Tuesday, December 31, 2019
End of an Era
New Year, new beginnings . As of now the Chosen books and Eamon Birdsley have been retired, so that my new publisher CamCat can focus solely on the Terrath books.
Sunday, November 24, 2019
The Promise of 2020
SynergEbooks was recently acquired by CamCat Publishing, so in the New Year I will be saying a sad farewell to Deb Staples as Sue Arroyo takes up the mantle as my publisher. A number of changes will ensue in the coming months, notably my titles will transition to one of Sue's imprints. 2020 promises to be an exciting year, as I work with Sue's marketing team to promote my books. Meantime, I am fully immersed in writing the fourth Terrath novel. Can't you feel the tingle of expectancy in the air? Hmm, maybe it's just Xmas looming.
Sunday, March 3, 2019
SYNERGEBOOKS ANNIVERSARY!
March is the 20th anniversary of SynergEbooks. To celebrate, Deb is offering a BOGO deal for all digital books purchased directly on the website. So when you order, simply put the name of the 2nd title you want in the Comment section. Easy peasy. You could get all four Chosen books for the price of two!
And don't forget, Chosen To The Fore is still a New Release.
http://www.synergebooks.com/index.html
Sunday, November 19, 2017
Magic's Resolve Teaser
Here's a wee taste of what's in store for February 2018. Hope you enjoy.
Chapter One
Flung unceremoniously off the side of the overturning ship, his unavoidable
dunking in bracingly cold seawater revived Maldoch quicker than a stinging slap
to the face from his witch of an ex wife. Strange that what was probably his
last thought should be of Norelda, a person he weirdly both loved and loathed.
That he was about to die came as no revelation to the trussed up wizard.
Plunging headfirst into the abyss, dragged inevitably downwards by the weight
of his waterlogged robes, Maldoch thrashed wildly, battling instinctively against
his imminent drowning. Managing to right himself, he succeeded only in altering
the inescapable. Sinking feet first now granted him an unobstructed view of the
carnage overhead. Gagged and bound hand and foot by stout ropes incapacitated him
not only physically but magically. Casting spells required the freedom to speak
and, if necessary, gesture. Unable to do either consigned the mage to dying
alone in an unmarked, watery grave.
It was a moot point anyway. Temporarily powerless, he lacked even the
conjuring ability of any predatory sleight of hand confidence trickster frequenting
the seedier side streets of Alberion. Above him foundered the stricken Otter
merchantman, wallowing upside down like a harpooned whale. Her slayer, a
needle-nosed multi-oared rowboat, slowly backed away, bumping aside other
objects casts overboard by the capsizing: crates, casks, and corpses galore riddled
with arrows. Goblin swimmers rapidly joined the floaters as a constant rain of
Elven shafts mercilessly reduced the survivors to macabre pincushions.
Maldoch found a large barrel bobbing at the surface strangely fascinating
in light of the pickle he was in. Silhouetted against the strengthening
sunlight, the shadowy barrel seemed to sprout...legs! That oddity was followed
up by a bout of weirdness in the form of a pole with a curved end dipping into
the sea from the galley heaving alongside. Watching the wooden fishing gaff
hook the barrel by its “feet” then bend alarmingly under the strain as it hoisted its bulky
cargo upwards clear of the water, it struck him that he had just witnessed
J’tard being plucked to safety.
Any thought Maldoch entertained of being similarly gaffed was a false
hope dashed against the rocks of impossibility; he had already sunk beyond the
reach of rescue from the surface.
Below the choppy ocean the undersea world was deceptively tranquil. That
serenity infused the doomed wizard and he ceased struggling, reconciled to his
looming demise. Half expecting his life to flash before his eyes like an
unfurling scroll, disappointment was the order of the day. Nothing flashed. Not
even a footnote on a page from a notepad.
Saturday, September 9, 2017
Sunday, April 9, 2017
Is Modernisation Essential To A Published Story
Authoring
literature rooted in prehistory, even factual based fiction, raises the obvious
dilemma for a writer. Recent
paleontological discoveries, partnered by the
advancement of new theories in behaviourism, paleoecology, physiology etc., can
soon render the most up-to date research invalid, even obsolete.
When researching
The Chosen One, I meticulously
strived to maintain accurate representations of the dinosaurs depicted. In the
intervening years since that novel was first published, non-avian feathered
dinosaurs have become the accepted norm within the scientific community. Unsurprising, considering the widely held
belief that birds evolved from saurian ancestors. The fossil evidence, particularly from China,
is compelling.
So that raises
the question, should works of dinosaur fiction be regularly updated to
incorporate the latest findings?
In an ideal
world, yes. In the cost conscious reality we live in, no. The expenditure in
time alone required to rewrite a novel to avoid anachronisms is off-putting. True, Ogg and his nocturnal kin, Nightclaw,
should be feathered to conform to the modern school of thought. But does their
“nakedness” diminish the story? In my humble opinion, it does not. I freely admit in taking immense pride in my
attention to detail in my novels and that The
Chosen One characters were based on current paleobiology at the time of
writing. But to edit the book every time new fossil evidence comes to light is
impractical.
Take the
Jurassic Park series of films. Discoveries that dromaeosaurs were fully
feathered, made after the first film’s release, rendered the error of
featherless Velociraptors an understandable oversight. However, that omission
continued in the subsequent films, flaunting growing scientific opinion. (The
one concession was the crest of ludicrously small quills adorning the heads of
the male raptors in Jurassic Park III.) Even the latest instalment, Jurassic World, perpetuates the ongoing
inaccuracy of raptors bereft of feathers. And Hollywood’s excuse? Aside from the plausible
reasoning that the fictional dinosaurs are cloned representations of the originals
and therefore not strict biological reproductions, the movie makers (rightly or
wrongly) argue that the public’s perception is of scaly raptors, an image
fostered by the original Jurassic Park.
Much like Jaws portrayed great white
sharks as mindless eating machines, when in actuality the animal is a complex
apex predator which does not habitually prey on human beings.
I know what you
are thinking. It is far easier to rewrite a book than reshoot a movie. But
would you have asked the late, talented Peter Benchley to edit his landmark
novel in order to produce a more scientifically accurate, yet perhaps an
unappealingly sanitised version of a classic read?
I didn’t think
so.
Tuesday, August 2, 2016
Star Wars: Sci-Fi, Fantasy or Something Else?
I realise I have covered this topic before in previous
posts (Dune: Fiction or Fantasy and Science Fiction or Science
Fantasy) but after watching Star
Wars: The Force Awakens I feel compelled to revisit it. Third time lucky,
maybe?
When A New Hope
hit theatres back in 1977 – yes, folks, nearly forty years ago! – it ushered in
a golden age of storytelling on not just the big screen. Sci-fi became the new television
western. Gunsmoke and Bonanza gave way to Battlestar Galactica and Buck
Rogers. In later years a TV series by the name of Firefly successfully integrated the two genres. Whereas that wrongly
cancelled show was clearly a Space Western, the Star Wars empire (couldn’t resist that pun) of movies, books, and
merchandise increasingly fuzzed the line between science fiction and fantasy.
Sure, we had weathered blasters and screaming starfighters, lovable droids and loathsome
aliens – staple fare of the field. But thrown into the mix was the mystical,
all-powerful Force and laser swords brilliantly termed lightsabres, both ably wielded
by Jedi Knights (what better name invokes medievalism!).
Star Wars
undoubtedly has its roots in fantasy. But could it simply be fantasy
masquerading as sci-fi? The same might be said for 1983’s Krull, unashamedly a cheesy favourite of mine. More heroic fantasy
than anything else, the ‘science fiction’ constituent was in the guise of the
emotionless Slayers who enforced the nefarious will of their hideous master,
the planet-conquering Beast. Aside from being an early vehicle for a young Liam
Neesom and Robbie Coltrane, both playing riveting minor characters, Krull failed dismally at the box office
but has since gained creditable cult film status. Yet like its illustrious
predecessor it was a swashbuckling union of magic and imagined science.
In terms of speculative fiction comparable to Frank
Herbert’s equally groundbreaking Dune
series of books, wonderfully perpetuated by his son Brian and co-writer Kevin
J. Anderson, should the multilevel creation of George Lucas be reclassified as
Science Fantasy? That bone of contention rests on the individual reader and viewer
to decide.
However, think on this: Darth Vader, cybernetic villain, infamously more
machine than man, yet a powerful Sith Lord proficient in using the Dark Side of
the Force. The corrupted Anakin Skywalker was a blend of elements from both
Sci-Fi and Fantasy, much like the Star
Wars universe he terrorised.
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