DISCOVER FANTASY BLOG TOUR STOP

Hello wonderful readers of my blog~~~~~today I’m welcoming David Brown who is going to do a guest post for his Discover Fantasy Blog Tour

 

Fantasy but a Realistic Type of Fantasy

It wasn’t a difficult decision to choose the sci-fi/fantasy genre as the one I wanted my novels to be set in. I’ve always loved both, fantasy in particular, but although I have heroes such as Tolkien, Pratchett and Goodkind to look up to I never wanted to just try and be like them. If I was going to write fantasy I wanted to do it less my way but more in a different way.

If anyone asked me whether Elenchera would be a great place to take a holiday I would offer a resounding no in response. Like our world, Elenchera has many wonderful places, lands of scenic beauty, dense forests, snow-tipped mountains, crystalline lakes, golden fields and rolling hills, but those that live there find that life is very hard. I wanted a level of realism amidst that fantasy. Yes, you can procure and use magic in Elenchera but at a very severe price. Even gods that live in the early ages of history are not as omnipotent as they think they are. Elenchera has rules but I don’t want any loopholes that will leave the reader feeling cheated or that it was all too easy.

My aim in writing fantasy is to put the emphasis on the characters and push the world into the background. Each Elenchera novel will convey some of the world’s history, just a taster, but a reader’s main focus will be the characters and the many struggles they must overcome in search of the kind of lives they wish to lead.

Elenchera is a gritty place but it’s not designed to make readers miserable. I wanted a world which, while fantastical, mirrors our own in many ways. Life is undoubtedly hard for so many of us. Some fare better than others, while many struggle, but amidst those extremes are always inspirational stories and I wanted Elenchera to be the same. The individuals depicted here often come from ordinary backgrounds. They are not perfect. I don’t believe in characters without flaws and the ones in Elenchera are always striving to overcome their inhibitions but some are more successful than others. The stories I tell may not seem out of place in our world but they just happen to be in Elenchera.

Fantasy is a genre I feel most comfortable writing in but my love of history cannot help but infiltrate the pages of Elenchera novels. I was indebted to our own world history in building Elenchera across more than ten years. There are the same struggles for power here, times of war and peace, love, friendship, family and adventures for many of the characters. I want to give the reader characters they will love and hate, stories they can lose themselves in and reach out and show them that the fantasy genre is rich and varied. No longer is it about wizards and dragons.

DISCOVER FANTASY TOUR MAIN LINK

 

DASTARDLY BASTARD BLOG TOUR

TODAY, I’M WELCOMING EDWARD LORN TO MY PAGE FOR HIS DASTARDLY BASTARD BLOG TOUR AND GUEST POST.

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Dastardly Bastard

Written by Edward Lorn

The Dastardly Bastard of Waverly Chasm does gleefully scheme of malevolent things. Beware, child fair, of what you find there. His lies how they hide in the shadows he wears. ’Cross wreckage of bridge is where this man lives. Counting his spoils, his eye how it digs. Tread, if you dare, through his one-eyed stare. This Dastardly Bastard is neither here, nor there...

Located twenty miles east of the town of Bay's End, Waverly Chasm awaits.

Seven people embark on a tour of Waverly Chasm. The excursion soon turns into a struggle for survival when evil awakens.

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Supernatural Vs. Can-Happen Fiction

 

As far back as I can remember, my mother has had a bookshelf filled with terrific stories. Stephen King shows up more prominently than any other author. The way she tells the tale, is that a friend loaned her a copy of The Stand, and she became an immediate fan. She's told me on more than one occasion, "It was the way he described a character opening a stick of gum that did it for me." I know exactly how she feels.

My mother's collection of King's work was mainly obtained through The Stephen King Book Club. Every month, a new nondescript brown box would show up, just to be secreted away. I'd notice from time to time that there were new books on the shelf, but they were always set too far up for me to reach. But like the fabled cat, curiosity got the better of me. So one afternoon, after staking out the mailbox for what seemed like an entire week, I absconded with the newest delivery, hid in my closet with a flashlight, and tore that packaging to shreds. Inside, Stephen King's book, Dolores Claiborne, sat waiting to be read. I devoured that book. But for me, the kicker wasn't anything as subtle as the opening of a gum wrapper, but a man thrown down a well. He didn't die right away. Dolores could hear her husband down there scratching away at the walls, begging to be released. I was terrified. But I was also taught a very valuable lesson.

 

You can scare with a can-happen story.

 

I was a huge fan of every Universal Monster and B-movie atrocity that I could find. Creatures, beasts, and evil science experiments were my favorite reading material. So, why was it that King's story of an abused woman scared me so bad? Because it could happen. Before I read Dolores Claiborne, I believed horror was only managed through supernatural events. Once I realized that everyday horrors could entertain, my entire world changed.

 

And then I read Stephen King's It. After I finished Dolores Claiborne, It arrived the next month (I realize It was published before Dolores Claiborne but that's just how the book club worked back then). It took me almost a year to read, not because the book is almost 1200 pages, but because I kept having to stop for fear of recurring nightmares. Pennywise the Clown didn't bother me—I've never had a problem with clowns—but the way the monster kept changing into different phobias freaked me out. In the end, what kept me reading was the real life, can-happen elements: The Loser's Club and their friendship, Henry Bowers and his inherent evil, Bev's insane, abusive father. It made me realize that to make the supernatural scary, you must base it in reality. Once again, another lesson learned.

 

I tried to implement these lessons with my second novel, Dastardly Bastard. My monster is supernatural, but the being uses its preys’ humanity against them. Without the can-happen horrors of the group's pasts, there would be no connection to the horror. Hopefully, I succeeded.

 

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Edward Lorn is an American horror author presently residing somewhere in the southeast United States.

He enjoys storytelling, reading, and writing biographies in the third person.

Other books by Edward Lorn:

Bay’s End

Three After

FIND DASTARDLY BASTARD AT THE FOLLOWING RETAILERS:

Dastardly Bastard (Amazon)
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Dastardly Bastard (Barnes and Noble)
Dastardly Bastard (Smashwords)

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LAUREN CARR INTERVIEW AND GIVEAWAY

TODAY I’M WELCOMING LAUREN CARR TO MY BLOG FOR AN INTERVIEW AND BOOK GIVEAWAY. AFTER READING THE INTERVIEW, SCROLL DOWN TO THE BOTTOM FOR THE RAFFLECOPTER FORM FOR ENTRY TO WIN. WINNER’S CHOICE: 1 PRINT COPY (USA ONLY) OR 1 ECOPY (OPEN TO USA AND INTERNATIONAL)

Lauren Carr

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In Shades of Murder, Mac Faraday is once again the heir to an unbelievable fortune. This time the benefactor is a stolen art collector. But this isn’t just any stolen work-of-art—it’s a masterpiece with a murder attached to it.
Ilysa Ramsay was in the midst of taking the art world by storm. Hours after unveiling her latest masterpiece—she is found dead in her Deep Creek Lake studio—and her painting is nowhere to be found. Almost a decade later, the long lost Ilysa Ramsay masterpiece has found its way into Mac Faraday’s hands and he can’t resist the urge to delve into the case.
In Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, former JAG lawyer Joshua Thornton agrees to do a favor for the last person he would ever expect to do a favor—a convicted serial killer. The Favor: Solve the one murder wrongly attributed to him.
In Shades of Murder, author Lauren Carr tackles the task of penning two mysteries with two detectives in two different settings and bringing them together to find one killer. “What can I say?” Carr says. “I love mysteries and mystery writing. Two cases are twice the fun.”
In her fifth mystery, Lauren Car brings back her first literary detective while introducing a new one. In Shades of Murder, Joshua Thornton teams up with Cameron Gates, a spunky detective who has reason to believe the young woman listed as the victim of a serial killer was murdered by a copycat. Together, Joshua and Cameron set out to light a flame under the cold case only to find that someone behind the scenes wants the case to remain cold, and is willing to kill to keep it that way.
“Readers of my first series kept asking when I would bring back Joshua Thornton,” Carr explained. “However, they are going to find that single father Joshua Thornton is not in the same place since we left him in A Reunion to Die For. His children are grown. He’s more independent, and he’s ready for some romance and adventure. That’s where Cameron Gates comes in.”
With that, Joshua Thornton, Cameron Gates, and Mac Faraday all land together in Deep Creek Lake. Little do these detectives know that the paths of their respective cases are on a collision course as they follow the clues to bring them together in a showdown with killer who’s got a talent for murder!

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What/who inspired you to become a writer??
I believe writers are born. They are always writing. My earliest memories are rewriting the Bobbsey Twins after reading it. Instead of looking for a lost bracelet, they were hunting down a kidnapper.



Do you have a favorite genre of book that you like to read/write? If so, why??
Mysteries. Hands down. I consider mysteries word puzzles. They’re like jagsaw puzzles only with clues. The fun in reading them is putting it together. The fun in writing them is to take the murder, and tear the mystery apart and then scatter the pieces throughout the book.

What helping aids do you use to focus when you write? Music?? Nature???
Silence. It used to be music. Classic Rock and Roll. But now, I write in silence, with my dogs (what I call my Muses) at me feet. My dogs, Ziggy and Beagle Bailey, follow me everywhere.
What character(s) of your book(s) do you relate to the most??
Tough question. It used to be Joshua Thornton, my first protagonist. In my first two books, the Joshua Thornton mysteries, he was a single father, widowed with five kids. He felt clueless when it came to his children. That reflected me, a new mother at the time.
Now, it is Archie Monday, in the Mac Faraday Mysteries. She’s his spunky side-kick. She literally came with the house that he inherited from his birth mother. She was his late mother’s research assistant and editor. Now, she’s his romantic interested and things keep heating up between them in Shades of Murder.
What words of wisdom would you like to share with aspiring writers like myself?
Never give up. Most of writing is perseverance, from getting the book written, to editing it, to publishing it, to promoting it. There’s a point every step of the way where you want to stop, but you can’t. You have to keep on going if you want to achieve that dream of being an author.

How do you visualize your stories?? In pictures?? Conversations? Dreams?
Dreams. Even when I get to a point where I don’t know what to do next, I will go to sleep and it will come to me.
I find inspiration for my books everywhere. Someone can be late for an appointment and I’ll be thinking, “Supposed she was kidnapped and murdered by the garbage man, who ended up being a long lost uncle and she’s the only living heir …” Or maybe I’ll overhear someone talking in the booth behind me while waiting for my husband to meet for lunch. They may be gossiping about a co-worker, but in my writer’s mind, I’ll twist and turn it around until I come up with a dead body found in the lunchroom at Petco.
What are your writing goals for the next 5 years??
I am now working a new series, Lovers in Crime. In that, I bring together two characters I introduced in Shades of Murder: Joshua Thornton and Cameron Gates. Dead on Ice will be out this fall. I would like to see one of my series become a television series, possibly on Hallmark Mysteries.
How long did it take you to write Shades of Murder? What/who inspired these books??
Shades of Murder took about a year to write, and I went through several drafts before I came to the final storyline that it is now.
Since I was going back to Joshua Thornton, my first protagonist in the Joshua Thornton Mysteries, I had to really think about him and where he would be in his life now. It’s been five years since I had written A Reunion to Die For. Not only am I in a different place, so is Joshua. His children are leaving the nest. He’s got more independence and is ready for some romance in his life. He’s not the same protagonist that he was when I wrote A Small Case of Murder. He’s ready to lighten up now, which I’ve done myself.
I had been asked by fans of the Joshua Thornton Mysteries to bring back Joshua. So I decided to include him into this Mac Faraday mystery. Since Joshua and Mac don’t know each other, I had to come up with two murder mysteries that, on the surface, don’t appear to be connected, and then bring them together. Coming up with this puzzle was not only a challenge, but a lot of fun.
Mac is a homicide detective whose wife leaves him and takes everything. On the day his divorce becomes final, he inherits $270 million dollars and an estate on Deep Creek Lake.
In Shades of Murder, he inherits a stolen painting that had disappeared the night its artist was murdered. So he starts investigating that case on Deep Creek Lake. Meanwhile, Joshua is working on a cold case of a Jane Doe murdered in Pittsburgh. They come together in the middle of the book.
Shades of Murder actually introduces two characters that I will use in my next book, Dead on Ice, which will come out this fall: Joshua Thornton and Cameron Gates.
If you could have dinner with someone dead or alive, famous or not famous, who would it be and why??
Agatha Christie and Earl Stanley Gardner. I consider them the masters. I jump up and dance on Cloud Nine anytime a reviewer compares me to Agatha Christie, who I am pleased to say, a few have. That makes my whole week.
Let's do something fun...write something about each of the next 10 words in 10 words or less.

Movement: Life
Fantasy: Can become a reality of you stick to it.
Chaos: Youth
Energy: Something I’m going to lose if it don’t use it.
Balance: Something you get after 50.
Synchronicity: An unobtainable goal in marriage.
Imagination: Use wisely.
Invention: What I do when cooking.
Freedom: You have it. All you have to do is look.
Intelligence: Is a terrible thing to waste.
What made you decide to jump on the E-book trade?? And how do you feel about it??
I was asked. My first two books, A Small Case of Murder and A Reunion to Die For were first generation e-books. I received an e-mail from amazon inviting me to upload them for e-book sale. You could say I was a pioneer. Okay, I did not invent E-books, but I certainly followed closely behind the lead wagon.
Back then, we are talking 2007, soon after A Reunion to Die For came out. At that time, I uploaded them in pdf format. They were available and selling for years. I forgot about them. This was even before the KDP site was up. Then, one day a couple of years ago, I see a horrible review for A Reunion to Die For because of the formatting. The technology had changed so much, and Amazon was still using that pdf that they converted to Kindle, but it did not convert well. I reformatted both A Reunion to Die For and A Small Case of Murder and uploaded them.
If you found yourself on a deserted island, what 10 things would you take and why?
So I’m willingly going to a desert island? As if I plan to be there? Well, my two dogs would be there. So I need to bring dog food, dog beds, dog treats. Will this island have leash laws or can I let them run free.
That leaves the laptop, sun screen, ice cream, coffee, and Kindle for me.
How do you write your books?? Are you by the seat of your pants writer or do you plot out your books in advance??
I plan my books in advance, but in my head. During that process, I will write a loose outline, which I usually don’t refer to because I help to get it straight in my head. Then I sit down and write by the seat of my pants.
And last by not least, if you could time travel what period of the history of future would you go to??
I’d love to go back to the 1940’s or 50’s and be a screenwriter in Hollywood writing movies like Alfred Hitchcock or turning Agatha Christie’s books into movies on the silver screen.
Feel free to any other interesting tidbits about yourself :) Please include your social media links.
Contest! Contest! Contest!
This fall, Dead on Ice, the first installment in a new series entitled the Lovers in Crime Mystery, will be released. This book brings back Joshua Thornton and Cameron Gates, who we first meet in Shades of Murder.
In Dead on Ice, Cameron investigates the murder of a female porn star, whose mummified body turns up in an abandoned freezer found in Joshua’s cousin’s basement.
From June 1-July 31, I am holding a contest to Name the Porn Star! The winner will win autographed copies of all three Mac Faraday Mysteries, and a copy of Dead on Ice, which will be released Fall 2012. (E-pub or print, winner’s choice. Print versions are only available for winners in the US)
The contest is to provide both a stage name (naughty is okay, but it must be clean) and the real name of the murder victim in Dead on Ice. E-mail your suggestions to me (writerlaurencarr@comcast.net). Put Name the Porn Star in the subject line. Please include contact information, including mailing address and phone number.
Bio:
Lauren Carr fell in love with mysteries when her mother read Perry Mason to her at bedtime. The first installment in the Joshua Thornton mysteries, A Small Case of Murder was a finalist for the Independent Publisher Book Award. A Reunion to Die For was released in hardback in June 2007. Both of these books are in re-release.
Lauren is also the author of the Mac Faraday Mysteries, which takes place in Deep Creek Lake, Maryland. The first two books in her series, It’s Murder, My Son and Old Loves Die Hard have been getting rave reviews from readers and reviewers. Lauren’s fifth mystery, Shades of Murder has been receiving rave reviews since its release.
Lauren’s sixth book, Dead on Ice, will be released in Fall 2012. Dead on Ice will introduce a new series entitled Lovers in Crime, in which Joshua Thornton will join forces with homicide detective Cameron Gates.
The owner of Acorn Book Services, Lauren is also a publishing manager, consultant, editor, cover and layout designer, and marketing agent for independent authors. This spring, two books written by independent authors will be released through the management of Acorn Book Services.
Lauren is a popular speaker who has made appearances at schools, youth groups, and on author panels at conventions. She also passes on what she has learned in her years of writing and publishing by conducting workshops and teaching in community education classes.
She lives with her husband, son, and two dogs on a mountain in Harpers Ferry, WV.
Visit Lauren’s websites and blog at:
E-Mail: writerlaurencarr@comcast.net
Website: http://acornbookservices.com/
http://mysterylady.net/
Blog: Literary Wealth: http://literarywealth.wordpress.com/
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/lauren.carr.984991
Gnarly’s Facebook Page: http://www.facebook.com/GnarlyofMacFaradayMysteries
Twitter: @TheMysteryLadie
YouTube: Shades of Murder Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WwOm59Wxgmg a Rafflecopter giveaway

WAITING FOR DAYBREAK BLOG TOUR

Today, I’m turning over my blog to the wonderful Amanda McNeil.

I hope you enjoy the guest post and excerpt of Waiting for Daybreak. 

Amanda has been gracious enough to offer 1 lucky commenter an ecopy of her book.

SCROLL DOWN TO THE RAFFLECOPTER FORM BELOW FOR ENTRY TO WIN AN E-COPY OF WAITING FOR DAYBREAK.

CONTEST ENDS JULY 30TH, 2012

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Waiting For Daybreak started with a simple question: what if instead of being the minority, the only people left were people struggling with mental illnesses? From that simple what-if moment, the entire world and story of Frieda evolved.
Frieda is surrounded by zombies. For the most part, this zombie virus is typical, but there’s one key difference. The virus only affects the mentally healthy. So, since Frieda has Borderline Personality Disorder, she’s immune. She just has to avoid being eaten.
A lot of post-apocalyptic works explore how a mentally stable person is slowly driven crazy by their situation. I decided to flip this on its head. Frieda’s situation helps her overcome her mental illness. She goes from self-loathing, crippling depression, and an inability to successfully advocate for herself to people to growing and becoming a more complete person.
I think too often post-apocalyptic stories go to a dark place and stay there. I wanted to use the scifi genre settings I love to tell a story that does the opposite. I’m a big believer in the basic concept that struggles and tribulations lead to triumph. People with mental illnesses struggle with a dark, scary world that others don’t have to face every day. I hope that this book can help others experience that and empathize, but also give some hope to those for whom mental illness isn’t a story; it’s a part of their life.

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Excerpt:
My eyes have adjusted to the dark in a way they never used to back when Boston was perpetually lit with street lamps. Losing electricity was actually the thing that bugged me the least about the whole incident. Guess that's one way being raised in the country prepared me for this. A bottle of vodka sits next to me. Although I know it's almost purely superstition, I drink it whenever I worry that I'm getting sick or have been exposed to something. My daddy always said that alcohol is better for you than any medicine. Smiling, I take a swig, and it gives the old familiar pleasant burn down my throat. That's one positive thing about society falling apart. So much free liquor from raiding the package stores. Plus you don't have to keep it refrigerated like beer.
I set the bottle down and grasp my therapy journal. The entries used to be so full of anger. Why me? Why is my brain like this? Why did she do this to me? I can't trust anyone. Now it veers more toward, I'm so alone. Anger has a hard time staying bottled up inside you when you have to physically fight to stay alive. Instead of battling the world in my brain, I'm battling it in reality.
The world went crazy, and I got saner. That's the definition of irony right there. Or maybe it's just all relative. Anyone would look sane compared to the Afflicted. Not to mention compared to the politicians and military strategists who got us into this mess to start with.
I take another swig, swishing it around in my mouth before swallowing.
I always had a sneaking suspicion that all that drama with the Middle East would lead to no good, but of course I never would say so. People would only accuse me of being pessimistic at best and racist at worst. In fact, it has nothing to do with what I think about people in the Middle East. It has everything to do with what I think about politicians. They're power-crazy assholes, each and every one of them. They step on us little people willy-nilly in their power-crazy trips, and people who normally would just shrug at each other's existence, or even be friends, are informed by politicians that they are enemies. Too bad not enough people realized it to stand up to the big bullies before they went and ruined everything.
I catch myself in the obsessive loop and stop. No use crying over spilled milk, I tell myself. No use crying over spilled milk.
Obsessively thinking the same thing over and over again is a symptom of my illness, and it happens more when I'm bored. It used to bug me, but now it just helps pass the time. It's hard to explain the obsessive thoughts to someone who's never suffered from them. They fly by at break-neck speed in a circle that catches you in its loop like a snare, and you're flying around as if you're caught on a demonic merry-go-round.
One that I come back to quite frequently:
If I hadn't called in sick to work because I was depressed because I'd dissociated the night before then I would have been at the epicenter of the outbreak in Boston. I wonder if I would have survived? Did I only survive because I dissociated the night before? If I hadn't called in sick to work because I was depressed....
Dissociation. It was always the number one issue I had with my illness back before the incident, and now it's still my number one fear. Blacking out. No recollection of entire portions of my life where I'm still moving around and doing things. If the reports from people who were present for my dissociative moments before the incident are any indication, I don't tend to make smart decisions when dissociating. I'm rash, angry, and violent. Heck, if my brains were leaking out my nose you could probably mistake me for one of the Afflicted. You can probably see why this behavior isn't the best for survival when surrounded by an apocalyptic society still booby-trapped with the Afflicted. On the other hand, rash, angry, and violent could make for some seriously awesome Afflicted ass-kicking. Maybe that's really why I've survived this long.

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Author Bio:
Amanda is an energetic, masters degree educated, 20-something happily living in an attic apartment in Boston with her shelter-adopted cat. She writes horror, scifi, paranormal romance, literary fiction, and urban fantasy. She has previously published short stories and a novella.
FIND AMANDA ON THE WEB:
GoodReads, Amazon, LibraryThing, Author’s Blog, Author’s Twitter, Pinterest a Rafflecopter giveaway

THE COLOR OF SNOW SPOTLIGHT

GREETINGS, ALL FELLOW BOOKWORMS, TODAY I’M DOING A SPOTLIGHT ON  THE COLOR OF SNOW. PLEASE ENJOY THE EXCERPT AS WELL AS THE GUEST POST .

FEEL FREE TO PASS ON TO YOUR OTHER BOOKISH FRIENDS

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The Color of Snow web site:
http://the-color-of-snow.blogspot.com/

The Color of Snow Twitter hashtag:
#TheColorOfSnow
The Color of Snow GoodReads page:
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13456512-the-color-of-snow
Brenda Stanley's Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/brenda.baumgartnerstanley
Brenda Stanley's Twitter:
http://twitter.com/#!/myauthorlife
Brenda Stanley's Website:
http://www.brendastanleybooks.net/
Brenda Stanley's GoodReads:
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4086376.Brenda_Stanley

Tribute Books website:
http://www.tribute-books.com
Tribute Books Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Archbald-PA/Tribute-Books/171628704176
Tribute Books Twitter:
http://www.twitter.com/TributeBooks
Tribute Books Blog Tours Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Tribute-Books-Blog-Tours/242431245775186

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The Color of Snow Summary

Can a troubled young girl reenter society after living in isolation?
When a beautiful 16-year-old girl named Sophie is found sequestered in a cage-like room in a rundown house in the desolate hills of Arbon Valley, Idaho, the entire community is shocked to learn she is the legendary Callidora--a baby girl who was kidnapped from her crib almost seventeen years ago and canonized in missing posters with portraits of what the fabled girl might resemble. Authorities soon learn that the cage was there to protect people from Sophie, because her biological father believes she is cursed.
Sophie is discovered after the man she knows as Papa, shoots and injures Damien, a young man who is trying to rescue her. Now, unsocialized and thrust into the world, and into a family she has never met, Sophie must decide whether she should accept her Papa’s claims that she is cursed and he was only trying to protect others, or trust the new people in her life who have their own agendas. Guided by a wise cousin, Sophie realizes that her most heartbreaking challenge is to decide if her love for Damien will destroy him like her Papa claims, or free her from past demons that haunt her mind.

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Brenda Stanley's Bio:

Brenda Stanley is the former news anchor at her NBC affiliate KPVI in Eastern Iadho. Her writing has been recognized by the Scripps Howard Foundation, the Hearst Journalism Awards, the Idaho Press Club and the Society for Professional Journalists. She is a graduate of Dixie College in St. George, Utah, and the University of Utah in Salt Lake City. Brenda lived for two years in Ballard, Utah, within the Fort Duchesne reservation where the novel is set. She and her husband live on a small ranch near the Snake River with their horses and dogs.

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eBook
ISBN: 9780983741893
ISBN: 9781476172309
Pages: 413
Release: June 1, 2012

Kindle buy link - $2.99
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00873ASTK?tag=tributebooks-20
Nook buy link - $4.95
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PDF buy link - $4.95
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Guest Post by Brenda Stanley
The Color of Snow has been described as dark or mysterious.  I feel most of my writing fits this description because I enjoy looking at the strange and unusual things in life.  My novel will definitely make some people uncomfortable.  I like to look at situations and issues and try to figure out how people will react.  For years I was a crime reporter, so I enjoy investigating stories and learning about the parts of life most people try to hide.  When I wrote The Color of Snow, I was working on a story about a young girl who went missing years ago and has never been found.  I started thinking about what would happen if she were to suddenly show up now.  I loved putting myself in Sophie’s shoes and seeing things for the first time.
Sophie’s relationship with Damien is both intense and tempered.  Her father has raised her to believe that she will destroy anyone who truly loves her, so she is torn between her love for Damien and her fear of causing him harm.
The story changes between what is going on with Sophie and what happened in her parent’s past that brought her to where she is.  I wanted readers to experience the often isolated feeling of living in a vast rural area, but also the mental confinement of a small town.
Mental illness, teen pregnancy, religious intolerance, and racism are all big parts of The Color of Snow.  I like my characters to face challenges and see them grow from them.  It is not only the conflicts with the other characters that keeps the story going, but also those within the person’s own mind.
I wanted Sophie to be unusually beautiful so that people treated her strangely and therefore made her feel even more alien when she is first discovered.  She has transformed from a tragic kidnapping victim to a mythical ghost from the past and this makes her transition into her new life even more difficult.
My ties to the Mormon Church go back to my great-great grandparents.  I was raised in the teachings of the Mormon religion and even though I am no longer a member, I have many friends and family who are still very active in the church.  My descriptions of the Mormon culture are how I view it and how I feel someone who has never been exposed to it might see it.  I think there are a lot of people who are curious about the Mormon religion and have misconceptions.  I feel I’ve been both candid and fair in my portrayal.

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The Color of Snow Excerpt
Malad, Idaho, early spring 2009
Spring had spread across the fields and pastures. Cottonwood trees fluttered their newly sprouted greenery, and purple asters covered the rolling hills. The snow had melted and Stephanie and I started taking the horses on rides up the valley. It was incredibly liberating to roam and wander without fear.
There was a trail leading from the foothills up into the forest, and once we were in the midst of the wild spruce and lofty pines, the noises of cars and life around the ranch disappeared. The sound of hooves on early spring dirt was solid and steady. The breeze was still crisp, but the sun reached down and warmed our shoulders. For almost an hour we rode in silence. We both were in awe of the day and the splendor that was ours alone to enjoy.
At the top of the hill, the trail opened up to a small plateau and a blue mountain lake. I gasped at the incredible beauty of it. I smiled at Stephanie and she nodded in acknowledgement. Her eyes were bright and her freckles seemed to glow in the sunshine. The horse she rode was a black mare my grandfather was going to sell. Stephanie loved the white diamond-shaped patch on her forehead, and scolded him for even thinking about selling Black Bean. My horse was an old buckskin gelding named Clyde. He lumbered along and rarely went faster than a slow trot, but for a beginner like me he was perfect.
Stephanie turned her horse down the hill and toward the lake. “Do you want to go swimming?” she called back.
“I don’t know how,” I answered.
She giggled as she reached the water’s edge. “You don’t need to. The horses do it all.” Her hair was pulled into two short pigtails and they bounced with each step of her horse.
I waited and watched as she urged Black Bean into the water and out into the lake. As the water got deeper, the splashes became larger around its legs as it pushed forward, and soon they were floating along smoothly.
“Come on!” she yelled, waving me in. She had her legs pulled up on the sides, trying to avoid getting completely soaked. They were pale and freckled like her face, and seemed to make up most of her body. Stephanie wasn’t much taller than I, but her legs and arms were long and made her look gangly and even thinner than she was. She waved so hard she almost fell off the horse, and started laughing as she steadied herself.
It looked like fun, but I was terrified. The water was immense and dark. The largest amount of water I had ever been in was my own bathtub. I wondered what would happen if I fell off in the middle. Stephanie and Black Bean were in the center of the lake and they looked like a serene harmonious duo.
I gave Clyde a slight nudge and he walked to the shoreline. The water lapped as I waited and watched Stephanie continue to beckon. She looked like she was having a marvelous time and wasn’t worried in the least. I patted Clyde and prodded him with the heels of my sneakers. He seemed unconcerned as he clopped loudly into the water. I took a deep breath and told myself to keep looking forward and it would be okay. Clyde had no hesitation, which helped ease my fear.
The sun beat down on us and made splashes of water light up as Clyde moved forward into the water. The splatters that hit my exposed skin were freezing and made me realize how cold it would be if I did fall in. I fixed my eyes on the opposite shoreline and put my faith in Clyde. The horse had a wide back, and as we got deeper into the lake, I curled my legs back the way Stephanie did and clung to his mane. We were riding bareback that day, because Stephanie didn’t want to spend time putting on saddles.
I held my breath as we got further away from the shore and closer to the very center of the lake. At one point I looked down, staring deep into the abyss. There was no bottom, and I felt my stomach turn, knowing I would surely die if I left Clyde’s back.
As the horse rhythmically propelled us along, I began to feel a sense of buoyancy and freedom. When we crossed the center point and were on our way to the other shore, my confidence turned to elation. I started to breathe again and smiled at what I had accomplished. I sat up straight, closed my eyes and imagined I was flying, gliding along on my winged unicorn, soaring through clouds and racing the wind. When I opened my eyes, I giggled at my foolish imagination, but couldn’t help beaming at what an amazing adventure it was.
When the horse’s hooves made contact with the lake bottom and we started to emerge from the water, I wanted to burst from relief and joy. “That was the most wonderful thing ever!”
Stephanie was sitting on a large tree limb that had fallen while her horse munched on fresh new grass beside her. “I didn’t think you’d do it. I’m proud of you.”
“It was so scary, but then it was so amazing.”
“I’m glad you liked it, because that’s how we’re getting back.”
We led the horses to a shaded area and tied them loosely to a tree so they could rest and graze. Stephanie leaned back against a tree and looked out at the incredible view of mountain-lined lake and clear blue sky.
“This is where I go when I can’t stand life anymore. The first time I came here, I tried to kill myself. I stole my dad’s gun and had it all planned out. Then I sat here and looked around at all this and thought...who would care? I’m nothing and no one would miss me, so why do it? That’s when I decided to live for me. I do what makes me happy now and screw the rest of them.”
“You were going to kill yourself. Why?”
Stephanie took a deep, labored sigh. “I didn’t see the point in living. My mom was dead and my dad married that crazy bitch.” She shrugged. “I don’t really fit in anywhere. Even at school, the kids hate me.”
I shook my head. “I don’t believe that. There is no reason to hate you.”
Stephanie scoffed. “You say that because you don’t know any better. You don’t know what normal is. That’s why we get along. I’m a freak, but you’ve never had any friends, so you don’t know how weird I am.” She smiled.
“I’ve had friends,” I protested.
“Really? I thought you were kept alone at that house all the time.”
I nodded.
Stephanie raised an eyebrow. “So, did your dad kidnap kids and bring them home for you play with?”
My eyes went large, but then Stephanie laughed and I realized she was joking. I paused for a moment, trying to pick my words carefully.
“Don’t worry about me telling anyone. Remember, we’re best friends, so you should be able to tell me anything. I’ve never told anyone that I was going to kill myself.”
I looked at her with a mixture of love and concern. “I had two friends. I met them when I was eleven. Their mother worked with my father and they came to our house one day. That’s how they knew I lived there. They lived over the hill from us and they came over while Papa was at work and we played in my yard.” I stopped and smiled at the memory.
“You had to hide them from your father. Why?”
“He was afraid that if people knew I was home alone all day, they would come and take me away.”
“Didn’t it drive you crazy to be alone all the time?”
I shrugged. “Not really. When I met Donny and Damien I was much happier. I didn’t know what it was like to have friends before I met them, so I didn’t realize what I was missing.”
She studied me. “Isn’t Damien the kid your dad shot? Why’d he shoot him? Did he catch him with you?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you just tell him that you two were friends and that it was no big deal?"
“I tried to convince him, but...there is a lot you don’t understand.”
Stephanie gave me a disappointed curl of her lip. “And I won’t be able to understand if you keep everything a secret.”
I stayed silent.
“Sophie, I’ve already told you something that I never told anyone. I trust you because we’re friends. That is what friends do. They trust each other and they tell each other things. Do you think I won’t believe you?”
“No, it’s not that. And I do trust you, but there are things that will sound strange, and I don’t want you to think I’m a monster.”
She laughed. “You are the opposite of a monster. You’re friendly and kind. People would love to be near you.”
I ran the word through my head several times. I wondered if the statement had validity, because if it did, it explained some of the things Papa told me that seemed unimaginable.
“So, what is this big dark secret? You say your father didn’t kidnap you or treat you badly, so why did he keep you locked up in that house hidden away from the world?”
I thought it was inconceivable that the two of us were best friends. Stephanie had just confessed that she had almost ended her life and now I was about to tell her how I had ended my mother’s and one of my friends. My fears of being ostracized and treated like a disease were still at the surface, but the thought of releasing some of the weight with a person I trusted was like having a balloon inflating inside me ready to burst. I felt my secret was slowly killing me, and the only way I could get relief was to talk about it. I was still scared that once it was out, it would sprout wings and fly out of control.
“I’ll tell you, but you have to swear you’ll never tell anyone else.”
“I swear. I swear on my stepmother’s grave,” she giggled.
I looked at her, worried that she wasn’t in the right mind frame to hear what I had to say. My face must have showed it, because Stephanie quickly lost her smile and leaned forward. She put her hand on my shoulder. “God, Soph, I was just kidding. You look like I just cursed her dead.”
I gasped and put my hand to my mouth. I felt an icy chill go down my back and my heart jumped.
“What?” she asked.
“It’s what you said. That is why I had to hide all those years.”
“What I said? How could that be? I wasn’t even around.”
I was speechless and stunned. Just hearing the word made me dizzy. I put my face in my hands and rocked back and forth, trying to steady my nerves and my thoughts.
“Sophie, what’s wrong with you? You’re not making any sense. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”
I stopped rocking, and looked up at her. “I’m so afraid to say anything.”
“You have no reason to be afraid. I’m not going to tell anyone. You’re my only friend!” She smiled. “You’ll go crazy if you keep it all inside.”
“But what if you don’t want to be friends after I tell you?”
“That’s crazy.” She sat up on her knees and squared her body to mine. She held my shoulders and made me look at her. “Here, think about this. Imagine I’m the one telling you this big secret. If that were the case, would we still be friends? Sophie?”
I realized I had drifted off. I blinked as I came back and smiled. I had no reservations about how I would react if she were the one telling it. Stephanie would be my friend regardless of her secrets and I knew that she felt the same. So with the same strength I had mustered to lead my horse into a deep dark lake, I pushed forward and decided to reveal what had shaped my entire life. It would either knock me into a cold, deep abyss, or I would cross it and end up gaining the confidence I needed to take even more risks in my life. I was willing to take that chance. I suddenly realized that I had no idea where to start. It struck me as funny, and I stopped and smiled to myself.
“You’re a tease!” she yelled. “Come on, out with it.”
“I don’t know where to start. There is so much to tell.”
She leaned back against the tree and put her arms behind her head. “We have all day. They don’t expect us until dinner and I brought food in my backpack. Spill it!”
I took a deep breath. “There is something terrible that happened a long time ago and it’s the reason Papa and I had to hide all those years.”
“Did he kill someone?” she asked, both horrified and intrigued.
“No,” I said firmly. “It’s not something we did, but something that was done to us.”
Stephanie lowered an eyebrow. “What?”
“A curse.”
Her eyes shot wide open, but she gave me a sideways grin. “A curse?”
“Yes. We had to hide away because Papa says we are a threat to the people who love us.”
She cocked her head to the side. “How?”
I looked at the ground and felt my face flush. “I’m not sure, but some of them have died.”
Stephanie reeled back. “They died? How?”
I shrugged. “Papa says it’s the reason my mother died and Donny. He says we’re the reason.”
Stephanie shook her head. “You said he didn’t kill anyone.”
“It’s not us. It’s the curse that kills them.”
“How did they die?”
“Donny died when a dirt cave collapsed on him.” I felt a heavy lump in my stomach. “I don’t know how my mother died. Papa never talks about it.”
“Sounds to me like your father gave you a line to keep you in line. There is no such thing as a curse.”
I felt rejected and embarrassed. It had taken every ounce of trust I could muster to tell her and now she brushed it off. “Yes there is.”
She furrowed her brows. “Did you push that kid into the cave?”
I shook my head. “No!”
Stephanie sat up straight. “Do you think that other kid was shot because of this curse, too?”
I lowered my eyes. “Yes.”
She sat in silence, looking as if she was deep in thought. Several times she began to talk and then stopped. She stood up and walked in a circle. “That doesn’t make sense. If you say the curse kills people who love you, then why am I still alive? And what about your grandparents? Why aren’t we all dead?”
“I’m not sure. Sometimes it scares me. I don’t want to hurt people, but I don’t want to be alone. Papa was trying to explain it, but then we got caught. I’ve tried to figure it out, but without Papa, I can’t. There’s more to it, and he’s the only one who knows.”
“Who put the curse on you?” I shrugged.
“Papa said it was done a long time ago, before I was born.”
Stephanie lowered her brow. “If you weren’t even born, why would anyone want to curse you?”
“It was placed on our family for something Papa did. He said it was done out of anger. He said he didn’t believe it at first, but when my mother was killed, he knew we had to hide or more bad things would happen. He said if anyone found out about the curse, I would be taken away. He hid us away for our own good. He didn’t want the curse to hurt anyone else. I didn’t know about it until after Donny died. Papa felt it was his fault for not warning me sooner.”
Stephanie looked at me in awe. She hadn’t moved a muscle or changed her facial expression in the slightest, as though my story had struck her dumb. I started feeling awkward and worried that I had said too much, but before regret set in, she took a seat beside me and put an arm around my shoulder. “So, what are you going to do? If you think you’re cursed and you’re putting other people at risk, how are you going to live?”
I thought for a moment. “I don’t know.”
“That’s crazy, Sophie. There is no such thing. I think he told you that just to keep you from running off. He knew that if people saw you they’d find out who you were. That would threaten him.” She scratched her head; pulling at the hair in one of her pigtails, making it crooked. “He makes it sound very convincing.” She sat back with a start. “He must have seen the newspaper article that ran the sketch. That’s why he took all the mirrors out of your house. He didn’t want you to discover who you really are. On the other hand, this is so strange, because if he really thought you were cursed, a lot of this stuff he did makes sense. That’s totally wild.”
I thought about the mirrors. I remembered the expression on Damien’s face when he realized all the mirrors in my house had been taken down or destroyed. I still had aversions to them, and rarely gave in to the temptation. They were everywhere at my grandparents’ home, but I did my best to avoid them, knowing that God watched and judged what I did.
“When I tell you that I love you, does it scare you?” she asked.
I contemplated her question, knowing I had thought about it many times before. “It used to, but for some reason I’m not worried anymore.”
“I think I know why.”
“Tell me.”
“Sophie, I don’t believe in curses or superstitions. I think the more you’re out in the normal world, you’ll realize all the stuff you’ve been told is not real. There is no such thing. All this stuff you father told you isn’t the truth. You’re not cursed.”
What she said completely deflated me. I had trusted her with my deepest, darkest realities and now she said that what I harbored and lived with my entire life was just a lie.
“You’ll never be happy if you live in fear like this. You’ll have an awful life if you never let anyone love you. I think it’s terrible what he did. He’s the one that’s cursed you with stupid superstitions. It’s not real. There is no such thing as a curse.”
I was shocked at what she said and felt the need to scoot away, fearing God would strike her down with a bolt of lightning. “You don’t believe in God?”
“No. And I don’t believe that how I live my life will determine how I spend my death. I believe that you do the right things for this life, not for some afterlife. Everyone around here is so worried about what’s going to happen to them when they die. It’s stupid. When my mom died, people actually told me that God needed her in heaven and that’s why he took her home.” She gave a disgusted smirk. “Why would God take someone’s mother away? My mom died because cancer cells overtook her body. It had nothing to do with God, and it had nothing to do with curses or prayers or any other hocus-pocus that everyone tries to fill your head with.”
I was still uneasy.
“You were worried about telling me your secret because you thought I would be afraid of you. And it turns out, you should be afraid of me.”
“Why?”
“Because I am a bad influence. That’s why I’m not allowed at the school. I asked questions and talked about things that made everyone nervous. The other kids told their parents that I didn’t believe in God and that I attacked their precious religion. That’s the reason I no longer go to school.” She smiled and pulled me close. “I’m worse than you. You may lure them in with your beauty and then kill them off, but I threaten their beliefs and their chances at eternal life. We make quite a pair.”
Being close to her was a comfort, even though I was still concerned about what she said. I cared about her and felt her statements against God would come back to haunt her.
“I know you aren’t just going to believe everything I say. It’s all been drilled into your head for so long, it will be hard to change what you believe, but I want to show you something that will hopefully help you get over all this. We’re going to do an experiment so I can prove that there is no such thing as a curse.”
I didn’t like the idea and was apprehensive.
“You don’t have a choice,” she said, with a defiant lift of her eyebrow. “You are my best friend, my only friend in this world. I love you as if you were my sister. Nothing fatal has happened to me yet and nothing will. I’ll prove to you that you are not cursed.”
I felt funny having her tempt fate for me.
“I was planning on killing myself anyway, so this isn’t a big sacrifice. Quit looking like that,” she chided. Stephanie put her finger to her mouth and feigned deep deliberation. “Hmm. If you have the power to kill people, then let’s work on how we can use it to bump off my stepmother!” She fell back against the soft forest floor in wicked laughter.
“Stephanie!”
She giggled with delight.
I couldn’t help but smile, even though she had made me out as toxic. She had heard what had kept me hidden and silent for years and was still my best friend. She had accepted what I said. She made light of it in a way that made me feel like nothing I told her would scare her away. Stephanie was intriguing and confusing, but I had no reservations that she was loyal and trustworthy. I had given her the secret of what I feared and what had formed my life. She had the power to destroy my world by exposing my enigma, yet I felt assured she would guard it, regardless of her own doubts about its truth.
She stopped laughing and leaned over to her backpack. She pulled out a bag of chips and a bottle of soda, and offered them to me. I took a handful of chips and we sat in silence for a while as we passed the bottle back and forth. “I think you saved me.”
I looked at her strangely, smiled, and shook my head.
She smiled back. “You did. Now the hard part is going to be saving you.”

SPIRIT OF FIRE BLOG TOUR/CHARACTER INTERVIEW

Greetings, fellow bookworms!

Today I’m welcoming Stephen Zimmer/Erin from the Fires in Eden Series.

Hope you enjoy this interview. If you like what you see, please leave me a comment on this post or follow my blog.

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Character Interview of Erin, from the Fires in Eden Series

Hi Erin, sorry for bothering you in your dream, but I wanted to talk with you if that is okay.

You mean you want to talk to me and probably harangue me, like just about everybody is doing these days. Look, I don’t need any more advice or telling me what I should be doing. You can talk with me if you want, but I’ll cut it real short if you start acting like Lee or Gunther. Not dealing with lectures right now. I’ve got more than enough to think about.

No, I’m not here to judge, I just wanted to ask you about a few things. How are you doing right now?

Lousy. Is that clear enough? But at least we are going to be under the sky again. Fresh air, thank God. I hated being down in a big cave all the time where you can’t even tell day from night. It was driving me crazy. The blue light over everything was eerie. Everything seemed cool and damp. The Unguhur were downright weird, and I don’t even want to begin talking about what they like to eat.

You are a vegetarian, aren’t you? That would present some difficulties in the world of the Unguhur.

Yes, I am, and I have been for quite a while. It apparently was very amusing to Lee and Ryan after we met them here in this world. They probably got a kick out of it when I got sick on some berries. I have tried to stay the way I am here, but you have to survive too. But I can still be grossed out when I see things like giant spiders and bats being used for food, like the Unguhur hunters bring back. What they eat is absolutely disgusting. I couldn’t eat any of it if I wanted to. Bland mushrooms and a little fish were about it while I was down there.

You mention hunters. You were hunted yourself during your time in Ave, were you not?

Twice now. Once right when we got here. Yeah, a pretty rude greeting to this world for sure. Just after we found ourselves in this place some big flying monster attacked me and Lynn. We barely escaped it, and I think it ran into something worse, but it sure did make us wary about everything. Being almost eaten really lets you know you aren’t in Kansas anymore, if you know what I mean.

The other time we had a group of big, four-legged predators go after me and Ryan, when we were just wanting to talk a short walk in the woods. They were huge, and had longer heads, very aggressive. Gunther called them something like Hyaeds. We got out of that situation too, thankfully. (Voice lowers) I do feel really bad about one of Gunther’s Jaghuns dying then.

No, I don’t like being hunted, and it makes me even more convicted to be a vegetarian too.

What do you think of this world after being here for a little while?

I want to go back to my world. I want to hang out with my friends again, drink, listen to some music. I want to wake up in my own bed and live my own life. Is that asking too much? This place has pretty skies, but this isn’t living. This is just surviving. I’m sick of it already.

Gunther’s home was stuffy and uncomfortable. I’ll take air-conditioning and a queen sized mattress any day of the week. Get me out of here if you can!

I wish I could, but this is just your dream. Haven’t you gotten a little help from some, like Gunther?

You would bring him up, wouldn’t you! He’s incredibly rude, and let me tell you, he doesn’t smell too good either. He just think because he is a tough man he can boss us all around, I think. He’s really intimidated everyone, I think, but I’m not going to let him think that everything’s okay.

Didn’t he come to your aid at one point? With the Hyaeds you just mentioned. And before?

You would bring the latest incident up again. Yes, he did, when we tried to get a moment’s peace and a breath of fresh, cave-free air. It was just horrid luck that we ran into those beasts, and I am grateful that Gunther came. And I said I was sorry about the Jaghun, those creatures he keeps around him.

And he helped us when those things called Trogens, who were mounted on winged beasts, were trying to attack us. That’s when we met Gunther, when he helped fight them off.

Sure, he’s helped us more than once, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s obnoxious and just not a nice person to be around.

How is Lynn doing right now? She’s your best friend.

I still say she is, but she’s not doing me any favors lately. She’s really disappointed me a lot, to be honest with you. Seems she is taking the side of Lee more often, to the point that Ryan is the only one that seems to get where I am coming from now. I don’t know what’s getting into her, but she needs to remember who her friends are.

And Lee? Doesn’t he mean well?

He does. I think he sees himself as our leader, like he’s our uncle or something like that. Not a bad guy at all, I just don’t want to be patronized. He’s not some wilderness or survivalist expert. He’s just some guy who owned a Chinese restaurant who got stuck in this place with the rest of us. I’m not going to put him on a pedestal.

So where are you heading now?

Don’t know. I really have no idea. None of us do. All I can gather is that it is too dangerous to stay underground and that they don’t want us captured. It all makes me laugh that they think we are some kind of important people. If they saw how I lived back in my world they would change their view really quick. Me and Uli and the others getting stoned in the middle of the woods. Yeah, I’m really important (laughs).

But I’ve seen the dangers and I guess you should listen to the people that live in this world. So we’re heading deeper into the woods with a bunch of Saxans that survived a battle.

I hope you reach safety, and I wish you luck, Erin. I really hope you find your way back home too.

(low voice) That’s all I want, but it seems kind of impossible right now. Thank you for the good wishes, I really need all the luck I can get, it seems. I might sound mad at everyone, and I kind of am … except for maybe Ryan right now … but I will try to help the others as much as I can too. We all need to reach home.

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The Darkening Dream

 


A Vampire Novel with Actual Bite!
As the modern world establishes itself and pushes the supernatural into the shadows, the supernatural fights back. The Darkening Dream is a chilling new dark fantasy novel by Andy Gavin, creator of Crash Bandicoot and Jak & Daxter. The book has received rave reviews and is on sale for only 99 cents on Amazon Kindle from June 25th-29th! Download your copy here. In addition, Andy is doing a big giveaway, including a $100 gift certificate to Amazon, signed copies of his books, video games, posters, and more! The Darkening Dream Rafflecopter Giveaway Tweet, like, follow, share, blog and grab a copy of his book to enter.

Get your 99 cent copy of The Darkening Dream today on Amazon only.

Long-time readers of dark historical fantasy (Tim Powers, Guy Gavriel Kay, Katherine Kurtz) will appreciate the weaving together of mythology, occult, and religion, while younger readers and fans of HBO dramas (True Blood, Carnivàle) or urban fantasy (Laurell K. Hamilton, Kim Harrison, Jim Butcher) will be drawn to the twisted imagination, graphic action, and romantic tension. About The Darkening Dream Even as the modern world pushes the supernatural aside in favor of science and steel, the old ways remain. God, demon, monster, and sorcerer alike plot to regain what was theirs. 1913, Salem, Massachusetts – Sarah Engelmann’s life is full of friends, books, and avoiding the pressure to choose a husband, until an ominous vision and the haunting call of an otherworldly trumpet shake her. When she stumbles across a gruesome corpse, she fears that her vision was more of a premonition. And when she sees the murdered boy moving through the crowd at an amusement park, Sarah is thrust into a dark battle she does not understand. With the help of Alex, an attractive Greek immigrant who knows a startling amount about the undead, Sarah sets out to uncover the truth. Their quest takes them to the factory mills of Salem, on a midnight boat ride to spy on an eerie coastal lair, and back, unexpectedly, to their own homes. What can Alex’s elderly, vampire-hunting grandfather and Sarah’s own rabbi father tell them? And what do Sarah’s continuing visions reveal? No less than Gabriel’s Trumpet, the tool that will announce the End of Days, is at stake, and the forces that have banded to recover it include a 900 year-old vampire, a trio of disgruntled Egyptian gods, and a demon-loving Puritan minister. At the center of this swirling cast is Sarah, who must fight a millennia-old battle against unspeakable forces, knowing the ultimate prize might be her very soul. The Reviews Are In "A vampire novel with actual bite." ~The Kirkus Reviews "A gorgeously creepy, strangely humorous, and sincerely terrifying tale." ~Publishers Weekly (Starred Review) "Mr. Gavin has brought something refreshingly new to a genre now suffused with poorly-concealed bodice-rippers which have more in common with Fabio than Bram Stoker: depth. His big baddies are scary, not romantic interests, and the added religious lore is complex and engaging. Don't expect another Twilight -- the story can get downright creepy, so be prepared for a return to the old horror sensibilities of supernatural fiction." ~Amazon Review "With Mr. Gavin's video-game pedigree, I was expecting something aimed squarely at the 18-25 year old fanboy contingent; what I got in The Darkening Dream was something wholly unexpected: A period novel with a female protagonist, a crash-course on Judaism in the colonial years, and multi-layered series of plot arcs featuring a crazy cast of natural and supernatural characters populating turn of the century America." ~Amazon Review "…A perfect blend of mystery, magic and myth. A grown-up Grimm's fairy tale... emphasis on grim." ~Amazon Review

Read the first two sample chapters here.

Get your 99 cent copy of The Darkening Dream today on Amazon only.

About the Author

Andy Gavin is an unstoppable storyteller who studied for his Ph.D. at M.I.T. and founded video game developer Naughty Dog, Inc. at the age of fifteen, serving as co-president for two decades. There he created, produced, and directed over a dozen video games, including the award winning and best selling Crash Bandicoot and Jak & Daxter franchises, selling over 40 million units worldwide. He sleeps little, reads novels and histories, watches media obsessively, travels, and of course, writes. Find out more here
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The Magic of The Darkening Dream

In constructing The Darkening Dream I wanted the meta-story to play off conventional tropes. Broadly, a cabal of ancient supernatural beings has sent one of their number to recover an artifact needed to destroy the world. And surprise, it turns out a group of teens are all that stands between them and Armageddon.
How much more Buffy can you get?
But that's just the high level. I also wanted to ground this preposterous scenario in real history and legend. So as a methodology, in designing my array of supernatural beings and occult practitioners I turned to historic sources. Before our modern science and technology rendered magic quaint, it was the domain of religion and superstition. Of belief.
And each spiritual and magical system has its own framework. Proponents wrote out of certainty, out of faith. I merely dig up their writings and take them at their word.
 

Villains

Osiris as king in the west

What binds a group of ancient evil beings together? Not some grand principle of villainy. Evil is just extreme selfishness. But hatred can go a long way. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. So who from the ancient world has suffered the most?
Might it be the old gods? Or those who worship them? Who offers sacrifice anymore to Osiris? Who fears the shadow of Anubis as they step from this world into the next? Who believes the beetle god Khepri drags the sun across the sky behind him?
No one. And those that remember the glory days are pissed off.
So who's been lurking around since the time of the pharaohs?

The comte at Versailles

The Comte de St. Germain has, or so he told everyone in the court of Louis XV. Apparently, at the very least, he is party to the secret magics of Osiris, Son of the Earth, King of the Dead. The elixir of Osiris is said to prevent death. And so the comte, which is but one of his many names, has been lurking about for some time. But the old magics are not what they once were. Their power has diminished with their gods. So he whispers in the ears of kings, pulling on what strings he can, seeking allies where he can find them.
And old gods may fade, but as long as a single soul still believes, they never die.
Even the ancient blood gods and their vampire acolytes. Born in ancient forests of the north where men offered midnight blood sacrifice. Of their king, their Ancient Master, raised from the dead a hundred centuries past, nothing remains but pure fury. Hatred for the burning sun, hatred for his mortal prey, hatred for the new world of foul brick and lifeless steel.
But in hatred, perhaps, there is common cause.
 

The Artifact

Observe the all important Ram in the Thicket (lower right)

Clearly, the physical goal of our baddies had to be something really big. Something useful to them in their plots. The fall of antiquity was not about barbarians at the gates of Rome. No. The rising tide of monotheism was what really swept away the old order.
So it is against God that our villains lash out.
And I found the perfect legend in the most unlikely of places. I was passing the time during Yom Kippur services by reading the story of Abraham offering Isaac for sacrifice (Genesis 22). This has always been a passage of particular interest to me, dealing as it does with the nature of the relationship between man and God and the meaning of ritual sacrifice. But it was in the commentary that I noticed something peculiar, a cryptic remark that "the Ram in the Thicket is but one of ten special things created by God on the eve of creation."
How's that for a magic seeker's wet dream.
Back at home I dug into this and discovered that on the eve of the first Sabbath, before the creation of world, God created ten special things (which besides the Ram include the rainbow of Noah, the staff of Moses, and other goodies). These items are eternal, having existed before the universe, they have no temporal beginning or end. God, it seemed, placed the Ram into the trust of the Archangel Gabriel, who kept it in the Garden of Eden until Abraham needed it at Mount Moriah. Afterward, nothing of the Ram was wasted. Gabriel took the horns and brought one to Moses so that he could sound the arrival of the Ten Commandments at Mount Sinai. The other was kept by the archangel, hidden in the Garden, so that at the appointed time it might be brought to Elijah to sound the End of Days.

Gabriel and his trumpet

This notion of a horn blast sounding the end of the world is a highly persistent meme. It's found not just in the Jewish traditions regarding the Messiah, but in the Revelations of John where seven angels (including presumably, Gabriel) sound the end of time and the Last Judgment. And also in diverse mythologies such as the Norse, where the Gjallarhorn shall announce the onset of Ragnarök.
In the world of The Darkening Dream, all beliefs are simultaneously true, as brought forth and conceived by their believers. This means that anything as consistent as the horn legend is doubly true. Archetypal truth made manifest.
And what of Gabriel's Horn? Eternity is a long time and the archangel flits hither and yon. Might not a busy seraph misplace such a thing... if only for a short time?
 

The Myriad Layers of the Esoteric World

How to properly envision a world in which vampires, the Archangel Gabriel, witchcraft, and Egyptian gods all exist? Many might just toss them together arbitrarily, but I wanted to find a framework consistent with traditional mysticism. Having read hundreds of religious and magical texts I have identified numerous consistencies in the thought patterns of the esoteric mind.

The Tree of Life

By way of example, let's place ourselves in the mind of my protagonist Sarah's father Joseph. As a Rabbi, scholar, and mystic Joseph draws his world view from the Zohar and other great texts of the Kabbalah. In this conceptualization, which can be summed up as "hidden and not revealed," the world is a many layered thing, like an onion, with the portion we perceive merely the lowest of ten modalities, all simultaneously overlaid. The pure conceptualization of God pervades everything, and is the highest. Yet the human mind can not fully comprehend this level of divine and celestial purity. In between are various layers that express important truths like "Beauty" and "Wisdom." In Joseph's orthodox world, God is all powerful, so powerful that even the Archangel Gabriel is but a manifestation of His Strength. The angel is not an independent entity, but a protrusion of God's will into these middle layers of reality. Joseph might actually see the angel, but in his mind, this is just his perception of an aspect of God leaking into the mortal layers. The human mind cannot comprehend the divine, so God softens the blow with the angelic form.

Sitting down to the witches Sabbath

As hard as this might be to get your head around, it seemed reasonable to extend this kind of framework to many forms of magic in the book. The villainous Puritan warlock, Pastor John Parris, works a school of traditional witchcraft, yet it too is based on layered perception of reality. For him, the magical realm is twisted into a less spacial form, with objects and people adjacent not just by physical proximity, but by the likeness of their form and nature. So, a person's hair, separated as it might be from their body, provides magical access to the owner. Likewise, his religious conceptualization allows for the layering of hell dimensions, separated by flame. With the help of his succubus lover he is able to step through these fiery gateways and bend the rules of time and space.
While occasionally, as is the case with the Horn, the mythological drives the story, most often the structural needs of my plot demanded esoteric action. I therefore required interoperability between diverse magic systems in order to make the action work. For example, when Joseph wishes to protect his home from the intrusions of the evil Parris and the ancient vampire al-Nasir, he prays to invoke the archangels and align the physical rectangle of his house with the metaphysical form of King Solomon's Temple. For him this is an act of faith drawing on protective aspects of God's divinity.
But Parris too is able to perceive this change in the nature of reality, albeit in his own terms. His plans to gain entry requires the construction of an elaborate ritual analog. Like a voodoo doll for a building. Just as the limbs of the doll can be broken, the metaphysical walls of the temple may be breached.
 

Succubus from the source

Learning from the mouth of devils

For each of my supernatural beings I strove to draw upon classical source materials rather than rely on 20th century pop culture. My warlock, Pastor Parris, is a man of repressed passion based on serial killer profiles. His only emotional connection to the outside world has been through a series of dominating female figures. First his puritanical grandmother, then following her grisly demise, his succubus lover Betty. Like all magic in the world of The Darkening Dream, Betty is a conceptual product of her beholder. So I turned to The Malleus Maleficarum, the rantings of two 15th century clergymen, Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger. This book, which translates as the The Witch Hammer, was used by the Inquisition as a handbook for identifying and persecuting witches and demons.
Along with a five page essay on the mechanism by which Succubi and Incubi transfer semen, the Maleficarum has this to say about Succubi:

Devils have no lungs or tongue, though they can show the latter, as well as teeth and lips, artificially made according to the condition of their body; therefore they cannot truly and properly speak. But since they have understanding, and when they wish to express their meaning, then, by some disturbance of the air included in their assumed body, not of air breathed in and out as in the case of men, they produce, not voices, but sounds which have some likeness to voices, and send them articulately through the outside air to the ears of the hearer.

From this passage, we know that one of the means of identifying Succubi is that they do not move their lips when speaking, but manipulate the elements of fluid air near their mouths directly. Hence, in my novel, Betty does not open her mouth to speak, but the air in front of her shimmers as she does. In keeping with my fast paced action oriented novel, I never make an issue of this, but like thousands of other details in the book it is informed by the source. Clearly brothers Kramer and Sprenger knew what they were talking about, as they inspired thousands to burn at the stake.

Khepri and Osiris in the good old days

The Power of the Word

With each different school of magic I tried to extract the historic flavor and mindset of past occultists. The mysterious Khepri, another of my villains, practices an ancient Egyptian magic entirely different from Parris' devilish thaumaturgy. The spirit of Egyptian magic often derives from the use of secret names and the spoken word — nay command. The sorcerer/priest orders, by way of his secret magic, the very gods and demons to do his bidding. So it is that when Khepri invokes the miniature sun which is his weapon, he cries these words from The Egyptian Book of the Dead:

Re sits in his Abode of Millions of Years. The doors of the sky are opened for me, the doors of the earth are opened for me, the door-bolts of Geb are opened for me, the shutters of the sky-windows are thrown open for me. I know you, I know your names; Release him, loose him!

By sheer force of his sorcerous will he demands the sun yield to him. And so it does.
 

Truth is Stranger than Fiction

By writing a modern fantasy adventure, but by grounding the magic and supernatural in tradition, I wanted to prove that the old adage really is true: Truth is stranger than fiction. The twisted imaginations of our ancestors, devoid of the distractions of the current age, were often far more creative than the half-assed creations of Hollywood and the like.

A Big Giveaway for The Darkening Dream

This week, through June 29th, Author Andy Gavin is running a big giveaway to celebrate his 99 cent promo sale.
The Darkening Dream Rafflecopter Giveaway
Tweet, like, follow, share, blog and grab a copy of his book to enter.

About The Darkening Dream

As the modern world establishes itself and pushes the supernatural into the shadows, the supernatural fights back.

An ominous vision and the discovery of a gruesome corpse lead Sarah and her friends into a terrifying encounter with a fledgling vampire in 1913 Salem, Massachusetts. Eager to prove themselves, the young heroes set out to track the evil to its source, never guessing that they will take on a conspiracy involving not only a 900-year vampire but also a demon-loving Puritan warlock, disgruntled Egyptian gods, and an immortal sorcerer, all on a quest to recover the holy trumpet of the Archangel Gabriel. Relying on the wisdom of a Greek vampire hunter, Sarah's rabbi father, and her own disturbing visions, Sarah must fight a millennia-old battle between unspeakable forces, where the ultimate prize might be Sarah herself.

The critics love it

"A vampire novel with actual bite." ~The Kirkus Reviews

"A gorgeously creepy, strangely humorous, and sincerely terrifying tale." ~Publishers Weekly (Starred Review)

Read the first two sample chapters here.

Get your 99 cent copy of The Darkening Dream today on Amazon only.

About the Author

Andy Gavin is an unstoppable storyteller who studied for his Ph.D. at M.I.T. and founded video game developer Naughty Dog, Inc. at the age of fifteen, serving as co-president for two decades. There he created, produced, and directed over a dozen video games, including the award winning and best selling Crash Bandicoot and Jak & Daxter franchises, selling over 40 million units worldwide. He sleeps little, reads novels and histories, watches media obsessively, travels, and of course, writes. Find out more here.