Wings Authors

Mole Smith and the Diamond Studded Pistol by Paddy Bostock

noreply@blogger.com (Rhobin) — Fri, 10 Feb 2012 06:00:00 +0000

Suspense

426 pages

Cover art by Richard Stroud

Paddy Bostock's first novel with Wings ePress

Tricked into believing he is to be accused of a murder he hasn’t committed, PI gofer Mole Smith is inveigled into the search for an ancient order and its famous diamond-studded pistol. What Mole doesn’t know, as he undertakes the quest with his partner Oksana, is what powers lurk behind the scenes.

Excerpt:

The massage was really okay—it was. This time Oksana had only displaced two of my vertebrae, meaning that I used my good arm to steer the car while leaning the impossibly limp one on the center rest.

She really didn’t mean any harm performing these therapeutic massages; it was one of the ways she showed her affection for me. It’s just that her martial arts skills came inexorably into play as a matter of course, a fact I sometimes pointedly reminded her during our early-morning pillow talk. Her way of dealing with my unrest in this area was to smile in that winsome way of hers, run her fingers through her silky ash-blonde hair and, in the end, shrug a bit.

Right now I wish I could shrug as well. But every time I tried, my left shoulder locked up, shooting pain all the way down to my coccyx. It was an unpleasant sensation as the car swerved to the pitch and yaw of the road.

Tough Luck by Catherine A. Winn

noreply@blogger.com (Rhobin) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 06:00:00 +0000

Young Adult

171 pages

Cover art by Richard Stroud

Catherine A. Winn's first book with Wings ePress

Against her will, Annie is sent to Wentworth Academy for the summer where her roommate becomes the target of a vicious stalker. When the meanest girl in school tags her as Attacker Annie, she sets out to clear her name, but it may be the biggest mistake of her life.

Excerpt:

Annie pulled out the rubber band, stored it on her wrist and shook her head to loosen her hair as she went downstairs. A quick look at the coat rack told her Mindy was already gone. Her hat still hung on the hook to dry. Annie grabbed her coat and headed for the Fine Arts Center. She kept to the sidewalk but, even so, she had to sidestep debris and hop over puddles so she wouldn’t have to dry out another pair of shoes.

A light rain began to fall. Annie pulled up her hood and sprinted. Right outside the dining hall, she came to a dead stop. Something was lying in the bushes. She moved closer to get a better look. Hidden by overgrown shrubs, someone in a pink raincoat, lay face down in the wet grass. Blood matted the back of her curly blonde hair.

Ishtal by David Toft

noreply@blogger.com (Rhobin) — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 06:00:00 +0000

Paranormal

278 pages

cover art by: Richard Stroud

David Toft's sixth book with Wings ePress

When hard drinking social misfit Stephen falls in love with a shapeshifter it could be the fulfillment of his wildest dreams. It could be the beginning of his worst nightmare…It could be the end of the world.

Excerpt:

He spotted the crows again, skimming low over the grass. They settled fifty yards away to his front and left. He angled to the right so as not to get too close to them. They took wing again, forcing him into a tighter turn. They were herding him as a collie would herd sheep. He could run straight at them. That probably wasn’t a good idea. Neither was going where they wanted him to. He couldn’t run forever though, or even for many more minutes. The next time they landed, he didn’t change course. He stopped before he reached them, and dropped to his knees. He didn’t have enough energy left for flight or fight. He raised his head, his chest heaving and his breathing ragged. Twelve slobbering hounds spread out to encircle him from the spot on which the crows had landed. The one immediately to his front shimmered and became human. Tall, silver-haired and sharp-featured, his tailored, grey business suit looked odd against the backdrop of the grassy plain.

“You will follow me,” he said, turned and strode off up the gentle slope.

Child of the Stars by R. L. Hennessy

noreply@blogger.com (Rhobin) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 06:00:00 +0000

Futuristic/Sci-fi

374 pages

Cover art by Richard Stroud

R.L. Hennessy's first novel with Wings ePress

Child of the Stars is a uniquely visionary, science fiction, adventure novel set in the far future where humanity has become a civilization highly dependent on the miracles of technology.

Conflict, adventure, imaginative landscapes, and distinctive societies, along with a surprise ending, will constantly dazzle and delight the reader as he or she travels through the galaxy right along with the main characters in this farsighted and thought-provoking novel.

Excerpt:

What are your intentions?” Professor Baron asked abruptly.

“My immediate intentions are to free the people on Lakomiya Beta from uncounted centuries of political repression, unjust imprisonments, and executions without trial or charge. We want to restore human dignity, human rights, and a government controlled not by military, industrial, or financial interests, but by a doctrine based on this principle: ‘to the many shall go the most.’ Ultimately, we want to install a government in which the fulfillment of common needs is the first and only priority. We want to stop the systematic extraction of our planet’s resources by the industrial captains and their puppet government for the benefit of the few at the expense of the many. You need to recognize that the elitist, ruling class of Lakomiya Alpha has created a society that does not deserve to survive—because it continues to disregard nature, compassion, and the needs of the vast majority of its citizens. You marvel at the crystalline beauty of the Lakomiya Alpha capital. Now, I tell you that the city is not built with jewels or with the marvels of invention, but it is built with blood—the blood, toil, and untold misery endured by the people of Lakomiya Beta. So, I ask you. Is the city still as beautiful? Do its garden flowers still smell as sweet? Are its people still as gracious—as civilized?”

“And you were elec—?” Professor Baron tried to ask before being cut unceremoniously short.

Broken Promises by Nancy Minnis Damato

noreply@blogger.com (Rhobin) — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 00:57:00 +0000

Encore L'Amour

351 pages

Cover art by Pat Evans

Nancy Minnis Damato's fourth book with Wings ePress

Excerpt:

Charlie shuffled a path through the muddled groupings of chairs and tables, his convivial greetings engaging Dylana in the exchanges. She further impeded their progress with her attention repeatedly drifting back to Meredith’s companion. In spite of Dylana’s uneasiness, the stranger prompted admiration. He was athletically built, hinting at constrained energy—a hunk, in her daughter’s vernacular.

Busy greeting well-wishers while cutting among the spectators, and attempting to grab a better look at Meredith’s friend divided Dylana’s attention. When Charlie halted, she flinched. She came near colliding with one of the women who, according to tabloid reports, had shared her ex-husband’s companionship during the past two years, and probably before.

The girl’s presence startled Dylana. She had dismissed the fact Brede would be attending. Actually, she’d plunged the thought somewhere between liver and bowel where anything of that sort belonged. Of course, Meredith would invite her father—no matter the bruising of the divorce.

The narcissistic oaf stood alongside the girl, facing the opposite direction. A buttered knife couldn’t slide between them. Only seconds and he would turn around.

Pull yourself together. Dylana squared her shoulders

Excerpt from Legend's Cipher, an anthology

noreply@blogger.com (Rhobin) — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 06:00:00 +0000

Legend's Cipher available from Wing's Press.

Bertok sat across the table from three examiners, his hands clasped on the table in front of him, and wondered why he had been summoned to Vincenne University on Acolyte Island, the home of the head bishop of the Holy One’s church. Three clerics silently stared at him from the other side of the table. One chair remained empty.

This couldn’t be about any immoral activity, could it? Yes, they could find cause, but my carousing has never led to another’s harm, has it? Is this a tribunal? The thought of burning briefly terrified him, causing him to quickly regard the other men seated in the room. No, those types of illegal inquisitions stopped generations ago, didn’t they? Besides, he knew no secrets, and he tried whenever possible to avoid such awareness.

Bertok compressed his shoulders while he twisted his neck, cracking the bones to relieve his tension. What had he done? A complaint sent to the Bards’ Guild at Queen’s University could result in expulsion from the guild. That notion shook him. He had a dual calling as both storyteller and musician. What would he do? He loved being a bard; the work suited his wanderlust, and his talents. He didn’t want to labor in fields or be beholden to some shopkeeper, or worse, some aristo.

A few inescapable reflections exposed situations where his actions had been less than ethical. These situations arose mostly through mischance or miscalculation. He was not as pure in body and soul as the priests demanded, but surely none of his misdeeds rose to punishable offenses? His only other secret he kept twisted tightly shut. How could they possibly know of that?

His short, well-worn leather jack felt buttoned too tight even if only at the waist, and to unbutton it would be far too casual for whoever was coming to talk to him. Besides, the jack hid stains on his shirt he did not wish to expose, even if the shirt’s frayed cuffs escaped the end of his jack’s sleeves.

Unlike many bards, I claim no coat string relation to any aristo, and I look like what I am, a powerless itinerant bard—someone with no influence. Perhaps even a worthless sacrifice for some religious goal? He shivered.

The closely woven texture and slight sheen on the three examiners’ gray robes of common clerical service, while plain, displayed fine quality. Their cowls, arranged in careful folds around the clerks’ necks, probably kept the chill-laden drafts away while Bertok’s knees knocked with nervousness and the winter drafts chilling the room. The fireplace’s burnt offerings failed to warm the room to more than bearable cold.

His mind returned to his ponderings. Why was I called to the Bishop’s School? He had graduated from Queen’s College, so if he was to be disciplined for any incorrect language or behavior, would not the oral rhetoric professors of his own school handle the matter? Not the prelate’s teaching center? Did they know his secret? With applied effort he prevented himself from unseemly squirming in his seat, but the clasp of his hands grew tighter.

The leaded panes of the tall, arched windows let drab winter light filter into the paneled chamber and made the ancient walnut paneling appear all the darker. He wondered if the prelates preferred such somber surroundings. The click of the latch of the door drew his attention.

His eyes widened, and his mouth dried as His Eminence the Bishop entered. If he didn’t know the man’s face, he’d have never recognized him. The bishop also wore general clerk’s dress rather than the ornately rich robes of his office. Bishop Hedrick settled his ascetic’s frame in the empty chair across the table. His gaze settled on Bertok. His eyes were the most innocent blue Bertok had ever seen. The bishop smiled, gentleness lining his face.

“Bard Bertok, it was kind of you to travel so far at my request.”

Bertok hesitated, wondering what to reply, but took the safe route. “Your holiness, I am at your service, only curious as to the reason for your request.”

The bishop’s smile changed his austere expression to one of an ordinary man. “That certainly eases my conscience. Before I embark on my reason for calling you hence, I would like to ask you a few questions.”

Bertok nodded his agreement while his stomach boiled in tension.

Saboteur

noreply@blogger.com (Rhobin) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 06:00:00 +0000

By A. J. Maguire

Fantasy Romance

355 pages

Cover art by Richard Stroud

He’d promised to unite the land, to bring Eldur and Human together in peace, but Nelek Dyngannon never expected that peace to come at the cost of his wife. Together, Trenna and Nelek must battle past the demons of Trenna’s past, in order to forge a peaceful future.

Miss Rosalie and The Primrose Fool,

noreply@blogger.com (Rhobin) — Tue, 10 Jan 2012 06:00:00 +0000

By D. L. Chance
Historical Romance
291 pages
Cover art by Donald Chance

A third generation cattleman and veteran WWI doughboy, Deke Sadler didn't miss much. Best lifelong friends with Rosalie Leonard since both were small children in the tiny ranching village of Primrose, New Mexico, he watched life from the Leonard family's roadside café and service station, where Rosalie was a waitress, as changes came slowly to a place that steadfastly resisted change.

While he and Rosalie met regularly to share each other's intimate company on the Leonard's dusty back porch sofa, the time never seemed quite right to—as Rosalie had once put it—make her an honest woman. But fifteen years of blizzards, bootleggers, gossips, coyote plagues, train disasters and sad brushes with mortality taught Deke that change is inevitable, no matter how slowly it comes; and the time was always right to make his old pal his wife, if only he’d realized it.

Sons of Israel

noreply@blogger.com (Rhobin) — Sat, 07 Jan 2012 06:00:00 +0000

By Douglas Ponton
Suspense/Thriller
279 pages
Cover art by Richard Stroud

Hugh Whitby, a British sports’ journalist and chess fan, explores revelations about his paternal grandfather, Vladimir Salutsky, a Russian immigrant to Britain in the 1920s, who disappeared leaving Hugh’s grandmother to look after their son by herself. Hugh had never heard his grandfather’s name mentioned in the Whitby family. His pushy wife Abigail engages a private detective, and they learn that he had been an immensely wealthy and influential Jewish architect. Salutsky, in fact, was one of the financiers of the ‘Exodus’ project to repatriate European Jews in Israel in 1948. Together with his twin brother, Yusef, who was on board the ship, he was part of a political movement whose aim was the equal division of land between Arab and Jew. Helped by detective and chess fanatic David King, Hugh embarks on a personal odyssey to explore his own Hebrew roots.

Meanwhile Abigail wants to get her hands on a share of the architect’s vast wealth, which has all passed to the state of Israel. A clever plot unravels like a chess game through many twists and turns; the story has moments of tension and drama, but also of comedy. At the heart of it is an appeal for 'the lion to lie down with the lamb', a political message of perennial relevance.

The First Apostle

noreply@blogger.com (Rhobin) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 16:59:00 +0000

By Katherine Pym
Historical
473 pages
Cover art by Trisha FitzGerald

Camille Desmoulins, a pamphleteer and journalist, and a man devoted to his wife, Lucile, harbors a malevolent secret. His quill carries poisoned ink. He writes with misdirected passion that leads to the destruction of lives who come in contact with his writings.

Impetuous, and filled with satirical wit, Camille runs in the same circles as Robespierre and Danton, but it is not until 1793 that he finally tires of the Terror and pleads for clemency. But will clemency save him and his loved ones from a terrible fate?

In the Sticks

noreply@blogger.com (Rhobin) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 11:30:00 +0000

By Joel Jurrens

Mystery/Crime

320 pages

cover art by Richard Stroud

Murder comes to Cossack County when Deputy Lyle Hoffman finds the murdered and tortured body of a woman in a rural farmhouse. The investigation will lead him down a path filled with ruthless outlaw bikers, where friends become suspects and dark secrets are brought to light.

He pulled into Angel Geode’s yard and called out his location to Pricilla. The place didn’t look much different on the outside than the last time he had been there. The lab team had come and gone without a trace. The ground was squishy from the earlier rain and his boots made sucking sounds in the soft earth as he walked to the porch. Once on the porch he noticed the yellow strip of plastic crime scene tape that said “POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS” was hanging by one end flapping in the breeze. The wind gusts from the storm must have torn it loose. He took his flashlight out of its holder on his belt and turned it on. The screen door was shut, but the inside door was open.

Excerpt:

Kids coming to look at a murder scene was his first thought. Then he noticed the door had been forced open and the latch had been busted out of its frame. He looked at the inside door and could see a footprint where someone had kicked the door open level with the door knob. The footprint still glistened with moisture. Lyle shined the flashlight on the floor and saw a set of still-wet footprints headed across the kitchen’s linoleum floor.

The hair on the back of his neck stood to attention. He unbuckled his .357 from its holster and began to pull it out. It had just cleared the top of the holster when he saw the flash.

He saw the flash first. They should have been simultaneous, but they weren’t. The flash was first and then an instant later he felt the impact of the bullet striking him in the chest.

One Woman's Garden: Preview "Gardening Requirements"

noreply@blogger.com (Word Crafter) — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 15:25:00 +0000

One Woman's Garden: Preview "Gardening Requirements"

Envar Island by C. W. Kesting

noreply@blogger.com (Rhobin) — Thu, 29 Dec 2011 14:36:00 +0000

Futuristic/Sci-Fi
313 pages
cover art by Richard Stroud

In the later years of Reconstruction following the Class Wars, enhanced human variants—envars—have outlived their initial purpose. Now, four generations of advanced genetic engineering lie sequestered on secret islands, awaiting disposal. Faced with their own mortality, a small band of envars revolt and escape to the mainland in search of answers…
Excerpt:
“Do you believe there are other islands?” she had asked. Her eyes narrowed as she searched the brightening horizon.

“I dunno. I guess it’s possible,” Michael responded dubiously. He kept his eyes on the silvery waters of the sea.

“Do you believe everything the Elders have taught us?” She tossed him a suspicious sideways glance.

“Well, not everything,” he answered and then smiled slyly. “For instance, I’m fairly certain that when the Next arrive, they don’t just wash up on shore one night.”

She slapped him hard on the shoulder and shot him a look of impatience that quickly turned to a smile. He laughed aloud and shook his head.

She beamed at him and then chuckled through her own words. “I’m not talking about where the baby Fifths will come from, you undisciplined dolphin.” After a few minutes their giggles subsided.

“I mean about us as a people.” Her body drew tight. Her eyes were soft and serious as they searched his open face. His tender look of concern urged her on.

“Do you think this island—our island—is the last one of its kind?” Her gaze was desperate now, almost forlorn.

“What you really mean is,” he corrected, “are we the last of our kind?”

Mystery in Antique Magic

noreply@blogger.com (Rhobin) — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 14:18:00 +0000

Antique Magic by Eileen Harris
Mystery
260 pages
Cover art by Richard Stroud

How did the deceased owner of the old house know so much about Ali Trent, the antique dealer hired to appraise her hoarded treasures? And can she stay alive long enough to solve the mysteries of murder and magic before becoming the next victim?

Excerpt:
I don’t know how long I’d been asleep when something woke me. Trying to hear the noise again and figure out where it had come from, I lay quietly and listened. A moment later someone turned the doorknob to my room. That was the sound I’d heard. It flashed through my mind there were only a couple of choices available. I could open the door in the hope of confronting whoever was attempting to enter or I could open the window and call for Dan. My thoughts were interrupted by a glow in the room coming from the bottle. Wild patterns were swirling inside and they were all very black. I wasn’t really frightened before, but when I saw this swirling black mass, it scared me more than the thought of an intruder. There was no way to be sure Dan was completely trustworthy, but I opened the window and shouted his name several times. Immediately all activity in the bottle ceased. In a minute or two, a loud pounding began at my door and Dan hollered, “Ali, Ali, answer me! Are you all right? What’s happening?”

On-line Dictionaries

noreply@blogger.com (Rhobin) — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 23:29:00 +0000

I love them. Type in the word, and all the information you want shows up. Although there are many on-line dictionaries, my particular favorite is Merriam Webster on line. I can Google any word followed by ‘Merriam’ and it brings up the link to that word. Yes, there is an advertisement (isn’t there always, anymore? -- but they pay for the service!). The ad can be skipped and the rest is fast, and comprehensible. Plus it gives an audible pronunciation of the word! I admit to being a pronunciation challenged person, so this is such a bonus. A medical dictionary and an encyclopedia are also available; however, my next favorite feature after the definition is the video section.

In the video section Merriam Webster editors speak about issues in grammar. If you think the plural pronoun agreement is wrong with indefinite singular antecedent check out Merriam Webster’s Ask the Editor – it’s such a relief! I was so tired of that politically correct usage of 'each has his or her preferences.' It is so nice to write 'each has their preference' without guilt. So Woo-hoo to Merriam Webster!

It is so easy today to be writing at your computer and have the ability to check out words on line so efficiently! There are many, many sources on the Internet for writers, it makes me think I’m living in a wonderful time in history.

Check out my newest release from Wings!

I'd take a lump of coal

noreply@blogger.com (C.L. Kraemer) — Sat, 17 Dec 2011 22:33:00 +0000

Hey all,

I'm back at it again. Guess this keeps my fingers limber for the story writing stuff, anyway... It appears this year I've been very, very bad as the elves all got together and crafted a doozy of a cold for my present. I've been sick in bed ALL week thanks to the elves. I'm one of the few who refuses to "share" my germs with co-workers knowing what I share will come back to haunt me a month later.

So, as a warning from a VERY bad girl... slow down, have some hot cocoa [with or without fortifications] and enjoy the feel of the season. Listen to hokey Christmas music, you know the kind, Bing Crosby or Perry Como. For you younger Wingers, Google it.

Pull out your books and run a loving hand over them because these are the gifts you've given the public and your family. You've gifted all of us with amazing writing and characters who will live in our memories.

To all the Wingies--Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

C. L. Kraemer

Need help here!

noreply@blogger.com (C.L. Kraemer) — Sun, 04 Dec 2011 20:12:00 +0000

I was noticing how 'loquacious' I seem to be and the truth be told, it's not so. So give me a hand here, folks. If you're not familiar with blogging, try it out here first.

Tell us of the difficulties you're encountering in your new book. Show us how much progress you've made since you first put words to paper. Put down a thought or two of how life is progressing in your part of the world, just keep in touch. Let folks on your Facebook accounts know you have a blog at Wings Authors and invite them to share in the insanity.

If we all invite five people and only two show up--between 300 authors we could amass 600 views. It would be an auspicious start.

Help me out, guys. I'm beginning to hear the echo of my own fingers typing in cyberspace.

C.L. Kraemer

Thankful for fluffy buns

noreply@blogger.com (C.L. Kraemer) — Thu, 24 Nov 2011 03:53:00 +0000

Oh my gosh! It's already November 23 and I've got so much to do I'm going crazy! I still have to shop for my part of the Thanksgiving dinner and do the cooking tomorrow and go over and see if I can help my daughter-in-law. Oh, yes, and I really need to sit down and figure a way to eat all this amazing food without putting on the 25 pounds I recently lost, and... stop. Stop! STOP!!!

Whew. It's never ending, is it? I started winding up about a week ago when I realized I was trying so hard to find ways to keep off the weight. On my way to work as I obsessed about how I could accomplish the impossible, the universe thumped me on the head. Soundly.

I have the LUXURY of worry about weight gain. There are those in this big country of America who will go to bed hungry tonight. When I start stressing over the utility bills and how I'm going to juggle paying for my cable, phone and computer bills, I need to back off and realize the number of people happy just to have lights.

I have a very old Saturn station wagon I call the "mom" car that recently underwent a little bit of work so it would continue to run. I was fortunate enough to have a very best friend who loaned me the money to get me on my feet. Not everyone is so blessed.

Best of all--about a dozen years ago, a wonderful trio of far-sighted, progressive women read the manuscript of my first novel and offered me a contract to pursue my passion of writing. Thirteen books later, I can't begin to thank them enough.

I know we'll all miss our mentor and biggest cheerleader, Lorraine Stephens. A special thanks to her family and best wishes for the holidays.

From my comfy warm couch, in front of my working television, I'm very thankful for all I do have. I hope all of you will enjoy a wonderous day with your family; be they four-footed and furry or two-footed and furry.

Happy Thanksgiving to all the wonderful Wingies!

Are the bad guys really bad?

noreply@blogger.com (C.L. Kraemer) — Sun, 06 Nov 2011 20:33:00 +0000

The question was asked if writers find characters from books they've read creeping into their own writings? Of course. It's human nature.

When I'm starting a new novel, I find the good guys seem to be formed already--the hero has his white hat in hand, and the heroine is smiling, her perfect white teeth glistening in the sun. Blech!! That was a bit much... anyway, my main good guys are formed from bits and bobs of those around me whom I admire.

The bad guys, on the other hand, tend to form themselves. [I know, I know, horrific grammar.] I have a general idea of what I need for the novel but no definite grasp on what their specific badness will be.

If the villain has no redeeming qualities, what is the point of his being in the story? As readers we need to have some empathy for all the characters so we can root for, or boo, them.

No one I know feels any remorse at the Night Stalker, Richard Ramirez, being put to death, but there were those who held some admiration, albeit grudgingly, for Ted Bundy. He was charming, good-looking and genteel. Even Ann Rule in her book, Stranger Beside Me, admitted to overlooking him as a suspect for the serial killings because he didn't fit the profile of a serial killer. He was just too nice.

In a current novel I've penned, the villain creeps everyone out and makes them look over their shoulder. His traits were loosely based on a convicted murderer who created the same effect in real life. The reality was he was raised in a middle class home where he did all the normal things others around him did. He graduated high school, got a job and went out on the town with the rest of us. No one had any idea of the turmoil bubbling beneath the surface. We had glimpses but when he exploded and killed four people and wounded twenty, the nation reeled. [This was in 1981 long before young people began solving their problems by shooting classmates and relatives. It was a complete shock.]

Having readers ask when the next book will be out so they can find out what happened to a character tells us writers we've done it right. So I'll continue to use the bits and pieces of folks I know to incorporate in new characters. After all, it's worked so far!

Celia Cooper/C. L. Kraemer

Memorable Characters

noreply@blogger.com (Rhobin) — Sun, 30 Oct 2011 23:20:00 +0000

No matter how many stories I read or write, there are characters that never leave my soul. Matter of fact, they sometimes haunt me. I first read Elizabeth Bennet's (yes, another Pride and Prejudice fan) in tenth grade, but I've revisited her often, like twenty plus re-readings and I never miss a movie. The new books carrying her story or her sisters' stories forward and other plot, setting machinations, do not interest me. Other readers, I know, don't care about her so much, but I'm certain they have one character who they always remember or one who plays a part in their imagination, dreams, or subconscious; for many it might be Harry Potter stars in this role.

It's not only good characters, either, for I often find coercive, mean characters, whose behavior I found reprehensible in a story, pop into my mind. Other times a character from an otherwise unremarkable story is so strong they break ground and plant themselves in my imagination.

What is this? Some sort of psychological archetype trick of the mind? If that is the case, I'm sure everyone has different characters hopping around in their cerebral cortex, but isn't it rather interesting who shows up?

The trick, of course, for writers is to make sure those characters don't show up in one of their own books. Which is another interesting phenomenon, because often my book characters show up in my brain long before they do a book.

How about other authors? Do you have similar occurrences?

Legend's Cipher
Short Stories from the Aegis World
Available from Wing's Press

The Name Game

noreply@blogger.com (C.L. Kraemer) — Sun, 23 Oct 2011 19:05:00 +0000

Sunday, October 23, 2011

"Celia, Celia, Celia!"

Sometimes it takes a while for me to respond to my chosen pen name. My true, sign-your-bills name is Christie, like Agatha, but when I started my writing career, I opted to use a pen name.

Reason? I'd been in discussions with friends and family and watched their demeanor completely change when they spoke of certain types of writing. No, not erotica, but the idea still holds true for most erotica writers. My reason for choosing to use my favorite aunt's first name and my maiden name as a last name was to separate my romance novels from other types of writing. So a book written by Celia Cooper is bound to have romance and relationships as the main theme.

My novels written as C. L. Kraemer feature mystery, suspense, fantasy and science fiction. I guess in writing this blog I've given away my secret but that's okay. It is a seldom occasion where I run into readers who will read everything a writer puts out. Nora Roberts and J.D. Robb can attest to that.

Pen names free the author to write whatever strikes their fancy. In this day and age, a woman has as much freedom to write as a man but it wasn't always the case. Hence, many of the literary work produced in the 1800's and early 1900's was the product of women writing with men's aliases.

Personally, I'm thankful to write whatever I please under any name I wish. I'm also glad my writing is appreciated by readers who ask for more. Thank you all for your loyalty... and good taste!

Celia Cooper/C.L.Kraemer
Working to earn the reader's trust with every word written

New Book from C. W. Kesting!!

noreply@blogger.com (Echo) — Sat, 22 Oct 2011 19:52:00 +0000

In the years of Reconstruction following the Class Wars, enhanced human variants—envars—have outlived their initial purpose. Now, four generations of advanced genetic engineering lie sequestered on secret islands, awaiting disposal. Faced with their own mortality, a small band of envars, led by a charismatic and obsessed variant named Kane revolt and escape to the mainland in search of their birthright.

Michael Valentine is one of these refugees. He senses Kane’s madness and quickly breaks free. With the help of a mysterious old sage and a troubled human named Echo, Michael hopes to reunite with his missing genetic sister and discover the true purpose of his existence. And perhaps, ours...

Check it out @ C. W. Kesting's FreshMuse

Being new to the Author's Blog (but not Wings) I suppose I'll start out with a bit of self-promotion; see where it goes from there...

In the following, I've included portions of a recent interview provided by Red Adept Reviews for my new release Envar Island, due out through Wings ePress this November 1st!

Enjoy!! (and please comment--let's get this blog going again!!)

Q: I know from reading the book how you came up with the title, but I was interested to know why you didn't call it Null Island?

~ Originally, the working title was “The Overmen”; taken from Friedrich Nietzche’s Also sprach Zarathustra. But, after much thought, I knew I should change it. While Nietzche is very interesting—if not also controversial—I didn’t want to confuse his philosophies with my intent; nor did I want to inadvertently misrepresent his ideas. Null Island was actually going to be the final title until I realized that this book was going to be the first in what I hope to be a successful series, and that envars were central to the theme. Book two is tentatively called Envar Canyon.

Q: I also know you have written a couple of books before this one, but I was wondering when you started writing and why you feel compelled to write. What keeps you writing?

~ I’ve written creatively for as long as I can remember: Fragments of stories on reams of theme paper gathering dust in old boxes and footlockers. The impetus for my journey to finally become published came after reading one too many recycled stories from ‘national best selling authors’. One day, I’d just had enough. I put one particular piece of poorly researched medical drama down after 100 pages and told myself that I could—should—take on the challenge. Enough people told me over the years that I had the talent; and besides, how much worse could my efforts be? Really?

So, upon my return from all-expense paid government sponsored vacation to Iraq in 2003—with my life refocused—I set out to write my first full-length novel: Rubicon Harvest. My goal was simply to write the type of books that I’d like to read. After a long and arduous journey; it seems that my perseverance has paid off. Wings ePress gave me a chance in 2008 and now I’m making the most of it. I’m still having fun and will continue to write until someone tells me I ought to stop.

I want my stories to be readable speculative fiction. The bulk of today’s sci/fi is laden with so much dense math, fringe philosophies and pretentious science that modern authors tend to alienate the average reader. Personally, I’m not a fan of the epic world building tomes that force the reader to slog through pages of detailed alien archeology just to find a lukewarm plot that fizzles far before it pops. I like speculative stories with a distinct human flair—something anyone can immediately relate to.

Q: What authors have inspired you? 

~I draw inspiration from many sources; but the authors I most revere are the grand storytellers of my youth. I grew up reading Ray Bradbury, Isaac Asimov and Arthur C. Clarke. In time, I ventured into the darker, more multi-layered realms of Philip K. Dick, William Gibson and Robert Heinlein. I always try to insert a small hidden homage to these masters in all of my books; whether through some obscure allusion in narrative or dialogue, or maybe even something as blatant as naming a character. Envar Island is probably the most fun I’ve had in honoring these classic geniuses. You won’t have to dig too far in this story to find a humble nod to the grandfathers of science fiction.

I’ll read anything nowadays, in hopes of discovering a new voice. But I tend to fall back on Dean Koontz, Greg Iles or Dennis Lehane for my guilty indulgences.

Q: Where did you get the idea for the novel? 

~ Like most of my stories—and perhaps this holds true for all writers—the final product is nothing like I first envisioned it. Envar Island started out as hard science fiction: a futuristic story about a troubled memory Recollector and her struggles with the ethics of her world. But, as she evolved, Echo LeFey became less of a high-tech heroine and more of an avatar for my own personal musings on topics that ranged from our own endangered culture to quantum metaphysics. Soon, like the books before it, Envar Island had morphed into something more organic than a mere speculative tale. I found myself projecting my own concerns about our capsized culture into the book: Our crumbling societal values, viral liberalism, the hemorrhaging economy, and a dying educational system. By extrapolating our current world crisis’ to near absurdity, I was able to construct a future world in which only something different—and perhaps even better—than us just might have a chance at success. And the ultimate irony is that we’ve created our potential replacements. Envar Island asks the question: What happens when the Created actually become Creators? Do we then become a god? And at what price?

Q: Who is your favorite character?

~ All of my characters are fun for me. I enjoy creating them, watching them evolve, learn, and even fail—almost as much as raising my own children. It’s also very cathartic. You get to say and do things that normally would cause people to cringe if it didn’t come from a fictional character. We’re strange that way, we humans; we can watch or read just about anything with tempered morality.

I’ve learned much about character development from masters like Stephen King as well as experimenters like Chuck Palahnuik. Human beings are frail and faulted; and I think we need richly layered, conflicted characters in our stories to help remind us just how thin the veil is that separates fiction from our reality.

I really like Kane, the prime antagonist in Envar Island. I always seem to hold a special warm spot for the bad guys. It was exciting to watch Kane come to life because of his proclivity to always find a reason to use famous quotes in his dialogue—he becomes both insightful and pretentious while exuding strength and overconfidence. He has an eloquent arrogance. In my mind, I always envisioned Kane as a young, buff Anthony Hopkins ala Hannibal Lecter.

But the most fun for me, honestly, is naming my characters. I take great care and put quite a bit of thought into each one. Some are named after Latin or Greek ideas that describe their personalities, while others are simple anagrams of a key trait. I’ve been known to flip through baby books and spend hours on etymology sites searching for just the right name. I also love trying to find ways to use mythological influences. And then, sometimes, names just come to me…mystically.

One example is the nefarious Justice agent in Envar Island: Criss Saun is an anagram of Narcissus. Now that readers know this, it might be fun to try and unwrap each of my characters identity a bit further.

A bit more about me:

After nearly 27 years in the U.S. Army (combined Active and Reserves), I finally retired this past year as a Major. I’ve survived multiple deployments and in the process, gathered more than enough experience for one man. I now enjoy watching my eleven and seven-year-old as they discover and then puzzle over the many amazing secrets of life. When I’m not writing or practicing anesthesia, I enjoy wasting hours in front of my huge television cheering on my beloved World Champion Green Bay Packers.

Flight of Dreams Newsletter for September - October

noreply@blogger.com (Rhobin) — Sun, 16 Oct 2011 22:42:00 +0000

For September and October, 2011

Bad Medicine by Richard Whitten Barnes

Mystery/Crime; 277 pages; Cover art by Pat Evans

Enormous profits from counterfeit prescription drugs secreted into the USA from Canada are funding a Neo-Nazi group dedicated to changing the ethnic face of North America.

Windsor Ontario police inspector Andy Blake is recovering from a line of duty knifing that sends her home to beautiful St. Joseph Island, at the headwaters of Lake Huron. Instead of a peaceful recovery, Andy is thrust into the middle of a murder investigation that involves Grant Stacey, the boy she left behind twenty- five years ago.

The investigation pits her against killers ruthless enough to do anything to keep their supply from Canada intact, as well as the Islanders who are supplying them.

Lost In Fear by H. L. Chandler

Paranormal; 387 pages; cover art by: Pat Evans

On the east edge of Flagstaff, Arizona, the Brentwood Motel stood dark and silent. The L-shaped building blended into the high desert rock and sand hillside like a chiseled symmetric outcropping. In the chilly predawn the sixteen-foot-tall neon cactus road sign loomed blank and dead, its flashing yellow and green replaced by waning milky-blue moonlight. As the stars faded from the Arizona sky the young woman in unit number fourteen fought to break the grip of a nightmare. A nightmare she'd had off and on for the last fifteen years.

Julie Taylor lunged upright in bed, a scream locked between her clenched jaws, her fingers covering the pale scar under her cheekbone. Julie's chest and back were sweat-drenched, the skin hot and sticky. Her blue cotton gown was plastered tighter than if she'd walked through a shower. Julie blinked at her strange surroundings; it wasn't her room at Mrs. Hager's house in San Bernardino. It took Julie a minute to remember that she was on the way to Oak Grove, a small town in Arkansas, where she would teach school next fall. The nightmare always left Julie confused and, if she dared admit it, terrified.

Altered by Laura Burks

Paranormal Romance; 327 pages; Cover art by Trisha FitzGerald 0

All eighteen-year-old Jenna wants to do is have a slow paced and predictable summer in the small town of New Roads with her grandfather. But on Friday the thirteenth, the unpredictable occurs when she mysteriously hears a voice leading her to a buried book. Jenna is unaware that a secret curse lies within and she's just unleashed its hold.

As writings appear in the book strangely matching her vivid dreams, Jenna's curious nature takes over pulling her deeper into the mystery and the connection to her family. What she didn't expect to find was a forbidden love and a choice to save a life.

Will Jenna's choice remain a secret? Or did the secret choose her?

Thief's Coin by Michael Staton

Fantasy; 495 pages; cover art by: Richard Stroud

In the river town of Opal, as the traveling players in Balthasar's Dream Palace perform, sorceress Illisandra Zayla's spymaster Jarn Sork captures Prince Derrius Hextor and imprisons him in a tower in the middle of the River Dolor. The prince's lover, the thief Stealth, must employ her cunning to outfox Sork and rescue Derrius, even though she knows her effort might result in his death.

As Stealth begins her perilous ascent up the tower, the two warring personalities in the sorceress's mind join in a life-and-death battle, one determined to merge their minds, the other just as determined to prevent the union.

June & Wallace by Lynette Hall Hampton

Romantic Mystery; 293 pages; Cover art by Pat Evans

When June March, a member of the Calendar Clan, married Wallace Striker, Sheriff of Edison County, North Carolina, she expected to return from their fairytale Hawaiian honeymoon and settle down to a quiet life in the Blue Ridge Mountains, but it was not to be. During a February ice storm a dying man shows up on their doorstep and they're pulled into a cat-and-mouse game with a killer bent on revenge. It will take the entire sheriff's department, June's family, and a host of their friends to keep this loving couple alive.

Monterey Madness: Mr. One Pocket by L. C. Wright

Mystery; 294 pages; Cover art by Richard Stroud

Nothing muddles a great home life quicker than a suspension from your job and an unexpected visit from an eccentric, skirt-chasing, father-in-law. Detective Adam Shaw thought his life couldn't get any worse…until it did.

With his best friend accused of murder, Shaw is drawn into a cat and mouse chase of who-dun-it where the good guys are not so good and the bad guys may be his only salvation. When the clues lead to police corruption, Shaw must go outside conventional resources and enlist the help of an eclectic band of miscreants who know more about breaking the law than solving a crime.

The straight shooting, black and white, Shaw, jumps headfirst into a world of gray. Forced into the realm of weird, new friends and deadly foes, the old-school detective struggles to survive…Monterey Madness.

Sleeping Dogs A Theo Stern Novel by A. W. Lambert

Action/Adventure; 935 pages Cover art by Pat Evans and background photo by: A. W. Lambert

Private investigator, Theo Stern, is approached by wealthy businessman, Jacob Levin who suspects a recent find in a Norfolk woodland could be part of an aircraft that, when carrying his uncle, mysteriously disappeared in 1940. Levin reveals that he is desperate to find out what happened to the aircraft and his beloved uncle. He implores Stern's help.

Stern agrees to investigate and soon discovers that the reason behind the Levin search may not be all it seems. Others are also interested in discovering the fate of the same aircraft. So what is it that Levin is not telling him and why do people quickly shy away from Stern's questions? Stern's courage and dedication is tested to the limit when he uncovers a wicked crime, committed seventy years before, that can still create murder and mayhem.

That's How Women Die by Emily Payne

Chick Lit; 387 pages; Cover art by Kathy Williams

Journalist Kathleen Collins heads to Italy for a month-long trip in hopes of reconnecting with herself. Instead, she finds herself connecting with new friends, classmates, and an attractive acquaintance who makes a surprise visit. With all her plans out the window, Kathleen jumps headfirst into a journey she never planned on taking, but which leads her exactly where she needed to go.

Character Contest

noreply@blogger.com (Andi Pray) — Wed, 28 Sep 2011 15:08:00 +0000

Who would you be in a story?

Andi Pray

All stories have some sort of truth to them one way or another. A real place; a headline story that sparked an idea; a real person being observed from across the room; a memory; a critical point in history; a mixture of any or all the above. Stories also have conflict. The main ideas for these we learn early on in school; man versus self, man versus man, and man versus nature. No matter how you look at it, there are simple parts of pieces and pieces of parts that mold different stories – even the most unique and intriguing. It has been said, there is no original storyline. They have all been told… unless it is your own.

You may feel that someone else has had a story a lot like yours, but it is never exactly the same. You may feel that some story lines have been beaten into the ground and it’s the “same old, same old.” But there are different twists to each piece, character, and place. Look at Star Wars and Robin Hood. Two different genres (sci-fi and historical) yet each generation see spoofs, storylines inspired by simple parts or themes, and they live to inspire more. Think of how many different ideas were spawned from The Lord of the Rings. How many different ways to people see elves, rangers, and strive to be them in role playing games, video games, plays, movies, or just their own imagination.

The real question is, if you could be any character in a story, anyone at all, and could chose who your counter-part, villain, and goals were, what would you create? Myself, I always wanted to be the hero or friend that helped stop abuse. I wanted to help someone build their confidence to get out of a relationship that killed them a little more each day until they were so beaten down and weak, they felt enslaved to it and its darkness with no hope for a brighter future. What would your story be? Give me a brief description, and it could be in my next book. You get to choose the name, the look, the style of clothes, the lifestyle background and the goal of where the story goes.

Email me by October 31, 2011 with your ideas at AndiPray@gmail.com with “Story Character Contest” in the subject field. Have fun with it, and look forward to seeing what you come up with.

Why I Love...

noreply@blogger.com (Elaine Cantrell) — Wed, 03 Aug 2011 19:48:00 +0000

My Why I Love post this week is about Travis Abercrombie from The Welcome Inn. Do drop by if you can. http://www.elainepcantrell.blogspot.com

Thanks!
Elaine Cantrell