Category: Writers & Books (Page 2 of 3)

Taking the Plunge: Chapter One

October 1, 2018 / J.B. Reynolds / 0 Comments

A scintillating story of secrets, sex, and snowboarding, Taking the Plunge is the debut novel from J.B. Reynolds and the first book of the Small Town, High Country romantic comedy series. Here’s Chapter One.

Taking the Plunge

Kate shivered as a gust of wind ripped across Coronet Peak, shaking the chairlift. She looked down at the rented snowboard dangling from her feet, reaching out to dislodge a chunk of snow from the binding. It fell, dropping onto the head of a skier weaving beneath the lift, who skidded to a stop, squawking up at her with a clenched fist.
“Sorry,” she shouted down, but the wind whipped her words away and she was unsure if the skier heard them. She returned her gaze to the chair in front of her, where Evan and his companion were engaged in animated conversation. The woman, from some South American country — Brazil? Argentina? Chile? — was angled towards Evan, her arms raised and extended in a gesture that suggested they were discussing the size of a fish she’d caught. Like a bunny in its winter coat, she was wrapped in a pale grey and white ski jacket, her thick black hair flowing in waves from beneath a fluffy grey beanie, so cute it made Kate sick. Even from behind, Kate could tell she wore a smile so big it was a wonder her head didn’t fall off. She’d been flirting with Evan the entire lesson and he’d lapped it up, barely giving Kate or anyone else in their group a second glance.
She placed her gloved hands on the bar and rested her chin on top of them, sighing. The only reason she’d booked the lesson in the first place — the only reason she’d travelled all the way from Cromwell to Queenstown to come snowboarding — was so she could flirt with Evan.
She’d met him for the first time earlier in the winter, when she’d come skiing with her bastard ex and on a whim had decided to ditch her skis and try snowboarding for the first time. She’d joined Evan’s group lesson and even then, before everything had gone tits up with Lawrence, she was smitten. The way his blonde curls fell around his forehead, framing bright blue eyes and an easy smile, the warm and friendly manner in which he delivered his instructions, the relaxed but purposeful movement of his body across the snow — all combined to send a delicious little tingle up her spine when she thought of him.
She’d seen him again a week or so later, a chance encounter in the street when she’d been out shopping with a friend, a few days after she’d discovered Lawrence was cheating on her. That meeting had been brief, but the imaginary ones she’d had since were anything but. In the long nights following her decision to send Lawrence packing, feeling lonely and sorry for herself, eyes wide despite her exhaustion, she’d spent hours thinking about Evan. Her fantasies had helped to calm the buzzing in her skull, replacing it instead with a buzzing between her legs.
Finally, she could stand it no longer. She’d booked a lesson, asking for Evan by name. In her head, the plan was perfect. The day would dawn bright and clear and she’d make the long drive with the stereo blasting. Evan would welcome her with a beaming smile, resting his hand on her hip as he guided her across the snow. They’d laugh and chat, have eyes only for each other, and he’d ask for her number. She’d already written it on a slip of paper, folded into the pocket of her jacket. She was nothing if not prepared, and if he asked her out for a glass of mulled wine after the lesson she could always call Lawrence and tell him he could keep Corbin a little longer — she was going to be late home.
But when she’d arrived the South American skank was already there, batting eyes like chocolate icing and wrinkling her freckled nose when she giggled, which seemed to be every time Evan opened his mouth. Of course her name was Maria, with an R that rolled like a burst of machine-gun fire, and it was her hips his hands rested on, her face he looked for when he stopped halfway down the learners’ slope, beckoning the rest of the group to follow. She’d stuck to him like glue for the duration of the lesson and now they’d left the learner’s slope, graduating to the main chairlift for their final run.
Approaching the terminal, Kate sucked in a breath. It would be mortifying to fall over, especially if the lift operator had to stop the chairlift to assist her. After years of skiing, she still hated that feeling — dangling in mid-air, stomach lurching — while some useless bugger was being scraped off the snow at the top of the lift. She was damned if she was going to be that useless bugger.
Ahead of her, Evan and the luscious Latino had reached the terminal. As they exited, he placed his arm behind her, guiding her away from the chair to the edge of the run, easing her down onto the hard packed snow. Kate snorted in disgust. Sure, it was easy when you had someone to help you.
Her stomach fluttered as the chair bounced over the rollers on the final approach. She focused, envisioning the steps in her mind, then lifted the bar, placed her left foot onto the snow, stood and dropped her right foot onto the back of the board, letting the chair push her forward and out of the way as it swung round. She pushed with her back foot and glided across the snow, smiling, hoping Evan would turn around to congratulate her on her perfect dismount, but he didn’t, having eyes only for the Brazilian bitch. She came to a slow stop, slumping down onto her bum behind them.
She heard a yelp and turned to see another member of their lesson group, a slight, bespectacled man in a red ski-suit, go down in front of the chairlift, his legs sliding out from beneath him. He grabbed desperately for his wife beside him but she dodged and let him drop, skiing gracefully out of the danger zone. The liftie, a young man with dreadlocks and a scraggly beard, hit the emergency-stop button and ran to his aid, helping him up and dusting him off. No damage done, except to his dignity, and perhaps to his faith in his wife. Kate thanked God it was him and not her.
If Evan and Maria had noticed, they ignored it. Kate punched her loose binding, dislodging snow so she could tighten the ratchet, and watched them both stand and begin their descent — Evan relaxed and smooth, followed by Maria who was tentative and twitchy. They hadn’t gone far, perhaps fifty metres, when he turned and skidded to a halt at the side of the run and faced back up the slope, beckoning Maria to join him. Then he caught Kate’s eye, waving her down.
She didn’t move, considering her options. If she didn’t do something to get his attention it would be Maria and not her he’d be sharing a mulled wine with at the end of the day. And by the way their eyes kept sliding towards each other, whatever Kate did, it would need to be dramatic.
She swung her board over so her body was facing the slope.
Drama had been her favourite subject in high-school.
Pushing herself up off the snow, she pointed her board downhill, beginning the descent, then leaned on her heels to cut across the run. She turned again, onto her toe-side, executing it perfectly, picking up speed. She crossed the run again, made another heel-side turn, this time adding a clumsy wave of her arms for effect. Adjusting her balance, she aimed directly for Evan and Maria, then let out a squeal. Maria’s eyes sprang wide.
“Heeelp!” Kate shrieked, flailing her arms.
“Turn, turn!” Evan shouted at her.
“I can’t! I’m going too fast!”
She saw Maria take evasive action, dropping down the slope. Evan stayed where he was, hands pushed forward and knees bent, bracing for the collision. At the last moment, she kicked her back foot out hard, spraying a wave of snow at Evan but also taking the bulk of her speed off. She hit him just after the blast of snow, arms outspread, turning her head so that their faces didn’t mash, and he caught her, softening the blow. Her momentum pushed them back to the edge of the trail, his feet catching on the small ledge formed by the snow groomer’s passing, and they collapsed into the lumpy snow beyond.
Evan groaned. The brim of her beanie had slipped over her eyes and she raised it so she could see. Evan’s face was covered in a coating of white powder, like a cupcake dusted with icing sugar.
“Oh, my God! Are you okay?” she asked, wiping his cheek.
“Your knee’s in my crotch,” he said, his voice tight.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…” She shifted her knee, moving it down, and felt him relax, exhaling warm breath into her face. It smelled of spearmint. “Is that better?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“I’m awfully sorry. I don’t quite know what happened. I thought I had it under control, but then all of a sudden… I didn’t.”
“Don’t be. Happens to everyone. It’s all part of learning.”
She looked into his eyes and gave him her warmest smile. “Thanks for saving me.”
He cocked his head slightly, and perhaps she imagined it — maybe it was just the glare of sun on snow — but she thought she saw a flash, a little spark of chemistry there. Then he smiled too, ripe lips sliding apart, and it was all she could do in that moment, with him lying helpless beneath her, to stop herself from planting a kiss on them.
“What about you? Are you okay?” asked Evan.
Kate stared, searching for that spark again, considering his question. She tightened and relaxed the muscles in her legs but couldn’t feel any pain — and no surprise there, as Evan made a fantastic cushion. Not that he needed to know that.
“My knee, it’s a little sore. I must’ve knocked it on something hard when we landed.”
The corners of his smile crept higher.
“Are you all right, Evan?”
Maria’s voice was sticky and sweet, like melted chocolate. Kate sighed, shifting her weight. Maria was perched on her toes across the slope, facing uphill, her expression sour, as if she’d just sucked on a lemon.
“I think so,” said Kate, waving her away. “You head back down. We’ll be fine.”
“You sure?” said Maria, her frown growing.
“Yeah, I’m good,” called Evan. To Kate, he said, “As much fun as this is, do you think you could roll off now?”
“Oh, okay. Hold on, let me just…” She grunted, pushing herself up and back, lifting her board so her knees could slide on the snow.
He rolled himself onto his knees, then stood, dusting snow off his pants and jacket. Extending a glove, he pulled Kate to her feet. She slipped forward and he leaned into her, placing his hands on her waist to stop them both from sliding. She gasped.
“Does it hurt?”
“A little,” she said, faking a grimace. “I might need some help getting down the mountain. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Course not. It’s my job.” He turned towards Maria, who was scowling up at them. “You go ahead, Maria. Kate’s hurt her knee. I’m gonna stay with her and help her down.”
Kate gave Maria her sweetest smile and waved. Maria’s scowl turned into a pout. Turning, she gave a dramatic flick of her hair and sped off down the slope.
“Wow,” said Kate, “look at her go. It’s like she’s chasing a burrito.” Evan dragged his eyes away from the disappearing Maria to look at Kate, who turned to him, still smiling, and added, “She must’ve had a good teacher.”
“I try,” said Evan.
I’m sure you do, she thought.

Missed the opening? Head back to the Prologue.

FREE BOOK!

A gritty and engaging story of human faults, fears, and frailty, What Friends Are For is the prequel short story to my tragicomic novel, Taking the Plunge. Introduce yourself to the characters from the novel and find out where it all begins for Kate, Tracy, Evan and Lawrence.

GET YOUR FREE BOOK >>

Taking the Plunge: Prologue

October 1, 2018 / J.B. Reynolds / 0 Comments

Taking the Plunge

Kate tipped the plastic can so a stream of petrol flowed from the spout and splashed over the collection she had stacked in the back yard. She was careful to lean forward and extend her arm as far she could — it wouldn’t do to set herself on fire as well as her husband’s belongings.
It had taken her a couple of hours to gather the items together and mounded as they were, like rugby players in a ruck, the heap was not inconsiderable. Oh well, she thought, if the neighbours call the fire brigade I’ll just have to accept it. No doubt they’d charge for the callout but Lawrence could pay for that.
The assembled items included a set of golf clubs, a mountain bike, all Lawrence’s clothes from their wardrobe, two sets of skis and boots (racing and telemark), fishing rods and flies, a wetsuit and dive regulator (she’d left the oxygen tanks, worried they might explode), a pair of water skis, his collection of awful, nineties techno CDs, a large backpack, hiking boots and the sail from his windsurfer (the board itself was a large, unwieldy thing, and she’d been concerned about the flammability of its foam core and how toxic the smoke might be. The CDs alone would be bad enough — she didn’t want to poison anyone). The windsurfer was functionally useless without a sail anyway, so she’d still get her point across.
Kate was under no illusion that the collected items were ideal fuel for a bonfire and so had asked for and been given three wooden pallets from the hardware store that afternoon. When she shifted Corbin’s car-seat to the front of her Santa Fe and folded the back-seats down, there was just enough room to fit them in for the drive home. It had taken an hour of toil to break them up with a hammer and an axe and add them to the pile, toil that had brought on a profuse sweat despite the chill of the winter breeze. With the sun lowering in the sky, the breeze had died, and it really was the perfect evening for a bonfire.
She completed her careful circle round the heap, sloshing petrol into it as far as she could, then backed away towards the house, dribbling a short trail with her. After replacing the cap and setting the can aside, she looked through the viewfinder of the digital camera she’d set up on a wooden stool, checking her framing. Satisfied, she set it to record. Then she took a matchbox from her pocket, struck a match and dropped it at the head of her trail of gas-soaked grass.
The trail leapt into flame, raced to the pile and exploded with an onomatopoeic, hot and extremely satisfying WHOOSH.
Kate watched the burning heap for a few minutes, mesmerised. A seething cloud of acrid, charcoal coloured smoke billowed into the air, but no neighbours poked their heads over the fence and no sirens sounded in the distance. She wrinkled her nose, then turned to the west, noting the sun had dipped towards the mountains. She checked her watch — almost five-thirty, Lawrence would be home soon — collected the camera and returned inside.
Corbin was still asleep on the couch, a happy convenience that made her wonder if God was supportive of her measures. She roused him with a gentle shake, and while he came to his senses she placed another log on the fire and closed the curtains, leaving a gap by the dining table through which she could keep an eye on the fire outside.
Gathering Corbin up, she plopped him into his high-chair, strapped him in and served him dinner, a mix of rice, casseroled beef and vegetables. He smiled at her, brandishing a plastic spoon and attacking his meal with gusto, slopping brown sauce over the side of his bowl and his face.
Kate poured herself another glass of wine and was pouring one for Lawrence when she heard the familiar purr of his car coming up the drive. Sipping her wine, she listened to the garage door opening and closing, the grunting and shuffling in the hallway as he removed his coat and then his muffled footsteps, the pads becoming clacks as he stepped from hall carpet to the tiles of the kitchen. She turned, and for the first time since she had discovered the incriminating photos of Lawrence and she who shall not be named, greeted him with a smile. He looked tired — eyes dark, complexion pale, his forehead rutted with wrinkles.
“Hard day? Here, have a drink.”
His eyebrows reared up at the bridge of his nose, like a furry black caterpillar staring at its reflection in a mirror. He cocked his head and took the glass.
“Thank you.” He looked at her, questioning, but she stared blankly back, giving no answer other than the thin smile tracing her lips.
“Daddy!” Corbin saluted Lawrence with an upraised spoon that sent a dollop of brown goo flying across the table.
“Hello, my beautiful boy. How are you?” He moved to Corbin’s side, bent and plastered his son’s cheek with kisses, blowing a raspberry that made Corbin shriek and giggle. He looked at her again, lips parting to reveal yellowing teeth, but her smile had vanished and his withered and died. He straightened, and with a shake of his head, said, “Greg was in again this afternoon. He’s impossible, that man. It’s like he thinks tax laws should only apply to poor people.”
“Don’t they?” She arched her eyebrows and took another sip of wine.
Lawrence snorted. “Of course not. There’s still laws for rich people,” he said, swirling the crimson liquid in his glass. “They’re just different ones.”
She leaned over the kitchen counter, elbows and wine glass sliding across the granite. “Have a drink. It’s not poisoned.”
His eyes flicked to hers, springing wide for an instant.
The thin smile returned.
He nodded, a tiny bob of the head, returned his gaze to the glass in his hand and sniffed at it, then took a sip. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then paused, brow furrowing, and stepped towards the curtains. “What’s with the fire?” he asked, peering through the gap.
She shrugged. “Oh, just thought I’d burn some rubbish I found round the place.”
Another step. “You’re not supposed to have outside fires in town. Not without a permit anyway.”
“It’s only a little one. And there’s no wind. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
A third. “That smoke’s pretty thick.” He parted the curtain and pressed his nose against the glass. The words that came to her then were strangely muted, as though they were being strangled in his throat. “Why are those flames green? Wait, is that my…?” He yanked the door open, a rush of cold air flooding in.
His next sentence was short, but loud and clear.
“What the fuck!”

Like it so far? Continue reading Chapter One.

FREE BOOK!

GET YOUR FREE BOOK >>

How to Write a Love Story: Part 2 — Creating an Outline

March 10, 2018 / J.B. Reynolds / 0 Comments

“The more work you put in on your outline and getting the skeleton of your story right, the easier the process is later.”
Drew Goddard

Having set myself the goal of learning how to write a love story, and deciding that the best way to learn was by doing, the next thing I needed to do was start writing. But where to begin? How do you turn an idea into a novel? Some would say to just sit down and start writing, see where it leads, but I didn’t like that advice. I guess I’m a “plotter”, not a “pantser”, because I wanted a process, a step-by-step recipe I could follow that would allow me to flesh out my idea so that I wasn’t writing blind. I did a little bit of research, and the following is the process I settled upon.

How to Write a Love Story

Write Your Premise

A premise is a single statement that conveys the underlying idea of your story—the foundation that supports your entire plot. According to Joseph Nassise, a premise must do 3 things:

Highlight the main character;
Reveals the story’s core problem;
Hint at the goal or resolution.

Following this structure, the premise for my novel became:

A recently separated mother-of-one pursues a snowboarding instructor ten years her junior, against the wishes of her friends, family, and ex-husband.

Main character – a recently separated mother-of-one;
Core problem – she wants to get it on with a young snowboarding instructor—but her friends, family, and ex-husband don’t want her to;
Goal – will she or won’t she get her man?

This premise grew from the characters and events in a short story I had already written, and at the time the idea was conceived, I was (and continue to be) a regular listener of Shawn Coyne’s and Tim Grahl’s Story Grid podcast. I can’t recommend Coyne’s Story Grid methodology highly enough—it has been fundamental in shaping my understanding of story structure, and as a consequence, the structure of my novel. Essentially, what Coyne says is that for a story to “work”, it should break down into three parts:

Beginning hook;
Middle build;
Ending payoff.

This should come as no surprise—it’s your classical three-act structure. But Coyne goes further than that, by giving what he calls the five commandments of story.

The Five Commandments

Each of your three acts should also contain a further five elements, or commandments, as follows:

Inciting Incident (an event that kicks off the action)
Complication
Crisis (a character has to make an important decision)
Climax (the consequences of that decision play out)
Resolution.

Looking at it this way, we have fifteen major “beats” a story has to hit. In determining what those beats might look like, Coyne says that you must have a deep understanding of the genre you are writing in.

Genre is Everything

Coyne believes that genre is more than just a marketing tool, it’s an absolutely fundamental consideration in shaping your story. Every genre has its own obligatory scenes and conventions. See that word “obligatory”? It means that you’re obliged to use them, that they must feature in the story for it “to work”. So it’s essential to think long and hard about what genre you are writing in so that you know what obligatory scenes and conventions you need to include in your story.

It took me a while to figure out that what I was writing was a love story. Part of the reason it took me so long is that when I thought of love stories, I had a picture of Mills & Boon romances in my head, and I knew my story wasn’t that. I didn’t see how it could be a romance because it didn’t have a happy ending. But after thinking long and hard about it, I realised that at its essence, my story was about a girl falling for a guy—in other words, a love story. I prefer the term “love story” because it doesn’t have the same connotations for me as “romance” does. It seems, broader, more inclusive. Anyway, I digress—what’s important is that in the love story genre, there are obligatory scenes and conventions that Coyne says are essential to include when telling your story.

Obligatory Scenes of The Love Story Genre

Lovers meet;
Lovers first kiss;
Confession of love;
Lovers break up;
Proof of love;
Lovers reunite.

So, in terms of structure, my first task was to figure out how these scenes would fit into the fifteen beats of my global story. They don’t have to be in this particular order, but I chose to plug these into my story as follows:

Lovers meet – inciting incident of the beginning hook;
Lovers first kiss – after the complication and before the crisis of the beginning hook, so not one of the global beats;
Confession of love and lovers break up – inciting incident of the middle build;
Proof of love – climax of the ending payoff;
Lovers reunite (but part ways) – resolution of the ending payoff.

In this way, I had my first five important scenes of the story.

Conventions of The Love Story Genre

As well as the obligatory scenes, there are also conventions of the genre to consider, which may or may not amount to scenes in and of themselves, but which do need to feature in the story.

For the love story genre, these conventions are:

Rivals;
Moral Weight (the distinction between right and wrong behaviour – at least one of the lovers needs to have a serious moral flaw that they need to contend with in order to move forward in their life);
Helpers (characters that aid the lovers);
Hinderers (characters that harm the lovers or stand in the lovers’ way);
Gender Divide (men and women want different things);
External Need (some form of external pressure on the lovers’ relationship. In Pride and Prejudice, for instance, Mrs. Bennet wants to marry off her daughters as soon as she possibly can);
Forces at Play Beyond the Lovers’ Control;
Forces at Play Within the Lovers’ Control;
Rituals (some activity that the lovers share);
Secrets—lots and lots of secrets.

So the next task was to figure out where these would fit into the story. These conventions play out across multiple scenes in my novel, but there are particular scenes where I introduce the rivals, where I introduce the helpers and hinderers, where particular secrets are exposed. Once I had figured out how I was going to fit these conventions into my global story, I had about fifteen scenes, spread over three acts, that gave me the basic framework for my story. Once I had that, I had to come up with scenes and sequences of scenes that would plug the gaps between each of those points, driving the action along—a task that was much easier now that I had fifteen points of reference. As Coyne suggests, it’s kind of like plotting a road trip and fixing the major destinations on the way. The particular roads you should take to reach each destination become more obvious once you have the stops clearly defined.

Write Your Outline

In the end, I came up with about forty scenes in total. In doing this, I found Stephen Pressfield’s clothesline method to be really helpful (here’s the clothesline I made for my story). Then, for each scene, I wrote a brief synopsis (80 – 150 words). The beauty of the Story Grid method is that not only does your global story break down into the five commandments, but so should each individual scene. The synopsis for most of my forty scenes had an inciting incident, complication, crisis, climax, and resolution. By filling in the details of these five commandments for each of my scenes, I had a pretty comprehensive plot outline that enabled me to feel confident about embarking on my writing journey.

Now, this might seem like overkill, especially if you’re a pantser, but it worked for me. Without it, I’m not sure I could ever have started—the blank page would have been just too overwhelming. On an endnote, however, it’s important to say that just because you have an outline, it doesn’t mean you have to stick to it. I’d written several thousand words when I realised that one of the central ideas I had for my story just wasn’t going to work. It was a fantastical idea and had no place in the realistic setting of the world I was building. So I got rid of it, re-jigging my scenes and the ending payoff to suit. Thankfully, I didn’t have to rewrite any of the scenes I’d already drafted, realising early enough how stupid the idea was and moving on.

Are you a plotter or a pantser? Is creating an outline before you begin writing a useful process? Share your thoughts in the comments.

Read Part 1 of How to Write a Love Story: Goal-setting

FREE BOOK!

GET YOUR FREE BOOK >>

How to Write a Love Story: Part 1 — Goal-setting

January 12, 2018 / J.B. Reynolds / 2 Comments

“Our goals can only be reached through a vehicle of a plan, in which we must fervently believe, and upon which we must vigorously act. There is no other route to success.”
Pablo Picasso

Early in 2017, I decided I wanted to write a novel. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I’d been dreaming about writing one for twenty years, and I decided it was time to stop dreaming and start doing. As it turned out, the novel I wanted to write was a love story. I’d never written one before, so not only did I need to write a love story, I also needed to learn how to write a love story. In my twenty years of dreaming, I always believed that I would learn more by actually doing the job than I would by attending any number of creative writing courses, and now, having finished my first draft, I think that belief has been validated. I’ve learned more about the craft of storytelling in the last twelve months than I did in the previous twenty years. I wanted to share some of what I have learned in this series of blog posts. This initial post is about goal-setting, because the first, and possibly most important thing I did, was to set myself the goal. Without the goal, and the desire to achieve that goal, I would have gotten nowhere.

How to Write a Love Story

1. Set Your Goals

Saying I wanted to learn how to write a novel and actually writing one are two very different things, but without first setting that goal, I never would have started. The key to going from dreaming about writing a novel to actually doing it came by getting out of bed earlier in the morning. For twenty years, I told myself “I don’t have the time”, and for the most part, that was true. Between work and travel and friends and family and eating and sleeping and TV, my days were full. The only answer to this problem was to find the time. So I did, and the time I found was at five o’clock in the morning.

Now, you could go to the trouble of setting yourself daily word-count goals and deadlines. I didn’t do this, simply because I’d never written a novel before so I didn’t know what to expect. I just wanted to write as much as I could in the time I had (about an hour a day) for as long as it took to finish. Having set myself this goal, my progress throughout 2017 was much slower than I wanted, but it was still progress. And one thing I did do, right from the beginning, was to track my writing progress.

2. Track Your Progress

I followed Chris Fox’s advice and recorded my daily word count in a simple spreadsheet since I began writing my novel. The purpose of doing this was to have a record of how many words-per-hour I was writing so that I could work on improving my writing speed. You can see a copy of the spreadsheet here, and if you want, feel free to make your own copy and use it as you see fit.

I’ve found it extremely valuable, but to be honest, it hasn’t helped me to improve my writing speed (at least not yet). I seem to be sitting at about 830 words-per-hour, and have done for most of the year. Sometimes, when I’m “in the zone”, this increases to well over a thousand words-per-hour. One of my goals for 2018 is to get “in the zone” on a far more regular and consistent basis.

At the beginning of December, I’d written 44,000 words, which according to my plot outline, put me about half-way through my novel. This, for seven months of work. I know I’m not the fastest writer, but even so, I wasn’t happy with my progress, so I sat down to have a closer look at my spreadsheet to see if I could figure out what was going on.

3. Analyse Your Progress

It was a revelation. When looking more closely at the numbers I discovered, much to my surprise and dismay, that I hadn’t been working on my novel anywhere near as regularly and consistently as I thought I had been. On the day I did my analysis, I had spent only 70 out of 222, or 31.5% of my mornings writing my novel. Oh, sure, I had been getting up early every morning on the vast majority of those days to work on “things” related to my writing, (and there is a long list of those) but I hadn’t actually been writing my novel. If I had guessed, I would have said it was much closer to 70%, and it was galling to realise just how far from reality my perception was, but there was the data in black and white. The data doesn’t lie. I had to turn this around.

4. Refocus When Things Go Wrong

So, as December progressed, I prioritised writing my novel. By the end of the month, I had worked on my novel for 23 out of the 31 days of the month or 74.2% of my mornings. I had my most productive writing month of the year, writing a little over 18,000 words. And I felt much more optimistic about the progress I was making on my novel, which had been turning into a real grind. I also had five days where I broke 1,000 words per hour, when through October and November there’d been none. I think that a big part of this was because I really had formed a “writing habit” and “the zone” was more readily accessible because of this.

I also added another column to my spreadsheet (I’ve labeled it “Task”) to record specifically what I do on the days I don’t write. I have a very limited time in which to write and some days I just have to use that time to work on other writing-related activities. But I want to keep these days to an absolute minimum through 2018. My author platform is mostly set-up now, so just requires a bit of regular updating and maintenance. I want to improve slightly on December’s result—writing at least 75% of the time and hitting at least 20,000 words per month, consistently, month on month, throughout 2018. My goal is to finish three books this year; two novels and a novella. If I can continue to consistently hit my monthly word-count goal, then this is well within reach.

My main point here is that if I hadn’t been consistently tracking my progress in a measurable way, I never would have known how badly off-track I had gotten. It was a valuable reminder for me that it’s not just enough to set goals, you have to track your progress on those goals as well. It’s also a reminder of the importance of being disciplined and forming a writing habit.

FREE BOOK!

GET YOUR FREE BOOK >>

An Interview with M.D. Neu, Award-winning Sci-Fi Author

November 8, 2017 / J.B. Reynolds / 3 Comments

This month’s author interview is with the award-winning paranormal and science fiction writer, M.D. Neu, who lives in San Jose, California.

Living in the heart of Silicon Valley and growing up around technology, M.D. has always been fascinated with what could be. He is inspired by the great Gene Roddenberry, George Lucas, Stephen King, and Kim Stanley Robinson—an odd combination, but one that has influenced his writing.

Growing up in an accepting family as a gay man, he always wondered why there were never stories reflecting who he was. Constantly surrounded by characters that only reflected heterosexual society, M.D. decided he wanted to change that. So, he took to writing, with a desire to tell good stories that reflected the diversity of our modern world.

When M.D. isn’t writing, he works for a non-profit and travels with his husband of eighteen years.

In October, as part of a special Halloween themed set of releases, NineStar Press published M.D.’s short story, The Reunion.

I had the pleasure of being given an advance review copy of the story prior to its publication. It’s a suitably spooky little tale; a ghost story with a twist and a cast of intimately drawn characters. I highly recommend it. Now, on with the interview.

Hi, M.D. Thanks for taking the time to answer a few questions for me and my readers today. You must be thrilled with the publication of The Reunion. Can you tell us a little bit about how that came about and what it means to you?

Thank you for having me. I appreciate the opportunity to chat with you today. The Reunion, man there simply are no words with how lucky and blessed I’ve been these last few months. How it got started is a bit of a long story, but I’ll try and be brief. Back in May I sent my manuscript for The Calling (my full length novel) to NineStar Press. I figured, I would get the standard “thank you but no thank you” response. Anyway, about a week later I heard from a buddy of mine who is signed with NineStar telling me to send them my work and to let him know when I did. He said he would let his editor know so his editor could pull my manuscript and take a look. I was floored. So, I let him know I just sent something to NineStar, so he told his editor and wished me luck. That was that.

A few weeks went by and I still figured I would get the “thank you but no thank you” letter. Instead I got an email telling me they wanted to publish my book. I couldn’t believe it.

When it came to The Reunion I was going to use it as a giveaway piece, but I knew it needed some editing. So I chatted with my editor, the same one who read The Calling. I told him about the story. He told me he wanted to evaluate it, so I sent it to him and the next day he sent me a note saying he loved the story and it needed to be published. He wanted to include it in their Halloween Series. I was stunned and thrilled. In the matter of a few weeks I needed to do a massive addition to the story (take it from 3,600 words to 22,000 words), have it edited, proof edited, and copy edited. It was the quickest turn around I had ever seen but we did it. The folks at NineStar Press held my hand the whole way through and I couldn’t be happier with the final product.

Every time I think about how quickly this has all happened I have to pinch myself. I really am very lucky and so honoured to have this opportunity.

Wow, that’s awesome. Congratulations. The main character in The Reunion, Teddy, is an interesting one. He’s a gay man who returns to his small home-town after having escaped it many years ago. In your bio, you give yourself the challenge of writing stories that reflect the diversity of our world. Can you tell us a bit more about Teddy and how he meets that challenge for you?

Teddy. Oh man, I love him. What people have to understand about Teddy is that he’s more than a random stereotype, which is what they will first see and probably call me out on. Teddy is an occasional drag performer and a full-time hair stylist. He is over-the-top and overweight, and he’s not a handsome man. However, Teddy is warm, caring and a wonderful person. He can be your best friend and give you all he has to give. His heart is as big as his drag wigs. Teddy’s not your typical main character, but he’s real. You see, Teddy is based on two people from my life. A wonderful friend of mine who did drag and was a hairstylist and my mother—she was a hairstylist as well. Both are no longer with us, but I love them and I think about them all the time.

When I say I want to write stories that reflect the diversity of our world, I really mean it. I want to show people who may not be the typical protagonist. I want to show people who we may joke about and tease. These people have stories and these people deserve to be shown and not just as comic relief but as real people. Just like Teddy; he’s a character in a book but his heart and soul are based on two wonderful people who deserve to be in the spotlight of a story. I hope that answers your question.

Yeah, for sure. That’s a great answer. So, what else are you working on at the moment?

Oh, wow. There is a lot happening. On December 18th, NineStar Press are releasing my second short story, A Dragon for Christmas. It’s about a cursed little Latina girl called Carmen, who also happens to be a lesbian. She needs to get a dragon to help her fight off this curse she was born with. The fact that she is a lesbian isn’t the focus of the story. It’s her struggle to battle with this awful curse that can kill her. This story is personal to me for many reasons and I hope people fall in love with Carmen and the story.

On January 1st, NineStar Press are releasing my debut full length novel, The Calling. The story is about an average gay man named Duncan, who on a fateful trip to San Jose, California, is introduced to the world of Immortals. There is much more to Duncan than anyone realizes. Even himself.

I’ve always loved vampire stories (thank you Anne Rice), so I wanted to offer my take on the genre and NineStar Press is giving me that opportunity. I hope people enjoy it.

I’m also working on a fantasy story about angels and I’m still working on my science fiction series, so there is a lot going on and I have a lot of stories in the works. I also have a weekly blog and on occasion I write poetry, all of which can be found on my website.

Sounds like you’re a busy man. What is the hardest thing about writing?

The hardest thing about writing is the editing and cutting the story down. I love detail. I love descriptions. I love creating full rich worlds, where everything is there ready for the reader to explore and see. However, not everyone likes that. So, editing and trimming. Keeping it all focused so that people don’t skim to get to the good stuff.

I hate that, because for me it’s all the good stuff. Why else would I include it? Plus, I put things in one book that may or may not show up till the next book or even the book after that. It’s all part of the world building, so don’t skim… cause you never know what you’re going to miss.

Do you aim for a set amount of words/pages per day?

I try and write two to three chapters a week. Clearly that doesn’t always happen but it’s my goal and I’m happy if I can get one chapter a week written. Sometimes, instead of writing chapters I’m editing or outlining both of which I count.

I’ll also spend time blogging and writing poetry, which also counts in my book.

Where is your favourite place to write?

I typically write in my study or in my dining room. However, I’ve been known to write on the plane heading off on vacation. I’ve also written while on vacation. My laptop normally travels with me so I can write when the moment strikes me.

Do you proofread/edit all your own books or do you get someone to do that for you?

I belong to a Writer’s Group that provides critiques to whatever you post. I’ve used that and I love it. Not only do I get their feedback, but I get to read and provide feedback to their work, which helps me learn and improve. I can’t tell you how much I’ve learned by being part of this Writer’s Community.

Writing is obviously a major part of your life. Outside of your writing, how do you relax?

I love to cook, travel, go to the movies, spend time with family and friends, play board/card games, read (I bet you thought I would forget about that), and have quiet evenings at home with my husband. Really anything that takes me away from reality for a little while. Even though we are living in one of the safest times in human history, with social media, there is so much noise that getting away from it is the most relaxing thing I can think of.

Well, that’s us for today. Thanks again for your time, M.D. It’s been great to chat with you. All the best with your future writing.

Thank you. It really was a lot of fun.

To find out more about M.D., check out mdneu.com, or connect with him on Facebook or Twitter.

FREE BOOK!

GET YOUR FREE BOOK >>

An Interview with Jocelynn Babcock, Paranormal Fiction Author

August 29, 2017 / J.B. Reynolds / 2 Comments

This month’s author interview is with paranormal mystery and supernatural magical realism writer, Jocelynn Babcock.

Jocelynn will tell you she created books with her grandma’s yarn as a child and grew up to marry an engineer. She lives in the Channeled Scablands, where the fine line between sanity and not is an outlet for idle hands.

Jocelynn is the author of the paranormal mystery novel, The Eyes of March, and the paranormal short story collection, Semantic: A Collection of Wyrd Sister Stories, which feature an assortment of psychics, ghosts, and witches among the characters.

Hi, Jocelynn. Thanks for joining me and my readers today. First up, can you tell us a little bit about the writing project you are currently working on?

I’m currently writing the second installment of my paranormal mystery series. Mantic Vol II: To Dance with Serpents has our main character, now with partial memory restoration (about two years back). She resolves to regain her entire memory after a shocking twist.

What has drawn you to write in the paranormal and supernatural genres?

I never considered what I wrote to be paranormal. I beta tested my debut novel as a murder mystery and found that mystery readers considered a psychic to be paranormal. I knew full well that psychic was not enough to publish to a paranormal audience, so I went back and threaded through magical realism in order to hit the target market of paranormal readers. This gave me more freedom in content and I think added a new element to my writing. I enjoy the finished product better than if it had remained just a psychic mystery.

That’s really interesting, and great that it’s worked out well for both you and your readers. So, when did you decide to become a writer?

I’ve always written, but lacked the confidence to be a writer. I went to college to be a grant writer, because that is writing that pays the bills. It was during that time I decided to give fiction a try. As I neared completing the novel, then I decided to become a writer. I finally realized I could finish a project, and the process would get easier.

Where do your ideas come from?

Conversations with people. My current trilogy was the idea of my husband. I have another idea from a conversation I had with my mom when I was a teen. Yet another was a thread I pulled out of my book because there was a lot going on already and the beta readers were confused by the connection. My niece, my forensic expert, has inspired a few stories also.

Which famous person, living or dead would you like to meet and why?

I would like to bring Susan B. Anthony to the future and show her: women voting, women on juries, women raising their children alone, women owning property, women going to college, women in the workplace, women wearing whatever they choose, etc. I’d like to point and say: “You did that.”

What inspires you to get out of bed each day?

A little voice from the next room that says “I’m all done ny-night Mommy!”

Thanks for your time today, Jocelynn, and all the best with your writing.

You can find out more about Jocelynn and her writing at jocelynnbabcock.wordpress.com or follow her Facebook or Twitter accounts.

FREE BOOK!

GET YOUR FREE BOOK >>

What Friends Are For

August 21, 2017 / J.B. Reynolds / 0 Comments

The opening excerpt from my short story, What Friends Are For. Happy reading!

So I’m at home folding laundry, cos that’s what you do when you got a young kid. Between the shit and the piss and the vomit, seems like all I’m ever doing is laundry. I’d just given Hayley a box of raisins cos she was cranky—she loves her raisins, guaranteed to shut her up for five minutes anyway—when the phone rings. It’s Kate Hensley. Her son, Corbin, goes to daycare with Hayley, which is how Kate and I know each other.

I’m not sure why her Corbin goes to daycare, since as far as I know she doesn’t have a job; I guess she just needs the time to paint her nails and prune her roses in peace. Anyway, she wants to know if I’ll go along with her and Corbin to Alexandra for the morning to have a look round the shops. This is unexpected. I said we knew each other, but we’re not exactly friends. We see each other when we’re picking up or dropping off the kids at daycare, but we’ve never hung out before. I’m up for it. It’s not easy to make friends in Cromwell, especially when you’re a young mum and you’re new to town. I get sideways looks when I walk down the street, pushing a pram, like people are thinking, There goes another one. Should’ve kept her legs closed. They’re right of course, but hey, what’s done is done.

Kate might be posh, but she’s always been friendly enough. I ask her how long we’d be in Alexandra cos my shift at the pub starts at one-thirty and I got to get Hayley to daycare before that. I was late on Monday and the boss gave me a bollocking. I don’t want another one.

She says, “Oh, don’t worry about that. I promise we’ll be back before one.”

I say, “Okay then,” cos the housework can wait, and I think it’ll be nice to go shopping—you know, do some girly things. To tell the truth, I’ve been feeling a bit lonely lately. I stopped going to mothers’ group cos I was the youngest one there, and I didn’t exactly fit in. I mean, they were nice enough to my face, but all they ever did was bitch about other mothers behind their backs, so God only knows what they said about me.

So I’m excited Kate’s called. “It’ll be nice to get out of the house,” I tell her.

“Right, I’ll pick you up in half an hour,” she says.

“See you then.”

Which leaves me just enough time to finish folding the laundry, change Hayley’s bum and put a bit of lippy on. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not usually one for the make-up—you can’t polish a turd, as Davy likes to say—but it’s a little different when you’re going out about town with a woman as beautiful as Kate Hensley. I mean, I’m not vain or nothing, but you gotta make an effort.

I hear the toot of a horn and look out the window to see Kate coming up the driveway in her gleaming white Hyundai Santa Fe. It’s a good measure of the difference in our family incomes. I drive an eighty-four Corolla.

“Nice car,” I tell Kate as I place Hayley’s car seat in the back.

“Isn’t it lovely?” she says. “It’s just perfect for going skiing.”

This is my second winter in Cromwell and I still haven’t been skiing. It’s not on the priority list. I strap Hayley into her seat next to Corbin and put her stroller in the boot and then off we head off down the road. Straight away, Kate starts singing Coming Round the Mountain at the top of her lungs. She can’t sing to save herself.

“Jesus Christ, Kate,” I say.

“Pardon me,” she says, all hoity-toity like, and then I remember that she’s religious and I’ve just blasphemed.

She goes to one of the churches in town—not the cult one, thank God, but she’s bad enough. She’s one of those people who’s always slipping God or church or the Bible into the conversation. Like, How was your weekend, Kate? Oh, really good, thanks, went to a great service on Sunday—we learnt about prayer strategies. Or: Beaut day eh, Kate? Oh, yes, it’s lovely. God certainly has blessed us with the weather this week. She’s good in that she doesn’t pester you to come along to church all the time, but you know she’d be thrilled if you said you would. I’ve even considered it, just for the singing and the company, but the most judgemental people I’ve ever met were Christians and I’ve had my share of being judged.

“Do you mind if I put the radio on?” I say. “Only Coming Round the Mountain’s not my favourite tune.”

She shrugs. “I suppose.”

I switch the radio on and we cross over Deadman’s Point Bridge and turn towards Alexandra. The kids are quiet and it’s nice, you know, listening to the radio and looking out the window at the Clutha River, which on this stretch, up to the Clyde Dam, is less river and more lake. The sky is overcast and the water looks cold and grim and grey in the washed-out winter light. As we get nearer the dam, the steep slopes on the far side of the lake become criss-crossed with a network of dirt roads, made when the dam was constructed. They look like pale scars slashed against the hill rock.

“How’s Davy?” asks Kate, breaking my reverie.

“Who cares? He’s a jerk,” I say.

“Oh no, what’s he done?”

I grunt. “Okay, get this—right? It was my twenty-first birthday last week—”

“Really? Did you have a party?”

“Nah, it was just me and Davy and Hayley. My mate Julz back home said she’d organise one for me if I came up, but it’s just not that easy, is it? She hasn’t got a clue what it’s like to have a kid. None of my old mates do. Mum an’ Dad were gonna come down, but then Dad got called away for work an’ they couldn’t make it.”

“Oh, Tracy, you should have told me. I could have organised something.”

“Nah, it’s all good. I’d accepted the fact that I wasn’t goin’ to have the world’s most excitin’ twenty-first celebration. But I’m still pissed off at Davy cos the present he bought me was shit. Here I was, preparin’ my own birthday dinner since Davy was at work, an’ he comes home with a big box. No flowers or chocolates, just a box. It was gift wrapped, an’ there was a card attached, but I was already suspicious cos I was thinkin’, What on earth do I want that comes in a big box? ‘Open it, open it,’ he says, all excited, so I open it, an’ can you guess what it was?”

“No,” says Kate, shaking her head.

“A fuckin’ cake mixer! I wasn’t expectin’ diamond earrin’s or anythin’ like that, though that would’ve been nice, but for fuck’s sake, a cake mixer! I mean, it’s a nice cake mixer an’ all, but it was my twenty-first, not my fuckin’ fortieth! Most girls my age would be out ragin’ with their mates, but me, I’m stuck at home with my boyfriend an’ our kid—no friends, no family, changin’ shitty nappies an’ goin’ to bed at nine o’clock cos I’m so exhausted! I told him to go mix his own fuckin’ cakes.”

Kate laughs. “Oh, I’m sorry, Tracy. That is a pretty awful twenty-first present. I guess he thought he was doing something nice for you.”

“I know, but what a dickhead.”

“Don’t be too hard on him. At least he cares.”

“Oh, I know he does. It’s just that sometimes he can be such a moron.”

“That’s men for you. I…” She stops, frowning, and then turns her head away. She’s a beautiful woman—sleek and blonde and elegant, with high cheekbones, a sharp nose, and luminous green eyes. Plus she’s got boobs and hips. She kinda reminds of a Barbie doll, only more Presbyterian. She looks straight ahead now, concentrating on driving, and I think to myself, Why am I here? Does she want to be friends? It’s a nice thought, I suppose, but we’re so different. I must look like her ugly, freckle-faced, flat-chested younger cousin.

FREE BOOK!

GET YOUR FREE BOOK >>

An Interview with C.D. Gallant-King, Comic Fantasy Author

June 21, 2017 / J.B. Reynolds / 10 Comments

I’m really excited about this month’s interview with proud Canadian and horror and comic fantasy author, C.D. Gallant-King.

C.D. wrote his first story when he was five years old. He had to make his baby-sitter look up how to spell “extra-terrestrial” in the dictionary. He now writes stories about un-heroic people doing generally hilarious things in horrifying worlds.

He’s a loving husband and proud father of two wonderful little kids. He was born and raised in Newfoundland and currently resides in Ottawa, Ontario. There was also a ten-year period in between where he tried to make a go of a career in Theatre in Toronto, but that didn’t work out so well.

C.D. has written eight novels you haven’t read, because they’re still locked in The Closet. The Closet is both a figurative and literal location – it is the space in his head where the stories are kept, but it’s also an actual closet under the stairs in his basement where the stories are also kept. It’s very meta.

He has published two novels you can read, Ten Thousand Days in 2015 and Hell Comes to Hogtown in 2016. He has an ongoing series of dark comic fantasy stories called Werebear vs. Landopus, which is available on Kindle Unlimited. His work will also appear in Mystery and Horror’s upcoming humour/speculative fiction anthology, Strangely Funny IV.

Welcome, C.D. Thanks for taking the time to answer a few questions for me and my readers this month.

No problem.

Let’s leap right in, then. I read Hell Comes to Hogtown earlier this year, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I’ve been meaning to write a proper review for it and post it to my blog, but haven’t got there yet. It’s a strange, genre-bending mixture of action and horror and fantasy and comedy, but it works, and it’s a lot of fun. What are you currently working on? Is it in a similar vein?

I just released a new (rather long) short story on Amazon called Revenge of the Lycanterrancephalopod, which is the next part in my “Werebear Landopus” series. While it shares a similar dark, crude humour to Hogtown, this one is set firmly in a medieval fantasy setting.

My current work in progress is another comic fantasy, but this one is pretty firmly “PG-rated.” It uses a lot of the tropes of the genre but it also touches on some modern contemporary issues. It’s sort of like His Dark Materials meets Discworld, with a touch of Garfield or Get Fuzzy (the comic strips) thrown in. Yes, there are talking pets in it. It’s very different to find comedy and jokes without resorting to profanity, bodily functions and other obscenities. Not impossible, just different. It’s as if you’re painting with a new palette of colours.

That sounds really interesting. I love the name for your short story.

You’ve chosen to self-publish the works you’ve written so far. What motivated you to become an indie author?

Impatience and self-respect. I don’t want to spend a year querying authors and agents for what will probably amount to nothing. I tried it in my youth when I had time to mess around with it and it’s frustrating and demoralizing. Now, with a full-time job and a wife and kids and a million other responsibilities, I don’t have time to grovel and beg trying to get someone’s approval as a writer. I’m not looking for their validation. If I feel that I’m improving at writing, and people enjoy my book, that’s all I’m looking for right now. Getting an agent or a publishing contract is no guarantee of fame or money anyway (today more than ever). I can publish a book myself and get the same non-guarantee.

Yeah, I totally agree, and I really enjoy the freedom and control that comes with indie-publishing. But it’s certainly not all milk and honey. What was the hardest thing about writing Hell Comes to Hogtown?

I just couldn’t get the ending right. I knew the main characters had to confront the bad guy and I knew roughly what position they were in when it was over, but that was it. I didn’t know who lived or died, what the ending beat should be and how it actually tied together. I wrote it several times and it just didn’t feel right.

Finally, my Alpha Reader (my wife) read it and said “You’re being stupid. X should happen.” Suddenly, bam! Everything fell into place. It wasn’t what I expected, but I had accidentally planted the seeds through the whole book. The hook was already there, the final beat finally made sense, and everything came together almost as if I had planned it.

Did I mention my wife is a lot smarter than me?

For such a genre-bending novel, coming up with a cover must have been hard. I like the cover you’ve got for Hogtown—I think it works well. Do you think that the cover plays an important part in the buying process?

Personally, I don’t particularly care what a cover looks like. I’ve spent more time studying copyright pages than I have studying covers. It’s not to be dismissive – I recognize that there is great art out there and that some people really do enjoy them, but I really am of the opinion that you can’t (and shouldn’t) judge a book by its cover.

When I look for a book it’s always because I’m looking for something specific—I’ve heard about it or I like the author or I’m looking for a particular topic. I have never, ever scanned a bookshelf (digital or real-world) just hoping something pops out at me. It’s just not the way my brain works. This creates some dissonance with me though, because apparently, some people do shop like this, so you have to be aware that your cover is aesthetically pleasing (or at least not downright ugly). This is especially difficult because, like any art, there are a wide variety of opinions on what makes a good cover. Sure, certain things like having clear, readable fonts and scalability to thumbnail-size are fairly universal, but beyond that, you will get lots of different opinions on what makes a good cover. The trick is just finding something that’s right for you and your book.

To make sure I had an original, eye-popping cover for Hell Comes to Hogtown, I got an original image from Jason Salvatori Photography. He does some great work you can check out at facebook.com/SalvatoriPhotography

That’s interesting. I don’t shop by covers either, although I may have borrowed the odd book from the library based on an eye-catching cover. Having said that, I’ve seen a few books on Amazon that I WOULDN’T buy purely because of how UGLY the covers are. It’s important to have a good one.

Next question—do you read much and if so, who are your favourite authors?

I don’t read as much as I would like simply because my free time has to be split between reading and writing, but I do as much as I can. I recognize that a writer needs to be as well versed in as many styles as possible to help develop their craft.

Kurt Vonnegut is probably overall my favourite writer. Mother Night is my favourite book: it was a perfect blend of comedy and blackness, hitting all the right notes for me at the age I read it. The lost love, the denouncement of war, the questions of morality, all undercut by Vonnegut’s infamous dark sense of humour. I read it again recently and it still blows me away with how effortlessly Vonnegut stirs up so much emotion. Not to mention how terrifying it is in light of what’s going on in the world today. It’s not hilarious, laugh-out-loud funny, but it’s got a certain satirical levity that is totally incongruous with the dark and painful subject matter, and it works perfectly. I wish I could write a book like this.

Terry Pratchett is a close second. I wish I could turn a phrase like he could. In some ways he’s a lot like Vonnegut, tackling important topics with humour, though his stories lean so hard on the fantastic and silly that sometimes it’s easy to miss the lesson. That doesn’t make it any less important, though. Plus, with his perfect British sense of humour, his books are always guaranteed to bring a smile and a chuckle.

Some other favourites include Cormac McCarthy—no one does dark and bleak better than McCarthy; Douglas Adams—if you don’t like The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy we can’t be friends; Christopher Moore—Lamb is one of the single greatest books ever written. If I could go back in time and write one book, it would be this one. I hate Moore for getting to it first. How can you not love a book where Jesus Christ travels to China, invents martial arts and calls it “Ju-do: The Way of the Jew?”

That’s really interesting—we both have similar tastes as far as our reading preferences go. I love both Vonnegut and Pratchett. Vonnegut is the short story master, and I always try to follow his advice when writing short stories. Pratchett is the king of comic fantasy. I’ve read a number of the City Watch series this year and they’re brilliant. Fiercely intelligent but so funny that you almost don’t realise you’re getting such a sharp insight into the world and how it works. I’ve got an idea for a fantasy crime novel that I want to write in the next year or two, and it owes a debt to Terry Pratchett.

Now, back to the questions, and sticking to favourites—what’s your favourite movie and why?

Depends on the day of the week you ask, but I’ll take the safe route and say Star Wars. The original one, aka A New Hope. The Empire Strikes Back is probably a better movie overall, but nothing can match the sincere earnestness, joy and fun of the original. It’s a wonderful mix of fantasy and sci-fi, a classic hero’s journey that completely revolutionized filmmaking. Even if you take away all the sequels and world-building and games and toys (which are also all great), the movie itself is still such an entertaining journey that I can watch again and again. And now that I’m discovering it again with my kids, it makes it all the more special to see it again for the first time through their eyes.

A second, more intellectual choice would be Seven Samurai, but it’s for many of the same reasons as I love Star Wars (not to mention that George Lucas borrowed a lot of his themes and ideas from Kurosawa’s movies).

Ha! I love both those films too! Well, thanks again for your time, C.D. It’s been great to chat with you. All the best with your future writing.

To find out more about C.D. check out cdgallantking.ca, or connect with him on Facebook, Twitter, Google+, or Goodreads.

FREE BOOK!

GET YOUR FREE BOOK >>

An interview with Francisco Cordoba, Romance Author

May 15, 2017 / J.B. Reynolds / 1 Comment

This month’s interview is with passionate romantic and obsessive equestrian, Francisco Cordoba.

Francisco has been writing for as long as he can remember. However, it’s only in the last few years, since completing his Master’s Degree in Linguistics and suffering regular chastisement from his wife, that he has dared to fully unleash his muse. He loves writing about romance, relationships, adventures and sex.

Francisco lives a largely reclusive life tucked away in an old farmhouse, somewhere, with his wife, teenage son, four cats, two dogs, horse, ducks and chickens. He freely admits to loving them all, although he refuses to allow more than three bodies to occupy his bed at any one time. His six-book, slightly erotic, paranormally romantic, mysteriously suspenseful, thrillingly adventurous, and possibly fictional debut series, The Horsemen of Golegã, will be self-published soon.

Welcome, Francisco. Thanks for taking the time to answer a few questions for me and my readers this month.

Hi JB, thanks for having me.

To start, can you tell us a little about what you’re currently working on?

My current project is The Horsemen of Golegã series that I’ll start publishing in September this year. It’s a complex set of stories focusing on the relationship between a 23-year-old woman and the 250-year-old man she falls in love with. Many threads weave through the books as we learn about the lives not only of the main characters but also their friends and families.

Love and Loss, Death, Jealousy, Revenge, Coming-of-age, Courage, Ambition, Betrayal, Loneliness: it’s all happening in The Horsemen of Golegã.

Each book is a complete story in itself, but each book also builds on the earlier ones to create an overarching look into a world just slightly to the left of our own.

Where do you get your inspiration?

I get inspiration for from the world around me, my past experiences, the people I meet, and the books I read. Sometimes ideas just jump into my head seemingly from nowhere.

When you get a writing idea, what is the first thing you do with it?

Write it down. Get it out of my head and onto paper as fast as possible. If I don’t it either takes over my brain and won’t let me rest, or I forget it and waste time beating myself up for losing the best idea the world has ever seen.

What tense do you prefer to write in? Is there a reason behind your choice?

Past tense. Although I’m happy with either first or third person. I write in past tense because I have a problem with writing in present tense. It seems illogical to me. I can get my head around a narrator or whoever writing a story after the fact, but writing while in the moment is largely impossible. It’s hard enough to write when that’s the only thing you’re doing. Trying to get words onto the page or into the computer while slaying dragons or making love to a sexy partner… Not happening.

Past tense makes sense.

I like the way that rhymes. What was your favourite book as a child?

As a young child, The Sneetches by Dr. Seuss. It’s a brilliant observation on some of the more ridiculous human behaviours, as well as a few of the better ones, told in a way that causes even small children to nod wisely.

Yeah, I think there’s a lot of people out there who can count Dr. Seuss as a favourite, and not just children. I can think of two or three events I’ve been to in the last few years where a passage from Oh, The Places You’ll Go has been rolled out for its inspiring message (I’m talking about school prizegivings and the like—nothing as exciting as Burning Man).

Okay, Francisco, onto my last question for today. Do you have hobbies other than writing?

Riding and training horses is my number one passion after writing. It mostly translates into rehabilitating damaged horses. I’ve ridden all my life and studied the old masters of classical horsemanship in depth. So much knowledge and skill has been lost over the years as people strive to achieve greater heights in less time. The goal is reasonable, but in practice, with horses at least, it doesn’t work. The old masters knew this and were prepared to take the time each horse needed to develop without physical or mental damage. This is my joy, too, going on a journey with each horse.

Other hobbies include hanging out with my wife and son, reading—I read all the time. And on the rare occasions the planets align and give me the opportunity, I enjoy hiking, swimming, cycling, travel, running, and dabbling in martial arts. I used to pursue hobbies more actively, but frankly, right now, writing and working to promote my writing has pretty much taken over my life. Like many new business ventures, it’s 24/7.

Yeah, as an indie-published author, I’ve been blown away by just how much time you need to invest in the promotional side of things. For me, it takes at least as much time as the writing.

At least. Self-promotion is a daunting and sometimes discouraging task. Like many writers, I tend towards introversion, so putting myself out there and saying ‘look at me!’ is a time-consuming challenge.

It sure is. Well, Francisco, thanks again for your time today and all the best with the publication of The Horsemen of Golegã.

To find out more about Francisco, check out franciscocordoba.com or connect with him on Facebook or Twitter.

FREE BOOK!

GET YOUR FREE BOOK >>

An Interview with Amir Lane, Urban Fantasy Author

April 25, 2017 / J.B. Reynolds / 3 Comments

This month’s author interview is with supernatural and urban fantasy writer, Amir Lane.

Amir Lane Amir (pronounced Ah-meer) is from Sudbury, Ontario, and the author of the Morrighan House Witches series. The series opens with Shadow Maker and follows physics major Dieter Lindemann as he’s dragged down against his will into necromancy and blood magic.

An engineer by trade, Amir spends most of their writing time in a small home office, at a back table at their favourite Middle Eastern restaurant, or in front of the TV watching every cop procedural or cooking competition on Netflix. They live in a world where magic is an everyday occurrence, and they strive to bring that world to paper.

When not trying to figure out what kind of day job an incubus would have or what a Necromancer would go to school for, Amir enjoys visiting the nearest Dairy Queen, getting killed in video games, absorbing the contents of comic books, and freaking out over how fluffy the neighbour’s dog is.

Welcome, Amir. Thanks for taking the time to answer a few questions for me and my readers this month.

It’s my pleasure.

To begin with, can you tell us a little about what you’re currently working on? Is it Book 2 of your Morrighan House Witches Series?

You bet it is. The cool thing about it is that it actually follows Dieter’s sister, Lindy, who is this world class Seer who doubles as a police dispatcher. When this serial killer starts taking out some of the local witches, she gets dragged into the investigation. I get to do a lot of really cool stuff with visions and different types of divination in it. There’s also a jaguar in it, and a door gets kicked in. I’m planning on having it done for a late August/ early September release. I’m also working on a prequel for a multi-author box set coming out in October that’ll answer a lot of the behind-the-scenes questions that didn’t really have a place in Shadow Maker.

Wow! Sounds like you have a lot going on. I’m intrigued by the idea of mixing crime and fantasy. Now, my next question isn’t directly related to your writing, so the segue is going to be a little clunky, but nevermind. You can tell a lot about a person by their favourites, and I’m curious about the comic books and other pop culture influences you mention in your bio, so tell me, what is your favourite movie?

Easy. Under the Red Hood. It’s this animated movie about Jason Todd, Batman’s second Robin. He’s murdered by the Joker but comes back to life courtesy of Ra’s Al Ghul. (In the comics, I’m pretty sure Superboy Prime punches a hole in reality, but anyway…) Jason becomes the Red Hood, this anti-hero who is trying to run Gotham’s underground and control it from the inside. Batman is trying to stop him but he has no idea that the Red Hood is Jason. Everyone thinks Jason is still dead. And it’s just this beautiful, heartbreaking movie where Batman is forced to confront what happens when villains like Joker are allowed to go free.

Jason Todd is voiced by Jensen Ackles from Supernatural. He does this amazing angry, almost-crying voice that really just ties the whole thing together. It’s an amazing movie. I absolutely recommend it, especially if you like a more human Batman that some versions we could mention don’t really show that much.

Sounds interesting — I’ll have to check it out. Now, staying on the topic of favourites; what is your favourite quote?

This is awful but the first one that comes to mind is, “You put me in the microwave?” This is from an episode of Duck Dodgers, a cartoon about Daffy Duck as a space captain in the 24th and a half Century, where Mars is stealing Earth’s music so they need to cryogenically unfreeze Dave Mustaine of Megadeth and Metallica but they’re in a hurry so they put him in the microwave. I love it because Dave Mustaine voiced himself so it’s actually Dave Mustaine saying, “You put me in the microwave?”

“You put me in the microwave?” – Dave Mustaine, Megadeth

Trust me, it’s hilarious.

Megadeth and Daffy Duck — what a combo! Based on your answers to my last two questions, it seems as though your younger self continues to be an important influence on the world of your present self. What advice would you give to your younger self?

There are two things I would tell myself. The first is a little personal but, “This has nothing to do with you. You did nothing wrong. Don’t let it eat you.”

The second would be, “Stop eating so much junk food! I can’t wear my favourite jeans anymore. Eat a vegetable.”

And continuing with the theme of advice, do you have any for aspiring writers?

You’re always going to be aspiring until you actually sit down and do it. Even if all you have is five minutes a day, use those five minutes. Not everyone can be a writer but if it’s something you really want, then you have to find a way to make it work. And if you’re already writing, drop the ‘aspiring’. ‘Aspiring’ goes the impression it’s just something you want to do. If you write, you’re a writer. An amateur writer, maybe, if you haven’t been paid for it. But still a writer.

That’s good advice. I agree. Now, to my last question for today. Do you think being a writer is a gift or a curse?

It’s neither. Being a writer is a choice that I made. I wasn’t attacked by a writer on a full moon or anything. I sat down one day and I said, ‘This is a thing that I want to do.’ Granted, there is a curse that comes with it, and that curse is everyone you know going, ‘Can I be a character?’ But it evens out with the gift of killing off people you hate. Sure, you can be a character, but you’re going to be Murder Victim 3. How do you feel about being stabbed in the face?

Ha, ha! That’s the perfect response. Thanks again for your time today, Amir. All the best with your writing.

To find out more about Amir, check out amirlane.com or connect with them at their Facebook group or on their Facebook page.

If you enjoyed this interview or have any questions, please let me know in the comments.

FREE BOOK!

GET YOUR FREE BOOK >>

Category: Writers & Books (Page 2 of 3)

Taking the Plunge: Chapter One

Taking the Plunge

FREE BOOK!

Taking the Plunge: Prologue

Taking the Plunge

FREE BOOK!

How to Write a Love Story: Part 2 — Creating an Outline

How to Write a Love Story

Write Your Premise

The Five Commandments

Genre is Everything

Obligatory Scenes of The Love Story Genre

Conventions of The Love Story Genre

Write Your Outline

FREE BOOK!

How to Write a Love Story: Part 1 — Goal-setting

How to Write a Love Story

1. Set Your Goals

2. Track Your Progress

3. Analyse Your Progress

4. Refocus When Things Go Wrong

FREE BOOK!

An Interview with M.D. Neu, Award-winning Sci-Fi Author

FREE BOOK!

An Interview with Jocelynn Babcock, Paranormal Fiction Author

FREE BOOK!

What Friends Are For

FREE BOOK!

An Interview with C.D. Gallant-King, Comic Fantasy Author

FREE BOOK!

An interview with Francisco Cordoba, Romance Author

FREE BOOK!

An Interview with Amir Lane, Urban Fantasy Author

FREE BOOK!

Connect with me on Facebook

connect with me on facebook

CONTACT & SUPPORT

Taking the Plunge

FREE BOOK!

Share this:

Taking the Plunge

FREE BOOK!

Share this:

How to Write a Love Story

Write Your Premise

The Five Commandments

Genre is Everything

Obligatory Scenes of The Love Story Genre

Conventions of The Love Story Genre

Write Your Outline

FREE BOOK!

Share this:

How to Write a Love Story

1. Set Your Goals

2. Track Your Progress

3. Analyse Your Progress

4. Refocus When Things Go Wrong

FREE BOOK!

Share this:

FREE BOOK!

Share this:

FREE BOOK!

Share this:

FREE BOOK!

Share this:

FREE BOOK!

Share this:

FREE BOOK!

Share this:

FREE BOOK!

Share this:

CONTACT & SUPPORT