“Weaving Evil” Back Cover Blurb!

A tapestry of silk ends it all…

Vengeance is the itinerary of a woman obsessed by her past. Vanessa Servais utilizes a myriad of chemical compounds with the most unique of delivery systems, as she quenches her thirst for blood.

Riverside Detective Kelli Jordan discovers the discarded body of a Jane Doe, who appears to lack one essential element regarding her death. This leads Detective Jordan to consult quirky but brilliant medical examiner: Martin Dankes, who verifies the cause of the woman’s death, are both intriguing and terrifying.

As the body count rises, Detective Jordan uncovers the evidence to unravel the killer’s deadly web, but Vanessa Servais has other plans and soon she will be gone…forever.

Will Detective Jordan arrive in time to bring the sadistic woman to justice or is this just the beginning to a new brand of serial killer?

Only time will tell…

 

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“Forsaken”

Out of the catacombs, a story of bloody proportions awaits my loyal fans! I have prepared a short tale for all who dare to proceed. A quick synopsis to titillate the taste buds.
A calling card written in blood is the signature for a killer roaming the hills of Cutter’s Pass. Detective Steve Creighton and his team have been assigned the grisly task to stop the madman at all cost. What they discover sends them on a manhunt, leading to one of their own. Will they be able to stop the one who calls himself Forsaken, before he quenches his taste for an inhumane delicacy? Only time will tell…
Without further ado, the first installment… (Remember, death is only a click away.)

The man placed the blade against his muscled chest; with one quick motion, a cascade of crimson stained the steel intruder. Pain never really meant much to him. It was an act of realization if anything. The new scar would join the others, in celebration of his next conquest. His upper torso was riddled with the reminders of all his wonderful victims. Today, while he was involved in his daily dose of fitness at Hensen’s Gym, he had acquired an unlikely target. Her name was Shanna Wilks. A tall toned redhead; who instructed the early bird yoga class. He was amazed by her blemish—free pearl skin. She reminded him of a ceramic doll, sitting on the shelf of an exquisite antique shop, more so, than something living.
Shanna wouldn’t be that too much longer. He reached into his pocket and removed a metallic holder. Running his fingers along the ridges comforted him. This was his ritual. The monogrammed letters stared back at him, beckoning him to withdraw the contents. The man removed a blank business card, careful not to drip blood on it prematurely. The smooth texture of the paper was just perfect to capture each stroke, as he positioned the knife at such an angle; none of the precious fluid was wasted.
He glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled. Almost time. The sound of chimes filled the car’s interior. He flipped open the console, and stared at the screen. “Shit, what now?” Taking a deep breath, he answered the annoyance. “Detective Creighton speaking.”
“Sir, sorry… I know it’s your day off, but we have something you need to see,” a soft voice apologized.
“Lydia, what’s going on?”
“It’s him again sir. He left us another calling card.”
Must be talking about Jessica. Ah, her blood was so sweet. “Where?” He playfully used his finger as a pen, as he scribbled in mid-air. He knew the location.
Lydia’s voice cracked. “2131 Providence Ave. Officer Davis and Beltz have the scene secured.”
I’m sure. “10-4, tell them I will be there in twenty. Clear on the other side of town,” he lied.
“Sure thing, sir.”
He slammed the phone shut. Why does everyone fuck with my time off? Glaring at the digital display of his watch, a crooked smile passed his lips. No worries, this won’t take long. He ran his thumb along the blade, and closed his eyes, as he devoured the sweet life juice. Ah, better than the last. Detective Creighton once again repositioned the blade against the thin cardboard, this time finishing his signature free from interruption. Perfect, simply perfect!
Creighton gently blew on the card, not wanting his creativity to be ruined by the natural way blood has the tendency to flow. Satisfied, he stepped from the dark unmarked cruiser. He weaved throughout a cluster of bushes and foliage, until he was at the scene of his “work”. Strapped between two saplings, was the torn body of a young woman. The fresh carcass had already begun to attract the creatures of nature, as they clawed through the flesh, taking prize possessions from their latest meal. Creighton smelled the air and relished the moment. Pamela Abens had been way too easy. The twenty-something brunette simpleton, was a local whore, the town of Cutter’s Pass would not miss. Creighton had taken advantage of that fact; watching her get wasted in these woods on several occasions, and barely making it back to town. She had done it again tonight, but this time she was his. There would be no more apologies to her distraught parents for the gross error of judgment. Now, the earth would swallow her with welcome arms, and be a part of her for eternity. Creighton knelt down and placed the card just below where her feet. Always the same place, always…
Creighton glared at his watch. Shit, gotta go!
It was ironic to say the least, patrolmen waiting for him at the Providence location had no idea; a murderer was coming to take over their crime scene. Quite ironic indeed…

“Forsaken”

Out of the catacombs, a story of bloody proportions awaits my loyal fans! I have prepared a short tale for all who dare to proceed. A quick synopsis to titillate the taste buds.

A calling card written in blood is the signature for a killer roaming the hills of Cutter’s Pass. Detective Steve Creighton and his team have been assigned the grisly task to stop the madman at all cost. What they discover sends them on a manhunt, leading to one of their own. Will they be able to stop the one who calls himself Forsaken, before he quenches his taste for an inhumane delicacy? Only time will tell…

Without further ado, the first installment… (Remember, death is only a click away.)

 

The man placed the blade against his muscled chest; with one quick motion, a cascade of crimson stained the steel intruder. Pain never really meant much to him. It was an act of realization if anything. The new scar would join the others, in celebration of his next conquest. His upper torso was riddled with the reminders of all his wonderful victims. Today, while he was involved in his daily dose of fitness at Hensen’s Gym, he had acquired an unlikely target. Her name was Shanna Wilks. A tall toned redhead; who instructed the early bird yoga class. He was amazed by her blemish—free pearl skin. She reminded him of a ceramic doll, sitting on the shelf of an exquisite antique shop, more so, than something living.

Shanna wouldn’t be that too much longer. He reached into his pocket and removed a metallic holder. Running his fingers along the ridges comforted him. This was his ritual. The monogrammed letters stared back at him, beckoning him to withdraw the contents. The man removed a blank business card, careful not to drip blood on it prematurely. The smooth texture of the paper was just perfect to capture each stroke, as he positioned the knife at such an angle; none of the precious fluid was wasted.

He glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled. Almost time. The sound of chimes filled the car’s interior. He flipped open the console, and stared at the screen. “Shit, what now?” Taking a deep breath, he answered the annoyance. “Detective Creighton speaking.”

“Sir, sorry… I know it’s your day off, but we have something you need to see,” a soft voice apologized.

“Lydia, what’s going on?”

“It’s him again sir. He left us another calling card.”

Must be talking about Jessica. Ah, her blood was so sweet. “Where?” He playfully used his finger as a pen, as he scribbled in mid-air. He knew the location.

Lydia’s voice cracked. “2131 Providence Ave. Officer Davis and Beltz have the scene secured.”

I’m sure. “10-4, tell them I will be there in twenty. Clear on the other side of town,” he lied.

“Sure thing, sir.”

He slammed the phone shut. Why does everyone fuck with my time off? Glaring at the digital display of his watch, a crooked smile passed his lips. No worries, this won’t take long. He ran his thumb along the blade, and closed his eyes, as he devoured the sweet life juice. Ah, better than the last. Detective Creighton once again repositioned the blade against the thin cardboard, this time finishing his signature free from interruption. Perfect, simply perfect!

Creighton gently blew on the card, not wanting his creativity to be ruined by the natural way blood has the tendency to flow. Satisfied, he stepped from the dark unmarked cruiser. He weaved throughout a cluster of bushes and foliage, until he was at the scene of his “work”. Strapped between two saplings, was the torn body of a young woman. The fresh carcass had already begun to attract the creatures of nature, as they clawed through the flesh, taking prize possessions from their latest meal. Creighton smelled the air and relished the moment. Pamela Abens had been way too easy. The twenty-something brunette simpleton, was a local whore, the town of Cutter’s Pass would not miss. Creighton had taken advantage of that fact; watching her get wasted in these woods on several occasions, and barely making it back to town. She had done it again tonight, but this time she was his. There would be no more apologies to her distraught parents for the gross error of judgment. Now, the earth would swallow her with welcome arms, and be a part of her for eternity. Creighton knelt down and placed the card just below where her feet. Always the same place, always…

Creighton glared at his watch. Shit, gotta go!

It was ironic to say the least, patrolmen waiting for him at the Providence location had no idea; a murderer was coming to take over their crime scene. Quite ironic indeed…

 

 

“Deadly Collection”

Welcome to my demented Utopia, fans and friends! The final touches on the latest work are complete and soon the next few novels will be unveiled. (I know…too many years since the last.)  The marketing and advertising campaign is underway, so your patience is appreciated. Here is the back cover blurb…remember, death is only a click away.

Vengeance is the itinerary of a man obsessed by his past. Homicide Detective, Kelli Jordan is called to investigate a grisly murder at a local gentleman’s club, where the woman’s death is only the beginning. Detective Jordan discovers a truth so revealing, it leads her to seek out someone who is familiar with how the killer operates. Will her newfound friend be able to help her end the madman’s reign of terror, or does Lucifer once again, slip away into the night?

Only time will tell.

Forsaken…chp 6

Creighton had spent the early morning at work, obsessing over his new find; a partially torn blue post-it note with lipstick on it. It wasn’t the ordinary testing of a woman’s make-up that had him on edge. Not at all. It was the tacky way his new sexual partner had scrawled a phone number on it, carelessly leaving a majority of the digits legible, when she tossed it in the bathroom trash. He knew, Tiffany had men lined outside her door, and sex appeal oozed from every pour in her body, but that’s not what bothered him. Not by a long shot. The number on that paper belonged to one of Gelati’s people. Creighton had recognized the odd area code, when the Chief sent him contact lists for G.S.I. Fucking Gelati was baiting him.
Creighton had been cautious, with every kill, so even if Gelati was setting him up with the Chief, the evidence was light at best. He typed a few more paragraphs of his original report on Pamela Abens, but even just one abstract thought of her, made him thirsty for his favorite inhumane beverage. I need it now! Reaching into his jacket pocket, Creighton slipped out the vial of dark liquid. The black plastic cap made a rubbing sound, as it slowly opened. Intoxicating. The odor of Pamela Abens permeated his senses, like an animal who knows wounded prey is near. Each had its distinct flavor and Pamela’s had a tartness which was simply divine. Raising the glass tube up to his hungry mouth, a noise from outside the office door startled him, causing him to loosen his grip. He watched helplessly, as glass met ceramic tile, spilling all of his precious elixir.
Fuck! Creighton scrambled to the ground, but the door jiggled open, and Nicole Hollison stood there staring at him with condemning eyes. “What are you doing?”
Kill her, push her down the stairs. He looked up. “Damn sample for the crime lab, dropped.” Creighton rubbed his hands on his pants, smearing small patches of crimson.
“I thought the collection unit retrieved all the blood?”
I have to kill her. He feigned a smile. “Except this one. Gelati asked me to get him a sample.”
She cocked her head. “Gelati? Doesn’t he have people to do that for him?”
“Apparently, he wanted another.” Creighton shrugged. I would believe me.
“Since when, did you start helping him, without being told?”
Never. “I’m turning over a new leaf.” Creighton opened up his desk, removing several paper towels. Without another word, he started cleaning the mess. I need blood.
Nicole joined in, but was only on the floor for a few seconds, before she leaped to her feet. “What the fuck is on your face?”
Creighton scrunched his face together. “What are you talking about?”
“Your face! I think you have blood on it!”
Clumsy me. “Are you crazy?”
Nicole gawked at the floor, then back up at his face. “That is blood. No way in hell, that little vial could splatter that much. She unclipped her phone. “I’m calling—“
Creighton leaped to his feet, quickly yanking the phone from her. Powerful arms wrapped around Nicole’s windpipe, closing the airway within seconds. She tore her fingernails into the back of his hand. A snapping sound, followed by chunks of nails, mixed with rose polish fluttered to the ground. One violent jerk of her neck, and it was all over. Poor, Nicole… Dragging her to the front of the doorway, Creighton peered out into the narrow hallway. The lack of noise from other adjoining offices was a sign he needed to finish her. Hoisting her onto the ledge of the stairwell, he catapulted her thin torso downward. The sound of crunching bone, hitting the redwood stairs, told him, this would be most definitely a closed casket memorial. Creighton stared at her broken body, as it came to rest a few feet from the water cooler. Clean up quick!
Rushing back into the office, the compilation of blood, mixed with human tissue, almost stopped him in his tracks. Simply divine. Creighton managed to pull himself together, cleaning everything in sight. When he was satisfied, the area was sufficiently clean; he picked up the phone and dialed the Cutter’s Pass dispatcher. Lowering his voice, he pretended to cry. “This is Detective Creighton. My, God… something…has happened. Detective Hollison is injured. Looks like she fell-“A quick description of location and the sound of other department employees screaming when they stumbled onto the motionless corpse, convinced him enough time had passed. His face turned a dark shade of red; his teeth clenched in frustration, as he sighed. Nicole was only a phone call away, from ending his life. Several uniform officers poured through his office, trying to console him, but Creighton was more concerned about losing his blood. Hmm, the redhead from Hansen’s Gym does seem inviting…
* * * * *

Gelati tapped on his laptop. The digital display brightened; the familiar face of lab technician, Harlan Weik, filled the screen. His brow was wrinkled, his face full of t defeat. “Boss, we have a situation—“
Gelati turned up the speaker. “What’s going on?”
“Sir… I don’t know how to tell you this—”
“Spit it out, I know you wouldn’t call unless it was something big.”
“The Detective’s partner…she’s dead!
Gelati jettisoned a full can of soda across his hotel room. “What the hell happened?” Fire in his voice, told the technician, the time to break it gently was over. Harlan rubbed at his eyes. “Looks like she fell down those shitty stairs at the police office. Or someone may have pushed her.”
“Someone? That bastard, Creighton is the someone you mean?” “Not positive, but possibly.
“Seriously?” Of course it’s him. We were getting too close.
“You need to get back there pronto.”
Gelati’s stomach grew nauseous. Do I Let Peter take him out? He sighed. “We need to make a few stops for Peter. There are some items he needs.”
“Sir. I don’t understand?”
“Don’t worry, you keep him pegged with the GPS location device, I will handle the rest.”
“Yes, sir!” Harlan was well aware; this situation was now out of his hands.
“Harlan, we will get with the Chief of Police. You have done your part.”
Harlan’s face relaxed. “Thanks”
Gelati darkened the display. No more time to think. He yanked on the door to the adjoining room. Harold and Peter were examining photos from the Pamela Abens crime scene. Peter looked up, cocking his head. A sparkle in the killer’s eye started to form, as Gealti slowly approached. “Looks like our detective friend appears to have killed his partner. It’s time. No one else dies while we are here. Do we understand each other?” The lack of acknowledgement to his question was the only answer needed.

Misery Unleashed

A quick check-in with you fans, because I want to introduce “Misery Unleashed” to all of you. This is the final installment in the “House Of Misery” series. Even as I type this, I’m hard at work on revisions of another upcoming work. (I know you will enjoy it. Hehe…) So without further ado, I present this to you. (Haha, a rhyme indeed!)

Remember, death is only a click away!

 

Chapter 1

 

Brooke Anders grasped in the dark, at the icy fingers around her calves, as she struggled for survival. It was no use, Austin Misery was too strong. The more she tried to fight, the more Austin dug his nails into her flesh. Only a matter of time before I’m gone forever. Her captor was dragging her through the catacombs of the house’s interior. The smell of dead flesh permeated the passage, causing her to gag on the vomit that was trying to make an escape. To some extent, she was relieved darkness surrounded her; Brooke might lose the little sanity she had, if she actually could witness what was causing the ungodly stench.

Austin suddenly stopped, dropping her legs. The sound of grating steel filled her ears.

Gate or door of some kind.

Within a few seconds, she felt something clasp around her ankles. “Now, you really won’t escape!” Austin laughed.

“Just do it already…fucking kill me!” Brooke spat.

“Not just yet. We have plans for you.”

Did he say we? “So you were responsible for all those missing reporters and journalists?”

“Me? I don’t think you understand. Enough talk for now…”

Brooke tried to respond, but a searing pain along the right side of her face, almost sent her into an unconscious state. The next sensation she felt, was that of being dragged in a downward direction. Hard rough edges of stone cut both, clothing and skin, until mercifully they had reached their destination. Brooke closed her eyes, knowing this was going to be the place of her demise. But whatever she thought would happen…didn’t. She waited for the longest time, before managing to sit up. “Austin, let me go. You don’t have to do this.” Her pleas for mercy appeared to be on deaf ears, because Austin didn’t respond. “Austin are you here?” Several minutes of silence told Brooke, Austin was no longer there. Where the hell did he go?

Braveness overtook her, as she tried to stand. At first, she was unsteady, but as time passed, Brooke was able to shuffle along. The pain in her midsection had increased, without a doubt; the ribs were broken during the paranormal event on the main floor of Blake Misery’s abandoned house. They could puncture her lungs at any time, so movement would need to be slow and steady. She extended her shaky arms, searching for the wall, which she actually found with little ease. Wet, why is it wet? Figuring, she had no choice, Brooke inched her body along the wall, hoping to make herself almost invisible to Austin, when he did return. Halfway down, small pockets of warm air, assaulted her face. Maybe a way out! She clawed at the dripping surface, as her fingers searched for an opening towards the warmth. “Shit.” Apparently, Brooke wasn’t the only creation of God looking for a way out. Certain insects and rodents had decided to use her body as a roadmap to their freedom. Brooke patted herself, trying not to give her away her position, as she removed the unwanted visitors.

When she felt the last of them drop, it was time to move on. Again, her hands ran through the slippery wall, until they found what they were looking for. Is this what I think it is? Pulling down with all her strength, a portion of the wall released, opening into another passage. Her pulse quickened. Off in the distance, small specks of amber staggered this room’s interior. Yes! Brooke stumbled through the opening and had taken only a few steps, when she heard a deep voice off to her right.

“Hello, Brooke Anders. I have been waiting for you…”

 

Chapter 2

 

Brooke’s body trembled, but she still stood her ground. The man with the booming voice was out of her vision, but if he attacked, even though she was weak from her wounds, she would be ready.

“My child, you have no reason to fear me. I’m here to rid you of your pain,” the voice said.

“Why… me?” Brooke wiped at the blood on her face.

“Why you? Indeed… that is a profound question?”

“Fuck you, let me out of here!” Brooke spit a mouthful of blood in his direction.

“I’m sorry… that is not possible. You are needed for my survival.”

“What are you talking about?” Brooke reached down and tried to free herself from the metal restraints.

“So much for you mortals to learn. This house… my house requires a sacrificial lamb to survive and grow… and my young one, that is you.”

Brooke clenched her fist. “This fucking house is alive?”

The man came into her line of vision. His rail thin body was covered in a blood-red gown, and his face appeared to be burnt beyond recognition. Alive and growing towards the gates of what some would call hell.

“You didn’t die in the fire?”

The man’s face contorted. “By your standards… yes, I did. But as you see, I stand here before you.”

Gotta find a way out. “Where’s Austin?

The man laughed. “That poor boy hasn’t seen me since my death, went off to prepare the chasm of pain.” Blake Misery put a bony finger to his lips. I will tell you a secret Brooke Anders, unfortunately, my use for young Austin is dwindling.”

Brooke bent to her knees. Satanic bastard. “Where are the others?”

“The gaggle of reporters and the like… oh, you will see them soon.”

Now or never. Brooke bolted towards the light, even though each step, felt like it would rip her apart. She didn’t look back, but the laugh of Blake Misery seemed to follow her. Stopping would ensure Blake Misery of his sacrifice, and she wasn’t going to make it easy for him. Brooke kept moving, but noticed the passage was becoming warmer as she traveled further. Can’t turn back. Following the small lights was the only option and hopefully, when she reached the end of them, there would be another way out of this place. Several feet ahead, the passage veered off in two directions. Brooke took the first choice, which proved to be costly. The passage led into an interior foyer, and more importantly, Austin Misery.

He was anything but surprised, when he saw her stumble into the room. “I see you found the chasm.”

Brooke, out of breath, stared at him. “Austin, you don’t have to do this!”

Austin adjusted his black robe. “Some things just must be. Brooke this is how he survives.”

Tell him. “Austin, he will kill you too.”

Austin pulled the dark hood over his head. “Only the doomed would say something like that.”

“No, it’s true… your father told me—“

“Told you what?” His eyes bore into her.

Brooke backed up. “He said… your usefulness was about up.”

“Liar!” Austin lunged at her, forcing her to the ground. “He would never sacrifice his own son!”

Brooke lashed out, kicking him in his midsection. “I’m not lying!”

Austin forced her hands above her head, pinning them, while he reached into his robe and removed two large pieces of rope. He quickly tied her to an iron wrung jutting from the wall. He rubbed her face, as his eyes met hers. “Enjoy your last few breaths, before you burn….”

 

Chapter 3

 

Austin Misery smiled down, as wetness filled Brooke’s eyes. She had been stripped of all clothing and was now spread eagle onto a wooden blood-stained alter. She gazed up, her eyes pleading with Austin, not to go through with this. But he was focused on the task at hand. He walked to the wall, pushing on two handles jutting out from the cement. The floor started to retract and was soon replaced with an endless abyss. The only refuge from the darkness was a pillar where Brooke laid, plus a short walkway to where the organizer of the sacrifice would travel to carry out the deadly deed. Austin’s attention was diverted to the entryway, where Blake Misery had finally arrived.

Austin handed him a serrated silver blade. He bowed his head. “Father, it’s been a long time—“

Blake pulled his red hood over his disfigured face. “I know my son. Is our present to the underworld ready?”

Austin shook his head. “A little fight in this one… but ready nonetheless.”

The older man tapped his son’s shoulder. “Then we shall begin.” The two walked side by side along the thin concrete path, until each had a place along either side of the young journalist.

“No, Austin… no.”

Blake Misery looked down at her. “Brooke Anders, your blood will cleanse my soul, and I thank you for that.”

“Fuck off!” Brooke squirmed. She turned her head in the direction of Austin, hoping in a last-ditch effort, he would stop this madness. “Remember, what I told you? I wasn’t lying, and you know it.”

“Son, what is she talking about?” Blake Misery cocked his head.

“Nothing father, it was just a feeble attempt to save herself… some ramblings about you sacrificing me as well.”

Blake Misery lifted his mask. “Son, all of them go through this stage of denial… you know I love you, and would never hurt my remaining flesh.” He readjusted his hood, and placed the blade against Brooke Anders’ chest.

Help me Austin. Brooke closed her eyes, not wanting to see the knife penetrate her flesh.

Blake Misery started to force the blade into Brooke Anders’ skin, but before he could complete the sacrifice, a sudden flash of steel-cut through the air, and nestled itself deep into his life source.

“Son?” Blake Misery clutched at the intruder, but it was no use. He stumbled backwards, misjudged his footing, and then he was gone. The chasm had claimed its final victim. Austin pulled away his hood, and stared into the darkness. Grabbing the serrated blade, he cut away Brooke’s restraints. He pointed to the walkway. “Go through the door and don’t look back. There is a passage to the left, take it and that will lead you to your world.”

Brooke wiped her face. “Thank you Austin. You did believe me.”

Austin slumped to the ground. “I didn’t at first… but when he used the word “love” I knew you were truthful, and he wasn’t. Again, he thrust his hand out towards the door. “Go from here… now!”

She staggered to her feet, as she was careful of her footing. Brooke followed the path, and within several minutes, she was above ground, and surprisingly, not too far, from the sedan, which she and Austin had driven to this god-forsaken place. She opened the car door, and picked up her cell phone, but before she could place a call, the house on Misery Isle erupted into flames. It was almost like the devil himself, had clenched his fiery fist, in disgrace. Brooke stared into the second floor window, almost certain she had seen the figure of Austin Misery looking back at her. Blake Misery was no longer able to reap the souls of the good in his quest for eternal life. The pit of hell and the spirits that come with, would now unleash their terror upon him forever…

Finding the Right Publisher for You Part 2.

Ah, sequel time, boys and girls…(Everybody enjoys a good sequel…hehe!)

Today is the day, future author! The initial query letter you sent in to publisher X resulted in a request for sample pages and synopsis. A  few months later, (please pretend time-lapse for effect) the acquisitions editor asked for the full manuscript of your sparkling novel, Sacred Skin, and within a time frame not to exceed six months, you receive a phone call from Mr. Red pencil (hehe) saying, “Welcome to the family. We at publisher X would love to add you to our family of authors. We want you to review the contract we have prepared, where our author royalty percentages are above the normal industry standards!” (I always wonder how many people were polled to determine the industry standards?)

Now, my author friend, excitement fills you to the brim, and your fingers tremble , as you barely keep your sanity. I know you want to sign the contract right this minute…but take a deep breath, and S- L- O- W- down. Before you do anything, read the damn thing!

A few things to look  at…

1. What format/formats is your work going to be published in?  Mass market paperback, trade paperback, hardcover, audiobook, e-book, or some form of publication not developed yet? (Yep, many contracts have this phrase in it.) Find some other titles the publisher has released, and see if they are in the same format as yours.

2. Distribution of your work. Will the novel be listed with all the large book store/libraries/chain merchandise retail stores?  You need to scrutinize this portion of your contract very carefully and ask questions of Mr. Red pencil if you don’t understand. The more distribution you have,  the more likely your book will be seen! If Sacred Skin is only listed on publisher X’s website, this may not be the most effective way for your work to be seen.

3. Royalty payments. The contract will list a schedule of royalty payments. Sometimes it’s quarterly/semi-annually. Understand the payment schedule and don’t be afraid to inquire if you feel something doesn’t sound Kosher. It’s important the contract addresses the term royalty statements. The statements determine your sales figures for a designated time frame. Example, if your sales for six months is 5,000 copies, the statement should reflect this amount.

4. Synergy with publisher.  Hmm,  I hope…no let me rephrase that…I pray you have done research in the initial querying process to determine if publisher X is the right one for you. This can be as simple, as recognizing the kind of novels they publish. If Sacred Skin is a suspense/thriller, and publisher X has only released children’s stories, this may not be a match made in Heaven. Publishing a novel takes team work, and you want the publisher who chooses your work to love it and embrace it as you do. Does that mean you and publisher X should dance under the moonlight together making kissy-face…no, of course not (not unless you want to). BUT  IT DOES mean to have an open and  honest communication of what the partnership needs to be successful and how you work as a team to achieve that success.

Finding the right publisher takes a determined effort and committment.  There may be times when a publisher has offered a contract, and you review it to find they have great distribution, outstanding royalty payments, and will release your work in all formats…but the synergy is off, and working with them is painstaking, to say the least. What do you do?  Hmm, Now that’s a question YOU have to answer.

Hehe! Hehe!

Until next time… Death is only a click away!

Finding the Right Publisher for You!

Hmm, let’s ponder that question. Some would say that anyone willing to publish your work is the right one. Not so much, aspiring writers. I know you slaved away on the manuscript and spent countless hours editing it to within an inch of its’ life, and then…yousent out dozens upon dozens of query letters, where the only correspondence was in the form of a cookie cutter rejection letter. It can be disappointing to say the least.

So, your next course of action, is to scour the internet and writing forums for publishers who accept query letters. You take a deep breath…(make sure you exhale, or you will pass out) and fire off a few queries to a publisher who you think will make your writing dreams become a reality. A few weeks/months later, the golden ticket arrives in email/mailbox, and the excitement grows to a level so intense, sleep is barely on the agenda. Hmm, it would appear the hard work has paid off, and you are well on your way to seeing your novel on display as an end cap at the brick-and-mortar stores.

Unfortunately, the publisher you have been so lucky to have been chosen by has no clue how to successfully market you or the novel you possess. When the book finally comes out, it’s so riddled with errors, you wonder if the editorial team (if they even have one) was high on some illegal substances. Now, to top if off…your 300-page trade paperback has been priced at the reasonable price of $19.95. (Hehe!) But have no fear…because you the author of the work will get a reduced price for future purchases (after your one free author copy) at the fair rate of $13.95…what a freaking deal, my author friend!

Wow, you may think the example above is far-fetched…but let me tell you, I’m fortunate to travel across the region doing author events, some with authors in the situation above. Their novel is priced at such an inflated amount, the only people who buy it either are family or friends. It pains me to see this, and I urge all the aspiring writers out there, if you decide to forego the literary agent route and tread into the waters of publishers, be mindful of who you are dealing with. In the above example, the research for finding a publisher was half-ass. A quick check on valuable writers websites tells you many things, but it’s your job as the author to be very thorough. Example, if the publisher has a list of authors, find out if those books are carried at the local book stores and libraries. The individual authors of publishers will have websites, active usage of social networking will also be important. Scour their sales numbers, and reviews through a multiple of networks. Your goal is to determine if this publisher can do the following: honest feedback when you ask pertinent questions, distribute your work to the masses, assist in author appearances, market your novel in all media formats, and the most important, (to me at least) love your novel as much as you do.

Next week, I will continue this conversation and talk a little more about the following:

1. Distribution of your work

2. Reviewing your contract

3. Royalties

4. Synergy with Publisher

Until then, remember…death is only a click away.

New Years Resolutions?

Today, let’s talk about our New Year resolutions. I will share what I have envisioned to be my most eager to accomplish. (No, I’m not listing all of them. Lol.)

1. First and foremost, is to complete my two-part digital release, Cupid’s Kill! The first installment is in the publisher’s hot hands, and a cover is forthcoming…soon

2. My next full length novel, Weaving Evil seems to elude its completion. I have made a conscious effort to get it out to you fans and friends within six months. ( promise no more procrastinating… 🙂

3. At the end of last year, I came up with a terrifying plot line for my first Horror novel, which I have entitled Reigning Blood. I will say this: If you enjoy paranormal horror, this will be for you, if not, wait until my next serial killer novel, Death Map comes out. Just saying…

4. The fourth and final writing resolution I have planned, is the continuing saga of my latest digital release Forsaken. The next installment will be entitled…drumroll please! Deadly Identity.

Okay, writing down all these resolutions is making me exhausted, a short rest period, before a long year ahead I presume? Now, I have been a good sport in sharing…I ask all you fans and friends, what are your resolutions for the upcoming year? I would love to hear them…

Oh, and remember, Death is only a click away. (Could be many clicks away with all the writing I have planned.)