So now that I've vented over the frustrations of promoting my book, let me get to the actual business of promoting it ... starting with a look at all of the novel's characters: who they are, what they do, how they go about their business, what they drink for fun, so on and so forth.
This time around, it's the Guardsman.
The Guardsman is the name of a paladin knight, linked to a mystic long Sword (which is usually capitalized when it's referred to), which has been passed
My first novel went to the presses last night.
I'm enthusiastic about this, but at the same time scared, because now I have to promote the book. What makes this even more difficult is that it's self-published, which puts up road blocks to traditional promotional avenues.
I'm on a strict budget, so buying advertising space is kind of a non-option. I'm publishing through a POD supplier, so getting my book into brick-and-mortar booksellers is a challenge as well. The
Updated September 2nd, 2009 at 01:45 PM by Desert Coyote
Alone in the vastness The plains inflict loneliness The scorching sun Mercilessly assault him Hunger and thirst Gnaw his entrails But the male widow birdís dance Makes him forget his troubles
He smiles as looks at it And he thinks Isnít it a beautiful world
Alone in the vastness He seeks shelter from the sun Wishing to rest his tired legs Under an idle acacia tree The herdsman finds comfort Watching his animals rove Unmoved by the sunís heat As they feast on the tsavo new grass Startling
Iíll love Rebecca more than myself
Though it wasnít her I initially needed
The one I needed initially
Wanted a man who drove the sleekest car
And flew first class or privately
And not a man like me
Who couldnít differentiate a jet from a helicopter
And trusted his legs to take him anywhere and everywhere
Iíll give Rebecca my best
And assure her thereís no looking back
Iíll let her have my heart
How are you faring? I hope better than me.
Today should be a big highlight of this 34-day overland safari that I am running which is taking us through 5 African countries-Uganda, Kenya, Tanzania, Malawi and Zambia. We started in Nairobi headed west to see the Ugandan gorillas and returned back to Kenya. We made our entry into Tanzania from Kenya 2 days ago, and today we have set foot in the monarch of animals reserves; the Serengeti. In the truck we are 21, a crew of 3
She swooned, he fell, do part.
Just found this:
It's by UK artist David Hardy, in a fine Bonestellian moment. Totally unrealistic, but it made me catch my breath.
And for that matter, the contents of the book are pretty good, though it does remind me that it must be 30 years since I bought my 30th Anniversary edition of Fantasy & SF. (Maths, see!)
Here's the contents of this fine collection:
Updated August 31st, 2009 at 02:40 PM by Hobbit
Well, after having found [URL="http://www.sffworld.com/blog/4556.html"]my old blog entries[/URL], and realising they hadn't been deleted, it seems that the titles for both blog entries were very similar - about being a writer when you're not actually writing, or planning. I seem to remember the last blog software not working on Firefox, so it's all good.
I've got a friend reviewing a old story or two of mine, so I sent him the link to the page. This got me to thinking of
My phone rings, I answer it
My wife is crying on the other end
Her crying makes it difficult for me to understand what she is saying
ďI can wait for him any more, I must goĒ
I tell the parish secretary as I pocket my phone
I request her to tell the priest to follow me
As I drive into the compound
I see clusters of small groups of people
Some I know, some I donít, some am not sure if Iíve met
Even on his death bed, he was still influential
Being going over my research for my latest effort.
I have to write about a Lancaster bomber crashing. My hero is a member of the crew. While the story is not a blow by blow fictional tale about bomber command, I want to inject some realistic elements into the event.
So I thought, read some first hand accounts, memories of the men that flew in bomber command to get a handle on the hero, how he would think and deal with being the only surviour, and how it would fit into my storyline.
Working on final revisions to the second volume of The Slingshot Saga. Part one is entitled The Sorceress of the East Woods.
About half way through the revisions.
I have been submitting a number of short stories over the past months.
Sold two, subject to contract, of the seven I have been peddling.
Two of the remaining five have just been rejected. Nice, personalised ones, but still rejected. The remaining three are my strongest stories. All have made it through to the final cut with various mags and anthologies, previously, before they were given the heave ho!
I suspect the current venues they are submitted too
The larvae stirred in their slick cases, tails flicking as natureís command forced them to emerge. Squirming, intertwining they forced their way up to the surface.
The earth grew colder as the wormís offspring neared the surface, some still only partly formed baulked, reluctant to press further. These sort shelter in the moist lower levels of the ground curling up, their life force failing, bodies becoming food for the others.
I physically cringed posting this Hol, I hope yours doesn't give you the heebies
The hill stands seemingly indomitable, at the apex a black figure looms over the hill, indistinct yet worryingly recognisable. I am free, the nature of life flows through my body, pulsating power, an insatiable desire burns deep radiating outwards to eternity. A strong wind blows in across my cheek, long mocking laughs echo into my ear. I laugh back. He is here, he would say he has always been here.
Well, one of my god-sons has just finished his tour of Afghanistan, with luck he is either hanging around an airport in Cyprus, or in the air on the way home. Been a rough tour. He lost a friend he went through Sandhurst with, as well as his regiment taking a number of causalities. I know my mate, his mum, is glad he is on his way home. Thing is his brother, twin brother by the way, and my other god-son is in the army as well. At the moment he is in the Falklands, but his turn