Tuesday, November 19, 2013

The Works in Progress

Been working more on my house than the new story, lately, so … well … my house is moving forward. Almost done installing the new hardwood floors. Have to finish the kitchen cabinets, plumbing, and fine details, so the book may suffer a little bit and sit it out while I try and make real life more livable.

But the story is coming. About a third of the way through it, and it's moving along just fine. Probably won't be out in the spring as I'd hoped, but unless the house surprises me (and, it always does) late spring or early summer are entirely doable. Sometimes these things write themselves, and, sometimes, I have to bring them out kicking and screaming. This one's in the middle.

But the kitchen re-build is more important deadline-wise than the new story, since I live in the kitchen.

Tuesday, November 05, 2013

Everything Is Free!!

Yeah, so in a shameless attempt to gain readers, I've made The Signal, The Divine World and (still) Cities of the Dead free on all eBook platforms. If you've been curious, well, here's your chance to read some off-the-beaten-track fiction.

Here's the Amazon link, but the eBooks are gratis anywhere eBooks are sold.

And if you like the stories, write a review and tell your friends.

For the curious, the current novel is still ongoing, albeit slowly. I'm writing it "seats of the pants" style, instead of going off an outline, so the story has a life of its own. I'm frequently amazed by it, and I'm the guy writing it. But, then, some nights the pages just stare at me and dare me to write a sentence. But that's the curse of "seat of the pants" writing: you just go where the Muse takes you, and sometimes it makes you watch television until midnight and go to bed not having written a word. Other night, you're furiously typing.

Not that outlining in advance is any different: you still have to come up with the nuts-and-bolts in outline form before writing, which can lead to many nights staring at an outline and wondering where it's all supposed to go.

Writing is a mental disorder.

Or, an addiction. If it's a mental disorder, well, then … because I'll never be able to admit I'm an addict and convince myself to quit. And I'm not sure I want to be cured. The stories force themselves out whether I want them to or not, and, mostly, I want them to: I want to see how they end, too.