Meet RRBC Spotlight Author Mark Aberdeen

Inspiration – Get It Where You Can

By Mark Aberdeen

It was the early 90’s and some friends and I were playing a Dungeons & Dragons like campaign using a system called GURPS, which stands for Generic Universal Role Playing System. The game had been a progression from straight D&D using fantasy. We called ourselves the Benevolent Brotherhood of Buccaneers and it suited my group very well. We played characters in Renaissance Faires, upheld chivalry, got pretty good at stage swordfights, singing ye olde drinking songs, and we acted like goofballs looking only to have fun and score with the odd wench, here and there, as young men do. We had three movies on constant play, The Princess Bride, Big Trouble in Little China and for some emotional depth, Highlander. I think the canvas has been painted.

It was a day not unlike any other day when the five of us decided to shake things up on the role playing front. We wrote up new characters for a campaign involving superheroes. We all thought we’d hate it. We came up with new, original characters and threw them in our hometown for fun with the goal of destroying Southeastern Connecticut. It was the most fun any of us ever had playing a game. We had a metric crap-ton of in-jokes and what we thought was material to write a story. One that we all take turns writing. That didn’t really happen.

Jump ten years ahead. Broadsword (Drew), Morgan Blackstone (Scott), Thunderstorm (Henry), L’Orange (Paul) and LeGarde (me) married off one by one, to everyone’s surprise, or went on to respectable jobs, even more surprising. The BBB scattered to the four winds.

The story, the remnants, never left me. I tried to write them down. The in-jokes didn’t translate to paper, the characters were all wrong, the setting was good, but I didn’t want to tread the same ground. What made for great gaming, made for poor storytelling. It took me a while, but eventually, I figured out that the process would be easier if just wrote it from scratch. I threw in a POV character that was new, in fact, all of the main characters were new, some of the old ones made cameo appearances as an homage with permission, but were moved along. I retooled the setting and hit it from a completely different angle. Instead of my POV character being a superhero, what if he was someone with no powers. In fact, what if I made him a cop and his job was to go after super-powered criminals?

How would that work? Those two questions gave me my in to unlock a very rich world. I started writing new in-joke that brought me reader into “the know” and started off with a huge knot to unravel. One that’s going to take the length of the series. That’s when I learned it wasn’t about in-jokes, or the whiz bang of the world, or the cool things the characters could do, or even to pay respect to friends and by-gone days. It was about finding an answer to a simple question. That’s how my story really started.

Knight and Dex

Excerpt

Snow settled over New London and covered the alley with a chilly blanket, which normally gave me a moment’s pause to reflect. I might have thought about tranquility, but there was nothing tranquil in the roundhouse kick I took to the face. Steam rose from crimson splatter as my blood hit the freshly fallen snow.

Minx’s claws flashed. I jumped back and narrowly avoided being torn open at the belly.

It was difficult to wax poetic while someone was doing their best to kill me.

Welcome to my life.

I swung my left fist. My intention wasn’t to connect with Minx’s jaw but to buy a precious second. The parry worked well enough and gave me the moment I needed to draw the pulse pistol from under my coat. I bellowed a triumphant, “Ha!”

My moment of glory was short-lived. Another kick connected with my right hand. The blow jarred the weapon loose and it sailed into a snow bank. Powdery snow swallowed it whole. The thing about being unarmed, it felt a bit like being naked in a crowd. No way to cover my ass.

I gripped my stinging hand. “Shit.”

A powerful arm, furry and itchy and stiff as a crowbar, hooked me around the neck. Minx had gotten behind me, and the momentum of her attack tore my feet from the ground. I cartwheeled, forcing her to detach and spring back, but I landed face-down in a heap. The snow with all its apparent fluffiness did nothing to cushion my fall. The impact rattled my bones and lights danced across my vision, swirling in loopy rings.

All I needed was another concussion.

Strong hands grabbed me by the collar and belt. My stomach lurched as I was torn from the relative comfort of the ground and flipped onto my back like a flapjack. Minx pounced on top of me and pinned my arms to my sides with her powerful thighs. Normally, I approved of such positions, but she wasn’t Pink Panther and this wasn’t foreplay. I feared she would crunch me like a walnut in a nutcracker. I gasped for precious air.

To any observer it would appear as if I were unprepared for this fight. That observer would have been correct. I’d seen her running down the sidewalk and duck into this alley. She was up to something and I’d interrupted her. Evidence suggested it was something she didn’t want the cops to know about. While my intent was to have a friendly chat with her, she’d decided to take our exchange in a different direction.

Minx had a reputation in underworld circles as an effective messenger. Our not-so-cozy encounter fell within the realm of her typical delivery method. While I didn’t feel like she took sadistic glee in her work, I thought she took pride in a job well done. I, on the other hand, found the work environment hostile, and already I was drawing up a complaint to her HR department.


Purchase Mark Aberdeen’s Dex Series here:
Dex Territory (Dex Territory Series Book 1)
TWB Press: http://www.twbpress.com/dexterritory.html
Amazon Link: http://amzn.com/B00R1JZVIE
Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dex-territory-mark-aberdeen/1120906076?ean=9781936991860
Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/dex-territory




Follow Mark Aberdeen
Website: http://www.markaberdeen.blogspot.com/
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Mark-Aberdeen
Twitter handle: @Mark_Aberdeen
Facebook: www.facebook.com/dexterritorybook

Somebody in a Small Town

 My Flash Fiction Friday a day late.

Somebody in a Small Town Part I

  Sweat drips down my back as I stand on the side of the court taking a break. My gaze follows our point guard dribbling the ball down the court defended by a previous player my coach recruited to be part of the scout team . He wants us prepared for finals this weekend.

  I wince at the unnecessary blow our guard takes from the scout. The punishment dished out is usually reversed. Being part of the scout team, I'm used to the beating my body takes as my coach and the rest of the team cheer against us. It's a blow mentally and physically but I justify it in my mind as taking one for the team. After all, my part helps to get the starters ready for tournaments and I love basketball.

  Our point guard slowly rises from the floor. She limps to the side of the court and holds her hands out for the ball ready to take it out. I don't miss the look of disappointment that crosses over my coach's face. You see, I know something that the rest of our team doesn't. And our coach doesn't know that I got wind of it. He ordered the two scouts he recruited to hurt this particular point guard. She turns the ball over too much and he doesn't want her playing this weekend.

  I look on as she takes a hard elbow in the ribs, but she keeps going. She's a somebody. Our coach can't just bench her like the rest of us nobodies. Her parents and grandparents actively support the sports in our town financially among other ways. I realized the difference between the somebodies and nobodies back in middle school when a couple of us would get benched after making one mistake in a game while somebodies made the same mistakes over and over again only to remain in the game.

   The guard hobbles to the bench while our other point guard takes over. She bends over and rubs her ankle. I'm not a fan of her, but it makes me sick to my stomach to know what's going on. It's not right. I take my place back on the court with this secret chewing at me .

Part II next Flash Fiction Friday.
 

Meet the Owner of Clean Reads Publishing

 Publishing today offers many options. I hear a lot about the Big 5 publishers and the most difficult to land a book deal with.... Random House, McMillian, Harper Collins, Simon & Schusters, and HBG.  

  Self-publishing is another option utilized by many talented authors. Indie authors are making a name for themselves in the publishing world. I've heard several success stories of Indie Authors.

 Something I haven't run across is the point of view of someone who owns a small independent publishing press. So I decided to reach out to my hard-working publisher Stephanie Taylor,  the owner of Clean Reads. She was kind enough to answer a few questions for me. I hope you enjoy reading what she had to say as much as I did. :)

How long have you worked in the publishing industry?

I’ve been in the publishing industry officially since 2008 when I started editing for a small publishing company. I’ve been writing creatively since I was 5 and I won’t tell you how long that is.  ;oD

Why did you decide to start your own publishing press?

When I published my first book, I realized I was competing against erotic books when my books aren’t erotic in any way. It was hard to market my book in an ever-increasing erotic marketing, so I looked around the internet and found only one other company that did what I wanted to do.  So I opened up my own press specifically for the people like me, whose books get lost competing in a market they never intended to compete in.

What do you see as an advantage of being an independent publisher in the big world of publishing?

I can set my own rules, which admittedly is strict. But it keeps me accountable and helps me not to slide into a worldly view of marketing and jeopardize what I originally intended for my company, even if it isn’t the easier way.

What is the biggest challenge you face as an independent publisher?

The hardest thing to compete with is everyone’s preconceived ideas of a sweet publisher.  For me, the definition of sweet doesn’t mean non-sensual or inspirational.  It’s not realistic to expect a romance book not to have some attraction or kissing. That’s a natural part of any relationship. I even believe sweet can be sexy.  But sweet does not equal boring and I’m on a mission to prove that to everyone.

What if anything has surprised you about being an independent publisher?

The industry in general has surprised me. It’s a cutthroat business and I’m constantly surprised everyone competes.  Readers are voracious and there’s room for all of us.

What makes Clean Reads different from other independent publishers?

I guess I’ll have to take a second to brag on myself.  But I’m deeply involved.  I didn’t just open my company to hire people to run it.  I run it based on my personal beliefs, my own publishing experiences (I will not let anyone have a “bad” cover!) and I want them to be happy with the final product!

What advice would you give to someone who wants to start their own publishing press?

Be prepared for the long work hours and the money you’ll need to invest in the beginning. Find others in the industry willing to help you. Had it not been for several other business owners in the industry who really were supportive, I would have never made it as far as I have.  Even though there are people out there who will scoff and try to bring you down, there are a few of us who are willing to help and happy to see others succeed!

To learn more about Clean Reads visit http://cleanreads.com/

Teaser Tuesday

Teaser Tuesday 

Nobody in a Small Town

  

  Deep laughter rose above the voices of the other cheerleaders seated around me in the back of the old pick up truck. My heart stuck in my throat as I watched the senior varsity football players shove  the small freshman player back and forth between them. When I dreamed of being a cheerleader, I never visioned this. I always looked up to the older girls who got to ride in the parade with the football players on the night before our big rival game. Little did I know what happened in the middle of the truck, hidden from the view of those on the outside. But not hidden from my cheer-leading coach who acts like she doesn't see the weaker players being shoved, kicked, and punched.

  My stomach rolls with nausea while the football coaches talk among one another as the younger players who practice just as hard as the starters are their target of entertainment and cruelty.

  By the time the parade is over, one of the younger players is dazed. His pupils the size of  dimes. I would later find out that his mom took him to the emergency room with a concussion. Nothing will ever come of it though. It's just his mom and him. She doesn't have a lot of money or hold position in our town. He's not a spectacular player, just a boy who loves football and works hard. They are nobodies in a small town. I turned in my uniform the next day, ashamed to wear it. I'll never cheer for this team or town again.

A Mountain Man's Redemption

A Mountain Man’s Redemption

by Christi Corbett

                                                Historical Western/Christian Western

Back cover copy:

Eighteen years ago, Philip Grant—overcome with regret for what he couldn’t foresee and memories of what he couldn’t prevent—abandoned all to live the solitary life of a fur trapper. Years spent roaming ridgelines and riverbanks in Montana Territory left his body weary and his confidence weak, so he decides to turn in his last bundle of furs and await the inevitable in a cabin. Alone.

Then a body-shaped lump wrapped in a quilt changes everything.

Philip discovers a battered woman and her infant son, on the run from a ruthless abuser with a penchant for whiskey. Seventy miles of snow-covered mountain peaks and windswept flatlands stand between them and safety—the woman’s aunt’s house.

Can Philip trust in his newfound faith to lead the way?

*Content Warning: Domestic Violence/Abuse*

Excerpt: (Introduction to mountain man, Philip Grant)

Philip sidestepped a slight depression in the needle-covered forest floor, ever alert to the mirage of solid footing created by critters who covered their nests with branches and leaves to fool their predators. Walking through a cluster of ferns, he brushed his fingertips through the jagged blades and enjoyed the soft rustles of the silky fronds settling again after he’d passed.

Solitary life was rife with small pleasures if one knew where to look.

However, he was getting on in age—forty-eight. Too old to be traipsing about the woods and weather for months on end. His back ached from years of carrying furs and outdoor living, and he was eager to put all the wages he’d saved toward a more permanent arrangement. A cabin. Where he could put in some serious front-sittin’ hours. On a porch. With his rump resting in a rocking chair and his fingers wrapped around a mug of tea.

While he’d miss the independence that came with being a free trapper—no work schedule, no boundaries, and above all, no one to report to beside himself— he was eagerly looking forward to what he wouldn’t be doing.

No more spending hours wading along frigid rivers, his fingers fumbling to set steel traps that refused to stay in place. No more fighting to stay upright against currents that appeared calm for the first few steps, but turned swift and hungry once it was too late for man or beast to change course. No more waiting in a cold rain for his empty traps to snatch an inattentive beaver that civilization had long since deemed undesirable. Silk was the latest preference back east and abroad, and had been since before he’d taken a steamboat to Fort Benton.

Abandoning the life of a mountain man would allow his eyes to drift closed whenever he felt like it, instead of always on the alert to danger. Savages—of the two or four-legged variety—killed fur trappers. He had no desire to die in the woods alone, his body withering into oblivion beside a nameless stream. He’d rather die sitting before a roaring fire, surrounded by log walls and a weatherproof roof, having just eaten his fill of a good meal.

He was eager to live out the rest of his life in soft comfort, though he held no hope of attracting soft company. After all, what woman would want him once she learned why he’d abandoned the life he’d once known to live as a fur trapper?

A high-pitched screech sounded from the next hillside.

Available from the following retailer:

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Mountain-Mans-Redemption-Christi-Corbett-ebook/dp/B0163BTUKK

Video Teaser: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dPWk3BEyiPM

About the Author:

Christi Corbett, winner of the 2014 RONE Award for Best American Historical novel and a 2014 Laramie Award, lives in a small town in Oregon with her husband and their twin children. The home's location holds a special place in her writing life; it stands just six hundred feet from the original Applegate Trail and the view from her back door is a hill travelers looked upon years ago as they explored the Oregon Territory and beyond.

Social Media Links:

Blog: https://christicorbett.wordpress.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Christi-Corbett-Author/430817400345104

Twitter: https://twitter.com/ChristiCorbett

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/christicorbett/

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Christi-Corbett/e/B00DC8H5CI/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7132469.Christi_Corbett?from_search=true

Email: christicorbett@gmail.com

Release of Witch Angel

It is my pleasure to host fellow Clean Reads author Karen King on my blog today. This talented author's new young adult novel Witch Angel is released today. Just in time for Halloween!

                                       Should Aluna betray her father to save the world?

Blurb

Aluna’s father is the Master Wizard of the Katalan. On her thirteenth birthday she is initiated into the coven and swears allegiance to her clan. Then she has a vision about the mother she has never known and a gold sceptre with an eagle’s head handle.

She discovers that the mysterious new girl, Raffie, who appeared out of nowhere is looking for the same sceptre. Aluna hopes the sceptre will lead her to her mother so swears an oath of friendship with Raffie, pledging to find it together only to discover that Raffie is Angleyt. They are sworn enemies.

Aluna’s father is looking for the sceptre too, as are the evil Bygnorim.  Will Aluna really betray her father? What dreadful secret is he hiding about her mother? Aluna and Raffie face terrible danger in their quest. Are their combined powers strong enough or will Darke Magyck win?

Extract

Something caught her eye. A sphere of brilliant light was shooting down through the sky. She stared at it, butterflies of excitement fluttering in her stomach. It must be a shooting star. She could make a wish. Jumbled thoughts of the things she could wish for raced across her mind, but only one stood out. It always did. “I wish I could find my mother,” she whispered.

The glowing star continued plunging, plummeting down towards the bushes just ahead of her. It wasn’t a shooting star. It was a falling star! Aluna ran towards the bushes, eager to get a glimpse of this wonder. What would a star look like? Would she be able to take it back and show the others?

The star disappeared behind the bushes. Panting now, Aluna raced towards it, her feet barely touching the ground beneath her. Thankfully, she had always been nimble-footed. Many a time she had crept softly behind Sariah, the housekeeper, and had made her almost jump out of her skin. Once, Sariah had been so shocked she’d dropped the pie she’d just taken out of the oven. 

Be quick but quiet, she told herself as she ran. Could you scare a star?

She was at the bush. She could still see the light glowing behind it, so bright it dazzled her. Using her hands to shield her eyes from the glow she peered around the bush.

The light was fading. Aluna moved her hands from her eyes so she could see better and pushed her hood back. Where was the star? The light flickered, then a shape started to form in it. She watched, transfixed as the shape turned into a girl about Aluna’s age, slim with long hair tumbling over her shoulders. The girl stretched up her arms as if embracing the heavens. Aluna let out a gasp of astonishment and the girl spun around, her eyes widening with shock as they rested on Aluna. 

For a moment they both stared at each other. The star girl’s eyes locked with Aluna’s, and a lightness filled her mind. It was as if the girl could read her mind, her soul. In a panic, Aluna tore her eyes away, grabbed her basket and fled, muttering the protection spell under her breath.

Buy Links

Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/Witch-Angel-Karen-King-ebook/dp/B0176VUAAK/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1445929819&sr=1-1&keywords=witch+angel+by+karen+king

Author blurb

Karen King has had over one hundred and twenty children’s books published by mainstream publishers such as Walker, Scholastic, Harper Collins and Macmillan. She’s written for many children's magazines too including Sindy, Barbie, Winnie the Pooh and Thomas the Tank Engine. She writes for all ages and in all genres; story books, picture books, plays, joke books, non-fiction and YA.

Links

Website: www.karenking.net

Author Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/?ref=tn_tnmn&__adt=7&__att=iframe#!/KarenKingAuthor

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/dashboard

Twitter: @karen_king

Pinterest: https://uk.pinterest.com/karenkingauthor/

Author F&Qs

How did you get started writing?

I've always written. I had my first poem published when I was 11. I started my writing career with Jackie magazine, writing articles and photo stories.

Are you a Plotter or a Pantser?

It depends whether I'm writing to a commission or not. If I'm commissioned I have to plot as I have to send a synopsis and the first couple of chapters to my editor. If I'm not writing to a commission I work out the basic outline of my story then write 'by the seat of my pants.'

Are you most productive in the morning or evening?

Morning. Often I get out of bed and start writing straight away. I'm full of ideas in the morning.