Tag Archives: sci-fi
Could it be? I’ve Heard it Many Times…at Least I Thunked I Did, Kinda, Sorta. But Does that Mean a “Soul Mate” is For Really and For True
Writing in the Sci-Fi / Fantasy, Action / Adventure genre’s rarely do I cross paths with romance. I do however include (what I reckon to be) a proper amount of romance in my novels to smooth out the sharp corners. It tends to soften the edges of the inordinate amount of naughty characters dismembering an all-around being mean to other naughty characters.
So there, you have tapped into my goody two shoes feminine side. Maybe I should rephrase the previous concept I spent so much time rattling on about. Do you ever consider the term “soul mate?” I never gave it much thought until the past decade or so.
I have a wife (my second) that I married in 1997. A first marriage has less than a 50% chance of being successful. A second marriage with children (which was what I was entering into) has less than a 20% chance of making it.
My house with two nine year old boys and a preteen girl was a war zone. I’d often wonder how we would survive. Well let me tell you in one word, “GOD.”
These days we’re pretty much one big happy family, with one grandson and another on the way.
My wife and I have grown closer and closer as the years have passed. The Bible says “two will become one,” and that could not ring truer. It’s not that you lose your identity you just gain an unbelievable closeness with your spouse.
She has always encouraged and supported my writing and is in every way the perfect partner for me. I guess you could call her my “soul mate.”
So there you have it, Father’s Day is in two weeks and I already have the only gift I need.
My newest release, “Terminal Core,” is being offered as an Amazon give-away for the next several days. Check it out and maybe win a free copy!
I Don’t Wanna Die by the Hand of a Shadow Monster. Why Do I Have to Be Hacked to Pieces? Whine, Whine, Whine. Even Mediocre Help is Hard to Find.
I thought about it, thought about it some more, took a nap, and then considered it one last time. What I decided was a resounding, “NO!”
You see, even though a certain amount of “me” flows through the virtual nerve synapsis of my paper bound buddies, it’s not the part that lives in constant danger. And most certainly, contains not one iota of the beast slaughtering, world jumping, plague dodging and all around kill or be killed existence my entourage seems to embrace.
For the adrenaline junkie, life on the edge is not exactly my style. My idea of an exciting excursion, living life to the fullest and enjoying those “will I make it back in one piece” moments, consist of catching an 8 ounce spot in the surf. After that, the sky’s the limit. There’s no telling what I might get into. I’ve even been known to dare hitting the beach without sunscreen. Now, if that doesn’t put the fear in the heart of a brave man, then I’m at a loss at what will.
As I write, I contemplate how much death, dismemberment and mayhem I can drag my sad little creations through; for they are my puppets. “Dance little puppets, dance.” I suppose I should cut’em a little slack for they do the majority of the work.
I did happen to find a highly recommended virtual psychiatrist, but the cost in virtual bucks is a bit over the top. I do know a first year psychologist who just got out of jail and will work for beer.
I can hear it now, all you bleeding heart bookies. You have no idea what this business entails. So don’t judge me just because I want to save a few vb’s. I’ve got a wife and 6 kids I’m grooming for the business and let me tell ya, novel acting lessons ain’t cheap.
That’s it! I can tell already that I may as well be talking to a brick wall. Whine for the downtrodden characters even though they chose their own career. Well I’ve just about had it. Wait till my next book. If you think it’s bad now, you ain’t seen nothing yet.
Why don’t you go read some sappy romance novel, cause you won’t find any sissy stuff here.
See ya in the funny papers.
I thought I’d do something a little different for this post: An excerpt from my latest novel would change up my usual format and also to give my wonderful readership an idea of how I really write. Even though the book I am presently working on is a bit different from my usual work, it still runs along the same lines. My novels are usually an intermarrying of adventure, fantasy, science fiction, mystery and a touch of romance. I coined the term scifadstery. So let’s take a short jaunt to a world that may be closer to ours than you think.
Clay stepped up onto the raised walkway. “I hate this place,” he mumbled. Patting his sidearm, he grabbed the door handle and prepared to enter.
Clay was a bounty hunter. His latest skip (if you want to call him that since Clay had spent the better part of two years chasing empty leads) was Sal Ricky. A career criminal with a taste for refined women (and I mean a real taste) as he would consume certain body parts of his victims after performing whatever atrocities piqued his fancy.
Clay stood tall, six foot five. He always wore black (feeling it more intimidating.) His trademark trench coat covered a muscular frame, formed by hard work in the palladium mines most of his life. His face was clean shaven, save for a mustache that ended at his jaw line.
He stepped into the brothel. A dozen pair of eyes immediately turned his way. He removed his sidearm from its holster.
“I’m looking for Sal Ricky,” he announced. After a slight pause he repeated the phrase. “I said…I’m looking for Sal Ricky.”
“If you want me, all you gotta do is ask,” came a smug response. The voice emanated from a dark corner. In it stood a six foot tall figure. Instead of legs it sported four eight foot long appendages that would shoot forward landing on the ground and allow the rest of the body to move over these like treads on a tank.
It would repeat this scenario and could move surprisingly fast when necessary.
“So?” Sal Ricky asked. “What exactly is it that I can do for you?”
Clay moved closer toward the corner and clicked the safety off his weapon.
“Don’t play stupid you ball of snot,” he raised his free hand and wrapped it around the bottom of his pistol grip. “I’ve been looking for you for almost two years now.” Clay cocked the second hammer on his handgun. “This time you’re all mine.”
Sal Ricky was a hydrak. He lived up to his name, constantly oozing fluid and leaving a trail similar to that of a slug when he moved.
“Ya think so.” The creature calmly lit a cigarette with two surprisingly human like hands. He inhaled deeply, burning up nearly half the smoke in one drag.
“Better men have tried,” he said, finishing his cigarette with a second drag and dropping it into a puddle of slime, the butt hissing as the glowing ashes died.
Clay tightened his grip. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I get just as much for you dead as alive.” He smiled out of one corner of his mouth. “Makes no difference to me.”
Sal Ricky crossed his arms which were anything but human. They were muscular with a lizard like texture and a green color to match. His lower half was bulbous and horizontal to the ground, turning vertical at mid thorax until it formed his head.
“Don’t you get tired of the same old clichés?” Sal Ricky snickered. “Easy way, hard way. Alive or dead. Blah, blah, blah. After two years you should know I don’t do anything the easy way.” His head was square with a round circle on each side. He could spin his neck three hundred and sixty degrees if need be. He had a set of eyes at the upper portion of each circle. Only one side contained an orifice with which he spoke and took in nourishment. One big tuft of green hair sprang from the center of his scalp climbed vertically, about a foot, and then flopped over on all sides.
“Have it your way,” Clay said. Just then, two humanoid figures appeared on either side of Sal Ricky. The first figure made a move and then slipped on his boss’ excretions, landing flat on his back.
Clay rolled to his right behind a steel column and fired one barrel, removing most of the second figures’ head. The first man still floundering in the goo was an easy take out.
Sal Ricky moved toward Clay, knocking him to the floor as he passed. Clay moved to one knee and steadied himself. He would only have one shot.
Sal Ricky could easily bust through the wall and that’s what he had a mind to do, Clay surmised. He made sure both hammers were cocked. Cocking them was one thing, firing both simultaneously was something you didn’t do unless you absolutely had to.
Clay took a deep breath and pulled both triggers….