A Writer’s Nook


I always wanted to be the kind of writer that had a big oak desk to write upon. Perhaps keep it in a dimly lit room that smelled of leather, and had the gentle sound of a ticking clock–a metronome, tick-tock-ticking with each syllable I type out on an ancient typewriter. Sadly, that is not the kind of writer I became, and perhaps it is for the best.

Typewriters are finicky machines that require may care and attention then I care to give them. It would be like having a very clingy cat that smeared ink on you each time it rubbed against your leg. I tried using a typewriter once, and while enjoying the feel of it, the whole experience lacked in the superior offerings of a laptop.

I tried writing on a desk once, too … not a great, large oak one, but a desk. Not my thing either. I found myself sitting there, staring at the laptop and thinking, write, damn it … write something.

Also, it was too quiet. It was almost like my own private mausoleum, and the shadows kept growing up around me. Perhaps that’s why Plod On, Sleepless Giant took me so long to write, it began on a table top computer on a desk in my room. It wasn’t until I got my own laptop that I was able to get the book out of my head.

A place to write is important, just as a place to sleep, a place to bathe, a place to eat … all those things are important. But the truth is that it is a very subjective thing. I’ve done some great writing while standing up, hunched over a counter.

I’ve heard some writers say that they have the most perfect place on earth to write, and that it is there, and only there, that they can write. As if some, slim bolt of lightening comes tumbling off the fingertip of a god and strikes right through them, but only when they sit just so. People that say that are either lying to you, or themselves.

I, myself, simply need the perfect amount of distraction–or better yet, white noise. I need the gentle goings-ons of life to tip toe around me as I tap out my words on laptop. I’m a bit of a people watcher too, which makes a quick break from writing all the better.

I can’t write at home, as the cats–both of them relatively new to our home–seem to be waging war against each other. Occasionally, it appears if they have struck some sort of seize fire, like the Christmas Truce … but then it quickly reveals itself as more of a Tet Offensive. It is then that nothing is sacred, not even the toes of their doting master.

I do have some places that I can go and write; a couple of them are coffee shops. One of the shops is a local place with eclectic wall hangings and interesting people trickling through the door at all hours. The other is a chain coffee shop, that provides more quiet and less distraction.

My favorite place, however, would be the screened in porch. I have a nice, old chair there, sturdy and comfy. I can sit there in the shade and write, as I hear the sounds of birds or children playing, or even the far off song of a lonely lawnmower. It is most definitely a comfortable place to let my mind wander.

Sometimes little Nerwin–the youngest kitty–would be sitting near the sliding glass door, plotting her next military strike against the other cat, Prudence.

All you need to do is find a comfortable place that fits your needs. My needs, apparently, consists of a place that is night deadly quiet, nor completely bat-shit crazy … with a comfortable seat.

Do you have a special place to write, or perhaps to simply think? Tell me … where is your special place?

I Have Audio Books to Give Away!


It has been a while since I have posted to the blog, and partly it was due to trying to finish a book that I have been writing. I say partly because I certainly cannot say entirely. I am a victim to time, as are all of my fellow humans.

We are only given so many minutes in a day to do with what we will–and when you think of it in minutes, it appears to be a lot less. There’s only 1,440 minutes in each day … only 86,400 seconds. There may have been a time, when I was really young, that I might have made a claim that I could possibly hold my breathe for that many seconds. That’s how short a day seems in seconds.

But now I am distracted, which is why you do not get as many of these terrific posts as frequently as you may or may not want them … Better to get right to it!

I have free Audio Books to Give Away!

You read correctly … I have free Audible promo codes, to be used to get a FREE audio book copy of my first novel, Plod On, Sleepless Giant.

But you won’t get them too easily, oh no … smiles are free, but these you must work for. I am not saying you have to come to my house and wash my car, or mow my lawn–though that will work, too. I want you to be a little creative, and help me with the NEW book.

Below is the Introduction to the new novel–working title being “Through the Wicked Wood”. It is a Fairytale Fantasy, telling a story with other stories. It is full of magic, and monsters, and unicorns, and wizards and witches. The idea would be to create a meme using a part of the Introduction.

Take part of the written Introduction, and make a meme however it it that you would make any other meme. Some use computer programs, while others use a handy, dandy mobile app. Draw your own picture, or simply find a picture you feel fits the words … let your artistic side out for a stroll! However you wish to complete the task is completely up to you!

Simply create a meme, and post it to Facebook, and tag my Facebook author page. I will select the very best of the entries in a month’s time–April 22nd–and declare them a winner! That winner will receive a FREE AUDIO BOOK!

Who knows … maybe I’ll give a few away. That all depends on how many people participate.

So please enter! And please share!

Of course, I will keep all of the entries, and will more than likely use them for promoting the new book, when it comes out.

Good Luck!


Fairytale Intro pic

The Speculative Basement: Alternate History


It should come as no surprise that writers are ferocious readers. They devour books and the ideas they contain. It’s the books they read that jumpstart their imaginations, unlocking their creativity to be spilt upon the blank page.

And Tolkien, arguably one of the most inspiring authors, taught us all that histories are important.

Perhaps that is why Alternate History is such a fascinating subgenre. We not only look at the history of our world and those that live in it, but we also spend time wondering to ourselves, What if? Speculation … pure and simple.

What would happen if the US didn’t join the fight in WW2 when they had? What would the world look like today? What if there never had been an America to begin with?

These are the kind of ideas that sparked those late night conversations I used to have in my early 20’s … the talks I couldn’t justify staying up late for today. This is where we let the deductive reasoning kick in, the theorized thought process that Sherlock Holmes is known for.

Some of the best writers have dabbled with this subgenre, including Stephen King, Ayn Rand, and even George R.R. Martin. Most of the books center around politics and war, making these books perfect for those that love to talk about conspiracy theories.

But then again, it’s not a conspiracy if it’s true, right?

The Man in the High Castle – by Philip K. Dick 

Fatherland: A Novel – by Robert Harris 

 11/22/63: A Novel – by Stephen King 
Atlas Shrugged – by Ayn Rand
Anything written by Harry Turtledove 


SpecBaseFantasy Mystery    

The Speculative Basement:


Sword & Planet

sppicPicking up a new book to read, is a lot like a deciding on which candy to eat. Much like books, when I was a kid … there wasn’t much of a selection. But now there is so many types to choose from … ones with peanuts or almonds, coconut or caramel, dark chocolate or white chocolate.

Luckily, there is the perfect subgenre for those of us whose book preferences tend to straddle between the worlds of Fantasy and Science Fiction.

Sword and Planet combines all of the allure and brute force of a traditional fantasy story with the imaginative, endless potential of a space drama. Who doesn’t like the idea of a human barbarian decapitating aliens and rampaging around inside a space station? The short answer is no one!

My Saturday mornings as a kid were spent watching what is arguably the best example of Sword and Planet available on television. Of course, I’m speaking of He-Man and the Masters of the Universe.

It’s a flawless genre, truly. Take a character(perhaps even from earth, misplaced on another planet) and have them battle it out on that strange world against a technologically advanced race of people that are native to that planet. It’s such an entertaining platform, that can completely overlook the numerous questions that pop up.

How can a human, use to Earth’s atmosphere, possibly survive the foreign environment of a different planet?

…. I have no idea!

You really expect readers to believe that a guy with a sword could really take one numerous opponents with weapons that are FAR superior in a technological sense?

Sure … why not?

Why’s the sky green there, and the trees purple?

Does it really matter?

How does all that alien technology work, anyway?


Sword and Planet is a fun subgenre that is unapologetic, and feels no need to explain itself. It’s alien technology … if we understood it, then it wouldn’t be considered “alien”. They’re fantastic stories that shine a light on spectacular characters doing the impossible.

I recommend just picking up a copy of one of the many examples of the subgenre … and enjoy!

A Princess of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs
Transit to Scorpio by Alan Burt Akers
The Book of Skaith: The Adventures of Eric John Stark by Leigh Brackett
The Swordsman of Mars by Otis Adelbert Kline




Alternate History



Speculative Basement:


Apologies for not having an edition of Speculative Basement last week, but I was a bit busy. I was in that hazy faze in which nothing but that one thing you are focusing on can get through to you. And for me that one thing was getting married!

Laura and I tied the knot in a small, outdoor ceremony in front of close friends and family. It was a beautiful celebration–though it was dimpled with small, technical difficulties and sprinkled with bad luck. Everyone seemed to get lost on the way, including the pastor, who ended up being pulled over while trying to off-road his way to the site.

But now the ceremony is done, and we can get back into our normal routines once more. And that includes my blog … which leads us to!!

Grimdark Fantasy

I’m sure the title alone leaves little to the imagination. Grim … dark … so it must be a pretty bleak, and sour world for our fantasy stories. If that is what you are thinking, you are completely correct.

Grimdark Fantasies are dark stories told in the shadows, whose characters are questionable, and their behaviors deplorable. Set in worlds that are ultra violent and overly graphic, the characters are vile, self-serving creatures. But all of that is what makes it all so entertaining!

We have enough soft, beautiful worlds where the good stand tall. Grimdark sets a scene “where nobody is honourable and Might is Right”–or so says writer Adam Roberts.

Want to read stories where blood spills easily, and the hero smirks at the misfortune of others? Do you love a good–well, not so good–anti-hero that cheats everyone, even his friends? Then check out these Grimdark Fantasy titles!

The Blade Itself (The First Law: Book One) by Joe Abercrombie
Gardens of the Moon (The Malazan Book of the Fallen, Book 1) by Steven Erikson
The Steel Remains Paperback by Richard K. Morgan
The Darkness that Comes Before: The Prince of Nothing, Book One by R. Scott Bakker
Heroes Die by Matthew Woodring Stover



Sword & Planet

The Speculative Basement:


20050509_narniaThrough the Wardrobe

C.S. Lewis and Lewis Carroll.

I always got the two confused when I was younger, with the Lewis’s and the “C” names … but they actually had more in common than just slightly similar names. First off, they both wrote fantasy stories that were geared towards children … and they were both British. They both, however, also fell into the same sub-genre … Portal Fantasy.

In Alice’s case it was a rabbit hole–then later a mirror–that helped her pass from our more normal world, into the magical realm of Wonderland. And for those poor Pevensie children, it was a wardrobe filled with coats that transported them to Narnia. But in both we see children escape their troubles, and stumble across a hidden world.

Sure, Alice was mainly escaping a boring afternoon and the Pevensie kids were escaping war torn England, but both are pretty dreadful in the minds of children. Escapism is the key here, and the idea that mundane things could actually be camouflage, hiding the most fantastic of things of all. A hole in the ground … a smelly, old closet.

It’s quite literally one of the first fantasies I ever had, sparking my imagination as a youngster. I use to pretend that my stuffed animals, when they fell through the gap between my bed and the wall, would come to life. I use to pretend that they would call to me … ask me to follow them into their world.

The grass is always greener, or so they  say … and even children believe it to some extent. And portal fantasy is the easy fix to that. Simply put … you live here, in the boring world as we know it … and there is a secret opening, a crack that lets us through into a more magical land.

Lewis and Carroll certainly didn’t invent the sub-genre, but they certainly are the best examples to lay out. A more recent example of Portal fantasy, would be the dark story of Coraline, written by Neil Gaiman. In that example, the main character actually passes into a world that’s a bit like a darkened, mirrored version of her own … spooky, but also still meant for children.

Check out these great examples of

Portal Fantasy!!

The Mirror of Her Dreams (Mordant’s Need, Book 1) by Stephen R. Donaldson
Outlander by Diana Gabaldon
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (The Chronicles of Narnia) by C.S. Lewis
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
Through the Looking-Glass by Lewis Carroll
Coraline by Neil Gaiman


Grimdark Fantasy!

Winning Flash Fiction Story!



I must admit that hosting a flash fiction contest was a bit stressful. First, there was the fear that no one would submit stories … then the fear that there would be a bunch of stories, and I would be blind by the end of the week.

Thankfully, there was a happy median, and here I sit … my vision as fine as it was before, and with the winning story selected.

So congratulations, to Ellie Was … a talented writer.


by Ellie Was

    I am…

    Hoss gazed into the pools in the rocks on the ocean shore, reflection rippling and glistening in the ever-dynamic sea.

    I am… I am… HOSS! Hoss reared on Hoss legs and bellowed, “HOSS!” but there was no sound. Hoss alighted and gazed off over the sea for a moment, disappointed, but as the wind rolled off the waves, a glorious Hoss tail flapped and whipped about Hoss’s Hoss legs, and Hoss stamped with glee.

    Hoss! Called Shok. My friend, Shok breached the water and gazed up at Hoss with black eyes, you are Hoss!

    Yes! It is as the story and the fish with hair.

    Shok buoyed at the shore, looking blankly at Hoss.

    Hoss stomped Hoss’s hooves, leaped round, and off Hoss went.

    The rocks and the sand gave way to tall grass and brush, and then forest, and soon, Hoss was galloping through puddles and swamps and creeks on a path through tall trees. Small things with teeth on long fins and things with big fins that swam in the air made way for Hoss.

    I am best. Said Hoss. I am beauty and fierce. Hoss leaped over a fallen tree. Yes! I am neat. Hoss’s new hooves kicked up dirt and mud and puddles and Hoss pressed on into the wind, eyes open and drying because they could not close, but Hoss did not care! Hoss was Hoss. Neat.

    “HALT!” A Big Thing, covered in black like a shadow, blocked the path and waved a tall stick. Hoss halted, but Hoss did not know why.

    Big Thing, Hoss exclaimed, please do not do that thing! Hoss stomped Hoss’s legs, but they did not stomp.

    Big Thing approached and circled Hoss, inspecting Hoss’s Hoss legs and Hoss hair. Hoss looked at Big Thing and said, What is happening!

    Big Thing ran a hand over Hoss’s head and back. “Tall, strong, fast, fierce. Awesome!” Big Thing looked Hoss in the eye. “You are the coolest thing ever.”

    Big Thing did another thing that Hoss did not like. Big Thing swung up onto Hoss’s back and clung to Hoss’s neck. Hoss bellowed, with no sound, furious and frustrated, but pressed on through the trees once more with Big Thing along for the ride.

    My Hoss legs! My Hoss hooves! My Hoss hair! I am fish with hair, I am my own! But Hoss galloped unwillingly, and Big Thing said nothing, only yelling happily as they rode. Hoss became sad, for Hoss could not yell.

    The trees thinned and Hoss and Big Thing came upon an assemblage of squares of different sizes with other Big Things doing things among them. They rode fast at the things, and one screamed, and then they all screamed.

    “I am the best! Haha!” Big Thing yanked and pulled at Hoss, and Hoss swerved and circled in response. Was this the Hoss life? Was this all there was to legs, and hooves, and hair? HOSS was best. Big Thing was worst, worst ever.

    “Abomination! Horror! Insane!” the things shouted. “Neat,” one said, smiling at Hoss and not running and screaming like the rest. Hoss disagreed: Hoss is not neat. No longer neat.

    “Kneel before me! Haha!” Big Thing hit some things with the tall stick, and the things fell and yelled. “Haha!” Big Thing said again and again. What is happening, what is my life?

    Hoss saw a thing with bright hair and stopped, digging Hoss’s hooves into the dirt, and Big Thing stopped saying “Haha!”

    “Go!” said Big Thing. “Do my bidding!”

    The thing with bright hair stared at Hoss with very big eyes, and was shivering. In Hoss’s Shok head swam the fishes and things of the sea that Hoss loved, and the life Hoss had left behind, where Hoss was free, and not Hoss, but Shok instead.

    Fish with hair, Hoss cooed, do not be cold. Everything is alright. Hoss erupted with Hoss instinct and fury, and, like Hosses on the beach with Big Things on their backs that see Shok and shiver, Hoss sprung bottom-up and Big Thing soared forward. Fish with hair screamed like a gull, and Hoss reared up and screamed with glee, too.

    Hoss pranced away, because that is what Hosses do with their vibrant legs. Big Thing shouted as Hoss vanished into the trees, and the other Big Things made angry noises at the Big Thing that “took it too far.”

    So the trees surrounded Hoss once more. Hoss leaped over logs and little things that would not get out of the way. Swamps glistened in the sun. The little things that swim in the air made happy noise. See, everything is alright.

    Soon, Hoss emerged onto the beach, hooves kicking up sand and pebbles. Hoss approached the water and stepped in.

     Hoss! Shok called. That was quick!

    I am, said Hoss, and I am neat. But the time for that is done. My eyes are dry.

    Shok gazed with blank black eyes. Then close your eyes, for it is better to prance among the things in the air than to see and be under water with things that do not live in air!

    Hoss turned Hoss’s Shok head toward the sunlight and the forest with little and big things. Hoss blinked. Oh.

    When Hoss turned around again, Shok was nearly gone, with a Shok fin receding into the ocean water. But Shok! I have a Shok head.

    Shok breached again and glanced around at Hoss. Because you will always be Shok, too. And my friend. And you know the water and the air, and it is great.

    Hoss watched Hoss’s Shok friend vanish, and leaped back along the beach, in the middle of the air and the water.