Friday, November 23, 2012

Locked Within Book Tour: A few questions with author Paul Anthony Short



It's Friday! I hope everyone had a happy and safe Thanksgiving. If you've just come back from shopping, or are about to . . . grab a cup of coffee and take a little time to get know a great new author who just released his first book. Paul Anthony Short lives in Dublin, Ireland, and is an incredibly devoted writer with an incredible talent. Locked Within is an urban fantasy set in New York, but definitely not the New York we've come to know. A dark, supernatural world exists, and one man must reclaim a hidden power he holds within to battle against the demons. That man is Nathan Shepherd




Q: When did you first start thinking about writing seriously?
A: I've wanted to be a professional author since I was about 12 years old. I've always loved music and theatre. My parents raised me in a very creative environment. It was never a case of "I like writing, maybe I could do that." It was always "I'm going to be a writer."
Q: What were your favorite books growing up?
A: It's hard to pick any one. I practically ate Christopher Pike's books as a teenager. Cold Fire by Dean Koontz was amazing for showing me that the idea of a wandering do-gooder could be a viable protagonist.
Q: What inspired you to write Locked Within? Describe the world you created.
A: I've studied a lot of real-world mythology and various beliefs. Reincarnation is a subtle presence throughout, and I wanted to tell a story where reincarnation was a common belief. Maybe not universally accepted, but still a powerful presence as a concept. The world of Locked Within is one in which there are two core beliefs which form a single ideological conflict. Simply, when you're born, and remember past life memories, is that person really you? Or do you just remember an imprint of them? Is the essential being, the soul, truly returned in a new life? Or is it lost forever, the memories nothing more than an echo?
Q: What kind of music do you listen to while writing?
A: Primarily film scores, particularly those by Hans Zimmer. I love his work. I also picked a couple of tracks to act as theme songs for the book, such as Northern Kings' cover of "We Don't Need Another Hero" and "Locked Within the Crystal Ball" by Blackmore's Night.
Q: Describe Nathan Shepherd. What are his greatest challenges in the book?
A: Nathan's a guy stuck in a dull job that he never wanted. He wanted to teach history, and instead he files documents in the Department of Records. He's got a girlfriend he loves, but their relationship is strained. He seeks out ways to escape from that monotony. What he doesn't know is that his "escape" is actually a path he's walked before, and which he seems doomed to walk again. His greatest challenge is to balance his own nature, his head and his heart, to find a way to embrace his destiny and still hang on to the things he holds dear.
Q: Why New York?
A: My wife answered this the best: "When the Old World wanted to hide from itself, where else was it going to go?" New York is the quintessential western city. Modern, cosmopolitan. A center of commerce and art. It's a young city, but powerful. I wanted a city that was prominent in the cultural mindset, one where I could contrast the old and the new, the idea of rebirth right there in our own world, the past and present coming together.
Q: What kind of message dose Locked Within give?
A: One of my primary themes in my writing is the sacrifices people make for the greater good. I think (hope) it gives the message that the things that are hard to do are worth doing, even when you can't see the reward yet. That the worst monsters can be beaten, and no matter how much it hurts to do it, beating them is a good thing.
Q: Any plans for a future novel?
A: Absolutely! I've just finished writing the sequel and I'm hopeful it'll be out some time next year. Once I know whether that can go ahead I'll start working on the final part of the trilogy.
Q: I read that you and your wife are expecting twins. How do you think fatherhood will affect your writing schedule?
A: It's going to play havoc! Hehe. But really, an awful lot of my writing happens in the time before I start work at my day job and on my lunch hour. Beyond that I get up early at the weekend to squeeze in some extra writing. I've also gotten good at writing in between other day to day tasks, so I'll do my best to adapt to the twins' arrival.
Q: Any advice for up-and-coming authors?
A: Don't give up! There are thousands of people out there with talent and ideas. It's not ability that makes the difference, it's the commitment to keep working, no matter how hard it gets. You can make any dream come true if you just keep getting back up every time you're knocked down.
Thank you!

****



Bio: A child at heart who turned to writing and roleplaying games when there simply weren't enough action figures to play out the stories he wanted, Paul Anthony Shortt has been writing all his life.
Growing up surrounded by music, film and theatre gave him a deep love of all forms of storytelling, each teaching him something new he could use. When not playing with the people in his head, he enjoys cooking and regular meet-ups with his gaming group.
He lives in Ireland with his wife Jen and their dogs, Pepper and Jasper. Their first child, Conor William Henry Shortt, was born on July 11th, 2011. He passed away three days later, but brought love and joy into their lives and those of their friends. Jen is pregnant again and is expecting twins.
Blurb: The supernatural realm and the mundane world have existed side by side since the dawn of time. Predators walk the streets, hidden by our own ignorance. Once, the city of New York was protected, but that was another age.
Now a creature emerges from the city s past to kill again, with no one to hear the screams of its victims. The lost and the weak, crushed under the heels of the city s supernatural masters, have given up hope.
But one man finds himself drawn to these deaths. Plagued by dreams of past lives, his obsession may cost him friends, loved ones, even his life. To stop this monster, he must unlock the strength he once had. He must remember the warrior he was, to become the hero he was born to be.
His name is Nathan Shepherd, and he remembers.



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Thank you so much, Mr. Paul Anthony Short! I love author interviews and this one was a joy to read. I wish you the best with your book launch and with your forthcoming family members—something tells me you're going to be just a little bit busy!

Folks, you can meet Paul yourself by stopping by his blog: http://paulanthonyshortt.blogspot.com

Have yourselves a great weekend!

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Free ebook today!

Hey everyone, if you still haven't read my book, and would like to, there's a chance to do it for free. Today you can download The Soul Seekers for free on Kindle over at Amazon. It's pretty fun watching the numbers rise throughout the day. Things have been slow for awhile, so it's nice to see a little action.

I didn't say anything about the election results because, well, yay. Happy grin. No need to rub anything in. I'm just happy and we'll leave it at that. Little Julia was happy too. She got into bed with a big, "Shew!" when the results came in. Gotta love that.

But the world isn't fixed. So, it's best to look forward and sing Doris Day-type songs, if you know what I mean.

Anywho, here's a fun interview with the cast from The Soul Seekers. I hope you enjoy. Have a great day!

****


~Interview with Emma, William and Jesse from The Soul Seekers~


Q-I’ll start with you, Emma. What’s your favorite part about knowing a ghost?

Emma- You mean William? (she laughs) Okay, well first of all, William doesn’t like being called a ghost. (turns to William) Right?

William- Correct.

Emma- And so I try not to do it, even though that’s technically what he is. I mean, when someone is invisible and can walk through walls—

William- Emma . . .

Q- Ahem, note taken. Next question. Where’s a fun place to hang out in Springvale?

(Emma, William and Jesse look at each other. Jesse sits forward)

Jesse-Anywhere I am (laughs). I guess it would be the record store. These two losers think it’s the library. (Jesse yawns for dramatic effect)
Emma- The thing is, you have to go to Brentwood for any real fun. Or you can go up to the bluffs and play chicken. 

William- (shakes his head) I don’t like her going up there. And Jesse was right, the only fun is where he is. He probably has some fun in his jacket pocket right now . . .

Jesse- (laughs) Personally, I like to get in my Camaro and drive top speed through town. It’s a lot of fun seeing if these old farts can catch me with their crumbling Dodge Darts. 

Q- Do they really try?

Jesse- Oh, once in a while. 

Q-And? Has anyone caught you yet?

(Big grin) 

Jesse- Nope. 

Q- Changing topics, Springvale has had some serious issues dealing with a certain council of men who call themselves the Soul Seekers. What’s that all about?

(Once again, all three look at each other. William takes the lead this time)

William- It’s not easy to talk about. Let’s just say we’re encouraging Emma to leave when she can.

Q- Leave town?

William- Yes. (Folds arms across chest and gives Emma a fatherly glance)

Q- That’s pretty drastic. Is it that bad?

Jesse- Worse. Listen, I know more about this thing than anyone and shi-, I mean, stuff is going to go down real fast if Emma doesn’t quick-step her hiney out of Springvale in a few—

(Emma, who has been ignoring William’s stare, cuts in)

Emma- I’m fine. Perfectly fine. I’ll leave when I’m ready. When we’re all ready, and not one minute before. 

(An awkward silence spreads through the room)

Emma- So . . . (she smiles) That’s that. Any other questions?

Q- Yes. Just one, but it’s the most personal. Emma, who do you—well, let me phrase this the best way I can—like more. William or Jesse?

Emma- Who do I like more? (She laughs when Jesse bats his eyelashes at her. William does not look amused) I can’t say . . . geez. Jesse is so funny and so full of life. Oh, sorry Will, I didn’t mean anything by that. Wow, this is tough. I mean, William is so honorable and you don’t see people like that anymore, and he’s . . . hot. Yeah, he’s hot. But, he is invisible and all. That complicates things. I don’t know. (Emma looks at William and their eyes lock for a long moment)

Q- I think that answers my question.

Jesse- Don’t be so sure. I know Emma, and I know what she needs. I also know I don’t give up for nothing. Ever.

Q- Well, I think that pretty much wraps this up. Thanks for the interview, guys. Be careful out there.

(Emma, William and Jesse in unison) Thank you

Monday, November 5, 2012

My Thoughts on Election Day

The United States is ready for another election but instead of telling you how to vote, or how I am going to vote, or why you should vote, I want to say how fortunate we are that we can vote. America has been through some very tough times this last decade or so, but we are still here united, regardless of political party or beliefs.

I do want to say a few things about the election, and my wish is not to offend any readers, just to state my view on the subject. I feel I have something worthwhile to say, and a nice venue to say it in. 

No matter who wins tomorrow I will have respect for our next president. Over the last four years I have heard President Obama referred to as "Obummer" and "Obamba," or worse. It is unsettling and wrong. It is un-American. These names were used weeks after the election, not enough time in my opinion to have gathered a true and fair opinion of his work ethic or abilities in leading this country. I have always found President Obama to be a kind and hard-working man. Perhaps his biggest fault was trying too much too soon. He had progressive ideas, and sometimes progressive tends to frighten people. It took a long time to end slavery, to allow women to vote, to bring forth equal rights for all people regardless of race, religion or sexual gender, but we finally came through and we are proud of getting over the hurdle. The biggest impression I have of Obama as our president is that he is a good father and husband. I never knew what it was like to have a real father. I feel like I know now. I love President Obama for that. 

If he doesn't doesn't win the election tomorrow night I will be sad for one thing: that the time and work he gave will not receive its full credit. They said he was evil, that he wasn't an American citizen, that he did not earn his degree, that he did not even write the beautiful books he wrote. It will be a bitter pill to swallow when folks say goodbye and good riddance, you didn't deserve your presidency, you were the worst president ever. Already I've heard him being referred to trash, and it's time to take him out to the curb. Maybe I'm too James Stewart in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, but I find comments like that very hateful and not at all in the American spirit. Mostly I think, what is wrong with people?

Mr. President, I don't care what they say. You did a good job in a horrible time. You kept your smile and showed compassion. I thank you for your hard work. 

If Mitt Romney wins tomorrow I will be respectfully happy for him and those who support him, but there are a few things he stands for which I cannot agree on. His views on women's rights scare me, quite frankly, but I do realize that if there is a disfunction in our nation, the power does not lie on his shoulders alone. He can only bring negative change if others wish it to be so. I hope the people in this country are wise enough to know that a woman's body is her responsibility and not that of any man, or group of men, or religious institution. I also hope the general public is wise enough to know that taking away a woman's rights would bring an unspoken depression upon the land—a depression that will rise and build until, once again, rights are restored. 

In regard to the financial situation of our country: To clean a closet, one must throw everything in a pile and sort out the mess. We don't like mess. We want good, clean restoration, but that is not always possible. Or, at least, it is not always possible in a finger-snap of time. Back when the financial crisis happened I listened to an economist on the radio who said things would come back to normal in about three-years time. Not one year. Not two. Three. I personally live in an area where I see people going to the movies and eating out on a regular basis. Teenagers are wearing new clothes and getting their hair and nails done. Things look good. If this is a Depression, I wonder what a really bad depression looks like? Economist Ben Stein said recently that the we should not only cut government spending, but also raise taxes on those who earn an income of two million or more to effectively restore the economy. I know the fear is that the wealthy would lose confidence and stop spending, and that businesses would fail, but it appears this is a false claim. No matter who wins tomorrow night, it seems it would be wise to fairly tax across all incomes.

The most important thing about tomorrow is that we vote. There are people in other countries who do not have the same rights as us. To ignore this simple freedom is really a terrible waste. Vote. Stand for something. Be a voice in the dark. Don't you remember the Dr. Suess book Horton Hears a Who! where the last Whoville resident finally spoke up and used their voice? Their whole world was saved by the Smallest of All. 

I have a cold so I will be dragging myself to the election booths, i.d. in hand, but darnitt I'll be there. I hope to see you there too. 

Reach

Okay, so that was a weird post yesterday. But to be perfectly honest, I do think about these things a lot. I did write a book about a ghost-dude, after all! I'm completely fascinated by the whole idea of an after-life and spirits and ghosts, etc. Not that I want any hanging around me any time soon! But, from a comfortable distance, I find it interesting. Maybe it's the history aspect of it? I do love stories about old ghost towns, and there's always such a curiosity about what happened to the town and the people who lived there. Yes, very fascinating to me.

The other thing I think about quite a bit, and it ties in with all the other stuff, is the idea of our spirits in physical form. I do believe we pick our bodies before birth because in some way it does affect our character and spiritual growth. As the years go by we become less enchanted with the idea of being stuck in the same body, especially if it is one with imperfections. I know there are many times I've wished away my not-so-perfect nose, my too-long chin, my tall frame—and I could go on. Believe it or not, I have even been to a plastic surgeon, though I did not go through with any procedures. Now I think, what the heck? Why change anything? Who's going to care, be impressed? If they can't love my stupid nose, then forget it.

And that's the thing. I've grown. We all grow. That's what life is all about. Our bodies stop growing, but our souls never do. Our souls are very important and society is getting it all wrong. We are supposed to learn and grow until the very end, even when things are crumbling away, our memory, our eyesight, every thing. Our soul will carry us through all of that. But it can't if we don't spend any time on it.

One thing I feel very strongly about is that drugs are a blocker of our growth. Any time you deny yourself the ability to work through a bad situation, with alcohol or drugs or any type of addiction, you lose a perfect opportunity for growth. It's like saying, "I don't like this, it is uncomfortable so I'm just going to skip over it." If you were to look at a timeline and see all the gaps that haven't been filled, you'd be alarmed. I have seen people who are addicts react to things the same way a teenager would, because they never learned how to deal with adult situations in an adult way. Youth is for the youth. There's at time to reap your wild ways, and there's a time when you start to mature and grow as a human being.  Not because you are getting old and boring, but because you are not stagnant. Learning and adapting and taking on a time-earned viewpoint is a beautiful thing.

I remember when I stopped smoking. I was about, oh I don't know, maybe twenty-one or so. It was hard. Though smoking had lost many pleasing aspects in my mind—the coughing, the heavy feeling in my chest, the cost, the stench—I still had an emotional connection to the act of lighting up and taking a drag. Oh man, especially after a long day at work or school. It was my reward, and I had so few rewards! Smoking made me feel rebellious, wild, like I'd be in the awesome and cool James Dean club forever. I looked at my last pack of Camels and . . . something changed in me. Something was saying, You don't want to be sick anymore. You don't want to get wrinkles and have yellow teeth and bad breath, do you? You want to be healthy. You want to embrace life, hold it, chase it, breathe good air and eat good food. You want to feel sunlight. You want happiness.

I knew then that I wan't happy. I had to find out what true happiness meant. I smoked my last cigarettes and did not buy another pack. In a few weeks I'd starting eyeing a twisty walking path behind the local community college, and had bought a new pair of sneakers and some exercise clothes. For months I walked that path, listening to countless tapes of Vivaldi and books on tape. And it was if something was growing in me that had previously been held back. I could almost see the old, scared me sitting in her maroon Chevy Cavalier smoking and feeling lost. That girl never thought that she could change, because she'd been so hurt by life that she was in a man-made shelter of protection. The things she said and did kept her safe. But she wan't getting sunlight and she wasn't feeling any joy.

Another example, and my mother will hate this part, is the time I got high because I found out the guy I loved had cheated on me. I loved him so much! Too much. It was dangerous how much I loved him. When we weren't together I thought of whole conversations between us, and I ached, literally ached for him to be there. Losing him was a horrible pain. One day after seeing him out with another girl, I went to my friend's house to find comfort. But she wasn't there. Her uncle greeted me. Her sleazy, shoot-at-the-hip, hang-out-in-the-garage-all-day uncle was there. He knew I was suffering and offered some of his best weed. We sat in the backyard on a fall day, sharing a joint and telling each other stupid stories. It took away the pain. It was like I had risen above my situation and was looking down, like someone in an airplane watching the earth on fire. The next day I was still numb. But the sadness seeped back. Not as intense as that first day. Sometimes I've found myself regretting skipping over that initial pain. I'll never have that day back. One of the most important in my life. The day I learned that I didn't need someone who would cheat on me. The day I found out my pain wasn't because I'd lost him, but because I thought I wasn't good enough to be loved.

Life is difficult. Life is raw. Life hurts.

There are times when you must step outside of what you know and take on what is unknown. Never fill the gaps of your life with bandaids. Always feel your pain so that you can grow into a person who can take on any thing at any time. With grace and with wisdom. When life hurts, get on your knees and feel the hurt. And when the hurt is over, get on your feet and face what is new.

Sunday, November 4, 2012

A totally trippy, yet serious, post about life and stuff

I saw the most interesting show last night called, The Haunting of (insert celebrity name here). Basically, a psychic meets with a celebrity to help them understand what really happened at a site where something paranormal was experienced. This episode was about Pennhurst Asylum, which until its closure in the 1980's, served for a housing unit for the mentally ill. Patients were treated horribly, children were found to be strapped to their beds or left in cribs unendingly. For a long time, society believed it was in everyone's best interest to hide the mentally ill. I remember reading a journal by a Kansan woman, late 1800's, who described having to drive a neighbor's daughter to an institution. The girl, who was only mildly affected by some disorder mind you, probably something like high-functioning autism or aspergers, begged the woman not to take her. Perhaps one of the saddest things I've ever read. I wanted to reach inside that book and grab the girl and bring her home with me. These places were a cesspool for abuse, sexual and otherwise. Patients were drugged, beaten, had all their teeth pulled out for talking back. Can you imagine? How could anyone treat another human being like that? I often wonder what happened to that girl. Did she spend her life in an institution? Did her family ever come and bring her back home? It's so sad.

In this show—and I know some of you do not believe in the paranormal, so bear with me—the psychic and the celebrity (a really down-to-earth young woman) explored a few buildings on the Pennhurst campus. The psychic said Pennhurst is overfilled with souls who haven't figured out how to cross over to the other side yet. George Harrison was very big on learning the art of death and in a recent documentary his wife said that when he died, a brilliant light filled the room. He had prepared himself so thoroughly that his soul was already fully formed. He was ready. I know that sounds strange to many of you, but it makes sense to me. I've often thought of my death and how I will make a choice to walk toward the light. But what if, like these people at Pennhurst, you have never been trained in the art of dying? What if you know nothing of the light, of the other side, of your soul? I'm sad thinking of these spirits all trapped, still in a hell on earth, unable to pass through to the other side. They already went through so much, why should they suffer any more? Why aren't God and the angels swooping them up into Heaven? I've thought about this a lot, and all I can say is I think that we have free will, even after death, and there's no way we could just step into Heaven without some sort of soul work. So, even though it is sad that these spirits are trapped on earth, they do have a responsibility to stop the negative thought processes they have been taught, and open up to a pure way of thinking.

So that makes me think how in life we create such negativity—so much that it traps us on this earth. What if we were to enlighten ourselves?

What do you think about all this stuff? Do you think your soul is a life-long project, or just a hooey belief system best left for weirdos and freaks?

Happy Sunday to you all!

Thursday, November 1, 2012

NaNoWriMo

I'm really thinking I should do this NaNoWriMo thing. I obviously need something to distract me from the real world! Anyone else participating and what kind of book are you thinking of writing? I have a YA contemporary that I started earlier this year but put aside because . . . sigh . . . life. I really like the story and think it could be something worth writing.


Stress

Today starts NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month. Are you participating? Is this what you need to kickstart a book idea that is always getting lost between all your other projects? I have to admit, NaNoWriMo always sounds like a great idea, but I can never seem to hang in there though it really is the best way to get a book done. As they say, you can't edit what isn't there. A finished book, though full of errors, is better than few perfect chapters. Maybe I will try it this year.

However, I need life to give me a break for a while. I'm so stressed out about Julia that I can barely think—or write—sometimes. Just when everything is going smooth I get an email (like today) asking if I can come to a new meeting. What now? How is Julia any different than she's ever been? It's the same thing every time, "Julia doesn't concentrate. Her handwriting needs work. She need to focus."  I know all this. I've listened to it for years now. Meeting after depressing meeting. Never what she does right, always what she does wrong. Last spring it was suggested I take her in for a new evaluation, so I did. I took her in and was told that I would get a call in a few months. Still haven't gotten that call. But they didn't forget to send an $80 dollar bill, even though I paid the co-pay at our visit.

Honestly, I'm ready to home school her if only to avoid all this grief. I'm so tired of hearing what she does wrong. I love Julia and see a beautiful, sweet, funny, compassionate and wise little girl. Do I have trouble taking her places? Yes. That awesome kid gets lost in a haze of sensory overload. I've always had to chase her, protect her, guide, corral. I used to get so mad because I couldn't take her places like other folks. Julia stops listening and drifts into the crowd wherever we go. It's very frustrating. She's memorizing things, filtering; her brain is clouded with her surroundings, people, life. Who do I have to call and say, "Let's set up a meeting?" No one. I just love her, and she and I do the best we can to make life normal and safe and happy.

There are times when I think, "I'm a horrible mom. I should be better about her homework, about making her read more, about her math, etc." Many times I've thought, well, any mom would be a better mom than me. I spent so much time trying to get this book published—time when I should have been concentrating on her. And yet, writing my book book was a great escape for me because before it all I ever did was think about Julia. It saved my sanity.

I'm sorry to make you my shoulder to cry on. There was one time, after a particular frustrating day, when I got in the car and drove and screamed my flipping head off. I yelled at God and life and everything for making Julia and I go through all of this. I've never had babysitters or friends. Sometimes I feel so alone with all of this. Sometimes I feel like I'm holding Julia and we're drifting on the ocean and we can't get to shore. But, dammit, I'm still going to try. I love her, and all these stupid meetings and the professionals and their angry eyes when they talk about how she doesn't hold her pencil like everyone else—for God's sake, a freaking pencil—well, I am just going to deal with it like I always have. No one is going to make me have any less love for my beautiful girl.

Oh, geez. Sorry about all this. Thanks for reading. Life. It's beautiful and yet it truly sucks sometimes.
Take care, friends. Peace.


A Millennial romp through Jane Austen

  A few years back I wrote this story about a fifteen-year-old girl named Frankie drudging through a very complicated life in a fictional sm...