I like telling the (100% true) story of crafting my first sci-fi novellas on my mother’s 1950s manual Underwood typewriter.
In between the Underwood and my Powermac G3, I briefly owned a Compaq Presario (and Serif PagePlus), on the advice of a family friend (Dave G), who encouraged me to pursue my writing more seriously.
Everywhere you turn, “AI” crops up in the conversation. As a creative writer and freelance editor, I see a steady stream of bright ‘n’ shiny contract opportunities to carve out a cozy living by helping AI-bots replace writers and freelance editors.
On the other hand, I also hear reasonable voices inside the industry advocating for creatives to embrace AI as a writing/editing aide-de-campe.
If a picture paints a thousand words, what does that mean for book covers?
I’m currently reading Susan Bell’s The Artful Edit (because indie authors can never learn too much about editing). The content is great, but I’d also like to point out the exemplary cover design.
“Books are a uniquely portable magic.” (Stephen King)
“I can’t imagine a man really enjoying a book and reading it only once.” (C.S. Lewis)
“There is no friend as loyal as a book.” (Ernest Hemingway)
If you’re like me, you discovered reading at an early age. My greatest ally in feeding my reading addiction? The local library. Closer to home, my school library proved to be a treasure trove, allowing me access to a wide array of books and their authors, many of whom I mentioned in my debut post.
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Writers always hear voices. Mostly in our heads.
A well-traveled joke says, “Writer’s block is when your imaginary friends stop speaking to you.”
And “imposter syndrome” lurks in the back of every writer’s mind. It has a voice of its own, too. Typically unpleasant.
Some of the voices are external; voices we’ve invited to critique or comment on our work. This can be a public reading, a local writers’ group, or—at a writing conference—outside experts offering their insights and suggestions.
I had some interesting adventures with external voices at a conference a number of years ago.
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“An imaginative, exceptional novel!” ~ Jonas Saul, author of the Sarah Roberts series
“Fast-paced and haunting — a gripping combination of sci-fi and horror.” ~ the Booklife Prize
from the back cover:
Dalton Smith believes his shady past is finally behind him: recently married, a new name and career, and a decisive break from his father, Stoney Cove’s most notorious felon.
“You are a Speaker-with-the-Dead.” A young Asukan woman, seeking justice for her brother’s unsolved murder, accosts Dalton in a local bar, shattering the web of lies he’s crafted to protect himself and the woman he loves.
Beneath the Sunken City — segregated home of Stoney Cove’s Asukan population — the unavenged Dead begin to stir. The savage evidence of their fury forces Dalton out of hiding, back into the world he swore to leave behind.
But before Dalton can challenge Stoney Cove’s demons, he’ll have to confront his own.
All links via Books2Read
All images courtesy of Pixabay
all links via Books2Read
“A picture is worth a thousand words” is yet another popular saying widely attributed to people who never said it. An early version (1911) can be traced to newspaper editor Arthur Brisbane: “Use a picture. It’s worth a thousand words.” Regardless of its non-Confucius, non-Einstein, non-Napoleanic origin story, the phrase has captured the imaginations of many.
“Flash Fiction” is known by many names—and word counts—but the common dynamic is capturing a moment in time rather than telling a full story. To use photographic language, it’s a “snapshot,” not a photo essay.
In this case, I’ve captured nine “snapshot” quotes from Treehawke and combined them with photos to create a Flash Fiction Polaroid Gallery. The sweet spot? Teasing out significant elements from the book while remaining spoiler-free. Think of it as a Polaroid version of a movie trailer.
Enjoy.
Treehawke Flash Fiction #3
Karlissa Doanekai padded up the circular staircase, her feet all but silent on the rusty steps. The subway tunnel receded below as she climbed to the rear entrance of her parents’ gift shop. The rear door stood slightly ajar, allowing a sliver of light to escape. She pushed the door open, squinting against the glare as she slipped into the stockroom.
“Welcome back, sis.”
She recognized her brother’s voice. If Jerrod was here, Zachary couldn’t be far. The two friends were virtually inseparable. She blinked as her eyes adjusted. “I came as fast as I could. Zack wouldn’t say anything specific over the phone.”
…Treehawke Flash Fiction #2
Lieutenant Mason Sagewater earned his “ice water in the veins” reputation the old-fashioned way — years of hard-won experience in Stoney Cove’s Police Guild. His hard-nosed notoriety accelerated his ascent through the ranks, and had recently rewarded him with two important responsibilities.
The first was to break in his partner, Jackson Nash, a remarkably one-dimensional rookie to whom blunt-force bullying was the solution to everything. Sagewater relished the task. He knew how to put Nash’s temperament and skills to good use.
…Treehawke Flash Fiction #1
Dalton Smith ducked into the nearest alley, pivoting to plant his shoulders against the brick wall. Humid air blanketed him, and his shirt clung to his ribs.
Mallory crowded against him in spite of the heat, her fingers clasping his in a vise-like grip. “How did that merchant know you’re a Speaker-with-the-dead?”
Dalton shook his head. “I have no idea. That’s only the second time in — what, eight months?” He wiped sweat from his forehead. “I’ve never seen the guy before, but it’s like he sensed something …”
Mallory stole a glance farther down the shadowy alley. “Apparently it’s not just Asukan eyesight that’s super-sensitive.” She shivered despite the stifling humidity. “A dark alley isn’t much of a hiding place.”
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