Friday, December 20, 2013

EPIC Dream Cast.

My fellow Badass Author, Michael Loring tagged me in a recent Facebook post, challenging me to do this Dreamcast/ Tag post. The game goes like this, I'm supposed to tell you all about a recent release and provide a 'Dream Cast' in the event that a movie is made. And. Here. We. Go...

Synopsis.

The EPIC series tells the tale of young Deacon McTaggart and his transition from recent high school graduate to a legendary hero like his uncle before him. Due to mass vanishings all over Earth, Deacon's mother sends him to a remote part of Scotland to keep him out of harm's way. During supper, Deacon learns that his eccentric uncle Evon was once a revered hero in the world of Avalon. Of course Deacon is skeptical at first, but after meeting Evon's Brownie butler, his Dwarven wife, and the stuffed Dragon head in the foyer, Deacon starts to believe. During supper, Evon explains that the disappearances are the work of the enigmatic Ubaru'ud, a strange being not from Earth or Avalon. Evon also explains that Avalon's time is short, and will be torn apart at any given moment. After drinking to much Meadale after a challenge to his 'Manhood', Deacon accidently finds himself trapped in Avalon. His only way home being the critically injured Faerie, Aika, that Deacon inadvertently lands on when he arrived. Thus begins a race against time to get back home and to save as many as he can before it's too late!

Excerpt.
 
It was obvious from the start that the only advantage that Ardron had was his strength, he charged straight at Deacon, arms wide, leaving everything fully exposed. Either he was confident that Deacon couldn’t hurt him, or he was just plain stupid.
Deacon guessed that it was a little of both, but Ardron was partially right, if Deacon charged him head on, the result would be the same as if a rabbit challenged a freight train to a game of ‘chicken’.
Luckily Deacon was faster and smarter than Ardron, and he would have to use those to counter Ardron’s strength.
Then when Ardron was almost upon him, he had two options, stand there and get waffled, or get the hell out of the way.
He couldn’t retreat to give himself room to maneuver, that way was blocked up pretty tight with riled up villagers. Besides, it would make him look cowardly, not the image that he wanted to convey. There was also no room to dodge to either side.
‘Chicken’ it was, then.
He had to chance ducking under Ardron’s outstretched arms. If he was fast enough, he could get out of the corner he was in.
If he was fast enough.
At the very last second before Ardron’s arms closed around him, Deacon ducked and dashed under.
Ardron skidded to a halt when he realized that Deacon was no longer there.
It was too late, Deacon was already behind him, and he was wide open.
Attacking Ardron’s well-muscled back would have little to no effect, Deacon had to go for his legs, if he could bring Ardron down a bit, he could level the playing field.
Deacon cocked his foot back and delivered a quarterback worthy punt directly to the back of Ardron’s right knee, the steel toed boot added extra punch.
Ardron’s leg buckled and he was down on one knee.
Deacon charged and raised his fist to hit the back of Ardron’s skull and a possible knockout.
Unfortunately, this put Deacon within striking distance.
Just when Deacon was almost on him, Ardron swung back with his left arm, his large fist crashing into the side of Deacon’s head, and he went flying.
The crowd cheered but Deacon couldn’t hear anything but the clanging of bells in his skull. He had never been hit so hard in his life.
As he crashed into the sand 15 feet away, Deacon discovered that not only could he not hear anything, he also couldn’t move. Or see.
He had heard of people getting hit in the head so hard, that they were stricken blind; he groggily hoped that wasn’t the case now.
 
After what seemed like far too long, his eyes slowly started working again. Sure, he could only see grey blobs, but it was better than nothing.
By sheer force of will, he convinced his body to move, thankful that it wasn’t permanent, that’s when his hearing decided to return as well, just in time to hear the crowd unanimously shout “Three!”
Shit.
Somehow, Deacon managed to get to his feet by the time they got to the count of ‘four’.
Amazingly, a few in the crowd were cheering him on now.
 
Deacon still couldn’t see clearly, but he was standing, technically. He was on his feet, but far from steady.
He was thankful that his vision was returning, but would it come back completely before Ardron could come and finish knocking his head off?
His vision suddenly went dark grey.
A shadow.
Ardron.
Out of sheer instinct, Deacon dropped to his back to avoid the inevitable fist coming at him. His instinct was right; Ardron’s fist barely grazed his forehead.
As he landed, he flung his foot up blindly, hoping to hit something vital enough to buy him some more time for his sight to come back.
Apparently, he did. The heel of his boot hit something soft, and Ardron made a coarse, retching sound.
It was a better hit than he had hoped for, but it would have been even better if his toe had connected, rather than his heel, but he would take what he could get.
Deacon used the opportunity to put some space between himself and Ardron. He scooted himself back and shook his head to clear the cobwebs. It worked. He could see again.
Ardron was hunched over, clutching his throat.
Deacon only had a few seconds to decide his next move.
His best option was gaining the high ground; he had to go for Ardron’s big head in order to finish this.
He remembered the trick that Sharrah had pulled on him yesterday, but he didn’t have a sword stuck in the ground to help him catch some air.
But he did have a tree.
 
The tree had boards in it that let the kids climb it; he could use those boards too. He just had to get Ardron closer.
Deacon knew how to do it, and humiliate Ardron even further.
He cautiously stepped up to Ardron, who was still holding his throat and sputtering. Deacon was ready to move if Ardron’s hands decided to.
“Hey Ardy boy!”
Ardron looked at Deacon with through glazed eyes; he looked like he wasn’t really sure where he was at the moment.
Deacon reminded him by slapping him across the face as hard as he could.
The crowd collectively gasped.
It seemed that one man slapping another in the face was something they did not see often.
Deacon spun on his heels to head for the tree, hoping that Ardron was furious enough to take the bait.
He wasn’t.
As Deacon turned, he felt Ardron’s hand wrap itself around his braid and yank down.
Hard.
Ardron immediately screamed in agony as the hidden blades in Deacon’s braid sliced his hand and fingers to bloody ribbons.
Amidst the boos and cheers from within the crowd, Inanna’s voice was heard above all. “Remember now why ye shouldn’t pull hair, brother?”
Ardron simply stood and stupidly gawked at his mangled hand.
Deacon took his chance and kicked Ardron high in the chest.
That seemed to get his attention.
Ardron staggered back and took his eyes from his hand and focused on Deacon instead, his face showing nothing but rage and hatred.
Deacon leaned forward and waved his middle finger in Ardron’s face. He wasn’t sure if the gesture was known in Avalon, but it had the desired effect.
This time when Deacon ran for the tree, Ardron did follow.
 
Someone in the crowd shouted, “Aye! Ye better run, little Outlander!”
Deacon smirked.
When he was a few feet away from the tree, he jumped.
His foot caught the third rung from the ground and he pushed down hard, boosting himself up enough to meet the eyes of the boys that were seated in the branches. They were the same boys that he had met the day before; their mouths were little ‘O’s of awe and wonder.
Deacon winked at them before kicking himself away from the tree and twisting his body in mid-air.
His timing couldn’t have been more perfect. By the time gravity had taken over, Ardron was almost directly underneath him.
 
Between his injured throat and the bloody piece of meat that was once a hand, Ardron’s reflexes were even slower than they had been. He had no chance to prevent what happened next.
As Deacon fell on Ardron, he propped out his elbow and locked it. It was the first thing to connect.
Straight down on Ardron’s nose.
If Deacon had be watching the crowd, he would have seen most of them flinching away and covering their eyes, but that did nothing to spare them the sound of Ardron’s nose and face being smashed in.
Ardron hands flew to his face instinctively trying to protect his broken face; he staggered back, but did not fall.
He was beaten; he was just too dumb to realize it. In his condition, he could not continue the fight without risking further injury, but nobody was going to throw in the towel, no doctor was going to stop this fight, he had to fall.
Deacon could have just pushed him over at this point, but Ardron needed to learn, all of these people needed to learn that he was not the sickly and weak Outlander they believed him to be.
So much for his Anger Management classes.
 
As Ardron reeled, Deacon walked over and stepped up onto Ardron’s bent knee and brought his fist down as hard as he could on Ardron’s cupped hands, they offered no protection to his face.
Without a sound, Ardron fell in the sand.
 
The villagers fell silent all at once. This was not the outcome they had expected.
 
Deacon looked down at Ardron. As the big man fell, his hands came away from his face; it was covered in blood, as were his hands.
There was no need to count. Ardron wasn’t getting up anytime soon.
 
His adrenaline still pumping, Deacon scanned the crowd with a look that dared anyone else to step into the Circle with him.
There were no takers.
 
Endrew solemnly stepped into the Circle and tutted at his fallen son. “Bai, ye should stick with farmin’, before ye end up too broken for the Seamus to put back together…”
Endrew walked over to Deacon and held his hand high. “Deacon has proven his worth to me and all of ye, he has defended his honor and his name. Do any of ye dispute?”
The crowd was silent. They did not dispute.
“So be it. Seamus?”
The old Seamus stepped forth, followed by Daniel.
The Seamus knelt down beside Ardron, who was still unconscious. He looked him over for a moment, then spoke. “Aye, it’s not too bad. His sissy did him worse. Have someone bring him to me, if you please. And Endrew, please don’t let him do this again.”
The Seamus stood and returned home.
The crowd slowly dispersed.
A few of Ardron’s friends stepped forward. Charn was one of them. He hissed through his teeth when he got a good look at Ardron. He cast a wary, almost frightened look at Deacon, as did the other three.
They each took one of Ardron’s limp arms and legs and carried him off to the Seamus; they kept an eye on Deacon the entire time.
 
Deacon had a feeling that there would be no more taunting from anyone in Fen Glennan.
As the crowd slowly dispersed, Inanna came running toward Deacon, as did Dio, wagging his tail. “Deacon, ye did it!”
Before he could respond, Inanna scooped him up in her arms and hugged him, much more gently than the last time. After a moment, she let him down and held his shoulders, looking into his eyes, a smile creeping across the corners of her mouth.
Deacon gently put his hands on Inanna’s hips and was about to pull her closer when Daniel began shouting from a short distance away.
Deacon and Inanna simultaneously looked in the direction of the shouting and saw Daniel headed straight for them, and he was moving fast.
He appeared to be chasing something, arms flailing in an attempt to catch whatever it was.
It looked like a small, glowing ball of light, as Daniel approached, his frantic shouting became understandable. “Aika! Stop! Come back here!”
 
Inanna smiled. “How wonderful, the faerie’s all better!”
Deacon wasn’t as pleased, well he was, but the Seamus had warned him what might happen when Aika woke up.
She’d be pissed off and screaming for vengeance.
On him.
Oh shit.
Aika was shining like a little falling star, and moving just as fast. Deacon had barely enough time to notice that her little hands were glowing as well. They were also clenched.
He had remembered what had happened the last time her hands were glowing like that. She blasted him in the head, singeing skin and hair.
It had hurt pretty badly, and she was nearly dead at the time.
But now? Being fully healed and in perfect health, she might just blow his face off.
Inanna had seen Aika’s intent to harm Deacon just in time to swat at her, luckily for Aika, she wasn’t quite fast enough to hit her dead on, but fast enough to just knock her to the ground.
Aika managed to stop herself from hitting too hard and was immediately blasting off again. Being slightly stunned, she wasn’t nearly quick enough to avoid being caught in Inanna’s hand.
The little faerie was totally pinned, and furious. She spouted off a slew of incoherent curses, but her mood was obvious.
Inanna held the defenseless faerie close to her face and asked, “Why are you attacking Deacon, little one? He didn’t mean to hurt you.” She turned to Deacon. “Isn’t that right? It was an accident.”
Deacon nodded in agreement. “It was an accident, Aika. I’m sorry.”
Aika just glared at him through squinted eyes, but after a moment, she seemed to calm down a little.
Inanna gave her a stern look, just like she learned from her Da. “I’ll let ye go now, but if ye try and hurt anyone, I’ll squeeze ye until your little head pops off like a dandypuff!”
Now Aika glared at Inanna. “Lemmego! Noharm!”
Inanna released her.
She immediately flew and hovered in front of Deacon’s face, looking extremely anxious. “Gottago! Gottago! WarnEvon! Now! Now!”
She looked about ready to take off with or without Deacon.
He picked up on her urgency. Now he was worried.  “Warn him of what? What’s going on?”
Aika grew more and more distressed by the second. “Elfkin! Coming for Evon! Have a Fae to open the way! Now! Nownownow!”


And now the moment you've all been waiting for, my Dream Cast for EPIC!


Logan Lerman as Deacon McTaggart. Somewhat of a 'bad boy', Deacon has very little regard for authority, and even less for Bullies, he will always come to the aid of those in need. Initially teased about his 'frail' and 'weak' stature according to the villagers of Fen Glennan, Deacon is fully capable of taking care of himself as you read in the excerpt.

Georgie Henley as Inanna. Adopted daughtra of Fen Glennan's Chieftain. Inanna is half Colossi (Giant) Standing a full foot taller than Deacon, Inanna is a big girl with a big heart. She develops a 'bond' with Deacon, as she's teased about her size as well.Inanna is slow to anger, but when's she's pushed enough, she is a force to be reckoned with as her adopted older brother Ardron found out when they were children. She very nearly killed him.

Zachary Gordon as Daniel Goodman. Prentiss of the Seamus, the resident wizard and medicine man of Fen Glennan. Daniel is also an outsider in Fen Glennan, having been raised by the Seamus in Avalon, as well as spending time on Earth. As well as some basic magic skills, Daniel also has the gift of 'Shaping', the ability to manipulate matter on a molecular level.

Brian Cox as Evon McTaggart. Deacon's eccentric uncle who passes on his 'Legacy' to Deacon.

Lindsey Stirling as Aika. Lindsey has been my #1 pick for the feisty and borderline psychotic Faerie since the beginning.

Kellan Lutz as Ardron. Ardron becomes a major thorn in Deacon's side pretty much as soon as he arrives. As son of the Chieftain, Ardron is constantly trying to prove himself to his Da, Endrew. His constant harassment of Deacon finally comes to a head when they clash in the 'Circle'.

Nathan Jones as Tarron, the Battle Mastron of Fen Glennan. Tarron is the instructor for all potential warriors in the village, he is harsh and stern but only to teach his students better in the 'Doctrines Of War'. Described as a 'mountain of a man', Mr. Jones certainly fits the bill. Seriously, look at this guy.

Luke Goss as Mazzariah, the Lord High Commander of the Elfkin people. Not really a villain in the traditional sense, he only does what he must for the survival of his people, even if it puts him at odds with Deacon.
And there you have it! My picks for an EPIC movie. You may be wondering why there are no picks for Ubaru'ud, but if you've read the books, you'd know it would be a daunting task requiring many actors.

Agree? Disargee? Have any choices of your own? Feel free to let me know!

Now I'll 'tag' five other authors and challenge them to this little game...
Muffy Morrigan - The Sail Weaver.
Richard B. Knight - The Darkness Of The Womb.
Shawn Reilly - The Union Series.
C.A. Sanders - Song Of Simon.
Pauline Ramsey - The Beginning.




Tuesday, January 8, 2013

One Headlight.

Sometimes having a brain that just won't shut up can be a blessing, and sometimes it can rob me of much needed sleep or distract me from paying attention to important...ooh! Look, shiny!
See, it happens.
One thing my sleepless brain likes to do is bombard me with analogies, analogies about damn near everything. I happen to like analogies, don't you like analogies? You should, they're awesome.
Stop looking at me like that.

The other night, my Muse came to me and promptly jabbed me in the eye as she often does, but not with another story idea, she came to me with another analogy. Thanks Muse! It's not like I'm trying to concentrate on finishing a book or anything!

Anyhoo, see how distracted I can get?
Carrying on...

The Immortal Tom Cochrane once said 'Life is a Highway' (Sorry Rascal Flatt fans, he did it first.) even though I absolutely hate that song, it brings up a good point, just not the way Mr. Cochrane intended...

Life CAN be viewed as a Highway. A dark, foggy highway at night. And most of us have only one headlight to light the way. Some of us are gifted with a good working pair, some of us even have the good fortune to have them stuck on 'bright'. But the majority have just the one.

In life as it is with driving, we start out afraid and cautious, flinching at everything that comes at us in the other lane. As we become more experienced, we start getting a little 'reckless' behind the wheel and taking more chances. If we manage not to wipe-out, we learn to knock that crazy shit off and become cautious again, because we know we can't afford another car, and the insurance rates for repairs are astronomical.

And both have a final destination, point A to point B and all that, both also have many different routes to take, but make no mistake, there is an end to the road, and everyone gets there, and the only real choice you have is what route and what you do to keep yourself from falling asleep at the wheel until you get there...

There WILL be crap to deal with in the road, and depending on what headlights you're equipped with will determine your ability to avoid them. IF (big IF) you even can. If you can't avoid these 'bumps in the road', you have three options.
1. Put the pedal to the metal and plow right through it and crush it under your wheels.
2. Hit the brakes, delaying the inevitable, and hope for minimal damage.
Or 3. Let Jesus take the wheel and see what happens. (Not recommended.)

As with any 'road trip' there will be interesting things to see and people to meet, you might even want to pick up a passenger or two to enjoy the ride with you, how long they ride with you depends on your driving ability. (Not THAT driving ability, get your mind out of the gutter, you sick puppy.)

But make no mistake, the ride WILL end, and you can't always control when or where. Sometimes it may end before you get where you want to go, because somewhere along the way there is a big brick wall that you cant drive around, over or under, you might see it coming, you might not, and it's at the bottom of a long steep hill and your brakes are out. You're going to hit it, and you won't walk away.

So be careful on that dark, foggy highway, kids. Buckle up and be safe out there, and remember that there are other people on the road, some have their brights on, some have one headlight, and a few unfortunate ones have no headlights at all...

Monday, January 7, 2013

Just let me peel the protective cellophane coating off of this brand new 'Blog' thing, and I'll explain the title, 'A Different Cloth'. Alright, all done. Here we go...

The Oxford Dictionary definition of the word 'Author' is 'the writer of a book, article, or document. So I guess considering the reputable source of that definition, I am an 'Author'. Although that title still seems weird to me, even now people will ask, 'So, you're an Author?' and my response is, 'I wrote a book and published it, so Yes?''

But right around the time I was ready to publish I thought it to be a good idea to get to know other writers/ authors, since I was now one of 'them', (By Oxford Dictionary definitions, anyway.) But as time went on and I ventured out into this new...um, venture and got to know these people, something quickly became quite apparent...other then writing something and having it published (Sometimes, some writers are far too pefectionalistic to actually take the plunge.), I had absolutley NOTHING in common with them. I apologize in advance if the following 'criteria' doesn't apply to you as an Author/Writer. (If it doesn't, pleeeeease get in touch with me, I'd love to meet you!)

Again, this goes for the ones I've actually met and spoken to, not EVERYONE.

Degrees and Certificates for English, Creative Writing and the like. Yeah, great, you went to school and paid money to learn how to write, congratulations. You now have a piece of paper reaffirming  your ability to construct a cohesive sentence. By the way, the general public remains decidedly unimpressed.
I don't have any degrees or pieces of paper to tell me that I'm 'allowed to write'. And the sad truth is most authors will look down their noses at it, as if to say, 'Why are YOU here?', because without that piece of paper, you are unworthy of note and not 'the real deal'. I LOATHE that 'elitist' crap, but it's going to be a recurring theme, so get used to it.
I am of the frame of mind that creative ability of ANY of the Arts should come naturally, taking classes to learn the basics is one thing, but if you need further instruction past that point, then perhaps trying something else will suit you better. You cannot learn to be creative, no matter how many pieces of paper tell you otherwise.

A lot of Authors also seem to be big on the 'Wine Tasting', fancy cheese nibbling, high society, hoity toity scene. I, for one am not. Again, this is another example of the 'elitist' frame of mind that most Authors have. And again, if this does not apply to you, carry on.
Just the smell of wine gives me a headache, if I'm going to enjoy an adult beverage, I'm going to damn well drink it, not just taste it. It's also going to a beer, in a bottle (Never in a glass.) and as for cheese, slap it on a burger and we'll call it good. I'm also not much of a 'social butterfly', being around a group of people too long is 'uncomfortable' to me. Now I realize that most Authors are social shut-ins, but the ones that aren't take it to an extreme. I even know another local Author who does book signings at these little soirees (and charges people to attend!), sorry, but that's not my target demographic. If they happen to stumble across my work and enjoy it, awesome, but I'm not going to go out of my way to garner favour from them.

Then there's the whole 'all Authors must read, read, read!' Even the King himself is a staunch believer is this idea. Will reading more make you a better writer? Will it help you discover your own style? I don't see how this can possibly work without absorbing a little something from them, thus, not making it your own. This is why I don't read much, I don't want to be influenced and 'accidently' 'borrow' somebody elses style or ideas. But it can still happen even when you try and avoid it...
Many of them wear their 'well read-ness' like a badge of honor, and if you've never read Melville, Shakespeare, Steinbeck and their ilk, you are a less than human scabbrous leper not worthy to stand amongst them! How DARE you call yourself an Author without reading the Masters of the craft??? I was once given the 'ol 'stinkeye' for saying that I never read Tolkien. I tried once after the movies came out and gave it a go, I quietly put it down after 30+ pages of Bilbo walking through the woods. Sorry, but that shit was boring. I appreciate what Tolkien has accomplished in making the Fantasy genre loved and accepted, but still...major boring shit. Not reading it.

All that said, I'm not trying to say that I'm better than other Authors because I don't 'adhere' to the typical stereotype, I'm just 'different', and that's okay. Am I better than SOME? Not for me to say, but I have readers that enjoy my works, and some very favourable reviews that would lean to a firm 'Not too shabby, new guy.' Am I less than great compared to others? Of course! I'd be a major douche-canoe to think otherwise.
And if you need to decide for yourself, please check out my stuff for yourself, look me up on Amazon.com for my selections, you can get them all for about $5. If ya dig 'em, cool, mission accomplished! And if ya don't, that's cool too.

And taking everything stated previously to heart, this is why I remain cut from...
A Different Cloth.