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Jamie Marchant

Writer of Fantasy . . . And the Tortured Soul

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Five Badass Women I’d Like Brigitta To Join

Jamie Marchant Posted on April 25, 2017 by Jamie MarchantApril 24, 2017

Badass Woman #1– I was born in 1967 and grew up in the 70s and 80s, so I wasn’t exactly inundated with strong, powerful female role models on Television. But Linda Carter as Wonder Woman comes on to the scene in 1975 and gave me a different view of women. She may hide her identity in that of a secretary, but she’s an Amazonian princess. In the Amazon, the women rule, and they never bow to male authority. Wonder Woman undoes her hair and twirls around, and she is a superhero with a magical golden lasso and bracelets which can deflect bullets. She fights with superhuman strength and ability and never needs to be rescued. As the theme song stated, “All the world is waiting for you, and the power you possess.” Wonder Woman taught me that women can be strong.

 

Badass Woman #2: Phédre nó Delaunay from Jacqueline Carey’s Kushiel’s Legacy series. Phedre isn’t your typical badass woman because she isn’t a warrior, but she is proof that physical prowess isn’t the only way a woman can be a badass. Phédre is sold into indentured servitude as a child and is raised to be a prostitute and spy for her master. Prostitution is seen as a noble profession in her society, which doesn’t have our society’s hang-ups about sex. Still, one would think such a childhood would leave a scar. Instead, Phédre becomes a strong woman who not only revels in sex, but becomes much more when her country becomes threatened. She uses her intelligence to uncover a plot against her kingdom, and with her bodyguard/later lover, Josselin, works to thwart it. In her relationship with Josselin, there is never any doubt that Phédre is the dominant partner. However, her power is the power of her intellect. Josselin is the bad ass fighter, but it is her mind as often or more than his skills that get them out of trouble. Phédre remains very feminine, proving the femininity doesn’t need to mean weakness. For Phédre, it is strength.

 

Badass Woman #3: Rey from Stars Wars: The Force Awakens. Rey is a strong, competent woman who can take care of herself. Yes, she receives some help from Finn, Han, and Chewbacca, but she has already almost managed her own escape before they show up. The movie keeps her focused on her heroic mission and resists the temptation to sidetrack her into a romance, which happens with far too many women in fiction. She is the one who takes on the main villain, not any of the men, and she is the one who goes to find Luke at the end. I’m looking forward to seeing her again in the next movie.

 

 

Badass Woman #4– Sookie Stackhouse from Charlaine Harris’s series. Harris introduces Sookie in Dead After Dark and does a marvelous job developing her after the 13 book series. Sookie has her fair share of trouble, chief among them is her ability to read minds. She refers to it as a disability because she can’t turn in off but has the constant buzz of other people’s thoughts in her mind. First, the inability to get some mental quiet would be maddening, and also, as she lets us know, most the time people are thinking about pretty boring stuff.  But her disability becomes her strength, and she uses it to defeat her enemies and help her friends. While Sookie never becomes a great fighter and remains a waitress throughout the series. Still, she is a strong woman who thinks for herself and always tries to do the right thing although, like all of us, she sometimes fails in this. Like Phédre, Sookie shows that there is more than one way to be a badass woman.

 

Badass Woman #5: Karrin Murphy from Jim Butcher’s The Dresden Files. I loved Karrin Murphy from the moment I first met her racing Dresden to the door so that he won’t open it for her. I hate men opening the door for me. Not only does she stand up for herself as a woman, but she’s intelligent and completely badass. She can handle any weapon and hold her own in a fight. She’s loyal, and Butcher resists turning her into Dresden’s girl friend. She will only have men on her own terms.

 

 

When I created Brigitta in The Ghost in Exile, it is these women that I aspired to.  Brigitta begins the novel as a victim who is rescued by our hero, The Ghost, but she refuses to remain one. By the end of the novel, she is a badass woman, who I hope can some day join their ranks.

In the comments below, tell us, “Who is your favorite badass woman?”

 

 

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged fantasy, strong women, wonder woman

Where the Wild Things Are

Jamie Marchant Posted on April 24, 2017 by Jamie MarchantApril 24, 2017

I learned to read at four years old and have been a traveler through books ever since, so when Casey asked about the first book I read that had a big impact on me, the question took me on a journey “through night and day and in and out of weeks and almost over a year” to a strange land where I once ruled as a girl king (yes, king; being a queen didn’t appeal to me at the time) with a boy named Max. Although Maurice Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are is a children’s book, it taught me lessons that have influenced me far into my adult life.

Although I couldn’t have articulated it at such a young age, the book taught me to indulge my imagination. Max is sent to his room, but rather than pouting or being bored, he has a forest grow around him until it completely overtakes the space. He gets on a boat and voyages to land of beasts with scaly legs, horns on their noses, and rooster beaks. With these creatures, he instigates a “wild rumpus” that begins with stomping and chanting under the moonlight and continues with swinging from trees in the light of day. To me, Max and the Wild Things’ wild rumpus seemed the pinnacle of excitement. Sendak’s book showed me that the imagination is a wonderful place where the strangest and most delightful things can happen at any moment and in any place.

The book also nurtured the belief that this flight into the unknown is nothing for a girl to fear because she can return to normality whenever she pleases. When Max tires of the wild rumpus, he gets on his boat and sail back to his own room where his supper, a symbol of his mother’s love, is waiting for him. I learned that we can travel to the farthest reaches of the world and back again before our supper gets cold.

Beginning with Where the Wild Things Are, stories, both reading and writing them, became both my playground and my school room. I followed Max’s example and began creating my own fantasies. For my older sister, I wrote tales of the Man from Mars journeying to earth and indulging in all sorts of adventures, and with the exception of a few years where I lost my way I’ve been creating new escapes ever since. When a girl travels to some far off realm, she never knows what new adventure she will have or what new lesson she’ll learn.

What’s the first book that influenced you? Tell us about it in the comments below.

Posted in My Writing | Tagged epic fantasy, reading, Sendak, writing

Hangman’s Army Blog Tour

Jamie Marchant Posted on April 19, 2017 by Jamie MarchantApril 19, 2017

 

L. S. O’Dea grew up the youngest of seven in a family that uses teasing and tricks as an indication of love (or at least that’s what she tells herself).  Being five years younger than her closest sibling often made her the unwilling entertainment for her brothers and sisters.

Before she started kindergarten her brothers taught her how to spell her first and middle name—Linda Sue.  She was so proud she ran into the kitchen to tell her mother. She stood tall and recited the letters of her name: L-E-M-O-N   H-E-A-D.

She’s pretty sure she has her siblings to thank for the demons that lurk in her mind, whispering dark and demented stories.

Interview

1. If you could have written any other book by any other author, what would it be, and why?

Oh, there’d be quite a few because I’d love to have written all my favorites. However, I’d have to go with the Song Of Fire and Ice series (Game of Thrones). This series is sooo good! There are so many twists and turns and the characters are so real – not one dimensional. You may hate one character one day and love that same character the next.

2. Tell us something about how you write? i.e. are you a plotter or a pantser? Do you have any weird or necessary writing habits or rituals?

I’m a bit of both. And one of my weird quicks is how I “write” my books. I plot them out while jogging around my yard. I write dialogue and fill what I call “plot” holes while exercising. Then I hurry into the house to get it all down on paper.

3. Could you tell us a bit about your most recent book?

Lake of Sins: Hangman’s Army is the third book in the Lake of Sins series – the series people are calling dark, gritty and too disturbing to put down. “This book picks up the story about five years after Secrets In Blood ended and the world is a very different place. The lower classes have started rebelling, no longer accepting their subjugation by the Almightys. The problem is that the lower classes will never win against the better trained and funded Protective Services, especially since they refuse to fight together. The Allied Classes (rebel army) needs a leader. A person everyone will follow. They need Hugh. But he’s in jail and his execution is only days away. Trinity and her friends must figure out a way to set him free and to convince him that leading their army is the best revenge he could have. This book is filled with action and monsters just like the other two, but Hangman starts the beginning of the love triangle. It’s a fun, fast read.

4. Of all the characters you have created, which is your favorite and why?

That’s a tough one because I really like a lot of my characters but if I had to pick just one, I think it’d have to be Mirra. I love her “black and white” outlook on the world. She loves who she loves – doesn’t care what anyone else thinks or says – and she does what she wants to do. She is supposedly controlled by Gaar, but not really. She will defer to his opinion – sometimes, but she is definitely her own “person?”.

5. What is your favorite writing tip or quote?

“Remember: when people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work for them, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what they think is wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.”– Neil Gaiman

I always say that if one person thinks something (doesn’t like a section, is confused, etc) then someone else will be too. I have several groups of beta readers. My niece is my first round. I send her one chapter at a time and then we discuss it. By discussing, I mean she tells me what she thinks and I listen. There are times when she tells me things that I just. DON’T WANT TO HEAR! For example, in Hangman’s Army there was a chapter that started as a summary on what had happened and then slipped into the character’s head. It was only a sentence or two, but my niece said that it didn’t read well. It didn’t read like the other chapters and it felt rushed. 

Now, fixing these issues isn’t as easy as fixing a typo. There are threads that run throughout the story and throughout the series. Fixing these things is WORK! However, she was right. I’d been lazy. So, I reworked it and she loved it. Now, before I send her a chapter, if I notice that I did that “summary” thing, I fix it because I know she’ll call me on it. She keeps me honest. She keeps me from getting lazy. 

6. Tell us a little about your plans for the future. Do you have any other books in the works?

I’m currently working on the rest of the Lake of Sins series. There should be a total of six or seven books in the series. It’s all done in rough draft format, but book six is very bare and will need a lot of fleshing out which may make it book six and seven.

Once I’m done with the Lake of Sins series, I’m going to write some more of the Conguise Chronicles series. This is a spin-off series from the Lake of Sins that tells the stories of the people who were genetically mutated into monsters by Professor Conguise.

When I’m done with that, I have a suspense/thriller knocking around in my skull along with the prequel to the Lake of Sins series – the story of the Great Death.

So, with my day job, I have years of work planned out for me.

Website: http://www.lsodea.com
 Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lsodea
 twitter: https://twitter.com/lsodea
 email: [email protected]
 Join Readers’ Group and Get the First Two Books in the Lake of Sins Series for FREE: 
http://lsodea.com/yourfreebooks-2/
Buy Links:
This book is the third in the series–and the series should be read in order.  The first two books is the series are FREE.
links to Amazon to purchase
http://myBook.to/LOS_Escape
http://myBook.to/LOS_Secrets
http://myBook.to/LOS_HangmansArmy
draft2digital escape =https://books2read.com/u/4Xgn21
secrets =https://books2read.com/u/bo6Dn9
hangman =https://www.books2read.com/u/bzpA5Z

 

Hangman’s Army

 

A rebellion is brewing in the world of the Lake of Sins while Hugh Truent sits in prison days away from his execution.

After taking his findings about the genetic similarities between the classes to the Supreme Almighty and the Council, Hugh had been arrested for treason and all his evidence had vanished as if made from smoke.

To protect his family, he cut off all contact with the outside world while he sat in prison for over four years waiting for his execution. He has no idea that some of his reports were leaked to the other classes and that civil war looms on the horizon.

Trinity and her friends have no hope of winning the war unless they can unite the classes. In order to do that, they need someone everyone will follow. They need the one person all the classes trust and believe in. They need Hugh.

That means they have to break him out of a maximum security prison and convince him to lead their army, but that won’t be easy because Hugh wants revenge and he’s not going to let anything get in his way especially mouthy, attractive, know-it-all Trinity.

Excerpt

Trinity

As soon as they were all together, she headed toward the Mile of Fire.  It grew hotter with every step and the air became acrid, burning her nose and throat.  Sweat no longer trickled down her back; it was a full-blown downpour. 

“Are you sure the rocks are cold?” asked Jackson.

“I never said cold. I said they shouldn’t burn us to crisps.”

“I’m pretty sure you said they wouldn’t burn us at all,” said Hugh.  “I don’t recall the clarification of to a crisp.”

“Stop whining.  You’re out of jail.  You should be happy.”  He was going to drive her crazy.  The sooner he and Dad separated from them the better.

“I’ve been beaten, accused of treason and sentenced to execution without complaint but I’m whining because I don’t want to be burnt to something just a little less than crispy?”

“Yeah.  You don’t hear anyone else complaining.  Do you?”  Good thing she had her back to him because she couldn’t keep the half-smile off her face. He had the irritating gift of being funny and annoying at the same
time.  She slowed down.  She wasn’t ready for this, but here it was. 

The Mile of Fire loomed ahead.  Its shimmering waves of heat almost unbearable.  The five of them were drenched in sweat, although the closer they got to the rocks the quicker the sweat was drying.  Small puffs of steam were coming off her clothes.  It was the same for the others.  If they didn’t stop sweating they were going to be basted in their own juices.  Of course, if they did stop sweating they’d be dried like old fruit left in the sun. They had to move fast.

Enter to win a Kindle Paperwhite

Posted in Blog Tour

The Old White Magick Cover Reveal

Jamie Marchant Posted on April 19, 2017 by Jamie MarchantApril 18, 2017
THAT OLDE WHITE MAGICK
by Sharon Pape
Genre: Cozy Mystery
Pub Date: 11/7/2017
It’s time to work her crime-solving magic again . . .

Kailyn Wilde enjoys running her shop, Abracadabra, in the quaint New York
hamlet of New Camel, where she lives with her six cats. Her family’s
been here for centuries, and she’d like to keep up the tradition.
But the place may never be the same if a big hotel gets built, so she
does her civic duty and attends a town meeting along with her aunt
Tilly . . . and Merlin. Yes, that Merlin—though he gets introduced
to folks as her “distant English cousin.” The wizard is pretty
grumpy about being transported here, but there are things about the
modern world he doesn’t mind—like pizza.

Kailyn was prepared for a heated debate about the hotel, but she wasn’t
expecting murder. When Tilly finds the body of a board member outside
the schoolhouse, Kailyn doesn’t want any suspicion cast on the
wrong person. She plans to crack this case, even if she has to talk
to every living soul in town—plus a few departed ones . . .

Amazon * Apple * GooglePlay * Kobo * B&N
Sharon Pape is the author of the popular Portrait of Crime and Crystal
Shop mystery series. She started writing stories in first grade and
never looked back. She studied French and Spanish literature in
college and went on to teach both languages on the secondary level.
After being diagnosed with and treated for breast cancer in 1992,
Sharon became a Reach to Recovery peer support volunteer for the
American Cancer Society. She went on to become the coordinator of the
program on Long Island. She and her surgeon created a non profit
organization called Lean On Me to provide peer support and
information to newly diagnosed women and men. After turning her
attention back to writing, she has shared her storytelling skills
with thousands of fans. She lives with her husband on Long Island,
New York, near her grown children. She loves reading, writing, and
providing day care for her grand-dogs. Visit her at sharonpape.com.
Website * Twitter * Facebook
Posted in Blog Tour

My Love of Books

Jamie Marchant Posted on April 17, 2017 by Jamie MarchantApril 15, 2017

I grew up in a house full of books. The den had floor to ceiling bookcases on two walls, jammed packed with books. The hall had cabinets full of yet more books, and so that we never ran short of reading material my mother took us to the library every two weeks. We came home laden with books. I can’t count the times that I entered my parents’ bedroom to find them side by side in bed, both with books in their hands. I come from a large family, and some of my happiest memories involve all of us children sprawled out in the living room while my mother read us a story. My mother taught me to read for myself before I started kindergarten. Because of my parents, my mother especially, books were, and still are, magical things in which you can travel to any land and have all sorts of adventures.

My sister who is ten years older than me furthered my love of stories. She told me fairy tales as bedtime stories–“Midas and his Golden Touch,” “Three Little Men in the Woods,” and my favorite “The Princess and the Glass Hill.” Being surrounded with stories, I don’t remember a time when I didn’t want to be a writer, and it was for my sister that I wrote my first one, which involved the Man from Mars coming to earth to try a peach. She loved the story, or at least convinced me that she did, and encouraged me to write more. For her, I wrote dozens of adventures involving this Man from Mars. As I grew, my sister continued to be my writing mentor and cheerleader. Throughout high school, I took my stories to her. She’d read them and gave me guidance on how to improve them.

Of course, I learned that making a living as a writer is extremely difficult, and it was my father that helped me find a career path that indulged my love of books and would ultimately give me time to write them. On his advice, I pursed a bachelor’s and, ultimately, a PhD in literature. For homework, I got to read books that covered the history of much of the world, and in class, we talked about these books. I could imagine no better career than getting paid to talk to students about books. I didn’t think about the grading papers part of the job at the time, but even with this inconvenience, I can’t imagine a job, with the exception of being a full time writer, I’d like more than teaching others my love of books.

 

When my son was born, it was only natural that I read to him. I started doing so when he was an infant in my arms and could understand nothing more than the soothing sound of his mother’s voice. As he grew older, he learned the one sure fire way to get mom’s attention was to ask me to read to him. I almost never said no to this request because I loved it as much as he did. We graduated quickly from picture books into chapter books. We used the magical tree house to travel throughout time together, morphed into various animals with the animoprhs, and spend a magically long time at Hogwarts. I dreaded the day when he would no longer want me to read to him, but that day was long in coming. I began to read my own stories to him, and when he reached high school, we traded Harry Potter for Harry Dresden. Although the frequency of our readings decreased over time, it wasn’t until he left for college that they stopped completely.

Books, enjoyed by myself and with others, have been such a fundamental part of my life that I have difficulty understanding someone who doesn’t like to read. It’s almost as bizarre as someone saying they don’t like to eat. In writing my own books, I hope to give others some of the joy that other authors have given me. I can imagine no greater gift to the world than a story well told.

 

Who taught you to love books? Comment below.

 

 

 

Posted in My Writing

Setting: 3 Reasons Why it Matters

Jamie Marchant Posted on April 14, 2017 by Jamie MarchantApril 14, 2017

I’m not a very visual person, so setting has always been one of the harder aspects of writing for me. I used to shortchange it as not being terribly important. This was a mistake because setting can do so much for your writing. Setting isn’t merely scenery. It’s an essential part of your story. In the real world, if we are comfortable in our surroundings, we tend to take the setting for granted, but you can’t make this mistake in creating your fictional world.

Reasons setting matters

Reason #1 :  Orients the reader

Next time you go to a restaurant or any other public place watch what the people do as they enter. Nearly everyone will quickly scan the entire area with their eyes to orient themselves before they proceed to the hosting station. In other words, they orient themselves to the restaurant. As humans, we need to feel comfortable in our surroundings. Whether or not this is an evolutionary trait left over from a more dangerous past, I won’t speculate. Just as in the real world, a person needs to know where they are to feel comfortable, a reader can’t get comfortable in your story until they are oriented to their surroundings. Invite the reader into your world. Offer them a seat and a cup of tea, so to speak. They’ll thank you for it.

Reason #2: Reveals character

A person’s personal space reveals a lot about them. We instinctively know this. When we go to another person’s house or get in their car, we look around and make judgement based on what we see. Take this excerpt from the beginning of the soon-to-be released Bull Riding Witch in which the crown princess Daulphina comes awake in Joshua’s bedroom:

I nearly gagged at the stench that filled the air, a scent that combined the reek of the inside of a knight’s armor after jousting with the odor of rotting flesh. Confused, I examined my surroundings. Hanging on the wall facing me was a portrait of a huge bull with its head down and its heels kicked high into the air, and the words “Tough Enough” written across the top in bold letters. Incredibly, a man, holding onto a rope with only one hand, sat on the bull’s back. Why would anyone ride a bull? Bulls were dangerous and impossible to control. Piled high on the bedside table were plates covered with the remains of several meals, bowls with a few dregs of sour milk, and empty bottles. The sheet I laid on was stained with various substances I didn’t want to identify.

From those few sentences, we know already know quite a bit about Joshua. He’s careless and a slob. He drinks too much and is interested in rodeo. He also has the macho thing going.  In describing setting, smell is the most under used scene. See what the scent adds to the above description.

Reason #3: Create mood

Setting can be used as an external manifestation of inner mood or emotion. Consider the difference between a Batman and a Superman movie. Superman movies are shot primarily in the day in a clean city; everything is bright and sunny. They have an optimistic feel to them in which you are never seriously concerned about the outcome and no one is really going to get hurt.  Batman, on the other hand, takes place mostly at night in a gritty and poorly lit city. There’s a greater scene of fear and unease. Things might work out all right in the end, but not for everyone. Someone’s going to get hurt, and it isn’t going to be pretty.

 

For these three reasons alone, take care with your setting. We take more next week about how to do so. For now, comment below on your favorite fictional setting or tell us another reason why you believe setting matters.

 

Posted in Writing How To

Raymond Walker, Guest Author

Jamie Marchant Posted on April 12, 2017 by Jamie MarchantApril 9, 2017

My guest today is from the fishing villages of Scotland. Meet fantasy author, Raymond Walker

Raymond Walker is well known for his very unusual, almost homely, romantic fantasy tales such as “The River Girls Torment” and “A Shiver” as well as the award winning Moonchild and Other Tales, which have been hugely successful. In 2005 he published his first Ghost Story “A Pale Shadow Creeps” which has a more adult theme and followed it up with the horror novel; The Secret Inside to great critical acclaim. His restlessly original and imaginative stories may be unusual and darkly romantic, but he considers himself very ordinary. He loves the countryside, the forests and the relics of his native Scotland. He loves that he rose from a land steeped in history, myth and fantasy. It can be seen in almost every tale that he has ever told or written.

 
Raymond Walker is the winner of several writing competitions, and his books have received critical acclaim worldwide. Mr Walker is devoting his time to a new epic novel called And The Sea shall give up It’s Dead. The first volume of which has the tentative title of Over the Tears of the Fallen. In the meantime expect to hear shortly of the release of the “Truly Thrilling.” She Wept Black Tears that seems to be a success even before being released, with advance orders pouring in.

Interview

1.What made you want to become a writer?

I really cannot tell you with any certainty where the transition started. I am an avid reader. I have been since I was a boy and was forced to read a book called “Dietz and Denny” at School. I loved the book and so started to read more and more. The books I read were many and various as I was raised in a small fishing village on the west coast of Scotland that hosted only one small musty smelling bookshop. It was filled with sheet music for bagpipes and tourist tat for the towns many visitors. “Martins” had only one rack for hard backs and one for the cheaper paperbacks that as a schoolboy were all I could afford. So, I read whichever book I liked the cover of. Dickens one week, a space opera by Asimov, the next, Defoe the next. When I hit thirteen, I became an Insomniac and rarely slept, and so my appetite for books became even more voracious. I exhausted both my money and the books in the shop and so started ordering books from the bookshop, but they took weeks to arrive, and so I began to write my own tales. They were half formed but imaginative. I had written my first novel by fifteen (it was terrible), and since then I have always written.

2. If you could have written any other book by any other author, what would it be, and why? 

There are many books that I wish I had written but one stands out for me more than any other and that is Hyperion by Dan Simmons. The imagination, the classic but cool writing and the fact that years after reading the book I still think about its meaning is what does it for me. I do understand that this book is not for everyone. To me, however, it is almost the empirical ethos of understanding the human race and its flaws. Even now, ten years after reading it, I still think on its teachings.

3.Could you tell us a bit about your most recent book?

The Quiet Snow is a rather mystical tale set the mountains of Argyll, Scotland in the depths of a horrendous Winter. It was described by one reviewer as “beauty coming from loss” as it is a sad tale based upon a true story. Much of what you read is true, but I have added my own special twist to this tale.

4. What is the biggest surprise that you experienced after becoming a writer?

I have almost always been a writer and so very little should surprise me. I may have imagined everything beforehand. There have, however, been a few things over the years that astonished me. One of my literary heroes Ian Banks describing one of my books as a “dark beauty” another Peter Hoeg describing my book as “perfect romantic simplicity”

5. Do you have a day job in addition to being a writer?  If so, what do you do during the day? 

I am the owner and editor of the magazine Mercurial Tales, which is a “seventies” throwback specialist magazine, catering to the speculative fiction, fantasy and horror markets. We do have a website and intend to take it online soon, but at the moment it is purely a print magazine. Along with my small team I run things from day to day and make sure we are on track for each publication. So, I get to do what I like to do read and write. Best job in the world I say (except when we meet the accountants).

6. Tell us a little about your plans for the future.  Do you have any other books in the works?

In only a few months the novel She Wept Black Tears will come out. My first, mainstream fantasy work in a many years. Early next Year, Winters Ghost will be published (I do not have a release date at this time), but it is likely to be Early March in time for the holiday market. And the Sea shall give up it’s Dead will be published on the fourteenth of October next year finally ending the suspense on a much-anticipated release.

Where can we find you online?

Blog: http://raytwalker.wixsite.com/stories

Website: http://www.raymondwalker.co.uk/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/raynayday/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/raynayday

Amazon: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Raymond-Walker/e/B002CB59VA/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_ebooks_1

The Quiet Snow

“The Quiet Snow” removes every trace of love from Rob’s life. Guen is gone, then her footprints disappear, then her smell, her body and love vanish; covered with a thin film of falling snow. All trace of Guen is gone and forgotten. But Rob has not forgotten her, She may be missing but he has to keep looking for her, Guen cannot be dead, they would have found a body. She cannot be alive, she would have called me, came home. And So Rob searched the hills and valleys looking for his lost love For years and years. Many years passed in search of the impossible. Rob, started to forget and in letting her go he was to find her again.

 

Let me know what you think in the comments below.

Posted in Guest Interviews

Waiting for a Kiss: A Princess Fairy Tale Anthology

Jamie Marchant Posted on April 10, 2017 by Jamie MarchantApril 8, 2017

If you like fairy tales, Waiting for a Kiss: A Princess Fairy Tale Anthology has just been released. The collection contains retellings of my many classic fairy tales, including one by yours truly. To give you the flavor of the anthology, I’m including my story below. If you like mine, you should check out the entire collection, which can be found on Amazon by following the link:

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The Princess and the Glass Hill

Princess Bethla sat in her wheeled chair before her father’s throne. He was scowling at her, which was his typical expression when faced with his only remaining heir. Bethla knew he was thinking of her brother, Eric, and wishing that Bethla had died in Eric’s place. Her mother had died when she was a small child, and her father had always done his best to pretend that she didn’t exist, hiding her away from every public gathering so that few people knew of the princess’s problem. They thought she was touched in the head or, perhaps, downright insane. All that had changed this summer when her brother had been killed in battle. Now her father had no choice but to deal with her because what is a king without an heir? Even if that heir was sixteen, a woman, and crippled.

Bethla wanted to rub her aching legs, but that would call her father’s attention to her twisted legs, and the king didn’t like to be reminded of her defect. Bethla’s legs had been twisted at birth, and despite many painful procedures, the doctors had been unable to straighten them.

Bethla had always tried to stay out of her father’s way because it hurt too much to be reminded that her only remaining parent found her unacceptable, but today, when she learned what her father was doing, she had to come forward. Surely, it was only an insane rumor, but if it was only a rumor, just what were they building on the plains outside the city gates?

“Your Majesty,” Bethla began. The king didn’t like it when she called him “Father.” “You can’t really mean to do it.”

“Do what, child?” the king asked, but not as if he really wanted an answer.

“Hold this contest. Seeing who can ride a horse up a glass hill is surely no way to choose a husband for me.”

The king’s already ebony skin darkened further. “You are mine, and I will dispose of you as I see fit.”

Bethla dug her fingernails into the arms of her chair. “I’m your daughter, not a thing to be disposed of.”

The king narrowed his eyes. “You are a cripple, and I will have an heir who’s physically fit. This contest will assure that. Your husband will be king after me, need I remind you? Now, go to your room. I won’t be questioned.”

“But Father—”

The king seemed to swell on his throne. “Take her away!” he commanded her attendant, Evelyn, and before Bethla could say more, she was wheeled out of the king’s presence.

As Evelyn wheeled her through the palace corridors, she said, “I told you he wouldn’t listen.”

“But he has to!” Bethla cried. “I refuse to sit up there and throw gold apples to some thug who can force a horse up the slick hill’s side. I can’t be foisted off like that.” Bethla didn’t want to admit it, but the idea terrified her. How would such a man treat her? Would he try to deny that she existed like her father did? Or something much, much worse?

“How will you stop it?” Evelyn asked. “He’ll have you carried up there whether you will it or not.”

“I’ll think of a way,” Bethla insisted. “Maybe I’ll run away.”

Evelyn looked down at her. It was an empty threat, the same empty threat Bethla had been making since her mother died. She could see the pity in the other woman’s eyes and felt tears welling at the corners of her own. Although Evelyn had always been kind to her, Bethla did not want to be pitied. She cursed her twisted legs. If she’d been whole, her father would never have consider such a ridiculous contest. Her only hope was that no one could ride up the slippery hill. Then she wouldn’t have to throw the gold apples to anyone, and her father would have to chose her husband another way, but would any way her father used be better?

Bethla wished she could have the love that filled all the bards’ tales. She wished for a husband who would see her for her, not simply label her a cripple to be dismissed. But Bethla held out little hope for the future. Her father would get her a husband to his liking one way or another, and Bethla was certain any man that was to her father’s liking would not be to hers.

***

Despite Bethla’s vehement protests, two weeks later she found herself being carried up the staircase that wound its way inside the hill made of glass. She was followed by an attendant who carried her wheeled chair and Evelyn, who had three gold apples resting on a silk pillow. Her father had ordered her to throw an apple a day for three days to whichever knight made the most progress on climbing the glass hill. She clenched her teeth. She refused to participate in this farce. She vowed she would not throw the apples no matter what happened. She’d take her father’s anger, instead.

When her attendant placed her in the wheeled chair atop the glass hill, Bethla looked down in amazement. Hundreds upon hundreds of knights were milling around the bottom of the mountain. Bethla didn’t know there were that many knights in her father’s entire kingdom. For a brief moment she was caught up in the spectacle of that many men competing to be her husband, but a comment from Evelyn recalled her to reality.

“Want to be king, don’t they?” Evelyn said, and Bethla remembered that none of these men actually wanted her; they merely wanted the crown that would come with such a marriage. She wanted to cry, but wouldn’t humiliate herself by doing so publicly. Instead, she straightened in her chair and put an expression of royal dignity on her face.

Her father and other married dignitaries of the court sat in stands off to the side to watch the spectacle. All the single men were, of course, waiting to try their hand at the hill. From high up above, Bethla saw her father nod, and the man beside him blew a trumpet: the signal to begin. The men who’d drawn the first try at the hill gave a huge shout and rushed the mountain in a confused melee. Some tried backing up a great distance and approaching at a full gallop. Some had contraptions attached to their horses’ feet. Some had men or horses pushing them from behind. But no matter what they tried, no one could make any progress climbing the slippery smoothness of the glass.

“Ouch!” Evelyn grimaced, as they watched one rider go down beneath the hooves of the horde.

The first group struggled for about ten minutes with no success. Then a second horn sounded, and they retired to make way for the next group. Group after group came forward in the futile attempt to climb the unclimbable. Bethla smiled in satisfaction. Her father’s plan was foiled, and if she could get out of this attempt to choose her husband, perhaps she could get out of future attempts.

Then, as the late afternoon sun began to sink in the sky, a strange sight caught Bethla’s eye. Across the plains flashed something bronze, and as it drew closer, Bethla gaped. It was a knight wearing bronze armor and riding a bronze horse that looked like it was forged out of metal rather than flesh. The crowd parted to allow the apparition through, and the knight galloped one-third of the way up the hill before beginning to slide back down again. This knight had surely met the conditions of the contest.

“Who could he be?” Bethla whispered.

Evelyn shook her head. “Throw the apple, Your Highness,” she said, as the knight slid all the way to the bottom again.

Bethla looked to the side and saw her father standing and roaring in approval. She hesitated. Anything that made her father so happy could hardly be for her benefit, but she, too, was captivated by the magnificent sight of the bronze horse and rider. She took one of the apples from the pillow Evelyn still carried and lobbed it down the hillside. The bronze knight stuck out his hand and caught it.

The king signaled for the knight to approach the royal box, but he turned and rode back across the plains as abruptly as he had appeared.

***

In the banquet hall that night, talk was rife of the bronze knight and his impossibly colored horse. Rumors about his identity swirled through the hall, and no less than five of her father’s retainers claimed to be the knight themselves, but, of course, when asked, none of them could produce the gold apple. Bethla couldn’t eat a bite of the magnificent feast. Her stomach was in knots as she thought of the man who might shortly become her husband. Could it be possible that he was a good man? Or would he see her with contempt as the king did? Or look on her with only pity as Evelyn did?  Why did she have to be born with twisted legs? What god had cursed her so?

Her father was in a riotously good mood. He seemed to think the appearance of the bronze knight justified him in creating the contest.  He drank heavily and called for the bards to sing one ballad after another of knights doing spectacular feats.

“My son-in-law shall be a man worthy to be my heir.” He looked in contempt over at Bethla, who looked down at her plate and pretended not to notice his gaze. Anything that made her father so happy could not be good for her.

***

When Evelyn helped Bethla prepare for bed, she too seemed to be swept up in the excitement. “Oh, Your Highness, who could he be?  I never expected anything so glorious.”

Bethla merely murmured that she was tired. She was scared to think about the man that lay under that armor and what he might mean for her future.

She got in bed and dismissed Evelyn, but she had a hard time getting to sleep. When she did, she had nightmare after nightmare of the knight taking off his helm and revealing some horrible creature. She determined that no matter what happened the next day she would throw no more of the apples.

***

On the second day of the contest, Bethla was again carried to the top of the glass hill with Evelyn following, carrying the pillow that now held just two gold apples. When Bethla had been placed in her chair, Evelyn chattered happily. “Do you think he’ll wait for afternoon to appear again? Or will he come earlier today?”

“Perhaps, he won’t come at all,” Bethla said.

Evelyn smiled pityingly. “Oh, I think there is little chance of that.”

And Bethla, too, held little hope.

The contest proceeded as it had the previous day with the gathered knights trying and failing to climb the mountain. It got so late in the day that Bethla’s hopes began to bud that the bronze knight would not show up, but just as the sun began to set, something silver streaked across the plains. Bethla gasped, as a knight in silver armor riding a silver horse road hard toward the hill. If the bronze knight had been magnificent, the silver knight was stunning.

The crowd again parted as he galloped closer, and without slowing, he galloped a full two-thirds of the way up the mountain.

Evelyn jumped up and down in excitement. “Throw the apple, Your Highness! Throw it!” she said shoving the pillow in the princess’s face.

Remembering her vow, Bethla again hesitated as the knight began to slide back down the hillside, but the beauty of the silver knight and the silver horse brought tears to her eyes. Surely, something so fantastic couldn’t harm her. So she took hold of the second apple and lobbed it toward the silver knight. He caught it and then rode off into the distance.

Evelyn leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Your Highness, you are so lucky to have two such magnificent knights competing for your hand.”

But Bethla didn’t feel lucky. Neither was she sure the knights had been two different men. Such magical horses could hardly have more than one owner.

***

The talk in the banquet hall that night centered on just this question. Were there one or two knights? If the silver knight was indeed a different man, why had the bronze knight not shown himself today? And which knight would appear tomorrow for the third and final day of the contest? Bets were taken, and wild rumors flew.

The king again was merry, crowing over the prowess of his future son-in-law. Neither the bronze nor the silver knight was crippled.

Bethla was hungry, so she tried to eat, but it all became knotted up in her belly and she feared she’d disgrace herself by vomiting. Oh, by all the gods, who was this mysterious man? And what would marriage to him be like?

***

On the third day of the contest, Bethla was again carried up the staircase to the top of the glass hill. She stifled a yawn. She had not slept well again, her sleep troubled by nightmares. Evelyn trailed behind with only a single gold apple left on her pillow. Bethla looked back at the apple and tried to decide if she would throw it and what her father would do if she did not.

Today, a few knights made half-hearted attempts to climb the hillside, but most merely milled around and stared off in the distance, looking for the bronze or silver knight. Finally, in the weak light of the late afternoon, they were rewarded with the sight of something bright approaching over the plains, but it was neither the bronze nor silver knight. Instead, a horse forged of pure gold appeared, carrying a knight in gold armor. The bronze and silver knights had been wondrous to behold, but the gold knight took Bethla’s breath away.

As he approached, the crowd again parted, and the gold knight surged up the hillside. Bethla drew back in alarm as he crested the hill and joined her on top. “Sir Knight,” she asked, “how is it that your horse and armor shine as brightly as the sun?”

“They are only a reflection of your beauty, Your Highness,” the knight said, with a bow from the top of his horse.

Bethla looked away. “How can you say that when my legs are twisted and malformed?”

The knight dismounted and knelt at the princess’s feet. “Your Highness, I could not consider your twisted legs a defect. They merely add to the beauty of your spirit. I fell in love with you as a child when I saw that radiant smile, but I never dreamed I’d have the chance to take you to wife. I will gladly lay claim to the final apple if you will have me.” He removed his helm.

To Bethla’s great surprise a lad of no more than sixteen with rich chocolate skin and curly dark hair appeared. His eyes were shining with the love that she’d only heard about in bards’ tales. He held out his hand.

“I am no knight, simply a farmer’s son, but will happily have such a beautiful bride if you have no objections. If you’d rather not have a lowly peasant such as myself, I’ll return the two apples that lay hidden in my saddle bags.”

Bethla blinked in wonderment. “How is this possible? How could a farmer’s son possess such glorious horses and armor?”

The lad laughed, and it was a laugh finer than any music Bethla had ever heard. “That, Your Highness, is a long story, which I will tell you later if you will have me. If you will not have me, how does not matter.”

Bethla looked into the sparkling eyes of the peasant who looked at her with neither pity nor contempt, and she didn’t hesitate. She took his hand in hers and pulled him toward her. Their lips met, and a tingle of pleasure passed from Bethla’s lips to the bottom of her feet. Ah, could it be possible that her father’s plan was a good one? The princess broke the kiss and handed the peasant-knight the apple.

“Tomorrow, you will present the apples to my father, and we will soon celebrate our wedding day.”

“As Your Highness wills.” The knight rose, donned his helm, and remounted the horse. He galloped down the side of the glass mountain.

***

The next morning Princess Bethla and her father were ensconced on the stairs in front of the palace doors, waiting for the knight who won the apples to present himself. The square below them thronged with people. Bethla sat in her wheeled chair, and her father stood beside her with his hand on her shoulder, as if afraid she would flee. But Bethla had never felt less like fleeing from her father’s presence. She had dreamed all night of the peasant-knight’s chocolatey brown skin and sparkling eyes. She smiled inwardly, not daring to be too happy in case the peasant-knight was not as he seemed to be.

A little after noon, a cry arose from the edge of the crowd, and Bethla looked in that direction. Three magnificent horses approached, appearing as if made of bronze, silver, and gold, and in the middle on the gold horse rode a knight in gold armor, carrying three gold apples.

“So there is only one,” her father murmured in approval. “It is as I expected.”

Bethla could tell that he was proud of the success of his plan.

The crowd parted to allow the peasant-knight through, and he rode to the base of the stairs. There, he dismounted. He climbed the palace stairs and, kneeling, lay the apples at the king’s feet. Bethla smiled down at him, and the crowd roared with approval.

“Today, Your Majesty,” the knight said, “I present the apples I have won and claim your daughter’s hand.”

“I see, Sir Knight,” the king pitched his voice to carry over the crowd. “I admire your prowess and your bravery in conquering the glass hill. As you know, my daughter is nothing but a cripple.”

Bethla’s face heated at being dismissed as nothing but her disability.

“But to you I give her, along with my crown when I am gone. Reveal yourself, so that all may know the face of their future king.”

The peasant-knight’s hands trembled ever so slightly as he raised his helm. The crowd gasped as the dark curly hair and youthful features revealed themselves.

The king’s face hardened. “You are a mere boy. Who are you? What is your lineage?”

“My name is Chiemeka, and I am descended from a long line of proud farmers.”

“Farmers?” the king scoffed. “How is it that you came by such fantastic beasts?” He gestured to the horses below.

“I know not,” said Chiemeka. “Except to say the gods must have sent them. I found them with their armor, each in turn, destroying my father’s crops. They obey only me and will allow none other near them. I have made their power my own.”

The king pursed his lips, and Bethla feared he’d go back on his word and send the peasant-knight away.

“You obviously have powerful magic and will make a fine king, but I can’t have a mere farmer marry my daughter,” he said, and Bethla’s heart sank. The king drew his sword, and a gasp went up from the crowd. “Therefore, I dub thee, Sir Chiemeka, knight of the realm.” He touched the peasant-knight on both shoulders. “Arise, Sir Knight, and take my daughter’s hand.”

The knight did as ordered, and Bethla felt a thrill pass through her at the touch of his hand. He smiled down at her, as if she were the most beautiful woman in all of creation, and Bethla dared hope for a happy future.

 

 

 

Posted in My Writing

All Who Wander Are Lost Release Blitz

Jamie Marchant Posted on April 7, 2017 by Jamie MarchantApril 6, 2017

ALL WHO WANDER ARE LOST

Icarus Fell series, book 2

by Bruce Blake

Continue reading →

Posted in Blog Tour

The Nate Temple Chronicles Book Tour & Giveaway

Jamie Marchant Posted on April 6, 2017 by Jamie MarchantApril 6, 2017
Obsidian
Son
The
Nate Temple Chronicles Book 1
By
Shayne Silvers
Genre:
Supernatural Thriller
 
A city that doesn’t believe in magic. Bloodthirsty weredragons. Good
thing this reckless playboy has superpowers…
It’s been said that monsters cry when a good man goes to war. But they
should run screaming like little school girls when that man is
secretly a wizard, and maybe not necessarily good…
Nate Temple’s all-consuming quest to avenge his parents is temporarily
put on hold when shape-shifting dragons invade St. Louis. And perhaps
cow-tipping the Minotaur for answers might not have been Nate’s
smartest opening move, because now every flavor of supernatural thug
from our childhood nightmares is gunning for him. Nate learns that
the only way to save his city from these creatures is to murder his best friend…
Nate’s choice will throw the world and his own conscience into cataclysmic
chaos: avenge his parents or become a murderer to save his city.
Because to do either, he’s going to have to show the world that
magic is very, very real, and that monsters are very, very hungry…
To survive, he might just need to take a page from the book, How to
Win Friends and Influence Monsters.
If you like Jim Butcher, Kevin Hearne, or Patrick Rothfuss, you will
LOVE the first installment of The Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller series.
Goodreads * Amazon
Blood
Debts
The
Nate Temple Chronicles Book 2
 
A Wizard, an Angel, and a Horseman of the Apocalypse walk into a bar…
The ancient pact between mankind, Heaven, and Hell has been broken. And
this upstart wizard’s quest for vengeance may have just kicked off
Armageddon. So, time for a drink… or maybe two.
Already plagued with sinister night terrors that could qualify him as a
card-carrying psychopathic insomniac, Nate can barely even manage to
put his pants on in the morning, let alone pick teams for the Apocalypse.
But when he’s framed as a demon sympathizer, condemned by the Armies of
Heaven, and hunted down by both his allies and the Four Horsemen,
this wizard doesn’t think it can get any worse…
 Then they take away his magic. And a wizard without magic stands no chance
against the forces of Heaven and Hell…
Goodreads * Amazon
Grimm
The
Nate Temple Chronicles Book 3
 
The Brothers Grimm – legendary supernatural assassins – have escaped
their prison, and their first day in St. Louis could be Nate Temple’s last…
Sharing a beer with Death – one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse –
really put a few things into perspective for this foul-mouthed,
billionaire wizard. Like finally strapping on the boots to propose to his girlfriend.
But assassination contracts have a way of putting wedding plans on hold.
Perhaps permanently. And with the entire wedding party on the
bloodthirsty Grimm’s hit-list, and his family fortune in jeopardy,
Nate realizes they can’t run and they can’t hide. So, time to do magic and stuff…
But with every flavor of supernatural thug teaming up to help the Grimms,
Nate realizes that friends have become enemies and enemies have
become friends, and he’s forced to cross lines that are better left uncrossed.
When magic, claws, and teeth dance to the song of war, the only thing left
to learn is who lives and who dies. And if Nate can live with the consequences.
No wonder a guy is terrified to propose…
Goodreads * Amazon
Silver
Tongue
The
Nate Temple Chronicles Book 4
 
My resume is pretty full: I’ve cow-tipped the Minotaur, decimated a
gang of weredragons, sucker-punched an Angel, and eaten pancakes with
the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse…
I’ve kidnapped one of the most powerful wizards on the planet, and
slaughtered the Brothers Grimm. I’m kind of a big deal.
But I never thought I’d find myself at a crossroads, a pawn in a deadly
game that I hadn’t known existed, willing to sell my soul to save
the life of someone I loved… That’s when I learned true fear,
because the world I thought I knew was all just smoke and mirrors,
and I was just a puppy playing amongst wolves…
Goodreads * Amazon
Beast
Master
The
NateTemple Chronicles Book 5
 
What do you do for Thanksgiving Dinner when your guests are Death, an
Angel, and a slew of other monsters? You have a nerf gun war, of
course… But the Queens of Fae want to crash his party. And the
Beast Master is abducting shifter children for a Monster Circus.

Thanksgiving Dinner plans with Death, an Angel, a vampire, Achilles, and a slew of
other monsters are cut short because a Monster Circus has come to
town. And the Beast Master needs new Monsters for his show…
 
But the Queens of Fae also want a little deep-fried wizard for the holidays.
 
Oh, and Nate is losing that last finger-hold on his
sanity: hallucinating, and talking to creatures that no one else can
see. The ancient demon inside of him is getting stronger, fighting
for dominance, and only one of them can survive.
But when a wizard curses Nate, extorting him to rescue a lethal Chimera child
from the Beast Master’s Circus, Nate’s only option is to partner
with his inner demon, risking his very soul. But his friends begin to
doubt and fear this new, darker Nate, taking matters into their own
hands – even when that means standing against him.
With allies turned enemies, the Fae breathing down his neck, and a
dangerous child’s life on the line, Nate must call upon, bully, and
coerce new storybook legends and gods to save his traitorous friends
from becoming the Beast Master’s next victims…
Discover what – if anything – Nate is willing to sacrifice to save the
friends who betrayed him…
Goodreads * Amazon
Shayne is a man of mystery and power, whose power is exceeded only by his
mystery. In other words, a storyteller.
He currently writes the Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Series, which
features a foul-mouthed young wizard with a chip on his shoulder
attempting to protect St. Louis from the various nasties we all know
and fear from our childhood bedtime stories. Nate’s been known to
suckerpunch an Angel, cow-tip the Minotaur, and steal Death’s horse
in order to prove his point. His utter disregard for consequences and
self-preservation will have you laughing and cringing on the edge ofyour seat.
Shayne holds two high-ranking black belts, and enjoys conversing about
anything Marvel, Magical, or Mythological. You might find him writing
in a coffee shop near you, cackling madly into his computer screen
while pounding shots of espresso.
Join my Readers’ Group for your free books and a pile of other goodies
when they become available.
Website * Facebook * Twitter * Pinterest * Instagram *  Amazon * Goodreads
a Rafflecopter giveaway
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

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Jamie began writing stories about the man from Mars when she was six, She lives in Auburn, Alabama, with her husband and four cats, which (or so she’s been told) officially makes her a cat lady.

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