HUSH #Excerpt by Kimberly Shursen @KimberlyShursen #Suspense #Mystery #Thriller

Prologue - June 21, 1997 

Thirteen-year-old Ben Grable stared out the window of his father’s car. He wished he could close his eyes and be somewhere—anywhere else—just not on the way to the nursing home.He hated today.

Every Sunday, his father dragged him to visit his grandmother. Two years ago, the woman who had laughed at all of his jokes, baked him chocolate chip cookies, and played Chutes and Ladders with him growing up was given a death sentence. It wasn’t fair to his Nana or the people who watched her die an inch at a time.

“Come on, son,” his father said when he parked his car in the lot. “Put on that smile your Nana loves to see.”

The one-story, all-brick building sat on an acreage surrounded by pine trees. The scene was serene, but the moment Ben stepped inside, the smell of urine and decay was overwhelming.

Old people with crinkled faces and withered hands who had shrunk to a portion of their original height sat in chairs lined against the wall saying nothing. Nothing. The years had sucked the life and voices out of them. Nursing assistants offered cookies and a smile along with a pat on the patients’ decomposing backs and told them it was a beautiful day. What did they care if the sun was shining or a tornado was about to sweep them away? Every moment of each day was the same. Pain. Loneliness. Humiliation. And fading memories of who they once were.

“Nana?” Ben said, and walked to the elderly woman sitting in a wheel chair that faced the window. Even before he reached her, he noticed the spastic movements of her hands and head were worse. He bent down next to her in the room the size of his closet, a crucifix hanging on one wall.

Her tired, puffy eyes stared at him, and Ben’s heart sank when he realized she didn’t recognize him. He could have been Batman or a poodle, and she wouldn’t have known the difference.

After a few minutes of trying to understand what she was saying, Ben turned to his father. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

His father gave him an understanding nod.

He’d wandered down the hallway, blinking back tears of anger and pain. Angry that his grandmother was never going to get better and the pain of knowing he’d already lost her.

On the other side of the nursing home, he spotted another set of double doors. Staring inside, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

Babies, children, and young adults filled the long, narrow hallway; some lay flat on their backs on bare mattresses, their heads rolling back and forth in slow-motion succession. Others traipsed the floor mindlessly with unblinking, glazed eyes, their backs hunched over. Heads too large for their bodies—slanted eyes, some missing limbs, a couple with wide, open gashes in their upper lips. Where did these monsters come from, and why were they here?

Nurses changed diapers, or knelt beside mats and held baby bottles for children who looked as old, or older, than Ben. Long, guttural moans and helpless cries filtered through the doors, the smell of feces was disgusting.

He jumped when he felt something touch his shoulder.

“Sad, isn’t it?” a young nurse said.

“What’s wrong with them?” Ben asked, tasting his own sour bile.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Different things. Most were born this way, and their parents just couldn’t take care of them.”

“Why are they here? In a nursing home?”

“Part of the building is for a nursing home and”—she nodded to the other side the window—“this part is controlled by the state. There are so many nursing homes for old people and not enough institutions for people like this that a few months ago we started taking in the overflow.”

“Will they ever get better? Go home?”

The nurse shook her head. “I’m afraid not. This is the only life they’ll ever know.”

When he looked back through the windowed door, he gasped and jumped back. On the other side of the window, only inches away from his face, a pair of eyes pleaded with Ben for help.

“It’s okay. They won’t hurt you,” the nurse told him.

Ben shook his head back and forth slowly, tears welling in his eyes. He turned and raced through the halls toward the front door of the building. The face on the other side of the door burned into his memory—the bulging, watery eyes, the slobbering drool running down the glass, the hopeless and far-away look of misfortune and doom.

Heart racing, his temples throbbing, he was going to vomit. Breathless when he reached his father’s car, he found it locked. Panicked, he pulled at the handle over and over. “Open, please, open!” he sobbed uncontrollably.

He turned, leaned back against the door, and slowly sank to the concrete. If his friends saw him, they’d call him a sissy-boy. It didn’t matter. Those things, those sad, awful looking creatures weren’t human. His parents had always told him that all of God’s children were created equally. But it wasn’t true.

He brought his knees up to his chest and covered his tear-streaked face with his hands, trying hard to get the images out of his mind.

It just wasn’t true.

Soon after Ann Ferguson and Ben Grable marry, and Ben unseals his adoption papers, their perfect life together is torn apart, sending the couple to opposite sides of the courtroom.

Representing Ann, lawyer Michael J. McConaughey (Mac) feels this is the case that could have far-reaching, judicial effects -- the one he's been waiting for.

Opposing counsel knows this high profile case happens just once in a lifetime.

And when the silent protest known as HUSH sweeps the nation, making international news, the CEO of one of the top ten pharmaceutical companies in the world plots to derail the trial that could cost his company billions.

Critically acclaimed literary thriller HUSH not only questions one of the most controversial laws that has divided the nation for over four decades, but captures a story of the far-reaching ties of family that surpasses time and distance.

*** Hush does not have political or religious content. The story is built around the emotions and thoughts of two people who differ in their beliefs.

 EDITORIAL REVIEW: "Suspenseful and well-researched, this action-packed legal thriller will take readers on a journey through the trials and tribulations of one of the most controversial subjects in society today." - Katie French author of "The Breeders," "The Believer's," and "Eyes Ever To The Sky."

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Thriller

Rating – PG-13

More details about the author

Connect with Kimberly Shursen through Facebook and Twitter

Website http://www.kimberlyshursen.com/

Kimberly Shursen on the Pitfalls of Being an Indie Author @KimberlyShursen #AmWriting #Thriller #WriteTip

Five Things “Thou Shalt Not Do” as an Indie Writer

By Kimberly Shursen, Author of Itsy Bitsy Spider, Hush, and Lottery

Oh the ups and downs in the life of an author. You’ve released your first book, and finally it reaches 29,000 on the Amazon rankings. Your stomach is doing continuous somersaults. Suddenly, the novel soars into the top fifty books in your genre. OMG! Is there any sweeter feeling? And then wham, it plummets to 298,000. Hang on, my friends, as we all know this gig is an unending exciting, yet many times torturous roller coaster ride.

Raise your hand if you want to give up. I’m waiting … that’s what I thought. No hands up. Once you’ve given birth to a plot, and created characters you swear you know better than your own mother, there is no escape. You’re hooked.

The pitfalls, however, are many. Starting with your first novel, avoid the dangers of being what many refer to as ‘just another indie author.’ Believe me, I’ve fallen into the pits, and will go to any length to avoid that frightening, dark abyss again.

1.  Do not employ a friend to be your editor. Let me reiterate: Don’t do it! Save a friend, and avoid the reviews that, even if the book is well edited, might come back to drive a wedge between your friendship. Employ someone who has a proven and successful background in editing in the genre you write. Check their references, and ask them to edit at least one chapter before you start. Even after all this, send that edited chapter to someone else to review before you commit.

2. Do not tell another author you will trade reviews; a five-star for a five-star. These are easily spotted, and hold absolutely no merit. In fact, I have heard that an overall four-star review holds more merit as readers will believe the reviews are honest.

3. Never respond to a bad review. Hit a pillow repeatedly, throw several glasses across the room, or bite down a bullet as it is what it is; even if it isn’t factual or true. Read it once and never read it again.

4. Do not underestimate a “street team.” I started a street team a year ago and they are indeed “the wind beneath my wings.” There are only fourteen of us that make up the Hush team. And it is a hush team. No one shares anything we discuss, and the page is totally private. The purpose for starting the Facebook page was duo fold; they shout out news about my books, or book signings, or interviews, and we share what we wouldn’t share with our regular social network friends. We value friendship before my work. We all know, however, that if someone else shouts out our praises, their words hold more merit.

5. Do not tell everyone you have written the next greatest American novel; not even your best friend. Humility carries more clout. You write because that’s what you do. Period. Finish your first novel and make the next one even better putting to use comments from reviewers, authors, friends, and even enemies. Find two or three beta readers willing to read your book and then compare notes. Suck in every piece of advice you hear or read and then apply it.

Publish your book, sit back, draw in a breath, and say, “I’m a damn good writer. Even if I’m never well known, and at times people nail me to the cross with reviews, I am a damn good writer.”

Soon after Ann Ferguson and Ben Grable marry, and Ben unseals his adoption papers, their perfect life together is torn apart, sending the couple to opposite sides of the courtroom.

Representing Ann, lawyer Michael J. McConaughey (Mac) feels this is the case that could have far-reaching, judicial effects -- the one he's been waiting for.

Opposing counsel knows this high profile case happens just once in a lifetime.

And when the silent protest known as HUSH sweeps the nation, making international news, the CEO of one of the top ten pharmaceutical companies in the world plots to derail the trial that could cost his company billions.

Critically acclaimed literary thriller HUSH not only questions one of the most controversial laws that has divided the nation for over four decades, but captures a story of the far-reaching ties of family that surpasses time and distance.

*** Hush does not have political or religious content. The story is built around the emotions and thoughts of two people who differ in their beliefs.

 EDITORIAL REVIEW: "Suspenseful and well-researched, this action-packed legal thriller will take readers on a journey through the trials and tribulations of one of the most controversial subjects in society today." - Katie French author of "The Breeders," "The Believer's," and "Eyes Ever To The Sky."

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Thriller

Rating – PG-13

More details about the author

Connect with Kimberly Shursen through Facebook and Twitter

Website http://www.kimberlyshursen.com/

NIGHT'S FAVOUR #Excerpt by Richard Parry @TactualRain #Thriller #Action #Fantasy

Val felt like he’d been hit by a car.

Curling over the bowl, he retched again, hands shaking.  He didn’t remember waking up; he didn’t remember getting home, or what might have happened after his tenth beer last night.  He hoped it was only a night — he had a big meeting with the boss this morning.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’d lost days of time down the bottom of a bottle.

“Get your shit together, Val.”  He spat into the bowl, bracing himself on the edge of the porcelain.  Standing up shakily, he felt the nausea rise and curled back over, retching again.  He failed to get his tie out of the way this time, and it came back out of the bowl covered in —

How in God’s name was he wearing a tie?  He didn’t even have any pants.

He tried standing again, this time managing to get to his feet.  Holding himself up on the walls of the toilet, he controlled the shuddering, awful urge to throw up.  He spat into the bowl again then hit the flush button.

Slowly — and quietly — he made his way out of the toilet and into the bathroom.  He caught a glimpse of stubble in the mirror on the wall and felt confident it was only a night gone.  Maybe if he could just get in to the office before nine — God, what time is it now? — it’d be ok.

He pulled back the mirror, his fleshy reflection pushed aside as he exposed a collection of white bottles set against a backdrop of tired cardboard boxes, tubes of expired ointment, and half-empty boxes of Band-Aids.  The bulk box of store-brand acetaminophen came away disturbingly light — I bought that just last week — and he tossed the empty hundred box to the ground, hand trembling towards the Pentazine.  Expensive gold, he dry-swallowed four of the tabs.  Motion sickness be damned; the drug would take the edge off wanting to throw up his feet.  He chased it with some ibuprofen, a generic brand in a white box of fifty.

He started up a good lather to get rid of the stubble.  It was then he noticed that his left arm’s shirt sleeve was missing, ripped off by the looks of it.  The shirt wasn’t in great shape overall; it had that creaseless arrogance that only came with being rained on.  The sleeve was missing from the elbow down, give or take, the frayed end of a blue thread trailing to wrist level.  He’d been lying in a pool of good Merlot unless he missed his guess, the sleeve and side of the shirt a gentle pink.  The thought of Merlot almost made him heave the pills back up, so he stripped off the shirt and let it drop to the floor alongside the empty box.  If he just left all that crap there Baitan would sort it out later.

His belly wasn’t an admirable sight, the booze and the desk job leaving their toll, the flab hanging out over his underwear.  John kept nagging him like an old woman, saying he needed to get back to the gym, do some exercise.  There was time for that later — it was important to get more drugs, and maybe shave, if he was going to get to work today.

Focus, Val.

Valentine’s an ordinary guy with ordinary problems. His boss is an asshole. He’s an alcoholic. And he’s getting that middle age spread just a bit too early. One night — the one night he can’t remember — changes everything. What happened at the popular downtown bar, The Elephant Blues? Why is Biomne, the largest pharmaceutical company in the world, so interested in him — and the virus he carries? How is he getting stronger, faster, and more fit? And what’s the connection between Valentine and the criminally insane Russian, Volk?

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Action, Thriller, Urban Fantasy

Rating – R16

More details about the author

 Connect with Richard Parry on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://www.rage.net.nz

Beyond Neanderthal by Brian Bloom @BrianB_Aust #Thriller #BookClub #Fiction

Visit to a Blue Amber Mine

As Tara alighted from the vehicle, she found herself facing a ghostly white haze of wispy, low-lying clouds that hung as if suspended in time above the undulating hilltops. The peaks rose from the variegated emerald and olive valley below and stretched into the distance amid a virginal mixture of lush equatorial undergrowth. She drew a deep, involuntary breath.

‘Wow!’ There were no other words to describe the feeling of awe-inspired privilege that washed over her. The vista was about as far removed from Central Park as a New York city skyscraper was from the little pastel coloured huts lining the Carretera Turística.

Aurelio smiled. Intuitively, he seemed to understand that the most appropriate response to this magnificent sight was silence. It was a full two minutes before Tara gathered her thoughts.

‘Let’s get going,’ she said.

They made their way carefully—gingerly climbing over dead logs, negotiating their way around rocky outcrops, and grabbing onto available plant life to steady themselves as they walked and stumbled their way towards the valley below. On either side of the track, a mixture of tall, fronded plants grew in an array of shapes and sizes beside stunted and gnarled old trees with deep green foliage. Tara thought of the trees like friendly bystanders, their leafy branches protectively shading Aurelio and her from much of the glaring sunshine above. They came across a trickling stream, which they followed for a while; Tara ever mindful and vigilant, watching for any sign of wildlife in the undergrowth. Except for the background humming of insects, the occasional noisy squawking of a flock of parrots flying past overhead and, once, the silent imprint of a shoe sole on the muddy banks of the stream, they seemed to be alone.

Then, in a clearing, they came across a group of young men standing seemingly relaxed and chatting. A few feet away, under a lean-to made of branches and palm fronds, one of them squatted while cooking something on a small paraffin or gas stove. Aurelio and Tara had arrived at the mine.
Again, there was a short conversation in Spanish. Again, there was a wrinkling of noses followed by broad smiles of understanding and agreement. There were also some side comments and laughter amongst the men. The word ‘gringa’—foreigner from America—came up a couple of times. Tara thought she also heard the words ‘bonita’, and ‘sexual’, but she couldn’t be sure. She decided to keep a slight distance for the time being. They were in the middle of nowhere, miles from the nearest civilization.

Aurelio walked back towards her. ‘They will be happy to show you around, but we should remember our time limitations. We cannot spend more that half an hour here if we are to return to Santo Domingo before dark.’

‘Are you trying to protect me from these guys?’ she asked with a smile. Aurelio looked embarrassed.
‘What’s he cooking?’ she asked to change the subject. ‘It smells great.’

‘That is called arroz con abichuelas, a mixture of rice and beans. He is probably cooking some small pieces of beef with it, but it could be any meat.’

‘Can one buy that in a restaurant in Santo Domingo?’

‘Of course, but not exactly the same. This is a local dish for locals. To sell food like this to tourists would be like offering leftovers to your guests. It would not be right. In the restaurants it is much more carefully presented and is usually served with salads.’

The word ‘dignity’ popped into Tara’s mind. Aurelio seemed to have it, and that was what she had seen on the faces of the fruit vendor and the amber polisher and, now, even the miners as she approached them. Other than their initial jocularity, they seemed to consider her as their guest and themselves as hosts who happily welcomed visitors into their world. The men were just being men.

As they approached the entrance to the mine, a happy looking miner wearing a backward facing baseball cap sat with a short-handled pick in one hand, a lump of soft rock in the other.

‘Hola, señorita,’ he said, grinning broadly.

She smiled back at him, lifted her hand in greeting, but continued to follow Aurelio to the mine entrance. It was like standing at the entrance to the burrow of a large animal.

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Thriller

Rating – MA (15+)

More details about the author

Connect with Brian Bloom on Twitter

@Stone_Rik's #WriteTip on Having an #Author Platform - #AmWriting

Every writer needs an author platform and that starts with social networking… it’s important because readers need to know you exist before they can buy your book. Don’t wait, start now. Use Twitter; weave into your tweets without labouring the point that you’re working on a novel. Tell them its title and what it’s about. Make the Tweets interesting and you have a number of potential customers who might also tell their friends to look out for your work. I mention Twitter, but there are plenty of other networks out there.

Okay, you’ve built a social group and your book is written. Do you aim at the traditional publishers or go indie? Well, the traditional hill is a difficult one to climb and I feel agents and publishing editors might sit back to see which products appeal to the audience, EL James is a good example. If I’m right a successful indie campaign will give you every chance of getting that elusive traditional publisher, if that’s what will make you happy.

But is the indie option an easy one? Far from it, going down this route means you have to do the promotion and marketing yourself, so if you’re not willing to sign over your life completely, think again… Okay, you’re happy to do it, good, but you’ll soon learn that when you wrote ‘The End’ it was the biggest piece of fiction in the book; it’s actually the beginning. First base, you need a publicist. First question, can you afford one? No, go to second base. Yes, then research the prospective business partners thoroughly, there’s a lot of snake oil out there. Oh, if you do use a publicist you’ll need to publish in paperback as well as eBook. Second base, virtual tours, you’re reading this so you’re seeing part of one of them, I hope you’re impressed. Other than paying out for TV adverts, these tours seem to attract the most eyes.

I won’t go on too much, as I don’t want to take advantage of my kind host, but there is one statement I must make before you get your book out there: The presentation of text, the cover, and the quality of the work is of paramount importance to sales. The indie path is a medium that allows anyone to publish anything, don’t subscribe to ‘that will do’ if you want to gain public respect and retain their interest, you’d only be letting yourself down. Even if it nips at your budget give your work every chance by having professionals improve the quality and presentation. Editing, format of text, creation of cover picture and uploading the work onto your chosen medium is not overly expensive and you want a book to be proud of.

One final comment, Monty Hall wasn’t a writer, he was a TV celebrity, but his words are relevant: “Actually, I’m an overnight success, but it took 20 years.” So whatever you learn and whatever strategies you might want to use, the real secret is to keep at it, and never give up!

Set against the backdrop of Soviet, post-war Russia, Birth of an Assassin follows the transformation of Jez Kornfeld from wide-eyed recruit to avenging outlaw. Amidst a murky underworld of flesh-trafficking, prostitution and institutionalized corruption, the elite Jewish soldier is thrown into a world where nothing is what it seems, nobody can be trusted, and everything can be violently torn from him.

Buy Now @ Amazon, B&N, Kobo & Waterstones

Genre - Thriller, Crime, Suspense

Rating – R

More details about the author

Connect with Rik Stone on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://rik-stone.simdif.com

@MarcADiGiacomo Shares His Inspiration for IN A SMALL TOWN #AmReading #Thriller #TBR

What inspired me to write In A Small Town?

I always believed I had a book somewhere within my warped brain. Its one thing to have that feeling about yourself but to actually write that book is a story within itself. How do you motivate one’s self to follow through on a conceptualized idea? For me, I have three small children. Only my oldest will remember the late night/early morning calls from the police department notifying me of the latest crime to occur within our boundaries. He would watch his father leave with bright, wide opened eyes fully believing I would return as soon as I could. Truth be told; it was very difficult to leave him, but I had a job to do, a responsibility to others I was sworn to uphold.

When I retired from the police department after a string of back injuries and surgery, I needed to set a new course for myself. My back injury makes it difficult for me sometimes but it was just another challenge I needed to overcome. What started off as a memoir of a small town cop’s career quickly grew legs and became an organized crime thriller. I had a very unique police career working for such a small town; I wanted to emphasize to others even though I worked for a small town, big crime still happens and needs to be solved.

The encouragement I received from my oldest son was all I needed. His face upon seeing In A Small Town, was a priceless memory I will never forget. He’s only eleven, and will not be reading any of my books for quite some time, but his praise and reassurances have motivated me to write more. So, I write for my kids, and one day, when they read my books, they will know a little piece of their father is alive and well within those pages.

The shotgun blast catches Detective Matthew Longo by surprise. His world unravels into a nightmare that seemingly won't end. Murder, rapes, pedophiles, the small town of Hutchville, N.Y. is changing. It is up to him to make a difference.

While partner Donny Mello is in Italy attending a funeral for a family member who is connected, to say the least, a beautiful F.B.I. agent waits to question him about his family business. Can Matt keep from answering the Agent’s questions? More importantly, can he hide a potentially career-ending secret from his community, his brother, and most especially Agent Cynthia Shyler?

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre - Thriller

Rating – R

More details about the author

Connect with Marc A. DiGiacomo on Facebook & Twitter

Richard Parry on Writing, Friends & Night's Favour @TactualRain #BookClub #Thriller #MustRead

What books have most influenced your life?

Unh.  I read so much stuff, I’m not sure I can be really accurate about this anymore.

Probably the books I read when I was younger, in my more delicate formative years.  The stuff I vacuumed up as an early teenage kid sticks with me in ways other things don’t.  There are some great stories I’ve read aside from those, which tend to be much the same (fantasy book with some kind of hero, dark power takes over the land, ???, profit!).

The Cloth Merchant’s Apprentice (Nigel Suckling) is amazing.  I keep coming back to that book as one that I read a little later in life, but it left a stamp on the inside of my head.

Have you ever considered anyone as a mentor?

As a writer?  No, not really.  As a human being, absolutely.

You could totally take this question a different way, as to whether I’d like to consider other writer humans out there as mentors, and man, sure.  I’d love to be able to tap into the brains of two specific humans: Richard K Morgan, and Neil Gaiman.

It’s not that I love everything that they write, but rather than I respect everything that they write.  They are the ninja masters of a craft that I aspire to be great at.

The thing is, there’s a line of entry into that club.  Just getting to the point where Morgan would return my email, or Gaiman would give me a nod on Twitter, whatever — that’s the place you need to be, to get mentors of that kind of quality.  They’re just really, really good at what they do, and I can imagine that 98% of speculative fiction writers would be banging on their collective doors for an autograph, not just a mentoring opportunity.

Still, it’s nice to want things, right?

Can we expect any more books from you in the future?

Yeah.  Yeah, you can.

I’d like to say two things to my followers about now:

1. You people out there who like what I do?  You’ll get more of that.

2. The two people who gave me a shitty review?  Yeah, both of you.  YOU CAN’T STOP THE SIGNAL.

Note to the rest of you who haven’t weighed in yet: this is not a challenge to write me more one-star reviews.  Go bug Stephen King, he’s more resilient.

Have you started another book yet?

Yep.  I’m about 70%, give or take, through the first draft of my next novel, Upgrade.  It’s a dark dystopian future thing, cyberpunk I guess, where the hero of the story has traded his humanity in for a life of quality.  He gets the opportunity to try and barter it back, and the cost of that might be more than he can bear.

Also, I’ve got the plot outline and major characters detailed for the sequel to Night’s Favour, working title of Night’s Fall.  Upgrade will be finished and out the door before I delve too much more into this one though!  Start what you finish and all that — Val, Danny, Carlisle, and John have all been left in a good place where their story is finished, so you don’t need a sequel just yet.

What are your current writing projects now?

I’ve got a couple of things simmering away.

One thing’s boiling over.  Upgrade’s first draft is probably only a couple months from being done, which feels great.  It’s my next novel, set in a dark near-ish future, where the megacorporations control everything, governments are pawns, and people matter less.  It’s a harder story to tell than Night’s Favour ever was.

The sequel to Night’s Favour, working title Night’s Fall, is sitting happy with major antagonist and plot outline.  It’ll keep.  It’s happy where it is.  This one explores more about the nature of the beast, and how far you’ll go for you, your friends.  If we’ve got two wolves inside us, one is Evil and the other is Good — well, you got to feed one more than the other.

In the early stages is my third main piece, and I don’t want to say steampunk, but it might have steampunk sprinkles.  I think people get a bit excited by the idea of steampunk, but what I’m interested in here is the concept of an alternative world future where some other energy source became the dominant one.  Could be steam.  Could be magic fairies.  Don’t really care, but I want to wrap up the good old fashioned concept of tension between Church and State, and how we — as humans — make decisions on what’s right or wrong when caught in the middle.  This one’s going to be tricky, as currently the protagonist is a woman: as a male human being of middle years and experience, writing this will be tricky.

Are you reading any interesting books at the moment?

Always.  I’ll give a shout out to Mira Grant’s fun Parasite, which was a good romp.  The science is a bit iffy, but as long as you don’t look too close it’ll give you what you need — page turner in all the right ways.

I’ve also just picked up a triplet of books by D P Lyle (start with Murder & Mayhem: A Doctor Answers Medical & Forensics Questions for Mystery Writers), which are just damn cool.  I feel a lot less sick and twisted after reading these.  I don’t think you need to be a mystery writer, or a writer at all, to have fun with them — and Lyle’s writing style is great.

Are there any new authors that have sparked your interest and why?

I always feel like I’m late to the New Kids party.

I’ll give one nod here though: Summer Wigmore.  Her debut book, The Wind City (http://amzn.com/B00GQF0MVU) is fascinating.  Note: I haven’t finished it, because it’s totally not my thing, but her writing style is just to die for.

Wigmore?  She’ll go places, and I can’t wait to see where her feet — and her words — take her.

What are some of the best tools available today for writers, especially those just starting out?

If I open up my writing kit, I can tell you what’s inside it:

1. Pen and notebook.  Spiral bound, no lines, because I like to doodle and draw and scribble free form.

2. My phone.  I take a lot of photos, and jot down notes all the time.  I always have my phone with me, and if I get a good line or scene when talking with friends I jot it down.

3. My laptop.  I take this thing with me whenever I’m sure I’ll have time to write.  Mine’s a MacBook Pro, but that’s not the important bit.  The important bit is that it’s charged, and has some good music on it, and my writing software.

4. The right software.  Whatever you write best in — Word, Scrivener, Notepad, I don’t care, make sure you get your tools in place.  Me, I switch between Scapple for outlining and Scrivener for writing — I’d find it hard to do what I do without those two bits of code.

5. “The Internet.”  I’m cheating, because it’s not in my bag, but whatever.  If you’re not tapping into the Internet in some way, you’re missing out on a tremendous resource.  Fanfiction.net and similar sites can be a great way to generate beta readers and feedback on your work.  There are great blogs from real, actual published authors who will share their craft and skills with you.  Wikipedia is amazing.

What contributes to making a writer successful?

That really depends on your definition of “success.”  I mean, if you want the cash?  That seems to be a popular metric for success…  It’s got to be people buying your stuff, which means having marketable stuff, and not sucking at the actual writing part.

To get there, you need readers, people who love your stuff and who will tell the world about it.  One of the big challenges a writer faces in getting work out there is the “approval gate.”  This is really about getting eyeballs on your product, getting word of mouth, and it doesn’t matter if you’re traditionally or indie published — the rules are the same.

The challenge is that, for readers, there’s a lot of crap out there.  There’s a lot of crap that’s reviewed well — indie books seem to get more love than traditional ones.  As a reader, one of the primary metrics for good content determination — reviews — just became a lot noisier, less empirical.

In a very real way, the approval gate you need is actual humans telling other actual humans about your product, through their pigeon relays or whatever, because you can’t trust marketing, and you can’t always trust reviews.  I figure when you hear about your work being talked about on the subway, you’ve nailed that fuzzy determination of success in a real and tangible way.

Do you have any advice for writers?

Make your stuff awesome.

I don’t really care if you’re writing a new thriller or a food memoir, your book needs to be brilliant.  As good as you can make it, and then a little bit better.

Sure, there’s all the things about “keep writing” and “one word after another” but I figure if you’re here, you’ve got that down already — you know that without words on a page you’re just playing at it, not really doing it.  The thing that will make your work desirable to other humans on our little blue green world is if it’s awesome.

You know it’s true — there’s so much vying for our attention these days, good work that’s given away for pennies or for free.  The only real answer in the face of this is to step up to the plate, to accept the challenge, to write good words.

The funny thing is, and this might sound a little ironic in the context of the previous few lines, I think there’s plenty of room at the table.  I’m not hearing my friends say, “Wow, there’s so many good books, I don’t know what to read.”  I’m actually hearing my friends say, “Have you found a new writer recently?  Who are they?!”  There’s a hunger out there for good content, and we haven’t exhausted the world’s ability to consume it.

I think we’ve definitely exhausted people’s patience for shitty, unprofessional, lifeless work though — so don’t make that.

What dreams have been realized as a result of your writing?

It’s the obvious one, but to write a book that people enjoyed.

It might sound overly bland, whatever: I was pretty sure that I could write a book, but I wasn’t sure I could write a book that a bunch of total strangers would four- and five- star.  That’s when shit gets real.

Maybe it’d be cooler if I said something here like, “I cured cancer.”  Problem is, I can’t cure cancer, so I’m working on different ways to improve the human condition.  If that’s writing a story about werewolves and big pharma that you can’t put down — I’m totally comfortable with that.

If you could leave your readers with one bit of wisdom, what would you want it to be?

The story of the two wolves.  It’s the thesis behind Night’s Favour’s planned sequel Night’s Fall…  You probably know it, but here it is again.

One evening, an old Cherokee sat beside a fire and told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people.  As the fire burned low, coals glowing in the dark, he said, “My son, the battle is between the two wolves in all of us.

“One is Evil — it is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.  The other is Good — it is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith.”

The grandson thought about it for a minute, stirring the coals with a stick, an ember snapping up to the night sky.  He asked his grandfather, “Which wolf wins?” 

The old Cherokee looked at the ember as it rose, its light dying, and replied, “The one you feed.”

When you wish to end your career, stop writing, and look back on your life, what thoughts would you like to have?

I’m not sure about this “stop writing” business, but let’s treat it as a useful thought experiment.

I guess, ultimately, that I’d like to be known as a great storyteller.  I don’t know if this means being as successful as Dean Koontz, an author you’ve heard of even if you haven’t read his stuff.  I don’t know if it means having seven movie tie-ins for my books.

Hell, I don’t know if it means signing my name across the breasts of a willing fan, like a rockstar.  I really doubt it, but you know.  Thought experiment, right?

Whatever it means, I’d like to look back and say, “Yeah.  I wrote good books, books people loved, that they lent to friends.  Stories they read twice, three times, because it was fun.  The edges of the paperback copy of the book they’ve got is rough, tattered with use.  They’ve given copies of a book of mine to a friend as a gift, because they liked it so much.”

It’d be more than enough.

Valentine’s an ordinary guy with ordinary problems. His boss is an asshole. He’s an alcoholic. And he’s getting that middle age spread just a bit too early. One night — the one night he can’t remember — changes everything. What happened at the popular downtown bar, The Elephant Blues? Why is Biomne, the largest pharmaceutical company in the world, so interested in him — and the virus he carries? How is he getting stronger, faster, and more fit? And what’s the connection between Valentine and the criminally insane Russian, Volk?

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Action, Thriller, Urban Fantasy

Rating – R16

More details about the author

 Connect with Richard Parry on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://www.rage.net.nz

@Stone_Rik On What Inspired Him To Write "Birth of an Assassin" #Thriller #Suspense #AmReading

What inspired me to write my book?

Lots of people feel the need to write almost as soon as they learn to put words together. I went to school with girls who kept diaries and diligently made entries on a daily basis. Not me, I was like the other boys. If there was a ball to play with, we’d play football. If there was no ball, we’d find an old tin, maybe in a dustbin, and play kick the tin. In the late 50’s, early 60’s, where I came from that was what life was for a young lad – and I loved it.

I don’t remember the exact age, let’s say fifteen for the sake of argument, but I picked up a book I think was my uncle’s and began reading it. The novel was called The Carpetbaggers and was written by Harold Robbins. The first chapters, when the protagonist’s parents were murdered, absolutely enthralled me. I couldn’t put it down. Unfortunately, not enjoying the greatest of concentration at that time, I found the book too long, too slow, and soon got bored. However, when another novel by the same author showed up in the house, The Adventurers, I thought I’d give it a go. Once again the first chapters had me living the pages, but, yet again, as I delved further into the book my interest waned.

So, you might think, no signs of a budding writer here. But no, those first chapters in The Adventurers were about an author who’d made it to the top of his trade. He lay next to his private swimming pool in the garden of his grand house musing over what the point of his life was now he’d done it all. Without realising it at the time, that man by the pool had been so believably drawn by Robbins that he weaved himself through my skin. Over the years he held on to a compartment of my mind. I wanted what he’d had. You might think I mean his wealth and position. That would be nice, but no, my reasoning was that the stories of that fictitious writer were adored by all who read them. He had a worldwide following and his works were renowned. I think what I felt was that age old sin… envy.

This figment of some writer’s imagination grabbed a space in my mind from where he occasionally popped up to make sure I hadn’t forgotten him. I was fifty when I retired and I had no intention of donning a new harness belonging to someone else. At the same time I’m not one to sit around contemplating life and I’d been an avid reader for many years. The little man in my head chose that moment to highlight an opportunity. I did creative writing courses, bought and read a multitude of ‘how to write anything’ type books and started writing… and there I was, proudly presenting my debut novel Birth of an Assassin. An interesting offshoot to this tale; you can carry ambition around for many years without even knowing it.

Set against the backdrop of Soviet, post-war Russia, Birth of an Assassin follows the transformation of Jez Kornfeld from wide-eyed recruit to avenging outlaw. Amidst a murky underworld of flesh-trafficking, prostitution and institutionalized corruption, the elite Jewish soldier is thrown into a world where nothing is what it seems, nobody can be trusted, and everything can be violently torn from him.

Buy Now @ Amazon, B&N, Kobo & Waterstones

Genre - Thriller, Crime, Suspense

Rating – R

More details about the author

Connect with Rik Stone on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://rik-stone.simdif.com