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Blood & Soul in July

I’m publishing Blood & Soul in July through Amazon on Kindle and CreateSpace. After 90 days it will be published on all other popular e-readers such as NOOK and on iBooks. There’s a significant amount of work going on behind the scenes in preparation. Friday I received the finalBloodandSoulalonesplatter edits from my editor. 98.5% is done. There are two minor story lines that need to be wrapped up. Those additions will bechecked by my editor. I’ll also perfect the book summary for the back cover. The editor will create a pdf file and send it back to me. I will upload it to Amazon (but not publish) and order physical copies. I will mail a physical copy to a professional proofreader. It’ll be checked for text errors and look and feel. My editor and I will make corrections if needed. Then my editor will format a Kindle version of Blood & Soul and send it to me. I will upload both Kindle and CreateSpace versions. Pretty soon after that it will go live and glide into the clouds. God only knows if it will catch the wind or not amid thousands upon thousands of other books. I know I’ve written the best book I could write.

Blood & Soul – Back Cover Brainstorming

Blood & Soul Teaser Trailer

What’s it About?

January 30, 2014 Leave a comment

In updating about my book, I’ve never posted much about the story itself. I will tell you girls out there it has love and longing and

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romance. Don’t think for one second that us guys don’t like that stuff, it just has to be done right, without the sap. I would not call it a family adventure. The story deals with some pretty brutal stuff. Would it be a date movie? Oh yeah! There is stuff in it for guys and girls. There is a lead male and a strong female character.

MV5BMTIwODk0NzQzNV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwOTEzOTc0MQ@@._V1_SX214_The only thing that comes close to the feel of it, and still way off, is a mix of Gladiator, Memoirs of a Geisha and Lord of the Rings. The look of it is late BC or early middle Ages with a Romanesque setting. I love historical fiction before gun-powder and it’s had a great influence on me. So the style of fantasy is what readers would call realism or hard-fantasy because it’s a logically consistent world that I made up as in A Game of Thrones or Wizards First Rule or Lord of the Rings.

It’s not an airy fairy silly romp with leprechauns and smurfs – a pox be upon them! It feels realistic and there is only a touch of fantasy but even that is linked to spiritualism and not potions brewed by witches. Gods and Goddesses are worshiped and there is human sacrifice, diverse peoples and religions populate the story along with some exotic beasts both good and evil. The main characters are searching to discover their purpose in life…and that’s as far as I will go for now.

The theme is embedded in the title, BLOOD & SOUL. The theme was inspired by one of my deeply held beliefs. But I handle the

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theme with a light touch. It’s not preachy at all. I strove to give the reader poignant emotional moments along with thrills, tension and suspense. Anyway …I need to get busy as I’m working on the final draft.

Use Your Muse Before She Moves

January 11, 2014 3 comments

Linda_HarrisonA few years ago, when I finally SAW my Muse she dressed in worn comfy denim. She had gossamer wings. She looked just like Nova (Linda Harrison) from that old Planet of Apes original, her dark hair silky and shining. Every golden morning my Muse would hover at my bedside and awaken me with angelic ethereal humming. Dazed and inspired, I would rise and scurry off to my bus route. Afterward, I would take her hand like a ritual. She would lead me to a local diner or coffee house, and sit me down, and turn on my laptop with a missing left “enter” key. While it booted up she would pass the time pouring me honeyed coffee. She would bring it to me, and curl up on the monitor and purr rhythmically, playing songs by Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard into my headphones. The sound of her purring and my fingers waltzing on the keyboard was like the sweet roll of distant thunder and a warm graceful mist washing over us through the middle of the day. In the early afternoon I would look up from my laptop and stretch, and whisper thanks to her, and wander off to drive a school bus, my mind full of visions.

Then due to circumstances beyond my control I had to switch jobs and writing became inconvenient and impossible in the midst of the day. She went into a Relocation Program for orphaned muses. I never heard from her again. Maybe you have seen her? For all I know she whispering music into your ear and filling your mind with visions. Don’t waste her inspiration. As soon as you exit Facebook begin your own epic novel, dear reader.

I had to adapt. I petitioned for another Muse for evenings and weekends. The one that showed up looked the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Desperate, I girldragontatopened the door and let her in. She chain smokes Marlboro reds. She wears thick mascara and re-dyes her hair black weekly. She has sixty-six piercings—that I know of—and some I dare not ask about. One arm is sleeved-out in tattoos. She has a Ph.D in German Literature and refuses to purr. She prefers leather to denim, likes fishnet everything. She clipped her wings. From her pale neck on separate chains dangle hundreds of religious icons, peace symbols, and skulls. She reads “the lost works,” just to taunt me and quotes Nietzsche and Rousseau. She listens to Lady Gaga, the Ramones and Johnny Cash and Mozart and the Lower Chakras and drives a black hearse with a pink stripe. She speaks English with a French accent. She refuses to pour me coffee and spills her own on my papers. She never visits, I have to summon her. When she comes she’s often high and drunk, daring me to judge.

I’m not dumping her. I fear what I would get as a replacement this time. So I have the romantic memory of the one before and the reality of the next. – Inspired by a book I just read. Write Your Heart Out by Geoff Schmidt

Dear John Lennon

December 31, 2012 Leave a comment

Dear John Lennon. That’s the title of a non-fiction book I want to write. I want to take each verse of his silly sentimental crap-song “IMAGINE” and make them into chapters where I systematically dismantle this liberal anthem and expose it for the absolute stupidity on a stick that it is. The meat of sacred cows is the tastiest. I think it would sell a few copies.

As a writer/storyteller, I laugh at the song’s childish, Marxist sentiments, but for a while in my life, as you perhaps did or do, I loved that song. I held up the cigarette lighter in the concert hall of my soul and swayed to the dreary melancholy self-righteousness of the song without questioning it. I wagged my finger, “maybe someday you’ll join us, and the world will be as one[–you narrow minded stick in the mud.]” I failed to think through what it was actually promoting.

In 2013, the belief in the sacredness of the 60s ideals (which is what the Democrat ideal is) and the Beatles and all that good bit of rot make me think of the people who said, “We don’t like that negro music or rock and roll in this here town.” (Who where Democrats then!) But, alas, liberal message/ideal has been slick-o-fied by contemporary media, art, and culture.

When I tell stories of characters in my book, if there is “nothing to kill or die for” the story is road kill …and I will add so is existence itself if there is nothing worth dying for.

Lennon sings about life on earth, not heaven, because he’s already said don’t imagine heaven or hell, He wags a finger in your face when he sings, “I wonder if you can”. He sings about the ongoing liberal fantasy of Utopia, the persistent naïve belief that man can perfect man. As conservatives, we know this is impossible and we plan for it. We do not believe in the devine right of kings or the secular humanism of a Nanny Statist.

It is these types of songs, books, movies, education, and new age religions that have crept into the vacuum left behind when liberty-loving people retreated from the artistic and educational worlds. You can “get out the vote” all you want. But, if you ignore culture you are drawing from a dying source you are not cultivating.

My dear conservatives! CREATE! Stop thinking you can only help the world with one more vote or one more piece of legislation. The people who can appreciate your dreams are thinning out, seduced by weeds of political correctness.

Do you ever feel like a Picasso?

June 27, 2012 5 comments

I mean seriously. Look at this thing. I don’t like Picasso’s art work for the most part. When I see a work of art I look for beauty. Something that makes me go “Ah yes …very nice”. Perhaps Picasso is accurate about aspects of life and reflects those well but he’s not cheerful. In this world full of cruel irony and lost sentimentalism, I frown when I look at this thing.

I wouldn’t have one of his paintings in my house. However, this is how I feel today; disjointed, out of place, broken and thrown back together as if the maker lost his plans and guessed where things might go.

The music is far from the instrument, my hands are small, eyes are lifeless. I can’t figure out what goes with what. I’m sitting in my own lap, licking my own tongue. Shadows with no maker. I feel this is how people see me too …at least for now. But, my hands tremble as I calmly assure them …this is not me …let me get myself together. I plead …please wait. I am impatient with me too …and justly so …and I’m growing that way with the world.

Is my vision disjointed? What corrections can you make? With one move the picture could focus or fall apart.  Because I’m disjointed my strength fails me. I’m three people or just one. Blocky, square, rounded and colorful but unmatched. My clothes are out of style. Victim of cubism and the cry of a collage life. I am pieces of discarding beginnings. Shadows look through me and reach around. I’m hooded and lonely like a leper. Am I here or there? My jaws out of joint and mute like the painting.

For God’s sake …please know that this is not me. From afar you’ve seen pieces and set them together with innocent misconceptions. To know me fully will help you arrange these snap shots, these flat squares of my life that hang on the walls of your heart. It is not me. I, the momentary broken Humpty Dumpty, as all the king’s men shake their mythical heads. Pray I can be put back together, at least partially and put back upon the wall. With a little help from my friends and the best that’s in me and the God I’ve doubted I shall reunite my broken hinges.

The older I get I realize nothing is wrong with being a healthily co-dependent (though I’m been doggedly independent) and that the high point over two promising hearts holding hands is a God on high who shines wisdom into their hearts. All else is vanity and if doubting becomes your master you end up like a Picasso.

Do you ever feel like a Picasso?

Post Constitutional Fungus Among us

December 31, 2011 1 comment

What the post-constitutional America is teaching us via its institutions and entertainment outlets, is that one ought to be envious, rather than ambitious. Ambition has became a dirty word, along with profit. Thus, we have these Occupy Wall Street people covered in the fungus of envy, wanting take and destroy the fruits of ambition and profit because they’ve been brainwashed to assume ambition is ALWAYS misused just because there are poor people in the world, a marxist motivation 101, but we don’t know, because we are politically stupid and ignorant people, pass the popcorn. Thus, we have bought into this man with a symbol in ’08 and his movement, blind to the origins of his philosophy, we will march with acquired momentum to the death of liberty if we don’t wake up.

In my world everyone is a pony, and they all eat rainbows, and poop butterflies. Then I woke up and became a conservative.

Getting Older

September 18, 2011 Leave a comment

Getting older… Getting over …vanity of youth …insanity of fad …from the blind side of sought and the wrong side of ought. Journey out of the naiveté, but ache and wonder resides and spills from the cloven seasons of my heart, even as I laugh, life moves in for the kill.

What was the future is beyond my furrowed brow, but somehow, brightness shines in the valleys between far away thrills, bridging the distance of that old resistance in an instance, to other hidden fields. The wonders of pain and stain, of sunshine and gain are all in the palm of my gazing mind, reshaping, improving thoughts that were blind or unkind. With a thought quick as a glance, smooth as a changing stance, leaping on the tip of icebergs galore, foundations of floating depth explored.

I’m not what I pretended, less than I intended and far less than I apprehended. There is grander I cannot grasp…a pleasant and powerful undercurrent to life parallels the misery, sensed only with my meager knack to detect wonder, as I stand astride two destinies, one good, one nil. Seems to me truth is more ancient than light, rolling like waves with such force I crouch to the deck on my squeaky little ship. There is more air than I can breathe more sun than I can soak up or see.

Life will rob you of peace, but think of no other riches than those of heart. Life takes its toll but strive for no other greatness than that of soul.

Art?

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