Swift Six Character Interview – Acionna #Fantasy #Mythictales

#Swiftsix #fantasy #talesoferana #Meetacharacter

mythic-fb-bannerName: Acionna

Which book/world do you live in?

I live in the Jagged Peak mountains, they are in the world called Erana by those who live there. I am in a book? I know of books and lore. Then am I not real? – I feel real, and the mountains around me seem real. Is it, perhaps, that I am real here, and you are the myth, you are the imaginary?

Tell us about yourself: (Name, race/species, etc.)

I am an ancient elemental, a Goddess to some. Born of the mountain, and the pounding waterfalls when the world was young and the magic free. It was so long past I could not tell you how many years or centuries of your time. Once there were many of my kind – creatures of magic and wild places but the magic was chased away, corrupted and sickened and many of us fell, or hid, or faded. Now I am a myth, a legend told around the fire and a drop of blood here and there in lineages old and noble. The Plague came and everything changed. The land changed, the magic changed.

My myths say:

‘Many creatures were born when the magic was wild and free. Guardians of the wild places they would become, and when there were mortals to believe they would become gods; for those whose lives end often seek out those who endure. Acionna had been born of the rock, the water and the snow. She was a child of all and none, a child of the raw magic of the earth and streams. So it was the elemental walked among the rock and water, a goddess of sorts.’

 My hair is white like the fresh-fallen snow, and my skin blue-black like the beloved mountain which spawned me. To you I would appear naked. Elementals feel no shame of their bodies, nor a need to cover themselves. Shame is a mortal emotion. But even elementals may love, and experience loneliness. For everything which lives craves company of some sort. I do not fear death, but I do fear this awful loneliness lasting until the mountain falls to dust.

I’m an adventurer – why should I recruit you to accompany me?

I have had my adventures, I have warred, and lost all save myself. I have walked the mountain paths and fought with monsters and men who would seek to kill every last trace of magic. Why should I wish to adventure again?

If I were to consent I would bring you elemental magic, of the oldest sort. The Power of the elementals, the Power of nature and the furious waters and mighty peaks.

Tell us about your companions?  How do they see you?

I have none. My mate is long dead, now nothing but a statue and even I cannot undo the curse. My daughter is gone, fallen to wicked magic and I walk these peaks alone. Sometimes the trolls come and bring offerings but they see me not. For I know now that mortals and immortals should not mix.

What’s your most heroic exploit to date?

We fought the Sal tribe, with their wicked fae-bought magic. There were no winners in that war, but I cleansed the mountain of its taint of stolen and bargained dark sorcery. No more did the trolls bargain with the fae.

What’s your greatest failure?

We lost the war. The Plague came anyway and the land was blighted. My mate was killed, by allied tribe scattered and the Relic of the Moon was lost.

Where do you think you’ll be in a decade?

To an immortal time is nothing. I was born of magic and mountains, and with luck, I will fade when they do. The magic is hunted, it is purged, and it is tormented but magic cares not. Magic is and always shall be wild and free. The Order of Witch-Hunters are mortals, they rose and they will fall sooner or later. I have seen the tribes of men come and go like the seasons, but through them, magic remains. I concede it hides and shows itself in places of mystery and crafty ways but the magic is as old as the land and will not die completely.

Do you have a great love? (This could be a person/trait/item)

Talin Var – Hirik prince of the Var tribe of trolls. Is it wise for an elemental to love a mortal? No, usually it ends in tragedy, but love is a sister to magic and she finds her way when one expects or desires it not. Love cannot be controlled or denied. Talin was brave, strong and honourable and he gave his life for his people.

My love for Talin persists, even after so many years.

Links to book etc

 The Moon on the Water appears in the Tales of Erana: Myths and Legends – this appears in Mythic Tales Box Set.

Mythic coverfan.png

TalesErana cover

Mythic Tales Montage

Mythic Tales can be found at the following stores:

Mythic Tales on Bundle Rabbit https://bundlerabbit.com/b/mythic-tales

Mythic Tales on Kobo http://bit.ly/2fI2Ons

Mythic Tales on Amazon http://amzn.to/2fFWnkI

Mythic Tales on Barnes and Noble http://bit.ly/2xLbdLi

Mythic Tales on I-tunes http://apple.co/2xMaolH

 

 

 

Tales of Erana: Myths and Legends

In a world where magic is illegal, and elves enslaved dare you hear the tales of old? Five tales of myth, magic, and monsters from the world of the Light Beyond the Storm Chronicles.

Audio editions narrated by Michael Legate

Amazon.com http://amzn.to/2j0yyEh

Amazon audio http://amzn.to/2hKoUoZ

Audible.com http://adbl.co/2hKOKHP

Amazon UK http://amzn.to/2j0DJnK

Amazon UK audio http://amzn.to/2iBbmM8

Audible UK http://adbl.co/2bxgVrw

Barnes and Noble http://bit.ly/2i31N56

I -books http://apple.co/2hKO19z

Kobo http://bit.ly/2i2W0MR

Zweihander Interview – Kerrien and Rithvik #Fantasy #Mythic

Today we welcome two characters at once – Kerrien and Rithvik

Relationship: it’s complicated

World: Silvery Earth

Books: Beautiful, included in the bundle Mythic Tales or the collection Fairy Tales Revisited

  • How and where did you meet?

Rithvik: In my castle! He found me and awoke me with the sweetest…

Kerrien: Shut up, Rithvik! I’m an adventurer and bounty hunter, and I had followed some bandits to an abandoned castle in the forest. I found him at the top of one of the towers, spellbound, asleep…

Rithvik: And he kissed me awake! *beams*

Kerrien *glares*

  • What is it you like most about the other person

Kerrien: He’s darn handsome, I’ll give him that. And he has kissable lips, darn him!

Rithvik: He is strong and handsome and awesome and he kissed me awake, so we’ll be together forever!

Kerrien: We’re not. You consorted with demons, I will get rid of you.

Rithvik: No you’re not!

  • What is it you hate most about them?

Kerrien: I hate how he sticks to me and tells everyone I kissed him awake.

Rithvik: I hate how he’s trying to get rid of me! We’re meant to be together!

  • Do you work well as a partnership?

Kerrien: Well, he can hold a sword. I guess we’re a good team.

Rithvik: I have a lot to learn, but I’m sure we’ll be the best and everybody will want to hire us!

  • Do you think your partnership will last?

Kerrien: I don’t know. I like to work alone. And I don’t like his past.

Rithvik: Of course our partnership will last! We’re meant to be together anyway!

Kerrien: We’re not!

Rithvik: See why it’s complicated?

  • Describe the other person (max 100 words)

Kerrien: Rithvik is a spoiled prince with a puppy disposition, but he has a nice ass and beautiful emerald-green eyes. And he’s handsome, nobody can deny it.

Rithvik: Kerrien is a grumpy mercenary with lots of hidden scars. He’s like a stray cat, if you get to his heart, he’s the sweetest. And don’t you love his raven hair and hazel eyes?

  • Describe how you think the other person sees you

Kerrien: Great and mighty warrior. *snorts* I’m his caretaker, mentor, assistant and another dozen job descriptions!

Rithvik: Erm… he thinks I’m useless and spoiled and that I spellbound him. I didn’t, unfortunately, or it wouldn’t be so complicated.

  • Tell us a little about your adventures

Kerrien: We wander, looking for treasures, hunting outlaws, looking for Rithvik’s past…

Rithvik: And yours! I want to know everything about where you come from!

  • Tell us about your world – and your part of it

Kerrien: We both live in the north, where the Moren Empire used to be.

Rithvik: The Moren Empire was still there when the spell sent me to sleep!

Kerrien: That was centuries ago. Now we have small kingdoms, city-states and the lands of the barbarian tribes, where I come from.

Rithvik: I think someone mentioned this world is called Silvery Earth and this… continent? Yes, this continent is called Varia.

Kerrien: Where did you hear that, from your demon lover?

Rithvik *rolls eyes*

  • Where do you see yourselves in five years?

Kerrien: Still wandering and exploring the world.

Rithvik: Settled somewhere with Kerrien and living happily ever after!

Book Spotlight – Storm Seed #Fantasy

Book Spotlight

Storm Seed (Sacred Band Series Book 7) Janet and Chris Morris

Author’s Cut Edition

#Fantasy #mythic #ancient

Hot off the e-presses, the final “lost” volume of the Sacred Band series in an all-new Author’s Cut edition. Travel with the Stepsons to a future undreamed. Meet the changeling son of Tempus and Jihan. Learn what it takes to become a dragon. Bring gods to a godless realm. High adventure awaits in Storm Seed by Janet & Chris Morris.

Mythic Tales Bundle #Specfic #fantasy

NOW AVAILABLE!

Mythic Tales on Bundle Rabbit https://bundlerabbit.com/b/mythic-tales

Mythic Tales on Kobo http://bit.ly/2fI2Ons

Mythic Tales on Amazon http://amzn.to/2fFWnkI

Mythic Tales on Barnes and Noble http://bit.ly/2xLbdLi

Mythic Tales on I-tunes http://apple.co/2xMaolH

A collection of tales told in the old mythic style or set in ancient times, with fairies, monsters and daring deeds. From dark fantasy worlds to the legendary past of our own, myths and legends abound.

Book #1: Beneath the Knowe – Anthea Sharp

Book #2: Tales of Erana – A. L. Butcher

Book #3: A Sword’s Poem – Leah Cutter

Book #4: On the Edge of Faerie -Stefon Mears

Book #5: Sorcha’s Heart – Debbie Mumford

Book #6: Tales Fabulous and Fairy Volume 1 – Kim Antieau

Book #7: Tempus – Janet Morris

Book #8: Caught in Amber – J.M. Ney-Grimm

Book #9: Warden of Power – Karen L. Abrahamson

Book #10: Beautiful – Barbara G. Tarn

Book #11: Lost: Cinderella’s Secret Witch Diaries (Book 1) -Ron Vitale

Book #12: Tales of the Faie: The Beginning of Days – Diana L. Wicker

Book #13: Angels and Djinn, Book 1: Raziel’s Shadow – Joseph Robert Lewis

Book #14: Magic for a Rainy Day – Alexandra Brandt

 

Mythic Tales

Book Spotlight – Dwarves of the World Bundle

#Fantasy #Dwarves 

Title: Dwarves of the World

Edited by: Ellen Michelle

Authors: Pat Flewwelling, Lisa Toohey, Dale Long, Brenda Carre, Clay Greene, Brandon Draga, Nicholas Jennings, Vincent Justin Mitra, and Sherry Peters

Genre: Fantasy

Main character description (short). Every main character is a dwarf. Each story has a different dwarf MC that goes through different adventures.

Synopsis: A collection of stories that celebrates dwarves and dwarf culture. Go on an adventure! Stay at home to eat and drink! Forge an axe! Explore what dwarves do or are meant to do, celebrate that and enjoy the culture.

Brief Excerpt 250 words: This excerpt is from the beginning of Sherry Peters’ story: Mabel the Masterful Dwarf

I rubbed my chin. Where just yesterday I felt only smooth skin, patches of short hairs now grew. I pinched the shaft of one between the nails of my first finger and thumb to measure its length. It had to be a record for overnight growth. If my beard continued to grow this fast it would be thick and full before long.

I grabbed my favorite blue tunic and forced it down over my belly. Going up a size of clothing was always a good sign, but this, combined with the beginnings of a beard, was huge. I should have expected it. After all, I was of age. Still, this was a day my best friend Emma and I had talked about all our lives.

I poked my head out my door and smelled pancakes, sausages, and maple syrup. “Max.” I called down the stairs to the youngest of my brothers.

Max, a year older than me, came to the bottom of the stairs, an overflowing plate in hand. Pork fat dripped into his coal black beard as he munched on a sausage. “What?”

“Can I borrow a tunic? Mine’s too tight.”

“Sure.” He handed me his plate while he went into his room.

I helped myself to a thick pork sausage. I licked my lips, savoring the fat and the hint of maple syrup.

 

Why should readers buy this book (50 words max)?

The Dwarves of the World bundle provides 9 fantastic short stories from 9 talented authors that explore the myths and corresponding mythology about dwarves and dwarf culture. Each story deals with a different aspect of dwarf culture with personalities and situations as unique as the humans you meet every day.

DwarvesOfTheWorldCover_Final_ver3.jpg

Cover art credit should go to Ben Falco.

Links etc.

https://bundlerabbit.com/b/dwarves-world

 

 

Review – Magic for a Rainy Day #fantasy #fairytales

5 stars #fantasy #fairytales

This delightful collection of short stories twists and turns with Celtic magic from Scotland, to Ireland, to Fairyland. Fairytales retold, and with a heart and passion that is apparent in every word. None of the stories is particularly long or heavy; there is a lightness of phrase from the author which is refreshing and fits the ambience of the collection.

I found myself laughing, smiling and recalling tales from old – particularly with the Irish tale of Banoffee Pie and Black Pudding. This is a fine tale of fairy gifts and being careful what one wishes for.

The last tale –They Stole My Love Last Night was poignantly told, sad and moving with a bittersweet ending. It was a good finale to the collection.

I’d like to learn more about these characters, especially the half-wyndling Skye, and read more of her adventures. Definitely recommend this to readers of fantasy, fairy tales and mythical stories.

 

Set in Scotland, Ireland, and the Pacific Northwest, these five stories share three things: a little rain, a little fantasy, and a lot of heart.

In “Sidewynd,” Sky Patel balances life between Edinburgh and its mirror in the faerie realm. Until the balance breaks.

In “The Flat Above the Wynd,” Sky’s inherited responsibilities double when past mistakes come back to haunt her.

In “Banoffee Pie and Black Pudding,” Alyssa Granville’s troubles begin with a strange gift from a stranger Irish man.

In “(Not a) Fairy Tale,” a bullied teenage girl learns a startling truth. But fairies don’t go to high school…do they?

In “They Stole My Love Last Night,” Celtic music, fairies, and ghosts collide, turning a bitter story sweet.

Swift Six Author Interview – Melody Klink

Name: Melody Klink

What attracts you to the genre in which you write? Young Adult has a magic about it that always brings me back; the stories and characters aren’t desperately childish and naïve, yet they haven’t been hardened by years and a world of experience. Outlandish things are still possible, and magic still lurks in the small things.

What piece of writing advice do you wish you’d known when you started your writing adventures? Don’t try to make every word perfect in the first go! First draft like crazy, then go back and shine it up. And then do it again. And probably a third time… but any which way, don’t expect perfection in the first go ’round.

If you could have dinner with any famous person or character who would you choose? Wow, this is a tough one! Hmm. I think I’d have dinner with Carl Sagan; he was such a poetic and insightful scientist, and his words are just as pertinent today as ever. He made my already-vast love of the stars take on new meaning, and majorly inspired my poetry writing!

Who has been the greatest influence on your own work? Joseph Campbell, by far. His works on mythology and the archetypes of story are invaluable, both in writing and the real world. By knowing the intricacies of a hero’s journey, you have a deeper understanding of what your characters must do within their own worlds to succeed, or how to turn them into villains. (Deepest apologies to J.R.R. Tolkien, who comes in at 1½ on the influence scale.)

Do you think the e-book revolution will do away with print? This is a conflict for me. The realist in me says, it’s a definite possibility; the convenience and price differences are already great boons in the e-book industry. The artist in me hopes that the printed word never goes anywhere, because I desperately cling to my books. That’s not to say I don’t do e-books, I just prefer holding a book, smelling its pages, feeling its weight, marking all through it or keeping it clean and sacred.

Which 3 books would you take to a desert island and why? Garden Spells – Sarah Addison Allen. This book is like coming home for me; it’s my “anxiety read,” as it calms me and helps me refocus on things that really matter. Allen describes things in such a magical way, her writing is lyrical and intoxicating.

Stardust – Neil Gaiman. It’s no secret that Gaiman is adept at whisking us away from our current time and place- why focus on being on a desert island, when you can be… okay, a muddy field isn’t much better, but the magic is there.

The Norse Myths- Kevin Crossley-Holland. Everyone needs a hero’s tale to read on a deserted island!

Author bio and book synopsis Please introduce yourself (250 words or so):

While pretending to be a human, Melody Klink likes to write down words. Lots and lots of them. All to gain the admiration and trust of the human masses.

Wait. I mean… Melody Klink is a lovable little scamp with a sweet tooth for all things coffee. Spending her entire life nose-deep in books and writing, she always manages to have one more adventure to tell the world. When she’s not scrubbing stray words out of the squishy bits of her brain, Melody can usually be found spending copious amounts of time on Xbox Live, fangirling over comics, studying various sciences, and yes! Even reading. She may or may not be addicted to memes, Futurama, and crafting things poorly. While her first foray into publishing was Bad Mood Boogaloo, a book for toddlers, she also enjoys writing novels, and has several titles in the works. She currently resides in the Mid-South with her husband, daughters, and one annoying cat.

Tell us about your book(s) – title, genre etc (short) Godeater: The Second World – Young Adult Fantasy, mythology-based. Gods are reincarnated into kids from North Dakota to battle an immortal-killing ancient creature.

Diamond Marked: The Tales of El’Anret – Young Adult Fantasy, Faerie story with lots of fabled creatures. A mortal girl is marked as the queen of the El’Anret, the Faerie world, and must battle mythical foes to keep her rightful place. Includes three novellas from the mortal and Faerie worlds: Queen of Diamonds, Jack of Diamonds, and King of Diamonds.

 

Links

https://melodyklink.com/

amazon.com/author/melodyklink

Social media

https://twitter.com/AuthorMelK

https://www.facebook.com/melodyklinkauthor

https://www.goodreads.com/MelodyNKlink

https://www.instagram.com/authormelk/

Diamond Marked Melody Klink

Hell Week 2017 – Day 6 – Janet Morris/Medea

pirates-in-hell_vertical-webbannerWelcome to Day 6 of Hell Week. Today the Infernal Interview Service catches up with series creator Janet Morris, and her character Medea.

 

Character Spotlight

About yourself:

*Who are/were you?   Tell us about your life before you came here, and after.

I am Medea, daughter of the king of Colchis, niece of Circe, granddaughter of Helios the sun god, priestess of Hekate, who rules Erebos and judges the damned who come there. More to the point, I am the oldest witch in hell. I met Jason when he came to Colchis to claim his inheritance and swore to claim his throne by bringing home the Golden Fleece. Like a fool, I fell in love with him. I helped him secure the Fleece, pass every test, on the condition that he would marry me should we succeed. Sailing in the Argos with his Argonauts, we did all of those, and more

* Why do YOU think you’re in Hell?

Jason and I killed my brother, who came chasing after us to grab the Fleece once we secured it. Then, later, when he spurned me for a daughter of Creon’s, did I turn upon fickle Jason, and killed both our children. Although I had a right to my revenge, one of those or both brought me to hell.

Who are your friends/allies here?

Friends? If you wish a friend in hell, find a dog who lived on Earth before coming here. Scarce those are, but no scarcer than a friendly soul in hell. Those in hell who’ll help me are the Erinys, the Furies, the Moerae, the Fates; but those exact their own diabolical price. Men here like Jason, once my lover, might ally with me in perdition, but no one has a ‘friend’ in hell, anymore than a lover who will be true to oath or promise. And my once-husband, Jason? He sired a race called Minyans, bedding every Lemnian woman he could find. What more about his morals need you know? Such souls now feel my wrath and will feel it more, forever.

Do you have any enemies here?

My enemies are legion. Among the greatest are Jason and his crew of heroes, every one. Some of those heroes live on in hell, flayed, without a patch of skin anywhere upon them — a due punishment for men who killed so many whilst they lived. Some need more humbling; some have earned an afterlife of pain. And, by Circe’s will and Hekate’s devising, I am one who sees to the torment of the deserving. I have told you I am hell’s oldest witch, and thus damned souls are my natural prey.

Pirates – is that a word you resent?

In my days on the black earth, what you call piracy was an honorable profession, a way to test would-be heroes, and what then was called glory is now called evil-doing. In hell, sinners sin and sin again: their fates abide in their natures: and pirates in hell today can be thieves of music, words, or souls. I serve my purpose, to terrorize and penalize the damned. Thus I please the Lords of Hell and get my revenges. So do I resent the word piracy? By all means, if you mean my ‘piracy’ from ancient times. My deeds that got me here were fated, not my fault.

Hell covers all eras and technologies, there are many hells within Hell. How have you adjusted to this strange world?

I stay much to myself, much in Erebos, where I can drink the Waters of Forgetfulness should I wish a good night’s rest. Because I am hell’s greatest sorceress, I travel whither I choose, chasing enemies, breaking hearts, setting rights to wrongs, and wrongs to right.

How do you define ‘piracy’?

Define it? I lived it when such a quest had meaning. Now mere plagiarists and thieves of arts and letters are called pirates. Here latter-day warriors have weapons that make cowards of them all. To me, betrayal of the heart is the greatest piracy: Jason stole my heart – how long ago? – and I’ve yet to get it back.  So his steps do I shadow, his hopes do I destroy. And all like him, arrogant men who sack and pillage and lay waste here in damnation, are due to feel my wrath before infernity shall end.

Describe your home/environment in Hell.

I have said, I rest in Erebos, where those heroes end who can’t remember their names or fames. From there I range wheresoever my damned quarries roam. Satan sets me tasks in his New Hell, where the New Dead dwell; nor are the Old Dead safe from me. But, alas, not even the greatest witch in hell can rid its fastness of guilty humans. But I say to you that the New Dead, those hedonistic souls who care only for themselves, torment one another more than even I can devise. So I stay among the Old Dead, since sinners there abound, and pick and choose. And why are you here, my dear? Have you not yet felt my fury?

Come on be honest, what do you think of HSM leadership?

Ah, Satan. He is what he is, suited to his modern flock of fearful souls, who all believe they don’t belong in perdition, who groan and moan over the slightest torture. Ha!  Now, Hades: there is a ruler worthy of the name.

What is the WORST thing about being here?

That I still love Jason:  that’s my torment. No matter how I try, I cannot shake his hold on my poor and shrunken heart.

Erra and his Seven – what’s going on there then?

Ah, Erra and the Seven – called the Sibitti. Erra and his personified weapons are doing more to make the underverse hellish than Satan ever did. The plagues in hell are of Erra’s making, and the floods, and there be more to come from the Babylonian Plague God and his minions., before eternity runs out.

What are your best tips for surviving in Hell?

Surviving hell?  All souls in hell are dead, do you not realize that? What survival do you mean? The survival of the soul?  They have that, yet they complain.  Soon enough, methinks, Satan will turn to obliteration: an end to all hell’s over-crowding, and to Satan’s own sentence here. Hell has its gods, to commute a sentence. Irkalla can send a soul straight to what you call heaven, if she will. But seldom does. The damned get here, and then they sin, and sin, and sin: every evil inherent in their persons do they exalt. So few, the tiniest fraction, deserve salvation. And those masses who love evil, and repeat their crimes in hell, are cursed with survival: even if they die, the Undertaker resurrects them, and they return to their vile ways. For those who cannot bear more punishment, hell holds out obliteration: not only not to be, but to never have been at all.  And this, to arrogant humankind, is the most frightful end, yet devoutly to be sought by the worst offenders here.

Before you arrived here did you actually believe in HSM and his fiery domain? Bet that was a shock!

I came not to New Hell, where Abbadon rules, but to Hades’ domain, where I have respect, even in Tartaros. There am I assigned retributions to meet out to the damned. Remember, I am not a damned fool like you. I am the oldest witch in hell. So bow down before me, and I may be easy upon you, sinner.

Eternity – that’s a damned long time. How to you spend the endless years here?

Time here is fluid. A day can be an hour, a century a week — never time enough for anything redeeming to be done, but time enough for every evil to mature, and spread, and multiply.

What do you miss most about your old….life?

Jason, when we were lovers. Jason, even now that he despises me. With love grown cold in his breast, I miss my days among the Argonauts, when heroes were heroes and my powers at their peak. Yes, Jason. I miss him only, and miss him most of all wherever in hell I may roam.

 

Author Spotlight

*Janet Morris (a/k/a Janet E. Morris)

Here is my bio from Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Janet_Morris

My first book was published by Bantam in 1977, and I have been writing for a living (fiction or fact), ever since.

* Tell us about your story for this edition.

What inspired you to use the character(s) you’ve chosen?

Hell has so many fascinating characters, as many as human history has produced, that I use both characters who continue through the series, and characters who have only a bit of time upon Hell’s stage. Right now, I am writing Heroes in Hell stories with my husband Chris, and these center primarily on William Shakespeare and Christopher Marlowe, and how their compatriots or inheritors in life are faring in hell. We already know what brought Marlowe to hell. He’s there for writing in Faustus the line: “Hell is just a frame of mind.” In Pirates in Hell, we find out why Shakespeare is damned. This round, we had a fortuitous intersection with current reality, where Shakespeare and Marlowe are concerned: in 2016, scholars decided/admitted, using technological capabilities to underpin instinct and study, that Marlowe must be given co-author credit on at least Henry VI, Part 1, 2, and 3. That, plus the fact that Pirates in Hell admits stories swung around all sorts of piracy, allowed us to use the premise that, in hell, where book piracy and plagiarism are rampant, Marlowe and Shakespeare spat about how and why Kit Marlowe’s name has been omitted as co-author of Henry VI for centuries. Since Marlowe still struggles under a curse which allows him to remember lines he and others have written previously but gives him a hellacious case of writer’s block where new work is concerned, the restoration of Marlowe’s name to at least the Henry VI plays was a story-line too enticing to ignore.

How did you become involved with this project?

I created the Heroes in Hell series when I was at Baen Books and had a multi-book contract that had no creative limitations, not even specific titles: this ploy was how Jim Baen lured authors he otherwise could not afford. So I mentioned the Heroes in Hell concept to Jim Baen on the phone and he agreed I could do a “shared universe” series called Heroes in Hell (HIH).  And that I did, creating, producing, commissioning and editing multiple volumes of stories from authors (many of them writers who then were also friends) that include, so far, two Nebula Award finalists and a Hugo Award winner. We did 12 volumes, including both HIH novels and HIH stories, in the 20th century, and resurrected [sic] the concept in the 21st century with volume #13, Lawyers in Hell.  Pirates in Hell is #20.  But, since all Heroes in Hell volume have a targeted subject, and yet each stands alone, you can start anywhere in the HIH series, make your own order, depending upon your interests: you can choose to begin with HIH novels or HIH shorter fiction. The rules in hell are simple: no one rightly sent to hell gets out. For each novel or story, given writers must use several historical characters, or mythic characters, or legendary characters previously approved for their use by me, and follow the long-arc of the series per se, as well as a volume arc Chris and I give them. We then approve their story concepts before they are allowed to write, since the HIH universe (Hell as we describe it) is our property . So with these constraints, the volumes each have a theme and yet they are subject to tie-in thematics from other volumes which we provide to them.

Writing for a shared world requires rules all writers obey. Even without that constraint, writing for a shared world is most challenging, particularly when you haven’t used a character previously. Introducing new characters, writers must answer the following question to my satisfaction and Chris’: “Why is this character in hell?” Often the basic answer is revealed early in the first story using that character, sometimes it is revealed slowly. If you are using characters previously used by others, you must get my permission to use preciously-appearing characters, and write them to be consistent with the way they’ve been written previously. We have voluminous documents to which writers can refer, not only about New Hell, but about many of the dedicated hells such as Tartaros or Arali.  Since it is in human nature that like groups flock together, we have a few dedicated hells, hard to get into or out of, whether or not you are native to that culture. Some of these are Greek or Akkadian or Elizabethan. With the future hells, we allow only agreed-upon technology and future history, since no character can be historical if that character has not yet lived. Some people wheedled the option of writing about fictional characters, but those are rare, and they must be characters from the 19th century or earlier, or characters or persons from recent times who are in the public domain.

Tell us why you chose this story to tell out of so many possible options?

While Chris Morris and I are working with Shakespeare and Marlow, we’ve been focused on their thread, but always include a new or different character as well, such as J the Yahwist or Diomedes from the Iliad or Medea the Colchian witch. Satan is one of our characters, so we always write a first story which doubles as an introduction to the volume, That first story is always the most taxing one, since we need to find a way to set up afresh the constraints, threats, and givens that all writers of that volume will share. It’s great fun, but its job is to serve as an orientation for the volume not, in or of itself, serve as a free-standing story, though sometimes we can make the intro story serve as both.

What are you currently working on?

I am still working on Rhêsos of Thrace, and also, with Chris, doing the updating and revising for the Author’s Cut volumes of my backlist. We’re only now finishing Tempus Unbound, and on deck is City at the Edge of Time, to be followed by Storm Seed; when those three are released, the ‘Farther Realms’ Sacred Band books will all exist in Author’s Cut editions. Besides our own work, we edit and format works by some writers who interest us, including but not limited to Michael A. Armstrong, Andrew P. Weston, Walter Rhein, Thomas Barczak, so publishing per se takes up much of my time. Plus, although we don’t take unsolicited submissions, we are always reading submissions from writers we find compelling.

If you could have a dinner party with any man and woman from anywhere and any when who would invite and what would you eat?

I’d invite Heraclitus of Ephesus, Confucius,  Albert Einstein, Roger Penrose, Homer, Marguerite Yourcenar, and a smattering of my HIH characters:  the Yahwist, Shakespeare and Marlowe. We’d eat roast lamb, which is familiar to all, barley and wild rice, and desert would be a green salad and/or a cheese board. We’d have wines with the meal and after, with chocolates.

Which 10 books would you save to keep you sane after the apocalypse? Oxford Classical Dictionary, American Heritage Dictionary, The Iliad, the Odyssey, Paradise Lost, Hamlet (or complete Shakespeare), Tamburlaine, Faustus, the I Ching, Spenser’s Fairie Queen.

 

EXCERPT from your story.

Goat-Beard the Pirate, Part 1

or

Bitter Business

 

Janet Morris and Chris Morris

“Now I could drink hot blood and

and do such bitter business as the

day would quake to look upon.”

—William Shakespeare, Hamlet

 

“Piracy in hell is bitter business, when freebooters steal whate’er a soul holds dear.” Grey doublet askew, buff linen shirt open, sans breeches and still bare-arsed but for hose, Kit Marlowe stalked Will Shakespeare across their attic hideaway in the New Globe Theatre. Heels drumming, Kit dogged Will until poet cornered poet at arm’s length. “And bitterest when what’s stolen is words, and the thief’s a lover, a friend — or you, vaunted Bard of Avon.”

“Call’st me thief? O’er the three Henry the Sixth plays?” Shakespeare rose up stiff and livid. “Accept this truth: Once you were dead and your name expunged from those scripts, I ne’er could restore it. When Satan reissued our Henry Six ‘masterworks’ as mine alone, he meant to vex you, Kit. This bone you’d pick with me’s sucked clean of marrow. Pirates run amok throughout perdition. Not only do they ply the floods and stalk the shores, they infest New Hell’s publishing houses. When we both lived, you helped me, yes. But —”

“Helped you?” Kit nearly spat. “But what?”

For a painful eternity, Kit’s question hung in the air between them, an implacable specter, until Shakespeare sought sanctuary in Hamlet’s speech: “‘But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.’” Will hid his bearded mouth behind a fingering hand while his eyes pled mercy.

They seldom fenced with quotes lately, too angry at each other. But now that Will had begun it, Marlowe meant to weaponize the game. For his first beat, he brandished his Elegia 1: “‘Rash boy, who gave thee power to change a line?’ An attribution line at that? In hell I may be, but ’tis insufferable to be plagiarized by you. . . .”

“Kit . . .” Shakespeare’s riposte died upon his lips.

Pulse racing, fury out of control, Marlowe tried to stem his words, but failed: “This bit’s yours, or so you say, but it’s surely apt: ‘For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright/ Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.’”

“With my own sonnet you dare despise me?”

“Despite is but a taste of what you’ve earned from me,” retorted Marlowe, tongue clumsy, blood rushing in his ears. “Did you not proclaim in Henry the Fourth ‘the fox barks not, when he would steal the lamb’? Take care, brash despoiler who hath ravaged me. Confess and make amends, Willie, or that’s the last quote of ours — or is it yours? or mine? — ’twill issue from my lips till infernity runs out.”

In the garret they’d leased once Satan expelled them from Pandemonium, time held still. Kit’s ears heard nothing but their breathing; no draft blew through their attic to cool their wrath; no sweet peace winged their way.

“Thus dies our game of quotes and more, this day!” Shakespeare’s voice shook; wherever no goat-beard bristled, his rosy cheeks drained white. He stumbled over his own lines from A Midsummer Night’s Dream: “‘O, then, what graces in my love do dwell,/ That he hath turn’d a heaven unto a hell.’”

“Your ‘love’ am I? New words may come hard to me, but mine old I have aplenty. Recalling olden words, here’s more ‘deathless prose’ in which I had a hand but got no credit: ‘Love is familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love.’ Or so we once agreed in Love’s Labours Lost.”

Shakespeare sighed. “Marley, I’ll see Old Nick this very night. Beg him to change those attributions and include you. No sinners read those early plays; instead they ogle the hell-born travesties we stage for Satan. Since your words dried up, your soul’s gone cold. But we’ll fix it. Fix everything.”

A promise impossible to keep in hell, now we’ve provoked the Deceiver’s envy of what we two alone can share.

Marlowe shook his head, raised empty hands and dropped them to his sides. “There’s no fix for human frailty; no cure, unless it be Milton’s ‘obliteration’. And as for piracy, I bore with its bile whilst we lived and taste it still. But run not to the Archfiend’s wily embrace. He’s got no Muse of fire for me nor patience left for you; your glory droopeth, to his baleful eye.”

“Not so. Come with me, Kit, to His Infernal Majesty’s reception. Tonight. We’d best not ignore his invitation. All New Hell’s illiterati and their publishers has he summoned: every paltry poet and pusillanimous pundit in perdition will attend. As your Passionate Shepherd begged, ‘Come with me and be my love,’ and we’ll make every slight that’s wrong come right.”

When Will Shakespeare wheedled, contrite and on his game, Marlowe never could resist him. Yet Will’s affair with Satan too oft abandoned Kit to Jealousy’s embrace.

From their window overlooking the Globe’s stage and its tuppenny seats came a scrabbling of claws, a whoosh of wings, a shower of glass. Like love in hell, no pane in that window ever lasted long, but shattered once puttied into place. Kit spied the vandal, a red-eyed bat hanging upside-down from the window’s empty frame, staring unabashed.

Bats in hell exhaled contagion wherever plagues rode the air.

The hairs on Marlowe’s nape bristled. Heed this omen, Will Shakespeare: Diábolos, Old Scratch, the Prince of Hell, call him what you will, now sends his presumptuous bat, wings wide, for you and me.

Aloud, Kit scoffed. “Be your love, Will? At what cost? Go with you where? On this unclean night? Through twisty byways where purge and pestilence sack the damned?” Alas, Kit knew he’d do what Shakespeare asked, face even obliteration for this wraith, this shadow of the man he’d loved so well. “If you insist, I’ll attend you on this fruitless errand, albeit I’ve no hope for it. Your lusty devil won’t heed my plea, or yours. How many times before has Satan backhanded me for barging along beside you?”

At Kit’s last word, with one flap of wings the bat dropped from the sash and glided into its mother night. Did it hear? Understand? Hell bore few animals as the living knew them: hell-bats to shrive the doomed; hell-goats to feast on garbage; hell-horses whose manes and tails hissed like asps; hell-hounds, sometimes manlike. Save the rare curs or coursers come to seek their masters, hell hosted no loving fauna, no creature company for the dead.

Marlowe buttoned his threadbare shirt, donned his breeches, and paced Will through soggy lanes where few dared walk, where brigands roamed in gangs. Here Satan’s latest purge dissolved unwary souls to salty sand, while other damned, unscathed, scuffed through their glittering remains. If not for the floods that flushed its streets, Marlowe thought, New Hell soon would be but one huge dune.

Past the New Globe they ventured; past the Rose, still dark in fear of plague. Receipts were down at every playhouse, audiences scarce. Nevertheless, when they reached their destination the sidewalk teemed with the sad, the bad, and the mad, a mob desperate to gawk at arriving unworthies and glimpse the infamous.

An imposing structure overshadowed all. The hub of Satan’s New Hell seat, a horseshoe upside down and open at its top, arched toward Paradise and its bloody vault. Red carpet smoldered underfoot, gold festoons lined the forecourt’s fence. Torches blazed along ranks of spearhead finials on wrought-iron pickets, displaying the occasional severed head.

At its grand entrance, fiends of carmine and black formed a sweaty cordon barring groundlings here to gawp, whilst Shakespeare’s name assured entry for him and Kit as if it were a watchword.

A liveried orange demon who reeked of week-old corpses escorted them inside, around, up and down stairs that led in more directions than hounds seeking scent, till they came to a cathedral of a hall.

Once inside, their demon guide bowed low and left them.

Now Marlowe realized where Shakespeare’s fame had brought them. This was a fete for the piratical elite, an A-list affair convoked by Satan’s Masters of the Revels, his seven fallen angels, each banished warrior of heaven more gorgeous than the last. Before them, souls from every epoch mingled, resplendent in outrageous finery. While outside calumny, poverty, deviltry and woe oppressed all hearts behind the spear-topped fence, here chatter flowed, laughter pealed.

And stopped . . .

Into that sudden silence, a second orange demon boomed their names, its tail wagging like a dog’s: “Master Shakespeare and Mister Marlowe.”

Necks craned. Fingers pointed. Misers and monsters, demons and debauchers (hell’s every publisher, privateer, prostitute, pimp and poseur) took their measure.

Marlowe tugged his doublet tight to hide threadbare shirt and cuffs, while leers cast his way said he’d be welcome naked. When he’d been a player, spy, and rakehell, such looks had bought him comfort on many a night. Notwithstanding, at that awkward moment Kit felt supremely underdressed; he should have followed suit when Will buttoned on grass-green shirtsleeves and donned his candy-apple codpiece; or at least worn a leather jerkin over the doublet — but no: rebellious, he hadn’t.

A sigh of whispers grew among this staring clutch of vipers. The crowd parted, and Marlowe happed upon more pressing matters to regret; for toward them strode Satan himself, reigning lord of the latter-day hells, a sinning soul on either arm: one male, one female.

“Will, be you wary . . . keep in mind why we’re here.” Kit tried in vain to wet his lips. When his words had fled him at Satan’s behest, they’d taken all his spittle with them.

“Do you see who that is, the big hairy man in the brown mantle, leaning on his staff?” Shakespeare’s whisper tugged Kit’s ear like a child: “King Solomon, from bible times. Do you recall him from the polo field where he begged my bodkin to slice that infant in half?”

A phantom babe, if ever it lived at all, meant to raise hopes of innocence and dash them, the Trickster’s favorite game.

“Will, remember, we’ve only come to convince Old Nick to redress this piracy; provide compensation, restitution or at least retraction, emendation, some satisfaction. . . .”

Shakespeare heeded not a word, but floated down that final stair and straight to Satan, white-winged and magnificent. Beneath one creamy pennon slid the Bard, as if into his rightful place.

That freed the female from Satan’s hold. Once out from under the devil’s pinion, Kit recognized her: J the Yahwist, she who first gave song and grace to the Old Testament.

J regarded Kit with but the faintest smile, as might a goddess . . .

She’d understudied a role in a play of theirs, come to a dress rehearsal, but they’d never stood this close. She extended a hand to him.

He couldn’t resist. That hand promised lost joys. Forgiveness nestled in her eyes. Exaltation graced her lips. She smelled of sympathy and more: a scent with a darker note, a hint of expiation. . . .

Kit Marlowe took two steps to kiss fingers that scribed the advent of creation. Her touch brought him near to tears. “Yet hell-bound, mighty J? Why do you tarry? Why comest thou here?”

“I am come for a line of mine, pirated by a mortal, a self-styled apostle named John: my line about the Word. Do you know it?”

“Know it? I lived it. Yes, I know it.”

“And do you not hear, with your unerring ear, that it belongs with my Genesis, not with the scribblings of some Johnny-come-lately?”

“I hear.” Many dwelt in hell, but this soul, called simply J, belonged Above. She had come on Mercy’s agency, rumor whispered, to inspire the damned — to give them words, give them hope — and been entrapped by Satan’s wiles. Within her orbit, for an instant sorrow left him. Kit forgot all travail, forgot even delirious Shakespeare, snuggling in the curve of Evil’s wing. . . .

“And why are you here, Christopher Marlowe?”

“I’m here about a play or two I helped write. But standing next to you, my loss sums as naught.”

J’s laughter tinkled like bells. “How could that be, you who wrote ‘Come with me and be my love?’” From her lips, the same line Will had used to jolly Kit into coming here became eerie, beguiling; as was what followed: “I have extra words betimes; words meant for hell’s most needy. Who knows but that I might have some for you? Would you want words about love transforming all, Kit Marlowe? Words to sound a higher octave of being? Would words to transfigure suit you?”

“What? You mean you could . . . ? I’d — That is, you would . . . ?”

Meanwhile, Shakespeare had not forgotten Kit:

Into Marlowe’s colloquy with J intruded the Bard’s voice triumphal: “I did what you wanted, Marley. I have Satan’s promise. And look who I found! You recall King Solomon: Solomon of the Song of Songs, of —”

“Will, not now! J says she . . .” Kit looked from Shakespeare to J, but she had slipped away into the crowd.

Consternation must have remade Kit’s face, because bulky, rough-hewn Solomon shrugged: “The Yahwist seeks her own redress of grievances. And a way out of hell.”

Kit could no more than stare.

“Everyone in hell seeks a way out.” Will sneered. “What makes her special?”

“She does.” The apostate King Solomon struck the floor with his staff for emphasis. “You must understand: J has basked in the paradisal light, walked near to the One — and now, for denying her faith by a slip of the tongue, she is marooned here.” Solomon sighed like a desert wind. “I know — she offered you words, didn’t she? She would. But our host Abaddon will never let her heal a soul like yours, as damned as your friend here describes you. You’ve doubtless heard my proverb, ‘As iron sharpens iron, a friend sharpens a friend.’ Few in hell have a friend. Do not pursue the Yahwist. Cleave to your friend Shakespeare and seek the truth of ages.”

Solomon’s words fell like rain on Kit’s roof. Marlowe had no answer for the Israelite king’s bombast but to look away, seeking J’s face in the crowd.

Alas, no Yahwist.

Where was she? What was she? A fortuity found and lost in a heartbeat? Salvation? A glimpse of deliverance? A breath of the sublime? Her offer of words — words to heal his mind, his heart, his riven soul — might never come again. Kit’s gut growled, protesting his loss.

[End of Excerpt]

 

Links:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06Y8WWKMT/

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/pirates-in-hell-chris-morris/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Janet_Morris

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chris_Morris_(author)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heroes_in_Hell

https://www.fantasticfiction.com/m/janet-morris/

https://michaelaventrella.com/2012/05/15/interview-with-hugo-nominated-author-janet-morris/

https://plus.google.com/+JanetMorrisaspis/posts/fKEThwitP61

 

Facebook

https://www.facebook.com/JanetEMorris/

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Janet-Morris/108035375883983

https://www.facebook.com/search/top/?q=janet%20morris%20and%20chris%20morris

 

Blog/Website

http://www.theperseidpress.com/

https://sacredbander.com/

 

Twitter

https://twitter.com/uvmchristine

https://twitter.com/uvmchristine/media

 

Amazon

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06Y8WWKMT/

https://www.amazon.com/Pirates-Hell-Heroes-Janet-Morris-ebook/

 

https://www.amazon.com/Janet-Morris/e/B001HPJJB8

https://www.amazon.com/Pirates-Hell-Heroes-Janet-Morris/dp/0997758449/

 

Goodreads

https://www.goodreads.com/series/40812-heroes-in-hell

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/121072.Janet_E_Morris

 

 

1000 posts! Blogging and its merits

This is the 1001st post on this blog. Hurrah! OK, so I know some folks post way more than that, and I don’t post every day but when I began the blog I wasn’t even sure it would last ten posts.  New content is welcome, and followers don’t want the same old articles, or hear moaning every day – that is what Facebook is for…

I try and keep a mix, and hence the gaps. Also some days there is simply not enough useful content. I am sure most of you don’t give a damn I wrote 200 words, or saw a squirrel in the garden, or had a cold. I don’t know – do you?

So what’s happened over the last thousand posts:

Author interviews – many, many author interviews from a whole range of folks in a whole range of countries, writing a whole range of genres – fantasy, historical, science fiction, biography, books for kids, LGBTQ fiction, paranormal, romance, poets, black fiction, erotica, literary fiction and multi-genre.

Character interviews – I must say these are my favourite interviews. We’ve met gods, demons, vampires, demi-gods, an undead horse, heroes, villains, animals, men, women, gay folks, straight folks, folks who aren’t sure/bothered about that sort of thing, aliens, royalty, slaves and more.

Cover artists, narrators, editors and, of course, readers.

I’ve posted guides to Self-Pubbing on KDP and audio books; reviews; text speech and the evolution of language; the challenges facing authors and readers who have lost, or are losing, their sight; course reviews (historical fantasy, magic in medieval Europe, writing, social media marketing, Roman history); articles about how useful reviews are (or not); Hell Week promoting the Perseid Press Heroes in Hell series (look out for Hell Week 2017; Monsters and Myth; Greek Mythology; the influence of Fantasy in our society; Guest posts about research; important military anniversaries; Thunderclap. And information and news about my own books.

Blogging has brought me friends, useful contacts, a wider pool of resources (very useful – it’s amazing what you learn whilst looking for other things), and led me to look at articles I wouldn’t else have found.  Blogging has taught me the uses of social media. Not to mention the wide and supportive network of indie authors out there, the challenges we face and the joys and successes of writing and publishing. It can be daunting and lonely, especially when new to the arena, but the world of social media, is large indeed. And blogging can bring promotion, laughs, support, information, advice and a field as wide as the world if used correctly.   It’s also a good diary, a good way of processing thoughts and organising things (unless you’re me) and a good sounding board.

Yippee for blogs! May there be many more posts to come.

 

 

Dirty Dozen Author Interview T. M. Lakomy – Fantasy

I’m pleased to welcome back author Tamara Lakomy, who visited us in February and March with her new book.

Author name: T.M Lakomy (Tamara Lakomy)

 What first prompted you to publish your work? The characters have been germinating in my mind for years, I was always enamoured with ancient religions, specifically how they mirrored each other.  The insatiable desire of humanity for a messiah has influenced civilisation to a much larger extent than we believe. The desire to believe we are god’s children and precious souls is the core of our religious identity, and I wanted to challenge the blind dogma.

What have you found the most challenging part of the process? Not getting carried away with delving deep into the characters back stories and anecdotes, it is difficult not to fall so far in love with your characters that you could abandon the plot just to discover them further.

What are your views on authors commenting on reviews? I think it is very important for authors to support each other, because authors understand how hard the process is, and how much love and labour we have bled into the process.

Sort these into order of importance:

Great characters

Good plot

Awesome world-building

Technically perfect

How much research do you do for your work? What’s the wildest subject you’ve looked at? I have immersed myself since I was young in the old folklore and my academic archaeology studies merely furthered my curiosity.

At the wilder ends of my studies, the process of decomposition of a body, as in my second book I tackle necromancy magic.

How influential is storytelling to our culture? In my culture storytelling has been the backbone of our society.  It has been the passed down wisdom and storytelling that has kept the spirit of my people alive through conflict, colonialism and revolutions.  Stories bear the collective memory and moral code of a people.

If you could be any fantasy/mythical or legendary person/creature what would you be and why? Galadriel.  I would have done more to mitigate against Sauron in the early stages.  To be the voice of reason in Feanor’s life.

What is your writing space like? Cats lounging around happily, plenty of white wine, fluffy cushions and a view onto our garden. A desk littered with books and all sorts of random stuff.

Tell us about your latest piece? Sol Invictus – The power struggle between the Cult of the Sun King, seeking Apotheosis; man becoming God, aided by his faithful followers the Silver Brigade, to find his soul a vessel and the Shrine; the indigenous tribal magicians whose hoarded relics hold djinns powerful enough to thin the veil between life and death, holding the key to the forbidden necromantic Arts.

The impediment to the Sun King’s plan is the enigmatic Narya, a crime lord who forsook her guild education and the Shrine’s protection, shrouding her identity in mystery, and Maxilan the deadliest lieutenant called also the “White Devil”. Maxilan discovers his draw to Narya to be the fulfilment of his destiny; also his demise, resulting in him facing the reality of his purpose, the eugenics program that created him.

What’s your next writing adventure? Voice of the gods.  As a writer I have pushed myself to my limits.  I think it will be the most controversial work I have written.

Is there a message in your books? To encourage people to delve into their subconscious.  I am questioning the roots of people’s beliefs and the identities that are predicated on those dogmas.  Institutions and morality codes are built around creeds that have evolved from far more ancient sources.

How important is writing to you? It keeps my sanity in a world that does not make sense to me.

Bio

I am T. M Lakomy (Tamara Lakomy).  I was born in London, but grew up as a tribal girl in a North African repressive regime. I spent my childhood between the slums of Mellasine and the affluent neighbourhoods in Tunis.

I studied archaeology and became enamoured with the shamanistic practices of indigenous people.

I am an author and poet who seeks to challenge our notions of reality, and see life with a different perspective.

I work in East Africa with indigenous tribes studying the origins of mankind and the salient golden thread in the tapestry of humanity’s beliefs.

 

Links:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RedFernManor/?ref=aymt_homepage_panel

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15558568.T_M_Lakomy

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/Shadow_Crucible

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Shadow-Crucible-Blind-God/dp/1590794141

Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-shadow-crucible-t-m-lakomy/1124245404?ean=9781590794142