects, we are all still the same.<u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="body" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;">
We couldn’t verify the actual
number of survivors and we had no way to tell whether only ten million spared
ones lived on Eridu, as we called Earth. Communities founded by the Selected
received support from the Moîrai and they allowed each community to become
self-sufficient. Things looked promising and were moving along, so why did I
have the impression the Moîrai pursued other goals than just helping us to
settle in only a few years? At times, they showed urgency in their manners I couldn’t
explain.<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
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Where you can purchase <b>Massimo Marino's</b> books:</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.299999237060547px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.299999237060547px;">
<div style="font-size: 15px;">
Amazon:</div>
<div style="font-size: 15px;">
<a href="http://mybook.to/Daimones" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">http://myBook.to/Daimones</a> </div>
<div style="font-size: 15px;">
<a href="http://mybook.to/OnceHumans" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">http://myBook.to/OnceHumans</a> </div>
<div style="font-size: 15px;">
<a href="http://mybook.to/PhoenixPrelude" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">http://myBook.to/PhoenixPrelude</a> </div>
<div style="font-size: 15px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px;">
Smashwords:</div>
<div style="font-size: 15px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 15px;">
<a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/330495" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/330495</a></div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.299999237060547px;">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.299999237060547px;">
Links:</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.299999237060547px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.299999237060547px;">
<a href="http://author.to/MassimoMarino" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">Amazon author page</a> </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.299999237060547px;">
<a href="https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/MassimoM" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">Smashwords author page</a></div>
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Richie Earlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11556365610232281695noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7052741189411010176.post-66031810142561390882014-02-13T06:30:00.000+00:002014-02-13T06:30:01.390+00:00Dark Peak - The First Elemental (J. G. Parker) in One Thousand Words<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 20.984375px;"><b>Dark Peak </b></span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">by </span><span style="line-height: 21.984375px;"><b>J. G. Parker</b></span><span style="line-height: 22px;"> </span>is today's feature on <b>One Thousand Worlds</b>.</span><br />
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<strong style="line-height: 21.111112594604492px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 21.111112594604492px;">Dark Peak: The First Elemental-</span></strong></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.111112594604492px; text-indent: 21.25pt;">A land of long fields and rough mountains becomes the battleground between two protectors of the Earth’s and a nebulous entity known only as the Beast.</span><span class="" style="font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.111112594604492px; text-indent: 21.25pt;"> Dark Peak is a novel set in the Derbyshire Peak District in the middle of a scorching summer. It's so hot the stones are practically melting in the walls. </span><span style="font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.111112594604492px; text-indent: 21.25pt;">And t</span><span class="" style="font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.111112594604492px; text-indent: 21.25pt;">here's a reason for this, and Jake Walker - unwitting and reluctant hero of the book – is soon to find out what it is. </span><span style="font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.111112594604492px; text-indent: 21.25pt;">He’ll also find out what he’s got to do with it. </span><span class="" style="font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.111112594604492px; text-indent: 21.25pt;">And he won’t be happy, that much is certain.</span></span></div>
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<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">About the author-</span></b><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 21.109375px; text-indent: 28.33333396911621px;">JG Parker lives in Northamptonshire in the UK and is surrounded by smallish towns, fields and forests and many birds and beasties and creatures that hoot or bark or screech in the night. Some of them come into the garden – they’re very welcome.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>A Prologue of Sorts</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Whoooomph!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The tail crashed into the wall inches from his face. Bricks and weak cement </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">jerked and crumbled as the solid muscle pulled away and struck once more. Jake sank </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">to the floor. His stomach wrenched and heaved and he was dizzy from the blood </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">pounding in his head. He was riddled with adrenaline, useful enough when he’d </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">started this fight, fizzing and cocky as a summer storm. Now it only made him shake, </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">rapid and uncontrollable.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The tail paused mid-air and pulled sharply away. It was replaced by the sounds of </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">heavy feet moving over debris. Above him, Jake heard the wet snort he’d grown used </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">to from his nightmares. He wiped his face with a bloodied hand and stared up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Through the gaps in the derelict roof he could see the comfort of the early </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">evening sky; plums and oranges, and in the distance, the moon already rising. Then</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">nothing but solid shadow.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Then a face, thin and grey and longer than the whole of Jake’s young body. It </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">was covered in dust and smoke, and it leaned down until its eyes were level with the </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">crumpled boy. It didn’t blink even once and Jake thought, not for the first time, how </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">the eyes reminded him of the colour of mountains in winter. In the centre, they were </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">filled with fire.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And disappointment.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Jake was dog-tired. He coughed, his throat ragged and dry, and held his hand </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">against the pains in his chest.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">A voice spoke.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It went beyond deep.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It was every sound ever made by stone: the clacking of pebbles on a beach, the </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">trickling of sand in an egg timer, the wreck of valleys in a landslide. It was the havoc </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">of volcanoes singing in the smallest hours.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And Jake could feel it in his bones, his brain, his blood. In his heart. The voice </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">entered and occupied him. He would never quite get used to it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">‘There, lad,’ it said, calm as a glacial lake. ‘Now do you understand?’</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Chapter 1</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It wasn’t as if she was going to keep it. She’d borrowed it only for the journey but, </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">jeeze, he could be so touchy about his things. And anyway he wasn’t using it, it was </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">just lying there on top of the drawer in his bedroom. An old comb.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">This is just crap, she grumbled to herself. I get a bawling off Mam and he gets to </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">stomp around acting betrayed and righteous! It’s different when he goes through my </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">things (not that he ever really does but that’s not important right now) but when I do it </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">once – okay maybe twice – it’s like the world’s gunna end! It wouldn’t be like this if </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">dad was still alive. Oh, yeah!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Elizabeth Walker sat on an unfamiliar bed running her hands over the thin quilt. </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It had little flowers on it. Her red suitcase lay half-unzipped beside her next to her </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">guitar. She picked at a loose thread on the quilt’s stitching, rolled it into a little ball </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">and tried to push it back into the fabric. </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">That comb! She wished she’d never took it. It would have been easier to pop to </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">the poundshop and pick up half a dozen cheapo ones. Definitely a lot less stress, </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">anyway.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It wasn’t even a very good comb! It was too fine for her hair and stiff. Fair </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">enough, it could get lugs out quickly (like a hot knife through butter) but it took </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">forever just to give her hair a proper comb. All that static! By the end, she’d looked </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">like a Troll-doll, and no amount of patting it down with a dampened hand worked.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She didn’t even know why she’d kept it!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Opposite the bed was a long, discoloured mirror fastened to an ancient wardrobe. </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Elizabeth caught her reflection in it. Her face was still red and blotchy but she was </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">calmer now. She sat for a few minutes staring at the yellowish figure looking back at </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">her. She looked older than her eleven years, as if she carried the weight of the world </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">on her back. And in a way she did because she’d grown up a lot in the last year or so.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She’d had to. They all had, even Mam.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Grown up and faced the world differently.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She sighed and ran her fingers through her soft, brown hair. Her mother liked to </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">call it auburn, but she knew it was brown. A long bob. She’d thought recently about </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">cutting it short but she’d miss the way she could hide her face if she needed to. She </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">pulled her hair back and up, holding it tight at the crown. No, she didn’t have the face</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">for short hair.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">A small knock sounded on her door and she looked up to see her brother holding </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">on to the frame. She stared at him and sucked at her teeth. </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">‘What?’ she said, flatly. A shaft of sunlight cut across the room, dividing it in </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">half. The boy sagged a little and started to step over the threshold.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">‘Don’t you come in ‘ere,’ snapped Elizabeth. ‘No way, get lost! My room!’</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Her brother hesitated, frozen to the doorframe.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">‘Look, Bett–’</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">‘Don’t ‘Bett’ me! My name’s Elizabeth!’ It was a defence she retreated to when </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">she was upset with Jake, as if she could hide behind the name her father had given her </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">like it was a shield or a talisman.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">‘I got a gobfull coz of you and that comb, Jake, so go on! Sod off!’</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">For a minute, her brother looked smaller and younger than she was, even though </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">he was neither. He scratched his arm and stammered, ‘I- I know, but look–’</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He edged in and sat on the bed, carefully, sliding the suitcase to one side.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Elizabeth slapped his hands away and pulled her case towards her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">‘Get off my stuff. I can’t touch your stuff. Keep off mine! Go on! I mean it! Freg </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">off!’</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">Where you can buy </span></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 20.984375px;"><b>Dark Peak:</b></span></span><br />
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<a href="http://ow.ly/t45MI" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Amazon</span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-weight: inherit;"><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/402224?ref=stonewoodpress" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">Smashwords</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Connect with <b>J.G.Parker:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://theelementals.net/" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">Elementals website</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/J_G_Parker" target="_blank">@J_G_Parker</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><a href="https://www.facebook.com/darkpeaktheelementals" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">Facebook</a></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/16126359-dark-peak" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px;" target="_blank">Goodreads</a></span><br />
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Richie Earlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11556365610232281695noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7052741189411010176.post-5158119540110207962014-02-11T06:30:00.000+00:002014-03-04T14:17:11.907+00:00The Hunter's Rede (F.T. McKinstry) in One Thousand Words<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>The Hunter's Rede (Book 1 in the Chronicles of Ealiron series)</b></span><b style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </b><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">by </span><b style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">F.T. McKinstry</b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><span style="line-height: 20.99431800842285px;"> </span></b><span style="line-height: 20.99431800842285px;">is</span> today's featured book on <b>One Thousand Worlds</b>.</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US">Lorth of Ostarin is a hunter of men. Lawless,
solitary and obscure, he is trained in magic and its inherent order. This
uneasy combination of pitilessness and structure has made him the highest paid
assassin in the land. It is also about to throw his life into chaos.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The trouble begins when Lorth returns home
from a long absence to find his old haunts compromised by a cruel, upstart
warlord who has invaded the realm and pushed it to the brink of war. Lorth's
cavalier attempt to elude a political sandpit quickly deteriorates into a
series of skirmishes that he negotiates with a sword and a reckless penchant
for using magic against the rules. He flees with a price on his head; but no
angry warlords, wizards, foreign aristocrats or spooky apparitions can rattle
him from the dark stability of his profession—until he is captured and
condemned to execution by a formidable wizard who serves the old powers.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">In his quest to prove his innocence and
loyalty to the realm, Lorth discovers a profound sense of identity in his
internal confluence of war and wizardry. But his quest turns bloody when love
for a priestess and a will to avenge his homeland drives him to infiltrate an
enemy occupation bent on domination and a blatant disregard for the forces of
magic. This brings him to his greatest test, where he must surrender to the
darkness of his nature to become a hunter unlike anything he has ever known.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-uinhyphenhyphenOpey5KjjISHuKOOfw0XP3OJWwfahkmVfnWhmLgjoFYNOVFAAVSymrtIExdRlkJvKpdb83Ik0cEovnyR2fVF09-5360dMiJ4khGnu8KtEiVCgbh55f0e8AeqH-jdk7ZWRbTwIN0A/s1600/Faith%2527s+picture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-uinhyphenhyphenOpey5KjjISHuKOOfw0XP3OJWwfahkmVfnWhmLgjoFYNOVFAAVSymrtIExdRlkJvKpdb83Ik0cEovnyR2fVF09-5360dMiJ4khGnu8KtEiVCgbh55f0e8AeqH-jdk7ZWRbTwIN0A/s1600/Faith%2527s+picture.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US">Author Bio:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">F.T. McKinstry is the author of the <i>Chronicles of Ealiron,</i> an epic fantasy series by Double Dragon
Publishing; and <i>Water Dark,</i> a novella
by Wild Child Publishing. Her short stories appear in <i>Tales of the Talisman, Aoife's Kiss,</i> and a collection called <i>Wizards, Woods and Gods</i>. When she's not
writing or reading weird things, she's hanging out with her cats and fishes,
tinkering in gardens, shoveling snow or smearing paint on canvases.</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Hunters-Rede-ebook/dp/B005NDOGB8/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1317836617&amp;sr=8-1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCre09B1T4J9Gf7xds4uP5wfrFd7pEzwn-Enthz_58Vj1gyJ4UoFFI34Vnxug2REr9z2piDqPBAAP7f9Uk-0fykOqVlSMG06RwHcf-dRWxubsUGFHbzBnNUCDcqrOXuS9j58v7Vzfr6g4k/s1600/HuntersRede-510.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><b>The Hunter's Rede</b></span><br />
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Warm rain caressed the babargon trees that crouched on the rise overlooking the Anglorean outpost deep in the Tarthian jungle. In a land with no winter, the autumnal equinox had just passed; the new moon hung like a stagnant pool above the woolen cloud cover. As night stole the last of the light, fog settled into the shadows, muting voices, hiding movement and sinking its teeth into the imaginations of tired, wounded warriors.</div>
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An assassin gazed upon the captain's tent with the patience of a praying mantis. He did not need light to know where it stood. Unseen and unknown to all but the few who paid him, his tall, lean body draped between the weeping trees, he waited, his mind caressing the glimmering watch-web he had cast around his post to warn him of any unwitting intrusion.</div>
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In his homeland of Ostarin far to the north, they called him a hunter. Here, they called him kav'tib, which in their fluid tongue meant warlock, in no good terms. Icaros, the wizard who had raised him after the earth took his mother away, once said, There is more to being a wizard than pretty tricks! The Keepers of the Eye know the minds of gods.</div>
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The hunter was far from that. But his tricks, such as they were, proved good enough for the Tarthian nobility. They had hired him for being lawless and without loyalties, a servant of the Old One, the primeval, feminine force of cycles, birth and death who knew all things even beyond the timeless ramparts of gods. Even so, he would not be the most skillful, highest paid assassin in Sourcesee without the things Icaros had taught him. He knew things beyond his multifaceted training as a warrior, things only wizards knew.</div>
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For seven years, he had hired out his services to the warlords of Tarth, an empire of wet, wooded lands that had as many boats as carts, a desolation of brackish marshes, towns on stilts, jungles dripping with moss and the warm, fragrant nectars of constant rain. All manner of life grew here, every kind of creature that crept, slithered, swam or flew, humans notwithstanding. These were bronze-skinned, tall, with rounded noses and deep-set eyes the color of swamps, eyes that knew the mysteries of things that flowed. Dominated by the Great Reson Fen near the borders of Anglorea, Tarth was known for its concoctions, everything from rich, heady drinks to narcotics, medicines—and of course, poisons.</div>
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He reached up and touched the orange-sized scar on his neck, a five-rayed star left by a near-fatal spider bite. A Tarthian woman had found him gasping and burning in the hazy shadow of a willow tree that leaned over a quiet brown-black river. Like images from a dream, he still remembered the way the water pulled on the long, thin leaves hanging down, the scent of jasmine, the feel of the woman's hands on his face, chirruping birds, croaking frogs and the numbness in his arms and legs. She had dragged him away from the water and into an unpleasant hollow that smelled as if the mud itself were rotting there. He never knew what she had done to him—let alone why—but on the other side of a seemingly interminable delirium he had awaked, alone, weak and, amazingly, alive.</div>
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He had not known the face of his own death before that, though he knew death in every part of his nature, being the hand that so often dealt it. Now, the spider bite lived in his body as a presence just below the surface of thought. It sensed the nature of events around him, and intensified when anything came along to which he needed to attend.</div>
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He had never learned the name of this spider, but he had learned that the deadly creatures lived only in the swamps that fed the headwaters of the Mroc. While following the straggled path of the company below, he had captured one and brought it to this hidden outpost. With a word, he had crept as a whispering shade into the captain's tent and respectfully loosed the spider into his blankets. The warrior was a man of little note, not the kind of top-heavy lords and commanders whom the hunter usually targeted. His orders had been specific with this one. Keep it quiet, keep it hidden.</div>
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The war had begun in the distant southwest, beyond the Red Forest River, where the borders of Tarth dried out and the stony, brushy hills of Anglorea stumbled up and ran with fresh winds as if relieved to get out of the rain. The hunter had left his gold's worth of blood on those stones, and in the mud and pools of the forests, silently and without a thread of emotion for those whom his aristocratic employers had picked to die. He could not have said what the war was about, exactly. A hunter did not concern himself with that. He had crept like the nameless spider into the underground, into the shadows of warriors, lords, horses, whores and swords; into the moaning, oil-darkened recesses of the war machine and there he practiced his art. He cared little for where the river of life flowed or why.</div>
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He had become the river, rising and falling to the rhythm of the Hunter's Rede, an unwritten set of codes, shades, they were called, designed to guide assassins in their work. But it was more than that. Shades of gray between the darkness and the light, the Rede whispered the wisdom of the wild. After so many years, it had rooted into his animal mind as primordial instinct.</div>
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As he waited for death's exhale, feeling the water on the slick black trunks of the babargon trees soaking into his cloak, the hunter wondered, as he did every year at this time, why he remained in this land. Though his lords paid him well for the things he knew—things they feared to know—he had lost</div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US">Where to buy </span>The Hunter's Rede<span lang="EN-US">:</span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Hunters-Rede-ebook/dp/B005NDOGB8/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1317836617&amp;sr=8-1" target="_blank"><span style="color: purple;">Amazon</span></a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-hunters-rede-ft-mckinstry/1105859101?ean=9781554048687&amp;itm=1&amp;usri=the+hunter%27s+rede" target="_blank"><span style="color: purple;">Barnes and Noble</span></a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><a href="http://itunes.apple.com/US/book/id465800755" target="_blank"><span style="color: purple;">iTunes</span></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px;">Connect with </span><span style="line-height: 21.30000114440918px;">F.T. McKinstry</span><span style="font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px;">:</span></span></b></span></div>
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Richie Earlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11556365610232281695noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7052741189411010176.post-23764252580563453952014-02-07T06:30:00.000+00:002014-02-16T23:41:35.736+00:00Author Interview - Jami M Brumfield on One Thousand Worlds<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh05QexNKuo3dPLwtp-Cqcf8oeuKx_QEFPzPZ_hprAJPorq4tPjHcrpw-8bjh2OFg3uZyI2LDPo9aYOaBix6WXWCFR1qJpOcc3qiQxt7ikJSR2dikz6PKZMLM-5OgNiuJt9feQkKKJeTD7k/s1600/jami.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh05QexNKuo3dPLwtp-Cqcf8oeuKx_QEFPzPZ_hprAJPorq4tPjHcrpw-8bjh2OFg3uZyI2LDPo9aYOaBix6WXWCFR1qJpOcc3qiQxt7ikJSR2dikz6PKZMLM-5OgNiuJt9feQkKKJeTD7k/s1600/jami.jpg" height="200" width="137" /></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px;"><b>Jami M Brumfield</b></span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">is today's interviewed author on </span><b style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">One Thousand Worlds. </b><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Jami first featured on this blog in January and you can read that post <a href="http://onethousandworlds.blogspot.co.uk/2014/01/JMB.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</span><br />
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<b style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px;"><br /></b><b style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px;">Tell us about your latest book. </b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Lone Wolf Rising is book one in the Winters series. It is a young adult paranormal romantic urban fantasy that is often compared to other popular titles like "Twilight", only this story is about Rebecca (a spell bound witch/werewolf). It is a coming of age urban fantasy that mixes in modern day challenges, spices it up with paranormal/supernatural elements, and sprinkles in the romance for a wonderful delight that will keep you entertained to the very end.</span><br />
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<b style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">How many have you written? </b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This is my debut novel.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>What are you working on at the moment? </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I am currently finishing up book two in the series titled "Vampire Princess in Training" which is scheduled to be released in March or April of 2014.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>What are the most important attributes to remaining sane as a writer? </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Coffee, good music, and an amazing support system made up of my husband, my friends and my two dogs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>How much impact does your childhood have on your writing? </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The answer to this question is a ton! Literally. My mother is a writer. I grew up dreaming big (acting, singing, dancing, writing I tried and loved them all). Writing, for me, is an escape and a challenge - two of my favorite things rolled into one. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>What was the greatest thing you learned at school? </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Rejection. Kids can be the toughest critics I have ever met. But facing those challenges at an early age made me stronger. The other thing I learned in high school was how to blend in and become part of a group. This is especially great in helping me create urban fantasy worlds that draw people into them because they are real with the fantasy hidden just below the surface. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>If you could meet any of your own characters, who would it be? </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sundae Monroe may be a minor character in book one but she is the kind of character that you can't help but be drawn too. She is damaged (to the extreme) but she tries to become a better person. She also has a creep factor that makes her interesting enough to want to meet, if for no other reason then to see how your intuition is working and whether or not you could recognize the danger under her innocent personna. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Do you have a favourite character among the ones you've invented? </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I can admit I am a little partial to all of them. They have endearing qualities that make them likable but if I had to choose one, I think my favorite one to write was Gabriel. Beneath his sarcastic butthead personna he is really a loyal, trustworthy, and honest character. The question is if Rebecca will take the time to get under his facade and meet the real Gabe. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>What do you want to be when you grow up? </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I am a hypnotherapist and life coach. I spend my days helping people remove obstacles in their lives and my nights creating obstacles to put in my character's lives to spice up the pages of my books. It seems like a great blend. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>If you could trade places with any other person for a week, famous or not famous, living or dead, real or fictional, with whom would it be?</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">To be honest I love my life. If offered the chance to trade places I don't think I would really have anyone in particular I would like to become. However, I wouldn't mind taking short trips back into the past and living a day in the life of someone from different eras in history. Perhaps that is why I enjoy doing past life regression as a hypnotherapist because I help people go back to times in their past, relive moments in their lives, and learn the lessons needed to help them move forward in this life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>What do you think about when you are alone in your car?</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The next scene I want to write about in my books. I see the scenes play out in my head like a movie or tv series. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>What song best describes your work ethic?</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Work Hard, Play Harder" by Gretchen Wilson - only I don't wait until Friday to play.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Where you can buy <b style="color: #444444; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px;">Lone Wolf Rising:</b></span></div>
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<b style="color: #444444; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b><span style="color: #444444; font-size: 16px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lone-Wolf-Rising-Winters-Series-ebook/dp/B00GSFQ5NM/ref=pd_rhf_ee_p_dnr_2" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Amazon</span></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Connect with Jami M Brumfield:</b></span></div>
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<b style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 15.555556297302246px;">Twitter</b><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 15.555556297302246px;">: </span><a href="https://twitter.com/JamiMBrumfield" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 15.555556297302246px;" target="_blank">@JamiMBrumfield</a></div>
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<b style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 15.555556297302246px;">Facebook</b><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 15.555556297302246px;">:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 15.555556297302246px;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lone-Wolf-Rising/509657379133192?ref=hl" target="_blank">Book Page</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Jami-Brumfield/678670618818695" target="_blank">Author Page</a></span></div>
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<b style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 15.555556297302246px;">GoodReads</b><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 15.555556297302246px;">:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 15.555556297302246px;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18885092-lone-wolf-rising?from_search=true" target="_blank">Book Page</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7414345.Jami_Brumfield" target="_blank">Author Page</a></span></div>
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<b style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 15.555556297302246px;">Book Trailer link on </b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MPUQj_hkavk&feature=share" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">You tube</a></div>
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Richie Earlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11556365610232281695noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7052741189411010176.post-32793698615350356502014-02-04T06:30:00.000+00:002014-02-04T06:30:01.055+00:00Fairie Tales (Fiona Skye) in One Thousand Words<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Fairie Tales (Book 1 of </b></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px;"><b>the Revelations Trilogy</b>)</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20.984375px;"><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 20.984375px;">by </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><span style="line-height: 20.984375px;">Fiona Skye</span><span style="line-height: 20.99431800842285px;"> </span></b><span style="line-height: 20.99431800842285px;">is</span> today's featured book on <b>One Thousand Worlds</b>.</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US">Riley O'Rourke,
a TV talk show host with a serious addiction to gummi worms, broke one of the
unwritten rules of being a Preternatural—she told the world the things that go
bump in the night are real and to prove it, she changed into a jaguar on live
TV, plunging the world into years of chaos that required an act of Congress to
stop.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Not all the
Preternaturals are happy with this new world order, however, and the Queen of
the Winter Faeries punishes Riley for her role in the Night of Revelations by
sending some of the nastiest storybook characters imaginable to kill her.</span></div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7052741189411010176" name="__DdeLink__1_18847545891"></a><span lang="EN-US">The Winter Queen's rival, the Summer Queen, offers Riley and her
loved ones protection in exchange for stealing a magic mirror from the Winter
court, an object which has promoted rivalry between the Summer and Winter
factions for eons. Riley agrees to what seems an impossible task: break into
the Winter court's castle, sneak past Red Caps, giants, and something called
the Nuckelavee, steal the mirror and bring it back to the Summer Court, all
without the Winter Queen ever finding out. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Riley sets out
on this quest with her mentor, a 3,000-year-old vampire, and her lover, a
federal law enforcement agent with a secret of his own. What they didn't
suspect was that taking possession of the mirror could doom the entire world's
very existence. Dealing with the Fae is always a double-edged sword, serrated
and sharp. Now Riley must find a way to undo the damage...</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Fiona Skye is an urban
fantasy novelist currently living in the deserts of Southern Arizona. She
shares a home with her husband, two kids, three cats, and a Border Collie,
named Cooper.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Fiona’s passion for story
telling began early in life. At age twelve, she wrote her first short story,
which was based on a song by 1980s hair band. She has dedicated her life since
then to writing, only to be occasionally distracted by her insatiable love of
yarn and crochet, and the dogged pursuit of the perfect plate of cheese
enchiladas.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">She counts Diana Gabaldon
and Jim Butcher as her favorite authors and biggest influences. Joining these
two on the list of people she would wait in queue for a week to have a coffee
with are Neil Peart, David Tennant, and Brandon Sanderson.</span></div>
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<a href="http://fiona-skye.com/books-2/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsDo5QUZPf5PK7NhyphenhyphenCzz4KDsiyQqzGMss2I_4sLlwByEunOt1X9uFuKv-Oqodbckt8BmuZGopEUizptO472RSBMFx0m-loNJxF16xsd16Y3IzH0Q8LpQVHpQVa5nppjWglpf5bf4Tu123B/s1600/FT-Cover.jpg" height="400" width="263" /></a></div>
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<b style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Fairie Tales</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The world changed four years ago, on an early October night two days before the Full Moon.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">That was the night my mentor, a 3,000-year-old vampire known as Onyx, the Duke of Tucson, decided to reveal his existence to the world—and I joined him by shifting into a big black Jaguar on live TV.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Of course, we were sort of helped along in our decision by the release of surveillance footage of the two of us handily beating the ever-living crap out of five rather large muscular men and a twelve-foot tall giant, without so much as a bruise or broken bone between us. Oh, and then there was the police department headquarters that was demolished in a series of extremely localized earthquakes, a man who floated in midair, Onyx hurling elephant-sized chunks of rubble at the floaty guy without breaking a sweat, and Onyx nearly burning to ashes and healing those wounds in mere hours, rather than months.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">At first, no one wanted to believe it. The existence of actual bloodsucking undead, of people who really did turn into animals every full moon, had to be a hoax started by desperate people looking to make a quick buck. But as more and more Preternaturals revealed their true natures, including some famous actors and powerful politicians, the truth became harder to deny.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">In the years after the Night of Revelations, the world went a little mad. Groups of humans banded together and hunted down anyone they suspected of being a Preternatural creature. Thousands of innocent people—most of whom were actually human—were killed in riots that spread across the globe. Then a popular Republican Senator from Arizona came out as a Tiger and began pushing a bill through the U.S. Congress called the Preternatural Equal Rights Act. It was a long, hard fight, but the bill was eventually passed and real dialogue began, the riots died down, and the world's population slowly came to accept us.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The PERA provided a wealth of federally-protected civil rights, as well as funding for new law enforcement units at the federal, state, and local levels, and a new prison system tailored to accommodate the special challenges of incarcerating Preternatural creatures who broke the law. The new units made up the "Preternatural Law Enforcement Bureau," and with an acronym of "PLEB", it was no stretch of the imagination to begin calling the agents "Plebeians." In Arizona, the head of the Federal PLEB office was none other than my ex-boyfriend, Deacon Lindley, a former cop who had been present when the police headquarters had been destroyed. Yeah, his new job caused me a lot of joy and happiness. It had not been a good break-up; we couldn't be in the same room together without fighting, and since I was pretty much the public face of the Preternatural world now, we spent a lot of time in the same room together.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I became a celebrity overnight. I couldn't leave my house for weeks due to the glut of reporters and TV cameras that were camped out in my front yard. Even after the fervor finally died down and the reporters moved on to cover Senator Romero's story, I was still stopped and asked for autographs everywhere I went. I also received death threats; some enterprising person even sent me a gorgeous rosewood box lined with purple velvet that contained six silver bullets, each carved with my name. Deacon wanted to assign me a protective detail after that, but I flatly refused to live in fear.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I left my job as a crime-beat reporter for the Tucson Daily Gazette after the PERA passed, and wrote a book based on my early life and my experiences living as a Cat. After the book spent nearly a full year at the top of the New York Times' bestseller list, I received an offer from CNN to become an on-air personality, with my own nightly talk show dedicated to discussions of the new world order and the role that Preternaturals would have in it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Not all of my kind were happy with what had happened on that October night, four years ago. Apart from the humans' reactions, I'd faced my fair share of threats and anger from those of my kind who thought it would have been better to remain hidden away, struggling to pretend that they were human. These were usually the older vampires, Onyx's contemporaries, who had been in the shadows for centuries. I could understand their reluctance to come out into the open and stop hiding: when someone followed a behavioral pattern long enough, it became far more than mere habit. It became a way of life, an ingrained part of one's culture. So I didn't begrudge them their anger or even their threats—much.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I tried to hold onto the life I'd lived before Night of Revelations. I still ate at the same restaurants, had the same friends, shopped at the same stores. I still spent weekends in Tempe, flirting with anything in trousers, only now I didn't have to pretend to be drunk or stupid to get laid. Still, some changes were inevitable. I moved to an exclusive and secure neighborhood in the northeastern foothills of Tucson, and I was now a television celebrity, the public face of things that went bump in the night everywhere; my life was a long way away from the days when I'd been just another journalist struggling to get by.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Where you can buy <b><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="line-height: 21.30000114440918px;">Fairie Tales</span><span style="font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px;">:</span></span></b></span><br />
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Richie Earlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11556365610232281695noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7052741189411010176.post-42908381504021260852014-01-31T06:30:00.000+00:002014-01-31T06:30:02.528+00:00READ, WRITE, REVIEW!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Reviews, reviews, reviews! A review is a precious and often rare commodity yearned for by all authors. For example, my first novel, The Legend of Finndragon's Curse, was released over two years ago and has little more than a dozen reviews posted on each of the Amazon US and UK sites. Some of these were unsolicited, while others came from offering free review copies, which is not uncommon among Indie authors.<div>
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<b>One Thousand Worlds</b> is commited to helping writers find their readers and vice versa, and is hoping to provide a service to all fantasy and sci-fi authors willing to provide free copies. You must also be thick-skinned enough to accept brutal honesty. I know that I have been, and as a result my wordsmithery has improved (if wordsmithery isn't a word, then it should be!).</div>
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<div>
<b>Fantasy and Sci-fi Writers</b></div>
<div>
Leave a short synopsis of your book in the comment section after this post, stating how many copies you are willing to provide and in which formats.</div>
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<b>Reviewers</b></div>
<div>
I am looking to increase the number of reviewers posting on this blog and would love to hear from anyone interested in supporting and promoting authors. Ideally, you don't yet have your own book blog, but you must be an avid reader. For those of you who already have your own review site, you may reproduce your original posts or review copies offered by authors on One Thousand Worlds.</div>
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If you are interested in reviewing a book listed in the comment section, reply directly to that comment. It would be reasonable to expect a completed review within four weeks. You can contribute as often as once a week, or as little as two or thee times a year and you will always be fully credited. All reviews should be copied to Amazon and Goodreads at least.</div>
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<a href="http://onethousandworlds.blogspot.co.uk/p/join-our-review-team.html" target="_blank">Become a contributor</a></div>
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Richie Earlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11556365610232281695noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7052741189411010176.post-63103060276265011172014-01-30T06:30:00.000+00:002014-01-30T15:09:40.660+00:00Virtual Tour: Firebolt (Adrienne Woods) in One Thousand Words<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>One Thousand Worlds</b> is delighted and honoured to host the final leg of<b> Firebolt: The vitual Tour </b>by<b> </b></span></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Adrienne Woods.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
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<h4 style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></span></h4>
<h4 style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></span></h4>
<h4 style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span></span></h4>
<h4 style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Blurb</b></span></span></h4>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px;">Dragons. Right. Teenage girls don't believe in fairy tales, and sixteen-year-old Elena Watkins was no different.</span><br />
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Until the night a fairy tale killed her father.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Now Elena is in a new world, and a new school. The cutest guy around may be an evil dragon, a prince wants Elena's heart, and a long dead sorcerer may be waking up to kill her. Oh and the only way Elena's going to graduate is on the back of a dragon of her own.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Teenage girls don't believe in fairy tales. Now it's time for Elena to believe in...herself.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<h4 style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Synopsis:</span></span></h4>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">For the love of blueberries, Elena Watkins
was destined for greatness, even though she didn’t know it. Forced to travel
from home to home every three months Elena’s life was a never ending blur of
new towns and new faces, that is, until the night her father was killed by a
creature she thought only existed in fairy tales – a dragon. With her father’s
death leaving her orphaned, Elena is whisked away to her true birthplace,
Paegeia. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Arriving at Dragonia Academy, the premier
school for young Dragonians, she begins to feel a sense of belonging in this
strange world; a school she was never meant to attend because her father was a
dragon. Elena is soon swept up in the rigor of her new life and the new set of
skills she now needs to survive: Latin, Art of War, and Enchantments. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Entranced by her new reality Elena learns
about the dragons and humans who inhabit her new home. There are two classes of
dragons that soar through Paegeia distinguished by their instinctual pretense
for either good or darkness. The distinction between these two very different
species is vital to Elena’s success in her new world because she has been
marked as a Dragonian, a human preordained to ride and tame a dragon of her
very own.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">With the help of her new friends, Elena is
able to navigate the complexities of her new home. Her new roommates Becky and
Sammy are even more amazing then she could have ever imaged and to top it all
off, Sammy was a dragon. Sammy’s is also the devoted sister of Blake, the most
attractive boy at school and the Rubicon; the only dragon of his kind with the
abilities of all the dragon species with a pretense for evil. Elena soon finds
the love she always wanted with Lucian, the Prince of Tith, who actively
pursues Elena throughout her time at Dragonia Academy, winning her heart with
his absolute adoration and unshaken dedication.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Unbeknownst to Elena danger is lurking
behind the enchanted vines concealing the once thriving capital of Paegeia –
Etan. Goran, the darkest sorcerer to ever practice his evil arts in the realm,
has lain dormant for over a century behind the crumbling city. The first step
in his menacing plan is to destroy the only weapon that can kill him – the King
of Lion Sword. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">When the sword is stolen Elena doesn’t
think twice about seeking it; knowing deep down that it is her destiny to save
her new home. She travels to the Sacred Cavern, and discovers the nefarious
actions of an unknown man lead to the swords destruction as she follows the
trail revealed in the prophetic waters of the cavern. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Elena and her friends engage the mysterious
man revealing their existence to Goran and fighting for their very lives.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<h4 style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Author Info</span></span></h4>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: windowtext; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal; line-height: 115%;">I was born and raised
in South Africa, where I still live with my husband, and two beautiful little
girls. I always knew that I was going to be a writer but it only started to
happen about four years ago, now I can’t stop writing.</span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixe6luaDzur0jBmUd0ZkyO-l_za3V1jbpY92JCTlshkL42TA-Wu4kljA9NzIxvRIzLeETW2KM1Xzf6qCbI3M-Z8snHintc7H3a4hWL1dbm6FuGOY68G9K37h5qCPAI9bcRWFpiis2D7EHs/s1600/bio-pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixe6luaDzur0jBmUd0ZkyO-l_za3V1jbpY92JCTlshkL42TA-Wu4kljA9NzIxvRIzLeETW2KM1Xzf6qCbI3M-Z8snHintc7H3a4hWL1dbm6FuGOY68G9K37h5qCPAI9bcRWFpiis2D7EHs/s1600/bio-pic.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: windowtext; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal; line-height: 115%;">In my
free time, If I get any because Moms don’t really have free time, I love to
spend time with friends, if it’s a girls night out, or just a movie, I’m a very
chilled person.</span></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: windowtext; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal; line-height: 115%;">My
writing career is starting with Firebolt, book one with the Dragonian Series,
there will be four books in total and two to three books that is about the
stories taking place inside The Dragonian Series.</span></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: windowtext; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal; line-height: 115%;">I do
write in different Genres, I have a woman’s fiction called the Pregnancy
Diaries, but it would be published under another name. And then I have a
paranormal series, called the Watercress series. There are about ten novels in
that one.</span></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: windowtext; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal; line-height: 115%;">So,
plenty of novels to come out, so little time.</span></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: windowtext; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal; line-height: 115%;">I
hope you are going to embrace the Dragonian Series as much as I loved writing
them</span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: windowtext; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal; line-height: 115%;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: windowtext; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><a href="http://woodsadrienne.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Blog</a> </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Dragonian-Series/301375039891281?ref=br_tf" target="_blank">Facebook</a> <a href="https://twitter.com/erichb3" target="_blank">Twitter</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7219081.Adrienne_Woods" target="_blank">Goodreads</a><br />
<br />
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<h4 style="text-align: left;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpbrZI-ZPexoWM2auk8lYzPdJTJDAhSG5ugKagVAHQSZwxSzx_jdUcR6XEqOeBhAaTjdiRYvUbKSNmGKjS0tl6-7D40qHA0XAP3Ox3fcDwlqkwNtFQFL6k_rwGKDkyuOjmlTY7K3qIzn5_/s1600/FIREBOLT_E-BOOK.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpbrZI-ZPexoWM2auk8lYzPdJTJDAhSG5ugKagVAHQSZwxSzx_jdUcR6XEqOeBhAaTjdiRYvUbKSNmGKjS0tl6-7D40qHA0XAP3Ox3fcDwlqkwNtFQFL6k_rwGKDkyuOjmlTY7K3qIzn5_/s400/FIREBOLT_E-BOOK.png" height="400" width="266" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Chapter 1</span></div>
</h4>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="EN-US"></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> A girl singing her heart out about a
miracle boomed inside my ear. A miracle would get me what I needed: a chance at
a semi-normal life.</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
The bedroom door hitting the wall expelled the thought from my mind.
With his hand tangled up in his copper hair and with huge brown eyes, Dad's
figure filled the entire doorway. “Pack your bags.” He had that set to his jaw,
the one that meant there was no way out of this. He bolted out of the room just
as suddenly as he had appeared. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
My teeth ground hard against each other, and the sharp pain behind my
eyes, I guessed from the lack of sleep, grew stronger. Every fibre of my being
wanted to explode.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
Ever since I could remember my name, Dad and I had been on the run. From
what? Beats me. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> For
the last two weeks, I'd been pacing up and down through the house, struggling
to fall asleep at night, waiting for this day.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
For the love of blue berries, no sixteen-year old should live this
way! </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
I climbed off my bed, and the first step I took left my toe tangled in
the wide leg of my jeans. I tried to
regain my balance as the closet inched closer, but with wildly flailing arms, I
came crashing down. The thud reverberated across the wooden floor, and it
sounded as if I'd broken something.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
Dad darted back into my room. "Are you okay?" He lifted me
back onto my feet as if I weighed nothing. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
Tears lurked in the corners of my eyes, threatening to burst, as I
stared up at him. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
"Don't give me that look, Elena. Please, we need to hurry.” He
pulled my suitcase from the top shelf and chucked it haphazardly onto my bed.
“We need to go. Now.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
"Dad…" </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
He started to grab my clothes from the shelf and tossed them messily
inside my small suitcase. Then he paused, sighed, and looked up with soft eyes.
He stroked the side of my cheek with his hand gently. “This wasn't the right
place, bear. Please, you’ve got to trust me.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
His hand reached back to pull everything off my shelf, while my hands
curled up into balls of fury. My heart pounded fast as those two words bounced
inside my skull. “Trust you, Dad?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
"Elena, we don't have much time,” he yelled. “Pack your bags! You
can ask questions later." He left, and the hollow “doof” sound from his
footsteps stomped loudly as he made his way into the hall.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
Ask questions? Yeah right! I’ll only get answers that don’t reveal why
we are on the run for the gazillionth time.' “Trust me” and “I'll tell you when
the time is right” were the only two answers Dad gave. 'Guess time with him
will never be right.’ </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
It was no use arguing with him anyway. The last time, he threw me over
his shoulder and carried me out without any of my things.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
So I grabbed the stuff I needed: my mp3 player, a photo of Mom that Dad
didn't know I had, and my journal from underneath my bed. I tossed them into my
backpack. It wasn't much, but it was the stuff that made my miserable life felt
less pathetic. I zipped up my suitcase and took a deep breath. Looking around
my bedroom for the last time, I said goodbye to my sixtieth-something room.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
Dad almost ran me over in the hall with his army bag slung over his
shoulder. He grumbled, which I assumed was an apology, took my suitcase, and
ran down the stairs. He always rented these huge old houses, pre-furnished and
near the countryside, and we always left after three months. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
The pickup's horn honked as I shut the front door. I closed my eyes and
took another deep breath. Just two more years, then I'll be eighteen and free
from this freak show. Huge raindrops fell hard onto the ground. The smell of
wet dirt filled the air. It was my favorite smell. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
The water that pooled on the ground covered all the gaps in the driveway,
forcing me to hopscotch around all of them. My shoe got caught in one of the
gaps and I smacked down hard in a huge puddle. By the time I reached the truck,
my jeans and shoes were soaking wet. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
Warm heat from the vents inside the truck hit me full blast as I jumped
in; a million goose pimples erupted across my skin. As soon as I shut the rusty door, Dad floored
the gas pedal. Tires screeched and the truck spun away as if the Devil chased
us. My lower lip quivered softly as he
swerved onto the road. The streetlights flew by in a blur as I plugged in my
earpieces. The same stupid song about a miracle boomed from my mp3, drowning
the sound of the engine and the hard dribbles on the roof, a percussion that
became the perpetual soundtrack to my misery. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
A feeling of utter loneliness consumed my heart as I stared out the
window. Homes with white picket fences and the convenient store whizzed by in a
flash. A tear rolled down my cheek as I said goodbye, and my breath on the
glass created a foggy condensation. Reaching out my index finger, I drew a
small heart. These were the reasons why Mom had left. She couldn't handle his
paranoia, but why she’d left her daughter to deal with it was a mystery. Dad
constantly reminded me of the latter, and that was the only time he ever spoke
of her. If he ever discovered I had that picture, he would kill me. That was
how much he hated her for leaving us. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
The lights of a vehicle in the upcoming lane shone directly into my
face. I shut my eyes, waiting for it to disappear. As a little girl, I used to
watch Dad as we drove away from yet another house. He would glare into his
rearview mirror every five seconds, every muscle in his face clenched, and his
knuckles white on the steering wheel. I hadn’t been able to force myself to
peek out the window then, as it used to scare the living crap out of me to
consider the possible reasons he was fleeing from, or who might be following
us. Now, I didn't look at him or care much for what he was going through. He
created this problem. With me becoming the luggage. It was a ritual I endured
every three months, and nothing over the past sixteen years had ever changed
that. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
The “Interstate 40” sign flew by in a whirl, and the pickup slowly moved
onto the turnoff lane.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> My eyes started to burn as I stared at the
rain running down my window. Each rivet resembled another town, another place I
would never again call home. Exhaustion consumed me and my eyelids felt heavy.
I laid my head against the window and struggled to stay awake. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
Suddenly, a dark and huge figure flew past me. Dad swerved to the left,
which made me crushed into the side of the passenger’s door. My entire body
pumped with adrenaline. I jumped straight in my seat and wrenched the seatbelt
over my shoulder to buckle myself in. I tore out my earpieces as I tried to
process what had just happened. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
“What was that?” I looked at Dad.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
He stared straight ahead with huge eyes. Beads of sweat rolled from his
hairline down to the side of his temple. He looked terrified, something that
conflicted with his personality. I'd never seen Dad look that scared in my
entire life.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
“Dad!”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
“Did you see where it went?” he asked, attempting to inject calm into
his voice, but I could hear the fear lacing each syllable.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
“See where what went? Dad what was that!”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
“You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
“For once in your life, just tell me!” I screamed. Sixteen years of
frustration exploded from my lungs. I couldn't take the unknown anymore. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Fine.”
He mumbled something else that I didn't catch. "Do you remember the
stories I used to tell you?"</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
“Stories? What stories?”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
“The ones about Paegeia, Elena.” He looked in his rearview mirror again
with huge, unblinking eyes. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
Vaguely, but I didn't tell him that. "What does that have to do
with this?"</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
“They're real.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
I froze and I stared at him. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
“All of it, it’s real. The dragons, the magic, the wall, everything is
real.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Missed it? Here are all the tour dates for Firebolt:</span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Friday, 10<sup style="line-height: 17.749998092651367px;">th</sup> January: Cherry Mischif</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://www.cherrymischievous.com/" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">Http://www.cherrymischievous.com</a> review and spotlight</span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Monday, 13 January: Emily Brich</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://afternoonbookery.blogspot.com/" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">http://afternoonbookery.blogspot.com</a> Feature and excerpt</span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Wednesday, 15<sup style="line-height: 17.749998092651367px;">th</sup> January: Michelle Willms</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://michellewillmsblog.wordpress.com/" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">http://michellewillmsblog.wordpress.com</a> Review and Spotlight</span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Thursday, 16<sup style="line-height: 17.749998092651367px;">th</sup> January: Library of Erana</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://libraryoferana.wordpress.com/" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">http://libraryoferana.wordpress.com/</a> Interview and Spotlight</span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Friday, 17<sup style="line-height: 17.749998092651367px;">th</sup> January: Melanie Adkins</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://haveyouheardbookreview.blogspot.com/" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">Http://haveyouheardbookreview.blogspot.com</a> Review and Spotlight</span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Monday 20<sup style="line-height: 17.749998092651367px;">th</sup> January: Rebecca Craft</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://rebeccacraft.com/" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">http://rebeccacraft.com</a> Spotlight and excerpt</span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Tuesday 21<sup style="line-height: 17.749998092651367px;">st</sup> January: Carlyle Labuscaghne.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://worldsawaybookblog.blogspot.com/" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">http://worldsawaybookblog.blogspot.com</a> Review and Spotlight</span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Wednesday 22<sup style="line-height: 17.749998092651367px;">nd</sup> January: Allison Agius</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://www.allisonagius.com/" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">www.allisonagius.com</a> Review and Spotlight</span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Thursday 23 January: Itara Cabrerra</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://midnightfantasies.blogspot.com/" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">http://midnightfantasies.blogspot.com</a> Review and Spotlight</span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Friday 24<sup style="line-height: 17.749998092651367px;">th</sup> January: The Crooked Word</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://thecrookedword.blogspot.com/" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">http://thecrookedword.blogspot.com/</a> Review and Spotlight with Becky</span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Monday 27<sup style="line-height: 17.749998092651367px;">th</sup> January: Jenn Nixon</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://jennafern.blogspot.com/" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">http://jennafern.blogspot.com</a> Review and spotlight</span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Tuesday 28<sup style="line-height: 17.749998092651367px;">th</sup> January: Angela Fjord</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://www.angelafjord.com/" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">www.angelafjord.com</a> Review and Spotlight</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"></span></div>
<div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Wednesday 29<sup style="line-height: 17.749998092651367px;">th</sup> January: Rhianna Bullard</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://theworldofrhianna.blogspot.com/" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">http://theworldofrhianna.blogspot.com</a> Review and Spotlight</span></div>
</div>
Richie Earlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11556365610232281695noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7052741189411010176.post-17648477270884057422014-01-28T06:30:00.000+00:002014-01-28T06:30:03.072+00:00Jason's Indie Review - Rule of Thumb by Scott E. Baughman<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 15.555556297302246px; line-height: 21.30000114440918px;"><b>One Thousand Worlds</b> is delighted to share another </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="line-height: 21.30000114440918px;"><b>Jason Potnick</b> review. </span></span><b>Rule of Thumb </b>by <b>Scott E. Baughman</b> is a Sci-Fi adventure thriller, available on Amazon (<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Thumb-Balance-Power-Scott-Baughman-ebook/dp/B00EI4HL0G" target="_blank">here</a>) and was featured here on <b>One Thousand Worlds</b> at the beginning of January. You can read the first 1000 words<a href="http://onethousandworlds.blogspot.com/2014/01/SEB.html" target="_blank"> here</a>.<br />
<br />
<b>Jason's review</b><br />
<br />
I met Mr. Baughman on Twitter, and he gifted me a copy of Rule of Thumb for an honest review. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://nebula.wsimg.com/7a68f7d2a09d164b331e8efe84d444e9?AccessKeyId=71062E967CED0349F768&disposition=0" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://nebula.wsimg.com/7a68f7d2a09d164b331e8efe84d444e9?AccessKeyId=71062E967CED0349F768&disposition=0" height="320" width="198" /></a>Set in 2042, Rule of Thumb looks at the pervasiveness of technology in our lives. As social networks continue to grow and permeate our identities, what would happen if we lost access and ceased to exist, according to the civilized world? Can those in power truly cut us out of society, removing our identity? Adrien Faulk discovers first hand the dangers of such a world in this Sci-Fi adventure.<br />
<br />
<br />
Mr. Baughman does a wonderful job creating a believable near-future. The first two chapters of Rule of Thumb sucked me right into his world. He introduces us to Smith, a detective Mr. Faulk hires to help retrieve a lost item. Mr. Smith prefers the "old" technology of the early 21st century, as a great contrast to the new technology of 2042. Smith still reads the New York Times (on paper!), dines on unhealthy greasy foods, and drives an old gas powered Mustang.<br />
<br />
The back and forth banter between Adrien and Smith helped explain the differences (both subtle and distinct) between present and future. Their contrasting world views setup the story, and keep it moving forward.<br />
<br />
What begins as a simple mystery of a lost family heirloom turns into an international adventure full of conspiracy, action, and intrigue. The story flows quickly from scene to scene and does not waste any time on long exposition. It is a quick read throughout.<br />
<br />
The book is written in first person perspective, which I must admit is difficult for me. I follow along first person stories just fine (and Mr. Faulk's thoughts are detailed and easy to follow), but often I find myself annoyed with the main characters of such books because I know too much of what he or she is thinking.<br />
<br />
That said, the book is well written and easy to read. I noticed very few, if any, typos and the formatting is clean and painless to navigate on an e-reader. The author's clear and direct prose never confuses and keeps the story moving without hiccups. It seems to me appropriate effort went into proofreading and editing the work.<br />
<br />
I most enjoyed reading the author's version of future New York. The people and technology of the high speed, high tech world are well defined and believable. By the end of the second chapter, I was ready to settle into an urban thriller. I must admit, I was disappointed when the story took a turn and left New York for more of an international adventure. I hoped for more of Mr. Baughman's version of the city.<br />
<br />
At times, the pace of Rule of Thumb races along. I feel that the author has too many story elements for this books 140 pages. Without giving the story away, the final third of the book contains several twists and revelations. Before I could digest and come to terms with each one, the next showed up. After reading the story, I feel there were a number of plot points and reveals that could be saved for later books in the saga.<br />
<br />
After reading Rule of Thumb all the way through, I get a sense that Mr. Baughman knew where he wanted his characters to go, but did not always know how he wanted to get them there. There are a couple scenes in the book that drive the story forward, but the characters end up surviving unbelievable situations to get to the next scene and location (particularly evident on their trip to South America) These scenes felt like short cuts, and shook me out of the story for a time. <br />
<br />
I believe the story and characters would be better served taking a longer path. This reinforces my belief that there is actually more than one book possible with this story (or a longer, more epic book perhaps).<br />
<br />
Rule of Thumb is jam packed with action and surprise twists and turns. Mr. Baughman's world of 2042 is believable, dangerous, and compelling. I recommend Rule of Thumb for anyone looking for an imaginative, futuristic action-adventure tale. I am excited to see where Mr. Baughman takes the story next!<br />
<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Rule of Thumb</b> is available to purchase on Amazon</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Rule-Thumb-Balance-Power-Volume/dp/1492908983/ref=tmm_pap_title_0" style="background-color: white; color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">Paperback</a></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 21.111112594604492px;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Thumb-Balance-Power-Scott-Baughman-ebook/dp/B00EI4HL0G/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=&qid=" style="background-color: white; color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">ebook</a></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Barnes and Noble: </span><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rule-of-thumb-scott-baughman/1116519182?ean=9781492908982" style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">Nook</a></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/rule-of-thumb" style="background-color: white; color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">Kobo</a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-weight: inherit;"><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/346826" style="background-color: white; color: #0068cf; cursor: pointer; font-weight: inherit;" target="_blank">Smashwords</a></span></div>
</div>
<br />
<hr />
<br />
<i>Jason Potnick, creator of Ryndaria,
is passionate about #IndiePub authors. His website contains his
reviews, short stories, and miniature figure painting, as well as random
musings on writing, Dungeons and Dragons, fatherhood, and other
creative endeavors.<br />
<br />
You can connect with him on Twitter (<a href="http://www.twitter.com/ryndaria">@ryndaria</a>) and on his blog (<a href="http://www.ryndaria.com/">www.ryndaria.com</a>)</i>
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