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Showing posts with label exiled book one of the never chronicles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label exiled book one of the never chronicles. Show all posts

Friday, April 20, 2012

My Crazy Life...

I feel the need to apologize for not posting this week.  Things have been so crazy!  Tons of stuff going on with the book right now.

  • I just finished reviewing the page proofs. This was my last opportunity to make any changes (and most likely to the chagrin of my publisher, I took full advantage of the opportunity). 

  • Not long ago, I released the audio version of chapter one -you can listen HERE

  • My publicist scheduled eight meet & greets with bookstore event managers in NJ and NY over this upcoming weekend to discuss book signings etc.

  • I received my ARC (advanced reader copies) and have been distributing them to reviewers and close family and friends...and am about to run out because all of the eight stops this weekend will eat up my remaining copies...but don't worry, I am getting more.

  • My virtual book tour (details HERE)  begins May 19th -less than a month away.

  • By fate or chance, I met someone from the CYWA 

 from their website...

The CYWA draws into membership men, women, and children of diverse backgrounds and faiths, that together they may gain personal responsibility, dignity, and self esteem to help eliminate poverty and improve the quality of life in our community.

and we discussed great possibilities regarding collaborating on literacy and creative writing programs that can be piggybacked onto their House of Blues program. Very exciting!

  • BOTH my daughters started sports (soccer and baseball)...unless you've seen kindergarteners play baseball, you have no idea how funny the whole thing is.  Thank goodness I didn't volunteer for that coaching job! 


  •  Exiled is on NetGalley if there are any reviewers who'd like to check it out

That's about it for the moment!


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As always, find interviews, writing samples, videos, contests and more on my re-vamped website.


In bookstores 6-5-2012




Thursday, April 12, 2012

Humanising the Heinous-Guest post by Carlie Cullen


Humanising The Heinous by Carlie Cullen

Nearly every Fantasy book I’ve ever read has at least one villain intent on causing as much harm or mischief as possible and while this makes for an exciting story, not every author treads the path to explore why the villain is the way he/she is. I have to wonder why this is; maybe it’s because the writer is wrapped up in the emotions and back story of the protagonists, maybe they are so busy making their villain evil and plotting the next dastardly trick that they forget to look at the true character behind the evil, and maybe they just didn’t think about it.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Speaking, books, writing and Zombies...

On Monday I spoke for my public speaking group (yep, if you didn't know, I am a member of Toastmasters International...you know, constant self-improvement)

Anyway, my topic was 'How to survive the zombie apocalypse'


I was excited about the topic but I think I got too consumed by being visually entertaining that I lost sight of what was important...the actual speech.

Admittedly, I didn't rehearse very much because I was planning on using the slides (I made a power point show) to guide me through.  Because I relied on the slides so much, I ended up reading from them far too often, which is a big no-no when presenting in public.  When you read from a slide, you turn your back and your attention away from the audience.

I did find the content quite entertaining (if I do say so myself) and could have hit it out of the park had I either gone with pictures only or just the topics rather than spelling out each bullet point on the slides.  I was too tempted to read each point -too bent on making sure I got everything just right and that became my undoing. So, lesson learned.  The feedback from the group reflected my own assessment of my presentation -look at the audience, the visual aids are there for THEM, not me!


Thursday, February 16, 2012

Thinking of quitting?

Feeling run down?
Rejected?
Broken?

You've been chasing your dream for  quite some time now, aren't you entitled a break? Are your wheels spinning but you're not getting anywhere?

When I was in high school, I was really struggling with my grades and was completely unmotivated when it came to learning.  My dad pulled me aside one day and told me something I'll never forget.  At the time, I was a HUGE Rocky fan. I loved the story of a nothing boxer who got a shot at the title, busted his butt training and gave the heavyweight champion of the world a run for his money.

Anyway, Dad knew this and, being the cunning man that he was, used it against me.  He said,
Josh, there are two kinds of people in this life.  The kind who get up early, visualize their goals for the day and then go out and work hard to get them.  That is the kind of person Rocky was.  He saw his dream, he trained every day and he saw it fulfilled.  The second type of people are the ones singing around the fire. (video to follow) They get up late because they've partied the night before, they don't do much but hang out with friends.  The don't even work. They encourage Rocky as he runs past, but deep down inside, they want him to fail and become one of them.  Perhaps they took their shot and failed.  The difference is, when Rocky got knocked down -no matter how many times, he got back up.

Now, you have a choice.  If you continue on your current path, unmotivated, stuck in a lull and indifferent about it all, you will be one of those guys standing around the fire.  That is one choice.  The second choice is to get up and see yourself as something more. Let your desire to be that person motivate you to do whatever it is you need to do in order to become that person.  Failure is a part of life, do not be afraid of failure.  If I were you, I would be more afraid of not trying at all.  Those that don't try live hollow lives and end up singing around the fire watching the champ run by.


I cannot make this choice for you.  It is yours and yours alone.  What I can do is tell you that if you decide to take the easy path -the path where no effort or risk is required to reach your goals, then you will be a shadow of the person you could be had you chosen the other path.  Everyone has potential.  Everyone.  It is those who push through the seemingly endless days of hard work, rejection and failure -who keep going despite being knocked down -those are the ones who succeed. Don't be one of those guys by the fire.  Be a fighter.  Be Rocky.

 So, whenever I feel unmotivated to get up early, to do something -anything that will get me closer to that goal, that dream, I think of what my Dad said and I think of Rocky.  Corny? Yes. But hey, everyone has their Rocky.  Find yours, get out there and do it!



Sorry, I could only find the song the guys sang around the trash can fire on the corner.


I'll see ya out there!



As always, find interviews, writing samples, videos, contests and more on my re-vamped website.


6-5-2012



Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Delving into the public speaking world...insanity?

I'll be the first to admit, I have a thing for pushing myself out of my comfort range...way out of my comfort range.  I've done adventure races that last over 48 hours and go non-stop the entire time.  One I'm particularly fond of recollecting was in North Georgia in January. The temperature at the start was below 10.  All of our water was frozen solid at the start line. The lake we were supposed to paddle across was frozen solid.  We raced anyway.  Probably because we're all nuts.  The second night -maybe it was early morning -it was dark regardless, my teammate and I began to hallucinate from sleep deprivation. Now that was an interesting experience!

So how do I segue from adventure racing to public speaking? Comfort zones! I think pushing myself until hallucinations set in probably counts as pushing beyond ones comfort zone.  Similarly, signing up for a public speaking group and, of course speaking in front of that group is, for me anyway, once again jumping into an endeavor with which I am not the least bit comfortable.

Part of it is need based (you know, the whole book publishing thing will require some public speaking comfort) the other is challenge based.  I like seeing how far I can push myself.

So last night, I presented my first speech (called The Ice Breaker) The topic: me.  Easy, right? Who can't talk about themselves for four to six minutes?  Hell, I dated a girl that talked about herself for four to six hours non-stop!

I had a plan.  I had the structure laid out.  Tell something about my history, something about my family and something about my passion.  So far, so good, right? For my history I would share a funny story about my father so the audience would get a feel for my upbringing.  I talked about my family -my daughters, my wife.  I had several visual aids to keep the audience engaged as well as give me helpful notes.  What my evaluator missed (sorry Tony) was, on the back of virtually all of my props were written notes (a trick I learned in college of all places).  The audience is none the wiser and you don't spend your time as the speaker flipping note cards.  Needless to say, the prop notes worked well.

The final piece of my speech was about my passion -writing.  Always looking for a comedic edge, I decided to briefly discuss marketing then over-play it by literally taking off my clothes...well, sort of.

I spoke about how, if I truly wanted to pursue my dream as a writer, I would have to thrust myself into the marketing aspect of publishing.  With that, I un-zipped my sweatshirt revealing this gem...


I wasn't done...not even close. I dug into my cache of props and removed a huge copy of my logo (also plastered with notes) and threw it up on my easel.









By this time I saw the yellow WARNING, you're about to run out of time card go up.  I knew I should have wrapped up but I thought, it's my first speech, I prepared all these props so I might was well use them and take the time penalty.  So out they came.




I talked about my store and how the proceeds go to the Books for Teens charity that gets books in the hands of under-privileged teens.

I was seriously considering having 'models' stroll in at this point wearing shirts from my store but, at the last minute, decided that my daughter's giant bear was much easier to work with, I could fit it in my duffel bag, I didn't have to deal with his agent (my daughter didn't know I 'borrowed' him) and I didn't have to buy anyone dinner.  Everybody wins!










So somewhere between the bear and the baby alive (yes the one that will crap out the special food you feed her) the red sign goes up and I know I'm over time.  I quickly displayed my magnets, bookmarks and stickers, then handed out my cards (a very cost effective marketing tool BTW vistaprint.com), which, of course are marked with my website and release date (this could have waited until after the speech, saving time) and concluded my speech.  I actually said 'thank you', which I'd just finished hearing was a no-no for speakers because it is the audience's privilege to listen to you speak, but I got flustered and rushed when I ran over on time so my conclusion wasn't as crisp as it should have been.






Saturday, February 11, 2012

Writing vs Filming...just me or I'm not crazy?

So, I'm in the process of re-vamping my book trailer (original is below).  and I find it curious how different the creative process is when compared to writing a novel.

When I write, I sit down and the story takes me where it wants to.  The characters develop themselves as the story progresses.  I feel rather out of control of the plot progression.  It just flows from my brain to my finger tips.

When I am working on a film project, things are quite different.  The initial writing phase isn't nearly as easy because I've got to cram a vision into a pre-determined slot of time.  In writing, I can say what I want to say in however many words I want to say it (more or less) in film, I've got one sentence or sometimes one word in which to convey the message.

I NEVER work with an outline when I write.  I ALWAYS work with an outline when I'm putting together something on film.  There are simply to many moving pieces and parts in film for my small brain to keep track of.

I've written screenplays and enjoy the process but ever since I started writing novels, I find it difficult to be so concise, so brief with a screenplay.  If I'm shooting it, I need a storyboard.  Drawings (and if I've done them they look like a six-year-old's work of art) detailing a shot-by-shot schedule of how the project will be filmed.

Even a short book trailer requires storyboarding, which is sometimes ignored for a multitude of reasons but is always the guiding force during the shooting process. After something is on camera, the editing process is insanely detailed, laborious and sometimes frustrating.  Oftentimes I realize I missed a shot that is needed for story progression and have to re-shoot (meaning drag the actor from wherever he/she may be hiding, throw them back in costume, hope the weather cooperates and try again). Sometimes I have to re-record audio and when I finally have all the raw data I need, I've got to string it together into something I'm happy with...which takes HOURS.

Now that I review what I've just written, the process of writing a book and creating a film really aren't that different.  My approach may differ, but the post-production work is the same.  The total amount of hours I've put into my novel AFTER finishing the preliminary writing, and re-writing at least three times will FAR exceed the hours it took to write and edit initially.  Marketing (major, major, major time consumer, cover design, working with the illustrator, copyediting and on and on and on...AND the big pre-release push is just getting geared up.

So, I have managed to talk myself into believing these processes are actually quite similar.  For me, the fun -that is, the truly creative part, is on the front end. The business end of a book or film is far more time consuming than I had led myself to believe but has its own enjoyments.  Meeting and working with great people. Collaborating with other creative people.  Learning.  Over the past five months I've learned so much about taking a book from manuscript to print -and I'm sure it is just beginning.

Final lesson:  Well, as boring as this may sound.  Sometimes it is good to write something down to gain a bit of clarity.  I went into writing this post with one perception and finished with another.

Here is my original teaser trailer and extended trailer.  Enjoy!









As always, find interviews, writing samples, videos, contests and more on my re-vamped website.


6-5-2012

Friday, January 20, 2012

Happy Birthday to......me


In honor of my special day I've decided to celebrate by sharing some interesting facts about myself.


1. I've been a pain in the ass since birth. (see exhibit A)


Exhibit A




































2. I'm not very good with a lightsaber. (see exhibit B)


Exhibit B




3. I love a good zombie tale (see exhibit C)

Exhibit C (note Exhibit C is packed in my Zombie apocalypse emergency bag along with other contents I'd rather not discuss in case my wife reads this post.)




















4.  My childhood modeling career (exhibit D) was thwarted by is over-active imagination, which kept me inside filming stop-motion movies with my Star Wars figures and writing Jaws 5(exhibit E).


Exhibit D










Armani wanted me, but I had other plans.










Exhibit E



Thursday, January 19, 2012

What I'm up to...this week...


Here is a quick glance over the comings and goings of my publishing world.

D-day (the day I get my copy-edit back and have three weeks to review the entire novel) is rapidly approaching. That's Feb 3rd.

I'm pretty sure I have a finalized copy of the logo I've been working on with JDM Creative Advertising and I'm insanely excited about it!



Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Where am I?

I'll be honest, I haven't disclosed what's going on with my publishing process much.  I'm not sure why, really -I guess I think it isn't very interesting for an outsider.  For those thinking of publishing or just wondering what the process is like, I'll share where I am in the process.

Earlier in December, I was given a production schedule by my production manager at my publisher.   Essentially it marks the milestones all they way up until the release date.  The release date has been set to Tuesday, June 5th.

If all goes according to plan between now and then we will hit that release date -or possibly release earlier.  There is always a chance it could be pushed back.

What am I working on right now?

The copy editing team has my manuscript and is making their first pass. I expect to see it marked to hell in early February.  Then, I have to review, make changes etc. quickly.  I have three weeks max.  All while working full-time.  Ugh.

Also at the moment, I'm working with my illustrator on my chapter header illustrations.  Deadline for those is February 17th.  29 of em.

And, I'm gathering ideas/inspiration for my cover design.  I have some things in my head, plus a list of my top ten favorite YA covers I'll send off to the design team.

And, I'm finalizing a contract with a marketing firm. Hopefully I'll have it in my hands by the end of the week. 

Plus, I'm working on getting endorsements for my book -when you get someone famous to say how great your book is and put it on the back cover. I have to have all of those out by the 15th of this month. 

I had my photo-shoot for my website/PR/book shots done last week.


Tuesday, January 3, 2012

December short story contest seventh place

Not what I thought

by Emma Grimm


I went down stairs to eat my breakfast that my mom always has ready for me
when I come down stairs. It’s sweet and all, but never what I want. If I could have it
my way I would have something totally different. I came in to the kitchen and saw
my usual bowl of oatmeal. I went to it, closed my eyes and took one bit. It was
delicious. I opened my eyes to find what I always dreamed about eating. A yogurt
parfait. It had all the berries you could imagine. Well, they weren’t actually berries
I’ve ever seen before. There were rainbows of berries mixed through out the whole
thing. I looked at my mother. She no longer looked like her old, sleepy, grumpy
mom. She was young and beautiful. She smiled but never said a word. I was going to
walk to school as usual. I looked out the window. Of course, it was raining. I went to
the closet to get my pink, ugly umbrella. When I got it out I realized the umbrella I
thought I had was no longer the one I did have. It was a red umbrella with a ladybug
face on it, my favorite animal. I turned around and there my mother was smiling
over at me. I got my boots on and went out side. It was cold but only for a while.
Then the glorious sun came out and the beams of light completely dried the splashes
that of water that got imprinted in to my coat. I was happy, yes, but even happier
when the boy of my dreams came up on a motorcycle and stopped right in front of
me. He didn’t have to say anything, but from the look in his eyes I knew that I was to
get onto the motorcycle with him and get a ride to school. I got to school and when I
walked in the door all eyes were on me. My classmates, and teachers all smiled at
me but never said anything. I started to walk to my first period class but then
something unbelievable happened. Everybody, and I mean everybody, was giving
me presents of all kinds. I accepted a rather large one while they all watched me
open it. I began to tear the paper but before I could see what it was my best friend
came up and accidently knocked it out of my hand. Now everybody who used to be
watching me with love and compassion were no watching my friend with anger and
hate. She sat there afraid.

“Its okay. Really I’m fine!” But of course they did not listen. There was a loud
long sound. Like an elephant call for a fest. A man came out from the back of the
crowd with an axe. The crowd of people surrounded my friend so I could not see
anything that was going on. But I don’t think I would want to. When it was over two
people carried her body away out of site. I was shocked I had never seen anything so
terrible. I just could not take it. I sat on the floor and began to cry. They all looked at
me in a confused way.

“ Don’t you understand? You killed her! Your all monsters!” I screamed this in
the silence that was upon the room. “ Why wont you say something?” Again nobody
answered. Then a little girl came up to my and gave me a hug. I admit it felt good,
but I could still never get that scean out of my head. Before I new it I was in the air
above every one I loved and hated. I didn’t know how this happened but I didn’t give
it much thought. I hated it here, I wanted to leave. I tried to get down but all of my
limbs felt like stone. I was stuck. For how long? I did not know. At the end of the hall
I was finally let down. I tried to get past all of the people in my way but they refused
to move. I had no choice but to push them down so I could get through. I ran and ran
but the hallway never ended. At every turn the was a group of people that I used to
know. Now they were the only things standing in my way to freedom. I turned at the
next corner. And looked for something to use to get them out of the way. I looked
and looked, and then I saw a fire extinguisher. I took it of the wall and charged
tordes the group of people. I was through my plan worked! I pulled the door to open
it. It did not work. I pulled and pulled. More people were crowding around me
coming closer and closer. I tried banging with the fire extinguisher. Nothing would
work. I was trap. They where closing in on me. I didn’t know what they would do to
me but I know they weren’t going to shower me with presents. Then the guy who
had killed my friend came over to me and raised his axe. I closed my eyes and
waited for death. But it never came. I opened my eyes to see my bedroom. It was just
a dream, a terrible dream. There was a knock on my door.

“Come in.” I called rather happy to be awake. It was my mother, with a yogurt
parfait.

“Mom?” I asked my voice shaking a bit. She didn’t say anything.



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You can view the best of the best...the top seven, on my website HERE

www.TheNeverChronicles.com

Monday, January 2, 2012

December short story contest sixth place entry



 The Evil

by Alex Davidson




Carolina awoke to the sound of a crack and the sensation of being hit. Bleary eyed, her eyes
strained to focus on her surroundings. Carolina, rose to her feet, stretched and felt the warmth of the sun
energize her body. “Where am I” she whispered to her father. It was then that Carolina realized her
father was no longer with her. She asked the trees if they knew where her father had gone. All knowing
yet stubborn, they ignored Carolina’s plea and stood in emotionless silence. Carolina was often told of
the land she now found herself on. Her father had told her not to venture too far away from home, for
creatures, some known, many not, lurk and will snatch her up in an instant. Wishing to recall more of her father’s stories, but also needing to seek safety, Carolina found a large, smooth sloping boulder on which she could see in all directions. She also sought to recall the incidents which led her to her current situation.

It wasn’t long before this day, when her father had told his family, passionately, about the ways
of this world, the laws she must abide, and the creatures she must avoid. Once upon a time, and perhaps
somewhere still beyond the horizon, a land of beauty and peacefulness existed. Her family could once
spend an entire year, surrounded by the gifts of the world. Many different creatures existed together, in
blissful balance. However, this is not a story about what was, this is a story about what is. Her father
explained to Carolina that gradually, slowly, and inexplicitly, the world became darker, and “The Evil”
began to appear. The Evil infected its victims with bitterness and rage. The creatures that her family
once counted as its numerous friends transformed into enemies.

At first, the infections moved slowly and go unnoticed, but slowly, inexplicitly, one creature after
another began to change. Perhaps no creature became more infected than those from the Goldspring area, known to the other creatures as Lords. In earlier times, Goldspring was another land of bounty, with endless spaces covered with all the blessings of the creators. The rage infected the Lords quickly, subtly, and without reason. No one was sure why they were infected first, what is known are the consequences.

The Evil infected the Lords of Goldspring causing them to absorb the knowledge and energy
contained in the world around them at an increasingly rapid pace. What started as a trickle, within a very short period of time, became a flood. As more energy was absorbed, sacrifices to the other areas of
Carolina’s world were made. Carolina’s father told her of the day-screamers which move through the air, devouring all that was in their path. The beautiful, yet deadly Rumblers, roamed the many trails and
paths, devouring any creatures encountered, with no remorse. Often, the Rumblers would leave their
victims for days at a time after incapacitating them, in pain, only to finish them off later. But perhaps no
threat was as grave to Carolina, her family, and friends as the Omma.

Carolina had never seen the Omma; they struck quickly, and without warning. She did not
believe in their existence until the afternoon she was out gathering food for a feast with her
mother. There was no warning, just the sound of a tree branch cracking in the distance. Carolina turned
to her mother and said “How much longer before we….” but was interrupted by the sight of her mother
who had seemingly fallen dead; the sign of the Omma evident on her body. The Omma had sheared off
her mother’s coat, and penetrated her chest, death was instant and silent. Shocked and unable to move for what seemed an eternity, Carolina was finally found by her father who did not, could not weep. He
instructed Carolina to follow him immediately, as more Omma were heard in the distance.

Upon their rapid progression out of the area, Carolina and her father found themselves
surrounded by a thick black haze, nearly impenetrable. Her father shouted “keep moving”, which she did, coughing and choking as darkness entered her body. She strained to see the cause of her suffering, but could only make out countless trees, burning from the canopy. “What hell had this become” she said, “What creature had done this and why!” As she followed her father further, she heard the unmistakable sounds of the day-screamers overhead. She continued to follow her father towards what she hoped was home, and out of this nightmare.

Startled out of her daydream, Carolina heard a familiar voice. Her father was calling to her from
a field just below the hill where she was resting. Upon reaching him, she was shocked by his condition.
Though alive, he was broken, and in a great deal of pain. “Carolina, you must get home to your siblings” her father said to which Carolina replied “it is impossible without your guidance.” “I have shown you all that I know and all that I have learned. You must help your siblings fight The Evil which infects the land.” Why was her father telling her to do this, once he healed, they could live together as a family again. “Remember to respect and adhere to the laws which bind us together, and you must inspire the Lords” he said. Abruptly, Carolinas father, looked towards one of the last remaining valleys, and slowly closed his eyes.”
Saddened, but unable to cry, Carolina thought about all she had just seen and heard. She
reconciled that her father was right, and must be a source of inspiration and change for those which seek to inflict suffering on her and others in the world for no apparent reason. Carolina would gather her siblings and begin her quest to right the wrongs of her world. With that decision, she took off, flying into the forest and calling, as Eagles do, to her family.

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You can view the best of the best...the top seven, on my website HERE

www.TheNeverChronicles.com



Sunday, January 1, 2012

December short story contest 5th place

Alien Life

by J. Roger Greer





If you were an Alien Life Form, one that could travel the imposing distances of space; highly

intelligent, with the ability to take over any other life form, human for instance, for your own

means; how would you do it?

Cocoons have been tried; the face plant with exploding belly has been explored; mind control is

also an avenue of entry into the human race that aliens have considered; two out of three of those

failed due to the incredible bravery of a few individuals, and we all think the cocoon idea was

fiction. Simpler ideas, however, have never really been discussed. A simple thing, perhaps a

small, slightly raised to imply mass, white blotch on a black counter shaped disarmingly like a

happy little bell. Not a liberty bell, that would be too detailed, but a Christmas bell, with the little

ball on top; a shape that brings a smile to the faces of all but the scroogiest among us. Non-

threatening color, in the general scheme of things, designed to draw in a finger…just to check.

Just because.

So I touched it.

If you were an alien how would you enter the finger? Would it be bloody, painful, and obvious?

(there was no blood, no pain) Would there be a tingle, followed by pleasant smells, pleasant

colors, much like reports of near death experiences that end well. (depending on your point of

view of course) Would the host even feel it at all? (I did not feel a thing)

If you were an alien, who took over a human body, how long would you wait to attain complete

control? Partial control would mess up the host, I imagine. Lost, confusing moments, minutes, or even,  

dare I say, hours. It wouldn’t make sense to take over in increments; those lost moments in

reality would be noticed by the host; and by the others. I do know that I am unable to wipe that

pretty little bell off of the counter, and it seems that neither can any of the other four men who

share this space with me. Maybe they have been…noooo, that’s nuts. (they all seem to be

looking at me funny though when we pass in the hall)(and the whispers, the conversations that

end when I enter the lunch room)(and the looks, the funny looks)

If you were an alien and you entered a host, painlessly, took five days to completely supplant the

host’s personal thoughts, why would you then have one host kill the other four hosts? And why

slowly? With much chopping and cutting? This just makes no sense, there is nothing here

important enough, sensitive enough, or even valuable enough to justify eliminating other host

bodies. I haven’t seen any other strange growths indicating other alien forces, but the things they

were saying about me, no longer whispering, no longer stopping when I entered the room. (and

the looks)

Locking all of those doors was incredibly time consuming, why, if you were an alien would you

limit your escape options. The chairs and desks and filing cabinets and all the other furniture

piled in front of the windows also seems rather extreme. Will the ship come here, will they come

get me? (or have they forgotten me)(if there really was an alien life form)

If you were an alien who travelled time and space, created life, and controlled other species,

would it make sense to self-destroy that host? Scissors and knives, scissors and knives. Or

chemicals…plenty of chemicals here. Or scissors and knives and veins and blood and “Hey Schmitty,

get a load of this little white spot on the counter over here, it looks just like a

bell.”

“Get a grip Parsons, put the glove back on and do your job. We are contracted to clean up blood,

flesh, and bones. Not silly little bells on counters.”

You can find J. Roger Greer's blog HERE

--------------------

You can view the best of the best...the top seven, on my website HERE

www.TheNeverChronicles.com

Thursday, December 29, 2011

December short story contest runner-up


The Curse
by Carlie M A Cullen

Large colourful posters were everywhere; in store windows, on telegraph
poles, lampposts, at road junctions and railings. In fact, everywhere she looked there
were pictures of elephants adorned with tassels and hats with feather plumes,
trapeze artists in bright sparkly costumes, and clowns with massive shoes, oversized
trousers, painted smiles and curly green hair. There was no doubt about it – even if
you couldn’t read the words, the pictures said it all – the circus had come to town.
As she continued down the street, she read the show times on the poster
directly in front of her and realised that today was the first day of their visit.
Excitement gripped her. She’d always loved circuses, ever since she was a small
child. There was always a mystical air around the circus, it wove magic around
anyone that walked through their gates. She even dreamt that one day she might
learn to walk a tightrope or fly on a trapeze.
Glancing at her watch, she realised the gates would be opening in thirty
minutes. She walked much faster, wanting to arrive before then.
By the time she reached her destimation, she was panting. Pausing to catch
her breath at the gate, her eyes roved excitedly over the tableau before her. Directly
ahead was the famed big top; the expanse of off-white, decorated with multi-
coloured flags increased the exhilaration inside and a huge grin spread across her
face.
The gate opened and she dashed through, wanting to see everything at once.
As her eyes swept over the sideshows and other tents, she did a double-take – there
in the very centre was a black tent. It looked so incongruous amongst the other
structures yet she couldn’t take her eyes off it. With the sun blazing down, the sheen
of the material glistened and the tent appeared to shimmer.
She was drawn towards it. As she approached, the drapes covering the
entrance parted, but there was no one there. She walked through, trepidation now
dogged her steps yet curiosity drove her on.
Once through, the second set of curtains opened revealing a massive space
full of light. She wandered in and her jaw dropped – it was like being inside a palace,
with huge vaulted ceilings, chandeliers and large ornate mirrors. Near the centre was
a wall with a door in it. Inquisitive, she walked over and knocked. A reedy voice
called,
“Enter."
She pushed the door open and inside found a wizened old lady sitting behind
a small table, covered in white lace and featuring a large crystal ball in the centre.
The woman gestured to the chair in front of her.
“Sit, Alice!”
Alice sat, bewildered, as the woman gazed into the crystal.
“I see tremendous changes coming to you very soon. Everything will alter
dramatically. You will move home, leave your friends, and meet some new people.”
“Really?” Alice wasn’t sure whether to be excited or anxious and she fidgeted
in her seat.
“Yes dearie, the crystal never lies!” she stated, a small smile on her lips.
Alice sat quiet for a moment and stared at the old woman in wonder. She
looked about a hundred years old; very frail, with wispy white hair and a face as
wrinkled as an elephant’s hide. Clearing her throat, Alice said,
“Do you mind if I ask you something?”
“Not at all,” the woman replied.
“How long have you been sitting in that chair?” Alice looked a little sheepish.
There was a whooshing noise and the room started spinning. When it
stopped, Alice was facing the opposite way and the old lady stood before her. Only
she wasn’t so old anymore; she’d dropped thirty years and was growing younger
before Alice’s eyes.
Alice felt weary. She glanced down at her hands and was shocked to see the
skin dry and wrinkled. She brought one hand up to her face and, stroking her cheek,
found it to be lined and papery. She moaned in horror and closed her eyes.
“What’s happened to me, and you?” Alice cried, her voice breaking.
“Exactly what happened fifty years ago. The chairs have a curse on them.
Two hundred years ago, a beautiful seer unknowingly upset a witch. The witch was
so angry she cursed the seer, taking away her beauty and condemning her to sit in
the chair until one certain question was asked. Only then would she be freed and the
inquirer would take her place.
“The question could never be prompted and had to be asked spontaneously.
Once asked, the one released would regain her youth while the new prisoner would
lose theirs. Now it’s your turn. You now possess second sight and will be able to tell
fortunes, but you won’t leave that chair until the question is asked once again. By
the way, my name is Jessica,” she explained.
Alice was horrorstruck and silent. Jessica now appeared to be in her early
twenties and bore no resemblance to the old lady Alice had first encountered.
“I’m leaving now. I wish you luck and hope you won’t be stuck here as long
as I was. Goodbye, Alice,” and with that she turned and danced through the door.
Alice found her voice and cried,
“Wait!”
It was too late, Jessica had gone. The door was shut.
Jessica walked out into the sunlight, grinning. Glancing back at her prison,
she watched it shimmer then vanish from sight.
Freedom beckoned.
Check out Carlie's blog HERE


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This and other entries can be found on my website
www.TheNeverChronicles.com

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

The winning short story contest entry



Flying High

By Sarah Monroe

The cool night air bit into my flesh painfully, but I ignored it. That’s what I got for
wearing just a tank top with my jeans and Vans. From the roof I was perched on, I
could see into the rooms of every house in the town. I could see parents tucking
their young children into bed, a mother nursing her baby, and a family watching TV
together.
I hadn’t had a family like that since I was five.
Unfurling my large golden wings, I ran and jumped off the edge of the roof,
and flew high and fast. The cold breeze slid along my feathers, and I felt the relief
that only came with flying. I turned east, back to the beach where I was supposed to
be. Once landed, I kicked off my shoes and let the still-warm sand run between my
toes. A tall, silvery figure approached me.
“Skye, where the hell have you been?” Wrath asked me testily. The angry scar
that ran from his cheek to shoulder was the same silver as his hair and eyes in the
moonlight. His wings matched.
“I want a family.” I told him, ignoring his question. “I want parents that love
and take care of me. I want to live a normal life.”
Wrath sighed, impatiently pushing the long hair out of his face. “You know
why you don’t have a family – they died in that fire when you were five… just like
mine, and just like Luke’s. And say that we did get adopted before we escaped from
that damned orphanage, what would your new parents do when they saw your wings?
Would they freak out? Would they sell you for money? Yes, because you’re a freak
of nature! No matter what you do you’ll always be the outsider!”
I’d been holding back tears during his speech, but now they flowed in hot
streams down my cheeks. Wrath was right, which made it worse. I hated it when he
was right… which was often. Anyone who saw our wings would sell us to the
media, or worse, to some science laboratory. We’d either be stared at or dissected.
And my family… Oh how I missed them. The mother and father that I had
faint memories but no photos of, and the unborn brother I never had a chance to
meet. Fire was my worst enemy for taking away my 5 year old world. But then
again, I would never have met Luke and Wrath without it. The latter I could deal
with not knowing, but the former… well, that was something I didn’t even want to
think about.
As if knowing I was thinking about him, Luke came into view from some trees,
and I noticed for the first time how long his beautiful golden hair had grown. I
looked down at my own chocolate-brown hair and saw that it had grown longer too,
almost to the small of my back. At that moment, I didn’t care. Luke must’ve seen
the melancholy expression on my face, because he came over and wrapped me in his
arms.
“We should leave…” Was all he said before letting me go, unfurling his wings
and leaping into the clear night air.
I followed, and Wrath too. We didn’t fly in any sort of organised formation;
we just went wherever. Wrath, being twenty and the oldest, was of course the fastest.
But then again, we were all pretty fast, so it only took around fifteen minutes to get
from the Gold Coast to Brisbane. Yes, we were on the east coast of Australia.


Night in the city street was absolute bliss. People were everywhere, and all the
lights were like brilliant stars close to Earth. There was so many noises and activity,
I didn’t know where to look. It was exciting… no, exhilarating. My senses were in
overload. The scent of curried chicken from a nearby restaurant, flashing lights on a
hotel sign, car horns beeping away, the feel of the humidity that curled my hair…
We reluctantly found our way to the museum at South Bank, where we were to
meet someone under the life-size whale models that hung from the ceiling. A strange
note we found in China Town, Melbourne, had told us to.
We waited, and waited, and waited, until I felt like I was going to fall asleep
on my feet. But then a small girl of about eleven came up to us, which was quite
unexpected. Someone so young shouldn’t have been out alone, and at night especially.
“Hello, my name’s Emily.” The young girl told us in a high, sweet voice. Her
hair was golden brown, and her eyes a bright blue. I thought I saw a flash of white
wings on her back, but couldn’t be sure. That is, until she said: “What you just saw
is real. I’m just like you – nephilim – the offspring of humans and angels.” Emily
flicked back her golden hair and smiled wide. She was adorable. “I’m also Luke’s
younger sister… Or I should really say half-sister, because we have different human
mothers. But now, Luke, our daddy’s been waiting a long time to find you. You’re
all welcome to come back to my house, because really, he wants to meet all of you.
It’s rare for there to be so many nephilim in the same area, and around the same
age…”
The three of us stood staring at this young girl, who though talkative,
unknowingly answered the question we’d been brooding over the last few weeks –
What are we? But now that there was an answer, what was there to do? Was there
some sort of purpose in our lives… Like a reason half-breeds like us even existed?
But really, we had nothing to do but follow Emily back to where Luke’s angel
parent was waiting.
I wanted to look for my real dad next. Whoever he was, and wherever he was,
I would find him.

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Sarah is from the Gold Coast, Australia. She writes under the pseudonym Vanessa Belle


check out her facebook page HERE


Keep up the writing, Sarah!  We look forward to seeing more of your work! (*cough* guest post)

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As always, drop in and visit my website!

www.TheNeverChronicles.com


Saturday, December 24, 2011

Guest Post by me, age 11

I thought I'd share another gem of a writing sample from my youth.  This masterpiece is a sample from the sequel to Return of the Jedi. (what else would it be?)

Written by Josh Wagner and Nick Bausch (hope you don't mind, Nick)
     

A long time ago in a galaxy far far away..............

Episode VII Return of the Empire
     The rebels have begun construction on a new base on the planet of Endor.  now that the Empire is destroyed, the rebels are not in a hurry to complete there (yes there) base and there (yes, once again, there) worries are few.

     Little do they know on the far side of the galaxy the empire is reforming.  There (ugh) leader a dark lord from the planet Donateo, Lord Opi who is determined to crush the rebellion. He has many allies, his most powerful is the force.
   

The empire is finishing the last stage on a new base twice as big and three times as powerful as the Death Star.  This space station is located inside an asteroid within in impassable asteroid field. (Kind of makes you wonder how effective an offensive strategy one would launch from such a location) This space station will spell certain doom to the small band of rebels trying to restore freedom to the galaxy.....(I was nice enough to correct the spelling of galaxy -from gallexy)

Luke "It sure is a clear night outside, isn't it." (I guess this isn't a question)
Liea "You can see for miles!"
Han "What's going on out here?"
Liea  " We are just admiring the sky isn't it beautiful?"
Han "Yeah great, has anyone seen Chewie, he has a part to the power generator I'm working on for the Falcon."
Luke "Oh where are you going?" (Wow, shouldn't Liea be the one asking these questions?)
Han "No where (ugh) just fixing her up for the hell of it. (George lucas managed to go three entire movies without a single curse and we made it to the middle of the second page.)

     Han was about to turn around to leave when he saw a bright red glow shoot across the sky into the forest many miles away.

Han" Did you see that!" (more of a statement than a question, I suppose)
Liea "Yes what was it."
Han "Probably just a meteor."
Luke "I don't think so." under his breath
Liea "We better check in it is getting late and we have a busy day tomorrow."
Han "Yeah, but I think we should check it out in the morning anyway.

     They all turned around and went back into the base.
The dialogue is arguably as good, if not better than George Lucas' -especially when compared to the three most recent films. Lets just hope Lucas doesn't steal this priceless idea....

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www.TheNeverChronicles.com

Monday, December 19, 2011

The tears of J. K. Rowling?

I haven't mentioned this to many people -mostly because I've forgotten. It's been over four years since Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows has been released.  Always in the back of my mind though, I've never forgotten.

While I was reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows for the first time, I noticed something strange about my copy.  At first, I thought it was supposed to be there.  I believed it was part of the print.  A trick of the trade intended to reflect the mood of the chapter.  It was, after all, called The Will of Albus Dumbledore.

Then, out of curiosity, I checked a friend's copy.  This anomaly was not there.  I checked another and another. I even went so far as to go to the bookstore and look in those copies.  Not there.

I even searched online to see if anyone else had reported this strange occurrence and couldn't find anything.  Granted, I didn't search very hard but if google doesn't know, who does?

So, to what am I referring?


 Here are my images.  I scanned two pages and photographed two pages. The scan isn't great because I'm not about to squish my copy of the book just to get a good scan.  I also assure you this is not photo-shopped -I'm not that good with the program and something like this simply isn't worth my time.




I like to think of these as the tears of J. K. Rowling.  As a writer, to bid farewell to that which has been so dear to her for so very long is not an easy thing.  I truly thought that was the message she was trying to convey with these ink stained pages that resemble drops of liquid on the pages.


What are they really?  A printing error obviously...perhaps.  Or perhaps they are part of the magic of Harry Potter.  Magic in one copy of a book printed 12 million times (thank you google).