Tag Archives: Fantasy

Read, Repeat

You must surely have heard the saying, “…things that go bump in the night.” Unknown sounds can conjure up a plethora of subjects to write about, especially in the horror genre.

I must admit that horror is not my favorite genre, but there’s always room for a “scare your pants off” type of story. For instance, even though I tend to write science fiction/fantasy and action/adventure, I can easily make space for a little horror in any one of my usual genres.

I think this is something you will find throughout the writing world, even in the most popular books of all those written in the romance genre.

That’s right; even in the lovey-dovey, smooch-my-face, world of romance, there is room for some good old fashion killing courtesy of the beast-next-door.

On the other hand, it doesn’t have to be the beast or anything else next door. It could just as easily be the paranormal being residing in your attic or the monster tick, tagging along on the mutt out back.

In fact, a chunk of horror can follow any genre and rear its ugly head at the most inopportune times.

Did you see what I’ve done? I have taken one of my least favorite type of books and made it one that will not only stand out in any crowd but also be taken by most in a positive light. Happy reading to all you new horror fans!

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Don’t Eat the Icicles

Waking up this morning, you notice a vail of icicles across half the back of your house. Pouring your first cup of coffee, you give it little attention due to the frigid temperatures outside. If you were able to look closer, you would see a rat sized mammal, weaving his way in and out of your gutters. The creature, depositing the clear liquid, was known as an acidic vulture. He closely resembled a badger with extendable extremities and retractable claws, sharp enough to slice granite.

The icicles, being made from an acrid fluid, froze at 32°; however, thawing brings clear drops that look harmless but melts whatever it touches on the ground below.

This fluid maybe used for mining or warfare. Ironically, warfare is brought about by the mined substance called chad. Chad was used for energy in the world of the other, and sought by all.

The Maldrin were a ground dwelling clan who carried shields that were manufactured with a recipe of chemicals and jewels that would repel the chad, although wear thin after years of use.

When temperatures remained too cold to melt the acrid stalactite the mammal would go to work slicing the deadly ice into chunks that would reign down upon the Maldrin . . .

Thank you for allowing me to show you how I spend my day in the world of writing science fiction and fantasy.

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Writing a Novel is Like a Good Game of Golf, Both are in a Genre of Their Own

I’d have to say I’m passionate when it comes to writing, especially in the science fiction, fantasy and action adventure genres. I’ve published four novels, soon to finish the fifth and will return to number six, which has been patiently waiting for completion to come its way.

I’ve penned numerous short stories, write a weekly blog and a monthly newsletter. After all this work, the one thing I’ve never written about is golf.

Now I know that my last statement, in and of itself, seems a bit off kilter. You may even be thinking, what’s this guy talking about? This is where I need you to trust me and follow my logic; however, illogical it may seem.

I used to play this so-called, game of kings, though found it to be more of a throw your club, along with a cuss word or two. Hit an errant shot, followed by a cuss word or two. Reach the green in two and then four putt, followed by a string of cuss words and finally spending entirely too much time searching for lost golf balls with an occasional cuss word.

What you must remember, is all this fun comes after spending a small fortune on equipment and dozens upon dozens of little white balls.

What you really need to purchase, and so far I’ve been unable to find, is a golf swing.

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Use Your Writing Process or Process Your Writing it Doesn’t Matter as Long as Your Process Processes Your Processable Process

Have you ever given much thought to the writing process? I am going to assume the answer is no since it’s not something I ponder on a regular basis. Now, just suppose I found myself in a pondering mood; the writing process might just be something I would ponder at that particular moment. In fact, let’s say I’m in the middle of pondering that very subject.

Some authors begin their novels by establishing the plots and an overall rough outline of how the book will flow. Then again, others will forego the rough outline of the entire novel, expanding that into a rough outline of each chapter. There are many ways to structure your writing and none of them is wrong. Each author uses what works best for him or her and that’s how it should be. Me, I fly by the seat of my pants. When I begin a novel, I sit before the virtual paper on my computer screen. I commence to thinking, eventually coming up with a character and a task for this character to do. I write science fiction and fantasy so this individual could end up anywhere, his destination limited only by my imagination. After that, I’m in it with all four feet, adding characters–sometimes human, but usually not–developing a world and allowing the book to write itself. Whew! I’m working up a sweat just thinking about it. What it boils down to (and don’t forget the boiling point drops 1° for every five hundred feet you rise in elevation) is write how you like and don’t forget to have fun. Gotta go…an idea just popped into my head.

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Rising Tide Synopsis

Rising Tide depicts a world in which land is at a premium due to the advancing sea, where man’s attempt to adapt has led to a decay of morals into survival of the fittest.  In the midst of the ocean, a crew of racketeers rescues a stranded diver, Ben Adams.   Is the rescue just a fortunate coincidence for Ben, or has he been led to this rendezvous with fate for a common goal? A mysterious island inhabited by a primitive yet advanced race of people.  A devious ship captain’s metamorphosis into the essence of evil and a ship’s container discovered by itself in a billion square miles of ocean all play a role in this tale of rebirth for a world corrupted by the collapse  of morality. 

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Rising Tide Prologue

The increasing sea level went undetected until 2015. By then there was nothing to do but watch it

rise. Not that any course was viable had the increase in temperature been detected earlier. Mankind came to the realization he had no control over the climate, for better or for worse. That alone was in God’s hands. Not to say global warming wasn’t real, but there was nothing anyone could have done to prevent it and nothing anyone could do to stop it.

North America’s western coastline stabilized at the Sierra Nevadas. The Appalachian Mountain range became the new East Coast. Tributaries allowed water to infiltrate the country’s interior, turning the Mississippi River into a tidal basin and the Great Lakes into the Great Lake. The Sea of Cortez migrated over halfway up the Colorado River. This intrusion engulfed two-thirds of the area between the Sierra Nevada and Rocky

Mountain ranges forming Grand Canyon Bay. Worldwide the story was much the same. Cities built higher than

two thousand feet above pre-twenty-first-century sea level remained.

With the upward push of water, the atmosphere also welled up, warming the planet

and setting off a

chain reaction that would further reduce the polar caps. This caused the water level to rise, fueling the vicious cycle until the last remaining vestige of ice was reduced to liquid.

After nearly a decade of unrest and political upheaval, established governments and factions alike came to the identical conclusion. Survival depended upon unity. What remained of the human race had finally gotten it right.

The scientific community did a respectable job of collecting and processing the massive amount of pollution seeping from sunken cities, refineries, and tank farms. In time, the planet did what man could not and digested the remaining toxins.

Travel by road or rail was limited but still possible. A handful of usable airports remained, but with so many waterways, sea-going vessels became the most practical way to transport not only people, but goods and services as well.

While the all-consuming need for oil created countless problems for the former world order, a limited need for fossil fuel still remained.

One drilling platform remained, simply because it supplied all the crude the world needed. Enter the planet’s last oilrig, the Omega Z, dubbed “OZ” soon after its conception. Maintaining this aquatic city was a constant undertaking.

This daunting task fell to a select few.

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It Seems to Me That Stuff Plays Such a Large Part of Our Stuff That the Stuff We Value Gets Stuffed Away Where No Stuff Should Be Stuffed, Rendering It Useless Stuff

I’ve been toying with a story idea I’d like to run past you. It would parallel real life and go something like this:

Kelly awoke startled by her bed-blaster alarm clock. She slid out of her Sleep Letter Bed and onto her new Lumber Bum apple-wood, pre-finished, laminated floor. Kelly washed her face with Spring Clean, brushed her teeth with Tarter Boom and combed her hair with Spray and Fill.

“There you are,” she said, placing her hand on her newly purchased make-up device. She sprayed an even coat of base with her air brush, followed by Lusty Eye mascara, Double Dip lipstick and a last minute dollop of Pimple Prep.

She slipped into her designer little black dress, designer 6” black heels and headed for the kitchen designed by Likea. She popped four Waste Away Fat Busting tablets, downed a quarter sized Weight Be Gone bran muffin, then headed to work.

Kelly arrived at work sporting her new BNW with no-hands parking technology. She worked until midday designing designer socks with open-toe technology. She devoured an alfalfa sprout salad for lunch and then returned to work designing brass-infused energizing socks.

Completing her day’s work, she stopped by the local gym to wile away several hours in the relaxing grip of top-of-line designer-weight machines.

Back at home she dines on a light meal of no nitrate hotdogs, gluten free bread, organic peppers and onions, organic sauerkraut, organic chili, organic cole slaw, organic tomatoes and organic cheese.

After removing her designer wardrobe, designer make-up, and scrubbing and brushing in reverse, Kelly lays down on her unbelievably comfortable air mattress. As she begins to doze off, an audible hiss followed by her sinking into her bed ensues. “No matter,” she says. “With the lawsuit I have against my diet pill manufacturer, the rodeo clown and those tainted alfalfa sprouts I eat everyday, I’m a cinch to get a settlement that will get me enough cash to afford that cloud-floating bed.  

She falls asleep watching her 50 inch HD TV and the soothing sounds of the bountiful items she may partake of and the legal advice she may seek when the half gallon of ice cream she ate everyday for a year causes unsightly bumps in her little black dress. . . “C’mon man,” Kelly says, “its the circle of strife.”

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