Kimberly Shursen on Being Stuck & Having a Secondary Plot @KimberlyShursen #WriteTip #Thriller

Help! I’m Stuck in the Middle and I Can’t Get Out

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

Ever get to the middle of writing your book and didn’t have a clue what to do next? You’ve set up the story; you’ve described the characters, the scenery, the wallpaper in the kitchen, and now what? You’re excited to write that unbelievable ending you already have conjured in your head, but how in the world are you going to get there?

Answer: resolve the issue before you start staring at those intimidating blank pages on the screen.

1.  Have a secondary plot. By this I don’t mean a separate plot, but one that weaves nicely into your story. Using my novel HUSH as an example, there is Ann and Ben’s life, and then there’s Ann’s lawyer Mac McConaughey’s story. The plot remains focused on the main characters, however, Mac and his wife Jazz’s life is a secondary heart-warming storyline readers can identify with.

2. When you’re stuck, think of the most pivotal moments of your life; the birth of a child, a challenging life hurdle you’ve finally succeeded in overcoming, or the feeling of finally letting go and falling in love. Bring these pivotal moments to life in your characters. Set the platform in the first few chapters of your book and you will have a beginning, a middle, and an end that, although cliché, will wrap up into one sweet little package. Never write a chapter that doesn’t have substance or doesn’t move the story forward. Each single word, sentence, and chapter needs to have meaning; so no cheating filling in with drawn out dissertations of the scenery.

3. I never place my novels in one city as it’s just too much fun to travel via the net. It is important that my characters and the places they live or travel not become redundant. In HUSH, there are three cities I visited in cyberspace. How do I do this? Just as a couple of examples, I use images, descriptions of buildings and restaurants, and neighborhood overviews found in personal travel documentations, along with studying the official websites of the city. I do a ton of research so that if anyone who lives in these cities or neighborhoods happens to read my book, they would think I’d been there not just once, but several times. The bulk of HUSH was set in Minneapolis, and even though I lived in Minneapolis for many years, I still had to check out the facts. How many miles around is Lake Minnetonka where Mac’s wife Jazz lived? How far was it from Dinky Town where Ann lived to the courthouse? Where are the prestigious neighborhoods in Minneapolis? Which suburbs are the poorest? Mileage from one place to the next takes me to Mapquest.

When I took HUSH to Lake Geneva, Switzerland was when I really had to  dig deep into the bowels of the net, close my eyes and envision not only the Jet d'Eau that surges 459 feet above the lake, but the Swiss Alps, and the peaceful inlet of water that borders this quaint, wealthy city.

Don’t be afraid to reach the middle; embrace it. If you’ve done your homework, and set up your storylines, there will be nothing to fear when you proudly present your baby to the public.

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."

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Genre – Thriller

Rating – PG-13

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Connect with Kimberly Shursen through Facebook and Twitter

Website http://www.kimberlyshursen.com/

Richard Parry's #WriteTip for Defeating Procrastination Demons @TactualRain #WriteTip #Thriller

Breakfast was a mash of overly bright post-dawn light and harsh jarring sounds.  He’d choked back some dry white toast, using black coffee syrupy with sugar as a chaser.  After he kept that down, he brushed his teeth twice before leaving the house, jacket slung over his shoulder.  He was already sweating through his shirt by the time he almost made his bus, watching it pull away from the stop as he rounded the corner.

The driver of the next bus was a man sitting proud behind the wheel, stamping with binary control at the gas and brake pedals, lurching and cursing his way through the crowded morning streets with nausea inducing irregularity.  The only blessing was that no one wanted to sit next to him — even Val could smell the Bacardi sweating through his skin.

He spent his time before his meeting surfing the Internet and drinking bad coffee and stale water.  He avoided his co-workers, taking refuge in his cubicle.  The office hummed with the gentle background of cloistered productivity, phones and conversations overlaying each other into white noise.  All except Werner in the cube next to him; that man shouted into his phone like he was trying to raise the dead.  Maybe he was — he worked the marketing angle of the project they were on.

By the time he had his meeting with Davies, the shaking in his hands had stopped, the world returning to normal levels of brightness and colour.  He was still sweating through his shirt.

“Sit, Val.”  Davies’ tailored suits were a thing of office legend, fitting a frame that spent a lot of time eating healthy food and doing whatever it was they did down at Gold’s Gym.  He stood behind a baroque desk, a screen, keyboard, mouse, and cellphone laid out just so.

Val’s personnel file was open on the desk too, a couple pages marked with cheerfully coloured Post-its.  A gold pen, Cross brand embossed on the clip, sat ready on a legal pad.

No notes, yet.

Val shut the office door behind him and settled into a chair designed for thinner men.  “Hey, Pete.  Look —”

“Hear me out, Val.  It’s not what you think.”  Davies shuffled a few of the pages of the file, as if he hadn’t already read each page twice.  “You’ve been with the company a while.”

That was a bit unexpected.  “Uh, sure.  Since —”

Davies held up a hand.  “Almost five years.  Done some good work for us.  Really saved our asses in that coding war with Unisys.”  He chuckled to himself, as if it was some beachhead victory they were remembering together.  “Top performer three years in a row.”

Val shifted a bit.  The padding on the chair was worn thin, and he felt like was sitting on raw plywood with sackcloth nailed over the top.  “…Right.”

“There’s not really a delicate way of talking about this.”  A smile that was more a grimace sat on Davies’ face.  “Since Rebekah passed, well, we’ve noticed some changes.”  Davies looked at Val’s gut, then picked up the Cross, tapping it on a paragraph in the file.  “Fact is, we still need you.”  The clock on the wall ticked by a few more seconds, the sounds of the city outside the open windows gentle.  “But we need the old you.  You’re a wreck —”

“Hey Pete, c’mon.  I crank out the code like you need.  I’m the first guy to punch in every morning…”

“And the first guy to hit the Blues at lunch.  After lunch, you’re back at your desk, but you’re thinking about your next drink.  When was the last night you didn’t knock back even just a few?”

“Everyone has a pint after work, Pete.  Be serious.  We work in computers.  And our clients are assholes.”  Val tried for some easy camaraderie.  “Who wouldn’t drink on a government contract?”

“It’s not like we work in the ER, Val.  And if it was the work that was the problem, we could fix that.  You work in a team of what, ten guys?”

“Yeah, and they come down for a beer at lunch too!”

“They don’t all go down.  With you.”  Davies examined a perfectly manicured nail.  “At the same time.  Fact is, they’re going down to make sure you’re ok.  A few of the guys — and I’m not naming names, it’s confidential — are worried about you.  They said they want to keep an eye on you.  They’ve come to see me, to ask me to … intercede.”

He grabbed a sheet from the file — this one suspiciously laid out in corporate style — and spun it on the old wooden surface towards Val.  “It’s a leave form, Val.  It’s on the house. But it’s got conditions.”

Val didn’t lean forward to look at the form.  “You’re getting rid of me.  Gardening leave.  I don’t know if I should be flattered or pissed off.”

Davies tapped the paper again.  “Maybe you should just be…  Well.  I think we both know ‘happy’ is a bit of a stretch, considering.  Get your house in order.  Drive up the coast.  See some friends.”  He paused, as if the idea had just occurred to him.  “Get some help, Val.  See someone.”

Val reached forward to get the sheet, seeing his hand shaking with either anger or the memory of the hangover. Maybe a heavy salting of both.  The form was straightforward — a month of leave, but with a small catch.

“The company wants some return, of course.”  Davies looked down in carefully constructed abashment.  “We want the old Valentine Everard back.  We want you a productive member of the family again.  We’re going to … invest, shall we say … a few weeks.  What’s a few weeks?  That’s on us.”  Nodding, Davies replaced his expression, looking Valentine right in the eye with an affable smile.  It was like watching a super marionette, as if all those management courses had taught him which emotions to try and fake, and when.  “But you’ve got to do your share.  A part of the bargain.”

It was there in black and white.  They’d even helpfully supplied a phone number and a website — probably one of the narcissists in HR.  Those fuckers thought of everything with their saccharine sincerity.   They wanted him in an alcoholics group of some kind.

“If I don’t sign?”

Davies swapped the grandfatherly smile for a look of grandfatherly reproach.  “Well Val, then things might have to get formalised.  You know how it is.”  As if it was out of his hands.  Just one of the boys, Val and him in this thing together.  “But we — well.  I don’t want it to get formalised.”  He handed the Cross to Val.

After he’d signed — like there’d been a choice — he walked out to collect his jacket.  He felt as if the entire office watched his walk from Davies’ office to his cube, the air heavy with the silence of funerals.  The hessian partitions were covered with the same old crap, charts jostling for supremacy next to Dilbert cartoons.  The odd slice of fake humanity was shown with photos printed in cheap colour on the office laser — corporate functions, team building.  Outside his own cube, he saw a photo of himself peeking out from under layers of project charts and productivity estimates.  It was like growth rings on a tree, those layers — the closer to the heartwood of the hessian backing, the older they were.

He remembered that shot, pulling it out.  The photo showed him sprawled on the ground, the thick rope for tug-o-war draped over him and his team buddies.  He’d been thinner then, the grin cracking his face one of delight.

It was probably about the time when Rebekah had first told him she was pregnant.

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

BIRTH OF AN ASSASSIN by @Stone_Rik #AmReading #Thriller #Crime

Jez turned his head and saw jeeps stacked up one behind the other, coming at him. They were equipped for combat with mounted mortar cannon and sub-machine guns rigged on the integral bases behind the front seats. The heads of soldiers bobbed behind mortar blast protectors as the vehicles maneuvered over snowdrifts. He couldn’t tell how many vehicles, but seeing them fan out and fire, the number no longer seemed relevant.

He ran. He wanted to drop the ski jacket to quicken his pace, but he’d lose his weapons. The only thing he could do was wind in his head and race flat out. WHUMP! A mortar shell exploded 50 meters forward and to the right of his position. Shrapnel whizzed by, and though he could hear it, he felt nothing. He hadn’t been hit. He crouched lower, but the rabbit-skin hat fell off. No time to pick it up. Stop for nothing. With the rifles set to automatic, they traced straight black lines in the snow on either side of him and then swept horizontally across his horizon – Kalashnikov AKMs. They didn’t quite have him in their sights, but they would get there soon enough.

Not safe running in a straight line, he zigzagged, sacrificing distance for evasive tactics. Even so, it wouldn’t take them long to get a bead on him. He looked ahead for anything that might impede his progress, and saw a murder of crows take to the air on the opposite side of the nearest hill. If only he could join them, he thought. Instead, he ran a short distance to the left and then a longer distance to the right, on occasion reversing the strategy so as not to reveal a pattern.

WHUMP! WHUMP! One after another, mortar shells exploded; and while Jez’s evasive actions proved successful, progress slowed. The jeeps occasionally stopped to drop-blast their mortar shells more accurately, but it didn’t stop them gaining ground.

Clearly, while the snow slowed him, it had no such effect on the pursuit vehicles. They would catch him before he could get to the hills. He had to make a stand. WHUMP! A shell exploded 30 meters ahead. That would do, fight from the mortar’s footprint, die like a soldier. He ran towards it. The jeeps closed in. WHUMP! Another explosion – and it was in the same hollow he was headed for. He ran in the opposite direction to make them realign their weapons.

The aim moved. Shells exploded away from the crater, so he veered back and got close enough to jump. Any other time of year the landing would have been soft, but now solid ground jarred his bones as he made contact with the fissure’s base. The earth moved and rumbled, feet banged against brittle crust that cracked and broke beneath him. A thin layer of earth had been all that remained after the two explosions and Jez crashed through the crater into another hole.

He dropped the depth of the first hollow and through into the hole below. But he couldn’t see out to shoot. If his life hadn’t been about to end he might have laughed. Too low to make a stand, he would have to… but just a minute, what was that? He wasn’t in a hole, but a pothole, a chance, a slim chance, but a chance.

He pulled the landfall aside, squeezed through and scrambled along the tunnel in a direction in line with the hills. The cave got bigger. He could stand up straight. He started running again, and half a minute carried him 100 meters in. WHUMP! Grit and soil blasted along the chasm behind him, stung his legs, back and buttocks as fragments struck. They’d realigned a fix on the crater too soon. It had to be Mitrokhin up there. The regular army weren’t that good.

With adrenalin pumping, he gave that extra push, but the channel narrowed and lowered. Lack of headroom forced him to his hands and knees. Movement slowed. The ground shook. Tremors shuddered through his arms and legs, and then a blast was followed by a rumble.

The channel collapsed and fallen earth charged towards him. Rapid breathing, his heart raced, but he had to steady his thoughts. He couldn’t lose control, but the ground rumbled, ever closer.

Still on his hands and knees, he pushed his back hard against the roof. Earth fell around his feet and legs as the miniature cave fell in. But his body remained rigid, acting as a stanchion. His part of the crown hadn’t fallen, but ahead and behind, the rumble continued and the fragile earth crashed down. The structure of the hollow folded, and when it stopped he’d become entombed. Panic engulfed him. There was no way out.

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

Lethal Journey by Kim Cresswell @kimcresswell #Thriller #AmReading #GoodReads

Detective Eric Brennan sat at his usual table and sipped the night’s beverage of choice—a cola. In Chunkers Bar and Grill loud pointless chatter overpowered the ‘80s rock and roll band on stage.
The last week was a blur. Every waking hour he pounded the streets in search of his father’s killer.
Eric knew every detail of the shooters face, but not the kid’s name. He’d heard from one of his informant’s, the kid was a young tough-guy looking to be made—a “cugine” ready to make his mark into New York’s most influential crime network, the Valdina family. As part of his induction into the mob family, the asshole had already killed a low-life rival family member and Eric and his father were working the homicide case when they got a tip.

That steamy June evening had started like any typical bust. Within minutes after Eric and his father arrived at the warehouse, dozens of DEA agents secured the perimeter. Eric entered the warehouse first, his father followed. Amid the stench of mildew and dust, the first pop of an automatic echoed within the barren walls.

They were ambushed.

His father, a veteran with twenty-three years on the force never saw the shots coming. Eric threw his body against his father in hopes of shielding him. It was too late. Instead Eric witnessed his father’s face, the sickening whitish blue tint that came with death...

While Pete checked in with the precinct, Eric shifted in the chair. His left knee still burned where the bullet had grazed his leg. He rubbed the scar, a permanent reminder of a drug bust gone bad. Very bad.

“Hey, Brennan.” Pete threw a twenty-dollar bill on the table and downed the last swallow of his beer.

“Come on. I think we got a lead.”

Outside on West 35th Street, a full moon peeked through the clouds. Jagged streaks of lightning ignited the sky as rain sprinkled against Eric’s leather jacket. He lit a cigarette and leaned against his white pick-up truck parked in front of Chunkers.

Pete smirked. “Man, I thought you quit.”

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Genre – Thriller

Rating – PG-18

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Connect with Kim Cresswell on Facebook and Twitter

Website http://kimberleycresswell.wordpress.com/

The Jonas Trust Deception by A.F.N. Clarke @AFNClarke #Thriller #BookClub #Fiction

The Jonas Trust Deception
by AFN Clarke


AFN CLARKE is the author of 8 books, including the best selling memoir CONTACT, that was serialized in a British newspaper and made into an award winning BBCTV film.  His latest novel, The Jonas Trust Deception, is a Thomas Gunn thriller and follows the success of The Orange Moon Affair.  Readers have called it “classy, complex and cunningly compelling” and a “powerful force in the thriller genre”.  In solving the mystery of an ongoing conspiracy involving his old friend Morgan, Thomas Gunn, ex-Special Forces, takes an action so shocking and bold, that even his team fear he’s lost his mind.  The question is, has he?  To get a taste of things to come, here’s an excerpt from the book.  And for more information visit www.afnclarke.com or the Amazon Kindle store.

There is something so totally desolate about sitting in a prison cell staring at the blank grey walls that, unless you’ve experienced it, you’ll never understand. There is a finality and hopelessness that is almost beyond comprehension. A despair that sucks at your soul. My salvation was that I knew that my stay here was going to be short-lived, but what the future held was one big question mark. I had the distinct feeling somebody had put a ring in my nose and was leading on a mystery tour with more questions than answers.

Left alone with just the usual sounds of dissatisfied inmates, clinking keys and slamming doors for company, I thought back to the frantic last few days.

Confusion would be an apt description of my state of mind.

What facts could I scramble together?

Several dead bodies at Morgan’s ranch.

A small but ruthless Mexican Mafia gangbanger, with the unlikely nickname of ‘El Cobra Poco’, who seemed as if he could be a strange ally.

And the mysterious Robert Sutherland.

What other questions remained?

There were many, starting with who would have wanted to kill Morgan? Everything went back to my request for her to investigate the financial dealings of the Griffin Trust and its Chairman Ted Lieberman.

How was the Mexican Mafia involved if what Sutherland said about Morgan working for him was true?

I could just lie here all night long and create imaginary scenarios, but that wouldn’t supply any answers, so I closed my eyes and concentrated on emptying my mind.

Sleep was what I needed.

It must have been two hours after the jail cell lights went out, that the goons came for me. Dragged me off the bed and frog marched me down the corridor to the back of the jail and down narrow stairs to a basement garage without saying a word. There was a nondescript cream coloured painter’s van waiting with the rear doors open, and I was unceremoniously bundled inside.

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Genre – Thriller

Rating – PG-13

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Website http://www.afnclarke.com/

10 Things You Didn't Know About BEYOND NEANDERTHAL by @BrianB_Aust #Thriller #TBR

1. Beyond Neanderthal  was written and published months before the Global Financial Crisis manifested, but in Chapter 1 it was made clear that a crisis was coming and why.
2. The hilarious scene where Patrick tells Samantha about his experiences on the island of Skiathos actually happened to my wife, Denise and me when we were there on holidays – of course, the way Patrick told it was embellished with author’s license.
3. The story’s insights into Muslim thought processes were partially facilitated by the fact that, for many years, I sat on the Board of Directors of a Muslim family owned business. It was franchisor of kebab stores and it brought me into direct contact with a diverse range of the family’s friends and business associates.
4. The scene with Tara and Patrick flying through the Bermuda triangle describes reported physical results that were claimed to be demonstrated and photographed in laboratory experiments by a Canadian by the name of John Hutchison. Knowing about these experiments I scoured the internet looking for reports regarding the Bermuda Triangle and discovered that every one of Hutchison’s reported experiments had at least one matching story that had been reported by pilots who had flown through the Triangle.
5. The house that Patrick and Tara stayed at in the Samana peninsular actually exists. I wrote to the owner of this holiday home and asked him about terms. The owner – who was an ex airline pilot living in France - was a great help in providing me with details of life in that area.
6. A book called Noah’s Ark and the Ziusudra Epic , by Robert M Best, “presented itself” to me as if synchronously whilst I was writing Beyond Neanderthal. It offered a fascinating view of the Sumerian numbering system that existed at the time of Great Floods that geological research has validated occurred across the planet about 5,000 years ago. Using that numbering system – instead of the decimal system we have today – Best recalculated the ages of all the patriarchs from Noah and before him (including Methuselah) and recalculated the year in which Adam was supposedly born as 3,113 BCE; which happened to coincide exactly with the start date of the Mayan Calendar. I wrote to Best to ask about it and he had never heard of the Mayan Calendar. He said it was “a coincidence”.
7. Speaking of coincidences, Beyond Neanderthal’s original name was “Blue Amber”. A friend and ex-mentor of Denise’s in matters relating to “The Higher Self” had suggested I let my proposed novel be about Blue Amber. I had never heard of Blue Amber and only after I started researching it did the idea of the Bermuda Triangle come to me. As I already had an interest in “alternative energies” I saw how I would be able to craft a story that encompassed both subjects. Philosophical ruminations in my younger years presented me with tangential ideas, and the storyline evolved with other “coincidences” manifesting along the way.
8. Denise was convinced that when I was “in the zone” of writing, I was actually connecting to my Higher Self. I don’t fully understand these things but I mention this because ideas just seemed to flow when I was in the zone. When that happened – which didn’t happen often, but often enough to be remarkable – it was almost as if I was channelling information.
9. I knew that a particular scene was good if it “felt” right. Often I had to rewrite a scene more than once to achieve this outcome. Some parts of the book were written only once whilst others were written and re-written several times.
10. My editor taught me a trick when she was editing the book. When I presented her with the completed manuscript she told me to go through it and highlight the entire manuscript in three colours: “Red” for what had to stay in the storyline on a not negotiable basis, “Orange” for what would be nice to have but not essential, and “Green” for stuff that, if was deleted, I wouldn’t even care. That enabled both me and her to see what was important from a reader’s perspective and made the job of editing much easier. She concentrated on making damned sure that the Red highlighted information was attractive and easy to read and she checked punctuation and sentence structure in the orange colour, often coming up with creative ideas for a scene. Green highlighted wording was treated with less microscopic attention and much of it was deleted.

There is an energy force in the world—known to the Ancients—that has largely escaped the interest of the modern day world. Why? There are allusions to this energy in the Chinese I-Ching, in the Hebrew Torah, in the Christian Bible, in the Hindu Sanskrit Ramayana and in the Muslim Holy Qur'an. Its force is strongest within the Earth's magnetic triangles.

Near one of these--the Bermuda Triangle--circumstances bring together four very different people. Patrick Gallagher is a mining engineer searching for a viable alternative to fossil fuels; Tara Geoffrey, an airline pilot on holidays in the Caribbean; Yehuda Rosenberg, a physicist preoccupied with ancient history; and Mehmet Kuhl, a minerals broker, a Sufi Muslim with an unusual past. Can they unravel the secrets of the Ancients that may also hold the answer to the future of civilization?

About the Author:

In 1987, Brian and his young family migrated from South Africa to Australia where he was employed in Citicorp’s Venture Capital division. He was expecting that Natural Gas would become the world’s next energy paradigm but, surprisingly, it was slow in coming. He then became conscious of the raw power of self-serving vested interests to trump what – from an ethical perspective – should have been society’s greater interests.

Eventually, in 2005, with encouragement from his long suffering wife, Denise, he decided to do something about what he was witnessing: Beyond Neanderthal was the result; The Last Finesse is the prequel.

The Last Finesse is Brian’s second factional novel. Both were written for the simultaneous entertainment and invigoration of the thinking element of society. It is a prequel to Beyond Neanderthal, which takes a visionary view of humanity’s future, provided we can sublimate our Neanderthal drive to entrench pecking orders in society. The Last Finesse is more “now” oriented. Together, these two books reflect a holistic, right brain/left brain view of the challenges faced by humanity; and how we might meet them. All our problems – including the mountain of debt that casts its shadow over the world’s wallowing economy – are soluble.

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Thriller

Rating – MA (15+)

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Connect with Brian Bloom on Twitter

#Author JB McCauley Shares How to Avoid the Rejection Blues @MccauleyJay #WriteTip #AmWriting

How to Avoid the Rejection Blues
 
Being a writer, makes one constantly aware of how little people care when reading your book if it is not their cup of tea. Rejection is part and parcel of life. You cannot avoid it. People and their reading ability, their enjoyment of the subject matter, their engagement with your work, is all very subjective. You cannot control people’s feelings. You cannot control their perceptions. Rejection forms a major part of their reaction. How you handle that is how you handle life itself. If you can’t handle rejection then you are in the wrong game. Publishers habitually ignore, dismiss and reject on the basis of nothing more than a whim. Just ask JK Rowling. She needed to beg borrow and steal just to survive. No one wanted to know her. No one wanted to care. It was her own resilience and self-belief that got her through varying levels of rejection.

And it is not always the work that is the problem. It could be the circles you move in. It could be the subject matter is not fashionable. It could be that there is so much content out there that your voice will always struggle to be heard. If you honestly believe that your work is credible then you must believe in the process. Walls are hard to break down. Opinions are difficult to change. Eventually however one person, one voice, one idea will surface to support your work. There is no such thing as an overnight success. Despite what you read. Despite what you hear. There is no fast track to success. To celebrate an achievement, to reach a goal, to deliver on promises, you have to work at it. Nothing comes easy. If it does then you are not trying.

As a writer I can only suggest you soldier on. Never be afraid to learn and always give it your very best shot and then, if people still say no, at least you have tried. Luck is always a major part of the game but I believe you create the atmosphere for that love to manifest itself. If you work at it your ship will come but only if you work at it.

Rejection? Treat it like a badge of honour. It makes us who we are.

The King of Sunday Morning is a geezer. Not in the traditional sense of the word as in old man. This geezer is a face, a wannabe, a top notch bloke. He is the greatest DJ that never was. He should have been. Could have been. Would have been. Now becoming a has-been.

Tray McCarthy was born into privilege but with the genetic coding of London’s violent East End. Having broken the underworld’s sacred honour code, it is only his family’s gangland connections that save him. But in return for his life, he must deny that which he has ever known or ever will be and runs to Australia where he is forced to live an inconsequential life.

But trouble never strays far from Tray McCarthy and eventually his past and present collide to put everyone he has ever loved in danger. He must now make a stand and fight against those that are set to destroy him and play their game according to his rules.

Set against the subterfuge and violence of the international drugs trade, The King of Sunday Morning is the tale of what can go wrong when you make bad decisions. Tray McCarthy has made some of the worst. He must now save those he holds dear but in the process gets trapped deeper and deeper into a world where he doesn’t belong.

“I want three pump-action shotguns, about twelve sticks of dynamite and a blowtorch”

THIS BOOK CONTAINS EXPLICIT LANGUAGE, FREQUENT DRUG USE AND SEX SCENES – NOT RECOMMENDED FOR PEOPLE UNDER 18 YEARS OF AGE

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Genre – Thriller, Action, Suspense, Gangster, Crime, Music

Rating – PG-18

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Rik Stone Gives Practical Advice for Fiction Writers @stone_rik #amwriting #writetip

Practical Advice for Beginning Fiction Writers

The truth of the matter is a full length manuscript is nothing more than an expanded short story. And a short story is a blown up account of something that interested you over coffee, or in a pub, or a musing on the way to work, a joke, an anecdote, a newspaper article, an idea of what you might have done if you’d won the latest lottery (we’ve all been there). The source is endless. But whatever it is you come up with, it should have a beginning, middle and an ending. Obvious maybe, but having a complete idea of what you want before putting pen to paper is important. 

The Story: A writer formulates a tale from a basic idea and helps it grow; no one sees every word, line, or chapter of their text in the preamble of thought. At some point it might take on a life of its own where you feel your hand is merely being guided, but that can’t happen until you’ve made a start. Write your idea down in its simplest form. As I said, it needs a beginning, middle and an ending. Beginning; Tom falls for Mary and she likes him too. But Mary is seeing a boy called Harry. Middle: Harry is a bully and Mary has been afraid to break up with him for as long as she can remember. Tom is no hero but feels compelled to be with Mary. Ending: Tom is forced to stand up to Harry. Things go wrong; Harry gives Tom a good thrashing. But this gives Mary the strength to dump Harry and go off into the sunset with Tom… Not a blockbuster in the making, I’m sure, but you can see where I’m going. Those few short sentences provide a skeleton to put flesh on. Now you have your own idea written down, think about it before going further. It’s better to rearrange the bare bones before you have to start pulling flesh out the way to get at them.

Research: Okay, the words flowed, your ideas were brilliant – but were they accurate? Unless you’re writing something like Sci-fi or fantasy there is a high probability that your narrative will incorporate real events – make sure what you write is correct else the reader will lose belief in your ability: try to use more than one source to verify your work.

Patience equals quality: You finish your tale, great, you’re excited, the world of readers must see it, and they must see it now. Nope! From my own standing, you must complete at least 4 drafts – up to you, but that’s my unwritten rule. Done it, good, but you’re not finished. The work should be edited by a pro, and that even goes for the pro editor who writes; it is too easy to overlook your own mistakes. You’ve got it back from your editor – rewrite. Do not look at it and say they were wrong. They might be, but their interpretation is how they understood your written word, so if they didn’t get what you meant then you probably didn’t make it clear. Accept the criticism, that’s what you paid for. 

Finished: Not yet, you’ve rewritten the book and you love it. It couldn’t be better. So how come it isn’t finished? Well, it might be, but you’ve just messed about with work that has been professionally edited and the quality might have taken a dip. Pay out to have it copy-edited/proof read. The few extra pennies you spend will be worth it.

Done it all? Great, you’re finished – good luck with the next steps.

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.

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Genre - Thriller, Crime, Suspense

Rating – R

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Website http://rik-stone.simdif.com