Title: THE GARDEN OF SECRET WISHES Author: M TERESA CLAYTON ISBN: N/A Page count: 32 Genre: CHILDREN’S Price: $19.99 Author Bio: M. Teresa Clayton is a 54 year old grandmother who lives in St. Louis with her husband, four cats and two dogs. She raised two wonderful daughters and guided them through some very difficult times. Always a believer in purging your sorrows and worries and creating something altogether new and uplifting, she passes her stories along as verse, short stories and now a children’s book. Tell us about your book: Briana Clayton was seven years old when we found out she had B-Cell Leukemia. This rare form of cancer was very aggressive and she had less than 5% chance of survival on the standard chemo-therapy. However, on an experimental protocol she would have 15%+ chance at survival. The down side of that decision was that each round was life threatening in and of itself. We were told that she would most likely never have children of her own due to the intense chemo treatment at her age. Years later, Briana gave birth to a daughter, Natalie. Sadly, Natalie was born with Pleuro-pulmonary Blastoma. She was only a few months old when she had most of one lung cut out as well as losing part of a kidney. Briana was now back at the same hospital she called home for a year, only this time, she was the mother with a very sick daughter. What gave Briana comfort was this – many of the same nurses that had been there to take care of her were still there and working hard to save other children, including Natalie. At the age of four Natalie asked me to go out to the garden with her. She took my hand and walked to the gate where she stopped and told me that the little ceramic blue bird on the gate post wanted to hear the magic word before letting us in. Always willing to use my imagination and play, I looked down at her and said “I don’t know the magic word. Do you?” Natalie beamed that beautiful knowing smile of hers and replied, “It’s love, grandma. The magic word is LOVE.” We spent quite a while in the garden that day and I sat amazed at the story she told to me there; very wise words coming from a four-year old little girl. Later, I sat down at my computer and began to compose a verse or two. The story, Natalie’s story, was put to rhyme and shared with close friends and family. John Sage, a friend of mine and half of the acoustic band BlackDogHat, asked if he could submit some illustrations to go with the poem. After seeing them I was convinced that Natalie’s story “THE GARDEN OF SECRET WISHES” should be published. With Natalie’s permission we set our sights on getting a book done! I asked Natalie what she wanted to do with the money she earned from the book. To my surprise she told me that all the money should be given to St. Louis Children’s Hospital to help all the kids that are sick with cancer. I agreed. John Sage agreed. All of the profits from the sale of this book will be donated in Natalie’s name to St. Louis Children’s Hospital in St. Louis Missouri. You can order the book through www.lulu.com/secretgarden Natalie is still cancer-free and a lively seven year old with a little sister, Lucy Ann and a baby brother, Damien. How long did it take to write the book? One afternoon What inspired you to write the book? Not what but who – Natalie Christine Clayton Talk about the writing process. Did you have a writing routine? Did you do any research, and if so, what did that involve? I am always amazed at what children “know”. I’m sure that we teach it right out of them when we tell them it’s only a figment of the imagination, it’s not real, there is no such thing. But, I always have believed in the magic. I shared this with my girls and now with my grandchildren. I’ve been telling stories and writing for as long as I can remember. I write something every single day. I take something from the news, from those around me, from the point of view of something or someone other than me and I feel the world from their perspective. I also keep a pen and paper with me all the time to write down snippets of conversation, interesting isms, and ideas that are exchanged in the ordinary. When writing some of my verse and stories, it requires a lot of research to make sure I have my facts straight. I learn so much from the world of the internet. What do you hope your readers come away with after reading your book? I hope after reading this book you see how very unafraid and hopeful a little girl is. She has faced, and still does, possibilities that would paralyze most of us grown-ups. She knows the secret. Where can we go to buy your book? Right now, to keep the cost down and to make it easier to track the purchase of the books and therefore the donations, you can find it only at www.lulu.com/secretwishes. Any other links or info you’d like to share? The story is Natalie’s. Maybe it’s more of a truth than a story. I simply put it to verse and John Sage brought it all to us in vivid color and delightful images. ...

If there is one subject in creative writing that has been exhausted, it is THE OPENING. The hook. Sucking the reader in (as opposed to reading the suckers in). Novelists spend a good amount of time crafting, re-crafting, and re-re-crafting their opening paragraph, assessing the perfect first line and modus operandi. Do we begin with an environmental statement? In Media Res? Arcane? Wistful? However, how many times have you heard a reader say, “It was a good book, but I didn’t like the way it ended.” They might as well have said, “That author saw me coming. I invested my time in their work and, in the end, they let me down.” From that, we can infer, “I’ll be careful next time I come across that author’s work.” Ending your novel is more important than beginning it, despite the reasoning that the opening entices the reader into the work. Both are skills to master. However, fixing a problematic opening in a revision is simple compared with fixing a befuddled ending. Traditionally, endings are viewed as “happy”, “sad”, “pensive”, “surprise”, “abrupt” and the rest of the gamut. However, it really doesn’t matter “how” your novel ends, it’s “where” your novel ends that is critical. Novel endings can suffer from a number of issues. Here are six that I’ll be referencing: 1. Anti-climax 2. Runaway train 3. Contrived 4. Developmental 5. Dribble out 6. Epilog Anti-Climax endings are usually recognized by their failure to please, surprise, or even keep the reader’s attention. It is generally caused by having a more powerful scene a few chapters from the end, which “peaks” your novel too soon. It’s downhill from there. This is corrected by toning down the zenith chapter, although it might break your heart. Usually, the culprit scene and the final scene have similar settings, characters and tone. Change the earlier scene’s intensity, setting and character mesh. Intensify the last scene. The last scene must be the most important and memorable scene in the novel or why should the reader even bother to make the journey? Runaway train endings are recognized when your pacing is too fast. Your ending comes up suddenly, catching the reader off-guard. “Is that it?” It usually stems from a writer’s “need to finish.” That motivation lends itself to “flat” writing and slipshod parascaping. In my experience (and I mean, my experience), these endings need a complete rewrite. Think about when your “ending” begins. If it starts in the last two chapters, back up and rethink. The earlier your novel’s ending begins, the stronger and firmer paced the ending is. Most novel endings begin in the middle of the work and some in the first paragraph of Chapter One. You must be continually building toward the end. You use this to ground the whole work. Gravity wins in the end (and with endings). A runaway train ending usually means extensive revision. You must find that crucial end-start point and rework everything in between – sometimes subtly, but reworked it must be. Contrived endings are grafted onto the novel, and usually because the author is using a strict outline. The stronger the outline, the more constraint there is for character development. Characters are forced to say and do things that the author wants them to say or do. That’s not good novel writing. When the work concludes, the end is usually contrived. Readers will say, “What? He rammed his fist into the airplane propeller because his Uncle Fitzgerald cut him out of the will and he needed to get money from his health insurance to bury his long estranged and tubercular wife?” ‘nuff said. Developmental endings are common. Authors sometimes fail to recognize that their beloved, well-honed style must change as the novel progresses. Expositional styles in the first third of the novel work less and less as the work progresses. Developmental devices stop working by the last third. Too many times last scenes are a suite of settings, flashbacks, hula dances, complex actions requiring science degrees and the like. Endings can be action scenes, but simple ones, with intensely short sentences, devoid of metaphors and similes. Extensive movement should be simplified and clear. Character activity and dialogue should be emphasized. Build, build, build to a climax, and never introduce a new character in the last twenty pages. There’s no time to develop such characters. That doesn’t mean you can reveal a character physically that has been aforementioned in the body of the work, but too many developments make for a confused ending. My personal preference in my own novels is to introduce the necessary mechanisms for the ending in preceding chapters, and then punch through them at the end. You send the reader to class early enough, they are trained to operate your ending better than you. J. K. Rowling uses this technique, so by the time the reader reaches that intense last sequence in The Deathly Hallows, they already are adepts at the mechanisms that rule the sequence. Rowling needn’t explain a thing. Her readers all have degrees in Harry Potter by that time and the end has all the gravitas of a graduation ceremony. Dribble out endings are evident in works that do not have an ending. They have no impact. The reader is supposed to ponder the ending — the metaphysics and philosophy that should keep them awake a night wondering, “just what happened, anyway?” This is the “forgettable” ending, because the author “forgot” to write one. You ride the train with no destination and are abandoned in the desert to play tennis with the prairie dogs. How to fix this? Have the train go to Las Vegas and end with a jackpot. Epilogs are good. I use them all the time (not that that justifies them), but there are always details beyond the ending. The reader wants to know if Sarah Brown married Sky Masterson, and whether or not they have children. The issue with epilogs is they sometimes become incorporated into the last scene or hover beyond the back cover like a bad hangover. Epilogs are “not” the ending. They just come “at the end.” In my own work, The Jade Owl, my climatic scene occurs twenty pages before the end of the book. The book ends in that scene. However, using internal dialogue and sequeling, the protagonist is allowed to settle some details and, in a small “coda” scene, the hero performs a character-defining “heroic” act. THEN, I have an epilog, which is in a different mood and style, as if I was writing another novel. It’s that taste of sherbet between courses, “your novel” and “the reader’s exit to the real world.” Epilogs settle details in a satisfactory way, leaving something open for perhaps another “book” in a series, and makes the reader feel better for reading your work. Sometimes it contains a memorable last line, from the Brontean “sleepers in the quiet earth,” to the Tolkien, “I’m back.” Who can forget, “Tomorrow is another day?” Be assured that when you revise your novel you “will” rewrite your ending. You should, just as you should craft a dozen openers. Be resigned to it, but don’t regard it as a chore. In fact, it is the one stroke of revision that will transform your novel from a barnyard into a palace, unless you’re writing The Egg and I. ...

The mechanics of revision involves a walk through the entire work, tightening and snipping. At least 1/3rd of the original draft should be CUT. If a section is so precious (because it highlights my marvelous writing), it should be CUT. It highlights the wrong thing-ME and not the story. This is called “Killing your darlings.” Revision also means adding elements. Occasionally a new scene, but generally an enriched nuance to a character- the TLC needed to bring a 2-D character to 3-D. I check the broad sweep of the work’s structure, assuring that it still has a beginning, middle and end, and hasn’t drifted off into the murk. Themes are a good thing to graft on now, to shape the work accordingly. I’ll now make broad statements like: “This novel is about impending death and how to make the inevitable worthy of the living.” Then, I tap and hammer and twist elements along those lines. In short, the revision is less fun, but more important than the draft. The draft touches your writing soul. The revision touches your writing mind. The last revision(s) (The Jade Owl had eight, while the Third Peregrination had five) are reactive revisions. You let your ideal readers read the work and listen to their feedback. You also listen to editors and your agent (if you’re lucky like me to have one that can actually write). You then do another walk through and polish, cut, add and adjust. In fact, these last set of revisions never end, especially as I am constantly changing, evolving, getting better, but no closer to author’s nirvana. When toting manuscripts of 180,000 – 280,000 words in length, editing becomes a full time job. The cleaner your mms. is, the less distracting such tsetse fly issues as “it’s-its” and “there-their-they’re” become. My own pet peeve traps are “peek-peak-pique.” Now I have never proposed that writing a novel is easy or formulaic. Even Stephen King’s wonderful work On Writing prescribes some excellent methods that King himself violates more than half the time (when one is branded, one can define the process and never need to defend it), but I hope this introduction helps summarize the need for the details that shall now follow. So much for whys and wherefores. Bring on the Beef. Ready to revise? Has at least 7 weeks past since you wrote the last word? If not, tsk tsk tsk . . . not yet. If so, print yourself a paper copy of your manuscript or (if you have a new-fangled Kindle edition, which is easy to order) download it NOW. Reserve a quiet space in your favorite chair. Get a notepad (not a big one, mind you; just a jot pad will do). Put on your readers’ hat . . . you know the one, because you use it 50% of your waking hours, if you’re a writer . . . and then start reading your work. This read-through is to assess just how good/bad your work really is, and can be a frightening experience. If you’re a self-doubter (and every true writer is), remember that Stephen King suggests that you: Outrun your fears. To me, it’s more frightening to declare Revision 1 (the Draft) the finished work, and then send it out into this world . . . alone and shivering without the benefit of revision. First: You are really starting the second Revision. I always call my Draft, Revision 1, because on some level a small amount of revision work has been applied just after the words fall onto the paper . . . not much, but some. Read your work with your readers’ hat on (75%), and your Critic’s hat on (25%). Use your self-doubt to outrun your fears by being your best critic and . . . be brave about it. Writing a novel is a lonely affair. Here’s your chance for company, although it’s of the schizophrenic kind. Look for the BIG problems, and these are always: Structural Imbalance: Somewhere along the line, your novel got off track. You forgot it has to have a beginning, middle, and end. You forgot that this is equated to Act I (Exposition), Act II (Development) and Act III (Resolution). These three parts have their own inherent pace. Perhaps at the end you decided not to resolve, but to introduce. That will throw the reader a left upper cut and may put your novel down for the count. Maybe you resolved key issues in Act I. You didn’t mean to do it, but we are all in a hurry to reveal. We had no clue about Chapter Ninety-five when we wrote Chapter Seventeen. Perhaps you broadcasted your punches too much in the development, so much so it undercut (anti-climaxed) your Act III. Tag all of these. Redundant chapters and sub-chapters: Some chapters should have never been written. I shouldn’t say that. They needed to be written, but now that the work is complete, they become excessive or redundant. Tag them for trimming or cutting. (I wish I had listened to an editor of my epic novel, The Jade Owl, who reviewed one of my favorite chapters in one word: ‘Why?’ I was offended. Seven revisions later, the Chapter died a graceful, but permanent death. She was 100% correct.) Always listen to professionals who try to help you, even if they are delivering tough love. Flat Stretches: Be sure the writing still engages you. Don’t worry about tightening the work at this point. Concentrate on those moments that make you nod off. And they will be there. This means that your writing is flat. Hopefully these lapses are few and far between. It could be a mismatch of style with local genre. (You’re using passive mode for an action sequence) or it could be talking head syndrome. (You have a single character droning on without a sense of time or place or even tone). Or it might be sense disengagement. (Your setting is dull, hasn’t a feel, a stink or even a touch of color). Consistency: Does your story start one way and end another? This is normal, especially when it comes to characters and sequeling (reactions to actions). In Chapter Three you have a character who decides to cut off his right hand. In Chapter Twenty Six, you have this character wave a machete with both hands. Story and motivations change, so consistency needs to be tracked in this read-through. Also, note the spelling gnomes. These are character names or objects spelled differently in different places. I use Chinese names and often get Lin Ling-po in one place, and Ling Lin-po in another. Major Cut Candidates: Decide where the novel could improve with major cutting. Your goal is always to cut one-third of the work. You might never get there, but you MUST try; so, do a what-if as you go along. This is hard. It might mean killing your darlings, but remember that your best-loved writing will remain in Revision 1. I enjoy reading stretches of my Revision 1’s against the same stretches in Revision 4. It measures my growth as a writer. Screw the darlings. Having darlings is nothing more than a writing pretension. Readers read novels for the story and not for the pretensions of the author. BTW, don’t confuse style with writing pretension. If you’ve grown, what emerges is your stamp, and if you sell that stamp it will be renamed your brand. Another contender of the Major Cut type is: Material Overshoot: Did some great research, did you? Are you an expert in sewing and have one of your characters quilt using every known stitch in the book over a five-page stretch? Remember that self-knowledge and researched knowledge are like an iceberg. Only the tip should be given to the reader with the knowledge (credibility) that there’s a lot more beneath the surface. I am a sinologist, holding a Master’s degree and doctoral credits in Chinese History. I often need to cut back on detail overload for my reader’s sake. The little I impart is enough to establish the elements needed for a good story, and yet there’s a lot more that stands behind it. In my novel The Dragon’s Pool, I needed to describe a Tuscan feast. Therefore, I read a cookbook and spent hours preparing dishes, sniffing the aromas and noting the tastes. It took a month. All that for what amounted to (and correctly so) two paragraphs in the novel. However, my readers are there, at the table, but are not distracted by the food. The feast enhances the characters as they reflect on the events and, in this case, become organic to the scene. Be an expert. Write from the character’s point of view. When you go overboard, tag it for cutting, and paste it in Wikipedia. Headliners: Note the Big Picture items. Is my title good, and efficient? (Is it unique? Google it). Does a titled character or object show up within the first 20 pages? In my novel The Jade Owl, the title bird isn’t mentioned until page 120. My agent noted that one for me, and now, with the insertion of a two-paragraph addition on page 23, the title object gets coverage. Also, consider the opening chapter, and the closing – the denouement. Both areas prove to be the crux of many structural problems. Both need to sweep the reader along. We generally acknowledge this aspect in openings, but closings sometimes get perilously bumpy. The reader has stuck with you this far. You must be sure to deliver the promised goods, and it must be the fireball of your piece. The work has peaks and valleys. Tag those too long valleys as potential “goodbye reader” points, and be sure the peaks crest like a tsunami, whereby the last one is the most devastating. Mini-nods to Pacing: Pacing is something that changes as you revise. When you cut something (or add it), it changes the pacing to areas you never touch, which means you’ll need to touch them too. It’s like working with watercolors that never dry. There’s a great deal to be said about pacing as it concerns poetry (rhyme, rhythm, sound and sense); however, when things feel too abrupt or too swift, when events come up too fast, tag it for pacing revision. Usually you’ve forgotten to sequel and/or play it forward. Easy to remedy, but you need to note where the rocks are, so you can cross the river. Motivation: If you’ve been true to your art, you’ve only written as well as your best character has directed you. Since I never force a character to do something it can’t do (but often force it to do something it doesn’t want to do), motivation usually tracks well. However, sometimes a character is made to say or do something for the sake of that evil word “plot.” This stymies character development and squelches that reflection the characters need to project. This causes a contrivance. Find them and tag them during this read-through. Theme: Think about what is being said in the daft (Revision 1) and, more important, what could be said. Then, begin to say it. Come up with a major theme. Fill in the blank: This work is about ______? It might not be about that in the draft, but it will be when you revise it. Some call this cheating, but I (and thousands of authors alive and dead) call it reason d’etre. Novels that begin with an upfront theme generally wind up unsuccessful pretensions. It is near impossible to be theme-cogent when writing the draft. Themes are for the revision process. So now’s the time. One misconception about revision is that it involves massive and wholesale cutting. How else will you get your word count down by a third? Easy. An agent put me on the correct heading. She said, “Revising is like shearing sheep. You clip a bit here, snip a bit there, but always you’re shaping the final product until it emerges as an aesthetic whole.” By rights, after your initial read-through, tagging, and note-taking, we should discuss “change control,” which is defined as affecting those cuts and modifications that you have tagged, all of which ripple throughout the work. For example, if you change your ending to include a stronger motivation or a punch on your grafted theme, you must now discover where the end starts. Endings do not start at . . . the end, but are set-up. So you need to pre-position the ending somewhere in the body of the development. This is one of several important change control items to be considered, but . . . Instead, I note more tactical items, the first ones consider – “Tightening.” Tight writing has many friends, including the jettisoning of fluff, bad imagery, redundant phrases, clichés, and a host of other things, but here I’ll talk about the most tactical and ongoing task. After you complete your read-through, roll up your sleeves and start revising chapter by chapter, sentence by sentence . . . and yes, word by word. There are a number of tasks, techniques, and tricks, you should consistently apply to revision that you do not normally notice when writing the draft. This first I call – Concise Inference. Here’s a fact that most writers do not consider: Reading and writing are different. Huh? What’s he, nuts! Think about it. When we write and read it back, we never considered the physics of these two acts. When we read back what we have written, we fire up the same gray matter that we stimulated when we generated the writing. We therefore fail to notice that, when someone else reads what we have written (for the first time), a different set of triggers fire. When we recall our own writing, it travels across a roadway that’s already paved, while when others read our words, they are paving for the first time. What the hell is he trying to say? Well, simple. When we write a sentence with multiple thoughts, ideas or actions (a perfectly logical and grammatically correct concoction), the effect on others is lessened when they read it. For example: John ran from the building and Emily sought the fire hose. Perfect: except, these are two actions that have been logically run-in (not run-on). The reader might understand both, because the clauses are short enough, but the sentence is loose. Given four such sentences in a paragraph, and ten such paragraphs in a sub-chapter . . . and your writing has sagged. So: John ran from the building. Emily sought the fire hose. In John’s haste, Emily was left to fend off the giant tarantula. Of course, the act of creating multiple single sentence clauses can create a choppy effect, which in some cases is desirable. However, another secret of the brain comes into play. The reader can infer meaning. This is a key accomplishment to help aid a writer in the detection of redundancy. However, for tightening purposes, it allows us to defy the rules of grammar and use that object, known to grammar and spell-checks around the world, the Sentence Fragment. The Sentence fragment is our friend. Why have something like this: Steve’s eyes bugged, the blue turning red. He felt queasy. There was a sense of falling. Soon, he felt the ground spinning about him and he tumbled earthward with a pitiful howl. Despite the flagrancy of passive sentences in this example, we have managed to track Steve’s fall in a slush of loose goosey writing. The sentence fragment to the rescue: Steve’s eyes bugged. Blue became red. Queasy. Falling. The earth spun him to the ground. He howled. Pity. Not exactly poetry out of context (if such context was ever needed), but tight, concise and most of the grammatical syntax is inferred. You might challenge this and say: “What’s queasy – Steve or his eyes?” but ambiguity is sometimes a happy accident; sometimes not. So, what is being inferred must be considered and discharged correctly? Remember that the Classical Chinese language infers 40 % in every written measure. Nifty, but takes advantage of the reader’s innate capability to interpret inferences. Here’s a real life example of applying this tightening in revision (from one of my works – blush): Before: I should leave, Rowden thought. I should just head back to the airport and go home. Why should I give them any satisfaction? He sauntered to a bench and cracked his knuckles almost dropping the balled up paper. He loosened his tie, wiped his hands on his gray slacks, closed his eyes and spit. Where would I go? All these years waiting for this or something like this, was shattered like the telegram he mashed; was shattered by the telegram he mashed. Years of proper research and classroom application. A sea of bored faces cropping his mind – students without interest, without aptitude; nothing to reward the serious scholar; the passionate expert in things Chinese. Here it was, before these doors, the opportunity of a lifetime, the reward that comes to the worthy. Only now that reward lay tarnished in words ill met by downcast eyes. I wish they hadn’t led me here. But they had. He had; and to Professor Rowden Gray, that made the telegram burn as if it had teeth biting into his palm, eating his composure to the marrow. After: I should leave, he thought. I should just head back to the airport and go home. Why should I give him any satisfaction? Rowden sauntered to a bench and cracked his knuckles almost dropping the balled up paper. He loosened his tie. Hands wiped on his gray slacks. Eyes closed. Spit. Where would I go? All these years waiting for this or something like this, was shattered like the telegram he mashed. Shattered by the telegram he mashed. Years of research and classroom slavery. A sea of bored faces cropping his mind-students without interest, without aptitude. No reward for the serious scholar, the passionate expert in things Chinese. Here it was, before these doors, the opportunity of a lifetime, the reward that comes to the worthy. Only now that reward lay tarnished in words ill met by downcast eyes. I wish they hadn’t led me here. But they had. He had, and to Professor Rowden Gray, that made the telegram burn as if it had teeth biting into his palm, eating his composure to the marrow. Big differences? No, subtle tightening, starting with using a pronoun instead of the character’s name in the internal dialog tag, and then transmuting ‘them’ to ‘him.’ We’ll talk about the pitfalls of plurality later. At the tie loosening, we have an example of chopping things up and using fragments as concise inferences. Notice that they are regimented for better pacing. Short. Shorter. Even shorter. Shortest. This intensifies the action. “He loosened his tie” is a complete clause. “The hand wiping” drops the subject. “The eyes closed” is actually a passive sentence, but this is a case where passive scintillates. Then “Spit” infers action and is a de facto punctuation word. This is followed by a long measure, which in turn goes into a stretch of short clauses, each firing a new exasperation. (No change here. I got it right in the draft.) The rest flowed okay and needed no tightening for my purposes, although one can tighten until the words become as tart as lemons and unattractive. Note the use of the word “downcast,” which is archaic, but I soon establish that whenever I narrate in this character’s point of view, I will use archaic language. He’s a professor and highly educated, but he’s also Brooklyn-born and can curse like a trooper. The juxtaposition of archaic words and here and there a fucking-A, adds interest, development and anchorage to this character. You might ask: Why such analysis of this simple paragraph? Answer: This is what revision is about, not wholesale annihilation of your work, but a careful analysis, testing and deepening of your understanding of what you wrote. Your subconscious meets your conscious allowing your creative mind to work its magic, shining to high luster things you never knew you said; and flushing things you wish you hadn’t said. Balance sheet – example 1=182 words. Example 2=177 words. 5 words down 30,000 to go. ...

Title: Dead Forever: Awakening Author: William Campbell ISBN: 978-0-9717960-1-0 (hardcover), 978-0-9717960-2-7 (paperback), 978-0-9717960-3-4 (ebook) Page count: 268 Genre: Science-Fiction / Adventure Price: $24.95 hardcover, $14.95 paperback, $7.99 ebook Author Bio: William began his career in the printing industry when a teenager in Los Angeles, starting as a paste-up artist back in the days of rubber cement and Letraset. Working as a press operator followed, and with an interest in photography, he became a lithographic cameraman and film stripper. But another interest was to serve him best. William began tinkering with computers early on, at a time predating Mac or PC. Over the decades since, William has exploited his talents to excel in the printing industry, another of many reinvented by the computer revolution. William is a early adopter and pioneer of Adobe’s Portable Document Format, and consultant to graphic arts enterprises employing the format in their workflows. Today William resides in Portland Oregon where he operates the pre-media services provider Revere Graphics. His current technology interests are content conversion to ebooks, and their greater spread into the mainstream. As for writing, William describes an experience from his fourth-grade English class: “The teacher asked us to write a story, anything we could imagine. So I did. Some kids go scuba diving and discover an alien city underwater, then other aliens come to attack and the entire world is destroyed by nuclear war, except for the kids who were underwater at the time. They surface to find the world devastated and have to start life over as cave people. When I turned in the story, my teacher was horrified. The problem was, at the height of the Cold War, kids talking about atomic bombs and the end of the world was a little too close to home, at a time when we had drills, you know, the siren goes off and we crouch under the desk, like that was going to do any good. At any rate, the teacher said, and I quote—never write anything like that ever again. For thirty years I didn’t, until one day it occurred to me, why am I not writing stories? I was writing plenty, but none of it fiction. Then it dawned on me, and that I had totally forgotten about that incident long ago. It’s funny how we forget things. Anyway, I got busy and wrote a story—Dead Forever. Better late than never. Heck, maybe someday I’ll rewrite the underwater alien thing.” Tell us about your book: Dead Forever begins with book one, Awakening, in which the hero starts his journey ignorant of his true identity. The reader shares in the character’s struggle to understand what is happening as a string of events are set into motion that lead to his sentence—to burn alive and have his ashes packed in ice. Moments before his death, the hero is rescued by fellow rebels, one of whom is a seductive female that triggers a rise in more than just his lost memories. He learns that he is not the trivial person he thought, rather an Alternative Combat Engineer that has battled his conformist enemy for lifetimes. More importantly, his amnesia is no accident. His journey to recover stolen memories becomes an adventure in which we share, as he explores dreams that affect his reality, sexual tensions rise, and the hero learns more of his past, some of which he would rather leave buried. The story is sexy, playful and funny, while also dark, at times philosophical, leaving the reader with plenty to think about long after they finish. Numerous themes are touched, reincarnation for one, and not remembering how to do it, but also a longing for childhood. Faced with a desperate war, fallen rebels report to body farms to assume full-grown adult bodies, so they can continue fighting without delay. Immortal paradise perhaps, living again without end, but due to the circumstances of war, never a chance to be a kid and spend a time growing up, maybe have a little fun. Not in hundreds of lifetimes. This wish for childhood becomes another one of the hero’s struggles, which in later books of the series, he learns the age-old lesson—be careful what you wish for. How long did it take to write the book? Write it, or rewrite it? The answer takes some explanation. Awakening represents one-third of a story that was originally intended as a single volume. But 350,000 words makes one hefty book, a tough sale to publishers and readers alike, for any emerging author. The first draft of the entire story was committed to paper between April and October 2001. Six months. Work, sleep, eat and write, repeat. I call that period my “regurgitation,” when I spewed the tale. But it wouldn’t be fair to say I wrote the entire story in six months. Committed a first draft to paper, yes. I had been chewing on elements of this story since I was a child, and once regurgitated, the text was not the best. Not the worst, but not ready for primetime. The core was there. The plot, the characters, the events, the resolutions. The problem was the vehicle. If my writing was a truck soaring down the highway, the lugs nuts were loose and a few tires were about to fly off. Regardless, I spread the story around, to friends and family, even some strangers, whose positive responses were encouraging. I was fortunate to have readers kind enough to see past flaws in execution, and embrace the story’s potential to captivate. More than one reader said, thanks to me they missed appointments. Others mentioned looking up at the clock, to realize it was four in the morning. If they had told me it was crap, I would have believed them and given up. But they didn’t. So I didn’t. All right. This could work. In 2003, I decided to take the next step and walk the path of publishing this work. The first problem was the size. Too damn big for one book, especially from me, a nobody in terms of fiction authorship. First was to split the tale into three books. Then, as I soon realized—get an editor. I need help with this mess. Fast forward to 2009. I can’t say the last six years was spent writing this book, since that time was spent bouncing between Awakening and its sequels, Apotheosis and Resonance, and going back and forth to my editor. During that time, I’ve been working on the entire series, developing all three roughly in parallel, though with emphasis on completing them in order. Awakening was published in January 2010. Apotheosis is close behind. The short answer to the question—close to nine years, not counting the time since childhood spent imagining this wild tale. It takes time to find your voice, and become confident in your own writing. What inspired you to write the book? Dreams. As I said, elements of the story have been with me since a young age, but later, specific dreams were the real trigger that sparked the writing process. Talking about this aspect of the story shouldn’t be a spoiler. Past a few chapters, it quickly becomes apparent how each begins with the main character dreaming. But plenty of books on creative writing tell us to avoid the story device of having characters describe dreams. After they occur, perhaps. This is a large reason for my choice of perspective and tense—first-person, present tense. When the hero is dreaming, the reader is caught in the dream with him. I agree with the writing advice—we don’t want to hear about it afterwards. Boring. We want to live it, in the now. The opening dream, of the hero caught in a tumbling craft, and female crewmate scolding him to put out a fire, is one example of an actual dream I’ve had, and not just once. The part about the bum once he wakes up, well, that has a basis as well, which comes more from a waking dream. Daydreaming really, about the other dream, and like a loop, a bum asking for change kept rising to the surface of the pond we call our imagination. Getting shot through a narrow tube, the lunch benches and slapping newspapers, an ominous factory spewing smoke, and that sensation of trying to run, but something has a hold of you—until you lean forward so far that you might fall—are more examples of elements taken from actual dreams. And the body farm. Running naked through a forest is something I’ve dreamt before. Of course, plenty of other weird experiences are added to the hero’s dreams, all purely fictional, for entertainment value and to align with the plot. But it all started with dreams, of which actual elements are sprinkled throughout. Talk about the writing process. Did you have a writing routine? Did you do any research, and if so, what did that involve? Routines are difficult to keep, even if I didn’t work for a living. I do best in the very early morning, when others are asleep. Far less distractions that way. But back when I wrote the first draft, I was writing at any hour that I could slip away and get in front of the keyboard, even when there was plenty of distractions in the same room. Most likely, that’s when I wrote the portions my editor cared for least. As for research, not much in the beginning of the story, other than dipping into my imagination, since the story starts at a time and place that is not contemporary, or even within recorded history, although my goal was to draw parallels to the here and now. Rather than research, my struggle was to present familiar settings, but stay within the rules of the story universe. I failed at this numerous times and had to fix it. For example, in the first draft, the character asks for “French toast.” Oops. France didn’t exist yet in the story, which happens a long time ago, just not far away, it happens in this galaxy. I realized this error while editing and changed the meal to “Egg-fried toast.” No non-existing nations involved. But later in the story, when the character is reincarnated on Earth, research was needed to accurately describe his childhood in the sixties, and later as an adult, when story events occur in 1989 (note: this part of the story appears in the third book, Resonance, not Awakening). There are references to emerging cell phone technology and this I researched extensively, wanting to give some credibility to the story, like being faithful to the specific year in history. Can’t have something exist that wasn’t invented yet. Of course, the world’s largest library was the place to go—the internet. Research is still hard work, but it sure is nice having access to all that information right from your desktop. Back to routines. There is, of course, far more to a book than just writing it, and when I’m asked about routines, the topic of editing comes to mind, and the rewrites that follow. In this regard, I have a definite routine. First, write it, and for me, I try to move quickly. Don’t think, just write, lots. Then read it on screen and see opportunities for more characterization, description, or a clever line of dialog comes to mind. Or something is totally dumb and needs to go. It’s like layers of paint. Strip one then paint a new layer, and another, until the color is solid and doesn’t show through. Better, but still the work is far from done. Next I print out a chapter at a time, in manuscript format, 12 point Times double spaced, and read it. The writing becomes totally different on paper versus the screen. You see things you couldn’t see before. At this point I’ve changed hats to that of an editor, and mark up the pages. You have to step outside yourself and look at it, and how bad it might be (happens often). Done with that, I go back to the keyboard and make my changes, even get another few ideas along the way, and add those. Then I print it out and read it again, and again, until I’m satisfied. But still, so much can be wrong. All those instances of kneel spelled knell, though for through, or entire words missing, but every time you read it, your mind fills in the blank. So next I have the computer read it to me, and I listen carefully. I use Natural Reader on the PC, it works great and sounds like a real person talking. It’s shocking to find so many mistakes at this stage, but you do. This step also helps gauge flow and pacing, since the computer speaks at a constant rate, you can get a feel for when a passage is dragging, or dialog seems to have something missing. Once I am done, and confident that everything is right, I send the manuscript to my editor. Then repeat the entire process to correct all that she finds wrong with it. No one said this was going to be easy. What do you hope your readers come away with after reading your book? Memories of an exciting dream, which they can talk about with others. I’ve worked hard to create a fictive dream without interruption, so when a reader picks up the book and voluntarily chooses to take this journey, they are swept away to another world, away from the day-to-day grind of this world, and plunged into an adventure that keeps them entertained. And by blending in controversial topics, I hope to give them something to think about afterwards, that they may not have thought of otherwise. The whole reason for books. I like to talk about more than just “how’s the weather?” I want to give readers topics with depth, something worth discussing. I guess you could say, I’m hoping to start a conversation. Where can we go to buy your book? Print books from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or any bookstore if you ask them to order it from the Ingram catalog using the book’s ISBN. You can also contact me directly through my website, deadforever.com. Ebooks are available from Amazon (Kindle), Mobipocket, and a variety of formats on Smashwords, where free samples can be downloaded. Also, sample chapters (of all three books) can be viewed on my website, deadforever.com. Any other links or info you’d like to share? www.deadforever.com is the books’ website. Excerpt: We follow Mac along a trail that winds into the woods. He babbles while pointing out the sights, but I’m distracted by activity in the surrounding forest. Leaves rustle and branches crack. I scan between the timbers, searching for the source. There it is again, a rustling now joined by grunts and squeaks, and it’s moving. Then the explanation darts out from behind a bush—a man chasing after a woman, both running through the forest naked. My attention rockets back to Mac. “What is this? A nudist colony?” He stands proud, arms folded and smiling. “That’s some of the latest harvest. Looks pretty good, eh?” “Harvest? What kind of farm is this?” “Why, a body farm, of course.” “A what?” He laughs, ho ho ho. “Which part don’t you understand? Body, or farm?” “You make bodies here?” “Yep, that’s what I do. The best bodies around.” He continues hiking the trail and calls for us to follow. Madison takes my hand and pulls me along, but my baffled mind can’t keep up. Within the forest, bodies wander aimlessly, all naked. Females roam about, and a group of guys are huddled a ways off, doing nothing really, just gazing at the scenery with a dull stare, until they notice the females and chase after them. Nearby, a couple is . . . no, that’s not right. Come on, get a room. Up ahead, a male is standing near a bush, just off the trail. As we approach, Mac stops and points at the guy. “Take a look at this model. Sleek, trim, sure to please. Stellar performance, the best in its class.” He talks like he’s selling cars, pointing out the fine workmanship as he describes key features. But I can’t argue, the guy is fit, well-toned muscles, handsome even. I wouldn’t mind having a body like that. “Is he a person?” I ask. “Or . . .?” “Not yet,” Mac explains. “Just a vehicle, awaiting a proud new owner.” Yeah, I think Mac’s last job was a used car salesman. I creep closer and study the male. His dull gaze seems to stare right through me. “Then nobody’s home.” “So to speak,” Mac says. The guy, vehicle, body, whatever he is, cocks his head and notices a female moving past. He takes off chasing after her. “Where’s he going?” Mac watches the fellow vanish in the forest. “It would appear that unit is interested in mating.” Unit? Nice way to refer to someone. About as personable as subject. “So he’s off to make more bodies.” “Oh no,” Mac says. “Outdated methods like that are far too inefficient. We have strict deadlines to meet. The conventional approach would never do.” “Deadlines?” Don’t tell me—like an auto factory. “Of course,” he says. “Demand is high during this time of war.” “What’s war got to do with it?” Madison says, “Don’t you remember?” “What’s to remember? A bunch of naked people running around the woods?” Mac’s big belly wiggles. “Ho ho ho! Not a bunch, a batch. They don’t grow on trees, you know. And this is an exceptional batch, if I do say so myself. One of the finest yet, and produced in record time.” Mac has one hell of a job. What a pain in the ass, babysitting all these people while they grow up. Madison says, “Adam, tell me, where do you think that body came from?” She’s pointing at me. “You mean, this body?” “Yes, that one, right there.” “I couldn’t really say. My memories of childhood seem to be washed away with all the rest. I’m starting to remember some, but nothing that far back.” Madison glances at Mac, who matches her expression of concern. Or is that surprise? “I see,” she says. “So tell me, Adam, what do you remember about the war?” “The war? I’m not sure. I fought in it, I kind of remember that. Most of it’s still fuzzy like a dream, but I’m pretty sure the memories are real.” “Okay, so you fought in the war. Then answer this—did you ever die in battle?” Did I die? I must have, no one is invincible. But I must search deeper. A faded memory comes to me—the sky is darkened by black smoke, and the air is acrid with the tang of discharged weaponry. Foot soldiers charge across a scorched landscape, advancing on an immense mechanized force. Our bodies against machines? Seems we have no other choice. Sizzling beams cross the distance and strike our column. Blades of light slice through my comrades—and me. I can feel an echo of the pain just thinking about it. Then I’m buckled down in a snug cockpit, slicing through a maze of scattering beams, and speeding toward a giant craft. All white, nothing else. Only intense, bright light. No—I don’t want to look at these memories. There’s too much pain here. “Yeah, I died.” My voice crackles past my tightening throat. “More times than I care to recall.” “Oh really?” she says. “So explain this—if you died, then how are you standing here right now?” She’s getting tricky again, and as usual, it’s working. Of course I’m here now. I’m not a body, that’s how. After I died, I got a new one. Oh my. The past slaps me in the face—I remember this place. Well, not necessarily this particular place, maybe, or others like it. Body farms. Sometimes they were near the battlefield, other times in a large spaceship, if the conflict was off-planet. Where you go to get a new body after losing one in combat. The astonishing truth hits me like a freight train. “This body came from here.” Mac smiles. “And a very fine product you have there, if I do say so myself.” ...

Title: Moonlight Author: Keith Knapp ISBN: 978-1432715656 Page count: 472 Genre: Horror Price: $14.95 Author Bio: Keith Knapp has been doing one form of writing or another since he was a kid. He started with short stories then moved to screenplays when he discovered a love for movies during high school. During this time he also became heavily involved in music (playing drums), and still does to this day. After moving from Chicago (where he attended film school) to Los Angeles to pursue a screenwriting career, Keith eventually found himself turning a movie idea of his into his first novel, Moonlight. It wasn’t by choice; the story simply wasn’t working as a script. Since then he’s devoted himself full-time to writing novels. He currently lives in Van Nuys with his three cats. Tell us about your book: The book is your basic zombie romp.  I wanted to give the characters a little bit more to deal with than just the undead, so early on all power is lost – but that’s really part of the zombie’s doing.  Or the head zombie, the Big Cheese.  There’s a lot of hope in the book (and I don’t just mean “Man, I hope I get away from that dead guy that wants to eat me,” although there’s plenty of that), but that for those of us that are damaged in life – and I think that’s most everyone – there’s hope that one day things will be a bit brighter. How long did it take to write the book? From beginning to end, about two years.  But the idea had been in my mind long before I started writing it. What inspired you to write the book? I always envisioned it as a movie – a movie without zombies.  There weren’t always zombies in the story.  So there was a year there were I was trying to punch out this script about a massive power outage, and it was the most boring thing ever put to paper.  I just couldn’t break it, but I really liked the idea.  So I thought maybe this is more of a Book Thing and not a Movie Thing, and I just started writing.  Then, one day, zombies showed up. Talk about the writing process. Did you have a writing routine? Did you do any research, and if so, what did that involve? I usually write for only an hour or two a day – that seems to be about all my brain can handle.  After that I start to lose concentration, interest.  I did a lot of research on the town the book takes place – Westmont, IL – which is where I grew up.  But that was a long time ago, so I made sure that I still had all my facts straight, where things were, and was lucky enough to get in contact with an official there by the name of Stephen May, who helped me with the judicial facts of the village. What do you hope your readers come away with after reading your book? Honestly, I just hope they have a good time reading it. Where can we go to buy your book? Pretty much any online store has it – Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and a slew of others I’ve never heard of. Any other links or info you’d like to share? I’m always up for any kinds of email and can be easily contacted via my MySpace page: myspace.com/keithknapp ...