CYBERCON!!!!!

I am pleased to announce that CyberCon is back! The biggest online book fair ever is waiting in the wings, ready to explode once again starting on May 17th. The event this year is being hosted by a new group, OurWriteSide, that has plenty of veterans from the previous CyCons. For personal reasons, Angela had to drop out this year and left this institution to them.
This is my portion of the blog-hop, a traveling side-show where we humble ourselves before our fellow writers. It's our pleasure to bring you information about each other in the hopes that new readers will discover new writers.

About The OWSCyCon Fantasy Blog Tour

As part of the OWS CyCon 2019, we asked our fantasy authors to write about what makes their world, or the world of another author unique. Each of them has come up with very different answers which reflect their writing processes, their research methods, and their views on world building.

We hope you find these insights interesting, and that they maybe give you some new things to think about when you pick up a new book, or even start writing your own.

After reading this interview, be sure to check out the responses from our other fantastic writers: https://owscycon.ourwriteside.com/fantasy-events-at-cycon/fantasy-blog-tour-what-makes-an-authors-world-unique/

I am very proud indeed to introduce you to a man that has no problems crossing realms and genres. His books run from paranormal to science fiction and off into historical fantasy. And like myself, he has a romantic streak that makes him put a little of that genre into each tale. Here are his own words, so pull up a chair and get to know him.

What Makes an Author’s World Unique?

By Stephen B. Pearl

What makes my fantasy world Unique?

I’m going to limit myself to my paranormal romance novel, Worlds Apart:  https://www.amazon.ca/Worlds-Apart-Stephen-B-Pearl/dp/0987972685 , because each of the worlds I’ve crafted is special in its own way.

In Worlds Apart Markus, the male protagonist comes from a world where magic is empowered, but electricity is a mythical belief that under certain circumstances electrons could break free of their atoms and travel along materials know as conductors. Crazy notion, yes? The thought that electrons could do more than combine with other nearby atoms. The psions in the inter-monocular spaces would never allow it.

Imaginary sub-atomic physics aside, I played with how this would affect human society. I began with University degrees. A Witch is a one or two-year trade-collage program. An Enchanter / Enchantress is an undergraduate degree. A sorcerer/sorceress is a Masters and a Wizard is a doctorate.

Empowering magic to the point that it is just another science/technology lends the world that Markus comes from a unique nature.

Instead of cars, magic carpets are common, and the North-South rugway has severe congestion issues. Zombies are used for dangerous tasks such as bomb disposal. People of all walks of life use magic in small and large ways. Markus, who is a wizard of classical magic specializing in the study of chaos magic, is one of the most powerful individuals in his world. Because magic empowers the individual the concentration of power into corporations is less pronounced in Markus’s world. Conversely, a singular individual can have the power to level a building with an effort of will.

In writing Worlds Apart, I took the stance that people are people and that technology must adapt to service human needs. The following quote bears this out. Markus is newly arrived in out world.

“Where is the water closet?” Markus blushed a little.

“There.” Alcina indicated a door with a wave of her hand. Markus opened it and looked in.

“Do you need me to show you how to use it?” she asked.

“Human needs remain the same and engineering must oblige. Aside from the lever being on the wrong side, I think I can figure it out.” Markus grinned and closed the door behind him.

On the other side in Markus’s world, they use undead animals slaved to the investigators will as surveillance devices.

So, what makes my world unique, I think it is the weaving of magic into the everyday in a process similar to how electricity is woven into everyday life on our world. Lightning is impressive, but we hardly notice the flow of electrons that empower the screen you are reading this on. Weaving that circumstance into the world with magic makes it rich and different, rather like visiting a foreign nation with different customs and norms.

Thank you for dropping by and please visit other destinations on the blog tour.

About Stephen B. Pearl

Stephen B. Pearl is an ex-lifeguard, mystic, science enthusiast, home handyman, backyard mechanic, and writer. The face he wears changes with the company he keeps. His cats know him as pride alpha. Well, a servant might be more accurate his wife of over thirty years actually runs the pride, Stephen just tries to stay out of her way.

He brings his varied experiences to the books he writes which range from Paranormal, Nukekubi, Worlds Apart and The Hollow Curse to Science fiction, Tinker’s Plague, Tinkers Sea, War of the Worlds 2030 and Slaves of Love, as well as historical fantasy, Horn of the Kraken.

Being something of a romantic, Stephen likes to weave romantic subplots into his work. Stories of people being empowered by love where the power and security of love allows them to triumph in other areas.

As is stated in many Pagan wine blessings, “For there is no greater power than that of a man and a woman joined in the bonds of love.”

For more about Stephen and his works visit: www.stephenpearl.com.

To purchase: www.amazon.com/Stephen-B.-Pearl/e/B00FEOLLIC

Meet Stephen Online

OWSCyCon2019 Author Booth: https://owscycon.ourwriteside.com/forums/topic/stephen-b-pearl-booth/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/StephenBPearl/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/stephenbp

Author Website: www.stephenpearl.com

Author Blog: http://stephenpearl.blogspot.com

And now, just a bit more about the event...

Learn More About the OWS CyCon 2019 Event

CyCon is the biggest online book event of the year, bringing together authors and readers from all over the world for an entire weekend of book-related fun. Between the organizers, and 230+ writers, you’ll be able to:

·         view live (and recorded discussions),

·         listen to samples of their stories,

·         vote in the various genre tournaments,

·         browse the author booths, and

·         discover some amazing books and writers.

We hope you enjoy this event as much as we enjoy bringing it to you. For more information, and links to all of the activities, visit us at: https://owscycon.ourwriteside.com/about-ows-cycon/

You never know, you may just find your next best read!

Wow! Where have I been? There is so much to catch up on, so let's start with where I am.
The move is over. It's been over for some time now. Maybe that's why I haven't been adding to the blog...I'm not perpetually pissed-off any more. We left NC, leaving a few folks that became good friends behind. We also left perhaps the two biggest assholes on the planet, but that was a relief.

In NC, if you remember right, we were invited to stay with "friends". Right. Things went smooth for a bit and then suddenly we were being told when we could go out, what time we had to be back, and admonished for where we went. We were told what we could eat and what wasn't allowed. All this was severely aggravating but manageable.

Then I was told how to discipline my daughter. And folks, that shit didn't float at all.

At least there were no vampires there...I think.

Don't get me wrong. I don't tie her up and belt-whip her till welts form and psychological scars start to criss-cross. I don't lock her in a closet and force her to pray to God for forgiveness. What happened was this; she was playing with her mashed potatoes with her hands. I told her three times to stop it. The fourth time was a slap on the hand. A slap.
This child is the light of my life, the one I would die for, literally die for. The slap wasn't that hard, trust me. The next thing I know, this narcissistic cow of a woman is standing between me and my daughter telling me that my ways are old and don't work and that I am never to lay a hand on the child again.
Needless to say, I was homeless quicker than you could toss the c-word out a second time. We ended up moving to a short-term motel in Raleigh. OK, so it was a hooker hotel. So we got woken up at 3 AM by the cops because there was a murder in the room behind ours. So we got woken up at 2 AM because there were 2 hookers that were cold and tired and wanted to crash with us. OK, so we had to drive for 20 minutes to get to work and since we had one car, sometimes I would have to sit at work for 4 hours before my shift started. No big deal...right?
 So, it took about 3 months of that until we were ready to go. Florida was the next stop and the end of our problems.
We made it to Florida with a plan. A plan that had to be fixed as soon as we got there.
You see, my wife's Uncle was in charge of finding us a place. He picked this small, 2 bedroom place in Opa Loka. Go on, Google it. Better yet, don't. I don't want to frighten any of you. Opa Loka is not what you could call "people friendly". It's the type of place where the FBI shows up to shut down a house filled with guns, explosives, and drugs.
New plan!
Took us almost a year to prepare for the next move, Homestead, FL. That's when the blue skies opened and normalcy took over. Over the next three years, we worked, we fixed our credit, we purchased a vacation club, we got married (yes, she finally made an honest man of me), honeymooned in Disney, and then purchased a new home!

Our daughter is in a great school and is showing serious improvement as a budding young artist. The cat population grew from 2 to 10. Sadly, we lost Biggie almost as soon as we hit Florida. That left the old lady Bebe as our sole cat. I thought I was in the clear.
But no, my wife has a genetic problem that makes her adopt cats. We took in 2 kittens...supposedly, both female. Nope, one of them was hiding his instruments of destruction. Not long after, they had 5 kittens. While we waited for the kittens, my wife's boss needed a temporary home for her two cats. That took us to 10 cats.
Noob the Wonder Dog was thrilled with all the new friends, but I worried he would pick up bad cat habits.
So, enter Harley Quinn.
We went to the store to get a small dog. Small. A chihuahua maybe or a wiener dog. Is that what Harley is? Of course not. Harley is a Saint Bernard. She melted our hearts with her over-sized, cuddly self. Noob was thrilled.

Just to be sure, not every day was a blessing. Some days were more of walking around with a rotten fart smell surrounding you. We went through our first hurricane, scary but we were ok. We got t-boned by a Chevy Silverado but again, we were ok.
We lost someone we loved very much. It still hurts, but we held on as a family and made it through ok. We lost a few more cats, Bebe finally passing away at the ripe old age of 17. Harley grew and now weighs about 125 lbs. Maybe triple what the Wonder Dog logs in at, although he is getting fat now too. Just to be on the safe side, we went out and got another dog, a Rottie named Loki. He's 6 months old now and living up to his name. They both are.
Two criminals living under our roof. And poor Noob in the middle.
I've retired from work, content to help out my wife a couple days a week at her job and spending time at the pool here in our new community. We make decent money, enough to pay the bills, eat, AND have fun. We've arrived as a family to a great time in our lives.
And as I've always suspected, the things that piss you off are there for a reason. To help you grow as a person.
Adversity is a common part of our lives that affect us differently. For some, it's a signal to quit and either try a different route or to give up altogether. For others, it's a test to see if we're ready to move on to the next problem. As a wise man/woman/beast once said, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."
Never have words been truer. My wife and I have weathered many storms. More than we care to remember. But now, the seas are calm and the skies are blue. Life is good.

Craziest Holiday Ever!!!! Part 1

So, for this family, 2014 will officially be remembered as the most insane holiday ever. Gypsy and I are close to exhaustion, Alexa is going stir-crazy, Noob the wonder dog is close behind and the cats are even feeling it. Last night, Biggie kept cuddling with my daughter's Little Pony doll. In itself, this isn't overly-weird but the doll talks at the slightest touch. So all night I kept hearing "I love you Mommy" and the theme song of My Little Ponies. Let's explore the reasons why this insanity is so rampant and see if any donations come in.

I guess it's best to start at the beginning. Way back in August, we went to an agency that I will not name to talk about relocating. Long Island was rapidly becoming a place where  opportunity withered while responsibility grew.
This agency told us they could help. "We can absolutely set you up with temporary housing and help in finding a job!" they said. "Absolutely" being the key word. After all, if you can't trust a government agency...
So, we went about preparing for the big move. This was going to be the year of change. My wife was nervous but I assured her that everything would go smooth and easy-peasy. After all, "the agency" had our back. They would make the move to Miami as smooth as possible. The end of September was coming fast and we were confidant everything was good to go.
We had everything perfect. The moving pod was secured, the cable and post office taken care of, banks notified...everything was just right. The only problem was, the agency still hadn't given us an address in Miami. We just needed that and we were gone!

Then we got hit for the first time. The agency wasn't calling because they didn't know how to break it to me. They couldn't help, because the geniuses in Miami didn't want to work my case via phone and fax. They wanted me there in person. Reasonable, but where was my family and I supposed to stay while they did their thing in Miami? Never fear, the agency had an answer for that too.
"We'll get you into a homeless shelter" they said gleefully. A homeless shelter? A fucking homeless shelter???
"It's nothing to be ashamed of. We all hit hard times. You'll only be there for a month or two."
So now the scramble begins. Our funds had been depleted with enough budgeted to get to Miami. Except we're not going to Miami. We can't do anything now until February. So there we are on Long Island, everything we own in a moving pod, and absolutely no idea of where to go. Then I remember an offer we got a few months back. Friends had offered us their third floor. YES!!!, We have a place to go. A quick confirmation and a few schedule changes and we were on our way to North Carolina.

Now my wife was still unfamiliar with the concept of letting go. To be honest, even I had not grasped it fully. We had too much stuff for the car. So, we had to get one of those pods for the roof and we still didn't have enough room. So there we were, cruising down I-95 with the entire back area filled with toys, clothes, cats and anything else that was a last minute thought. Noob the wonder dog had his spot, on my wife's lap secured while my daughter and aunt shared the back seat with laptops and more clothes. We were on the road from the dawn's early light until 2 in the morning. Somehow, in all that driving time, we never even saw a cop.
This was a gift since we had way too much stuff in the car, my driver's license wasn't up to date and the car had a break light out. It had to be a very good omen right? We thought so too. We got to the friends home and amid lots of weary hugging and talks about the trip we finally settled in for the night. As we all slept contentedly, little did we know what was coming our way.

Before long, things would deteriorate...to put it delicately. In less than a month we would feel like new parents with a child that looked like Mr. Bean, wondering how many gods we had offended to be placed in such a hell.
What had we done so horrible to be put in such a pitiful existence? Our lives were rapidly crumbling, spiraling down into a crushed mash of emotions that ranged from hate to hate. We debated on what we needed to do with our Bean-baby and it wasn't pretty. We searched for a diplomatic route, but that was all taken away when...


Well, this is where it ends for now. Part two will be along soon and you'll see that we've gone from bad to worse to idiotic. But at least we got rid of that damned Bean-baby.

FREE!!! Everybody Loves Free Stuff!!!

So, who has anything against free stuff? I know that I certainly don't. I live for giveaways, contests, try-me-outs and any other way to get free stuff. Which brings me to the reason for this particular blog. You see, there are more than 70 books waiting to be snatched up by some lucky people.

A great group called Indie Books Be Seen has come up with the idea of their first annual Secret Santa Indie Book Giveaway Contest. There are some fantastic books available, including The Last Ranger of Sarn AND Blood Moon Sacrifice. Yeah baby, I'm sending both to the cause.
But let's examine why indie books are better than regular author books. The reasons are fairly obvious, but the majority of folks just don't see them.
1) Indie authors are new and exciting. They have stuff you just have not seen before. Steven King is great, but after all this time, you can almost tell it's his work even without seeing his name.
2) Indie books are usually less expensive. We need to get readers, so big price tags are like poison to us for now. Once I can afford a cabin in the woods where I can do my writing, I'll tack on another ten to twenty bucks per title.

3) Indies have new characters. For those that enjoy series-type tales, isn't it time to go out and meet new friends? How much fun can the party be when it's the same faces year in and year out? This is not to say kick your old friends to the curb, just broaden your social circles.
4) Indie authors deserve love too. We sit and write day after day, week after week, just to get a single book out. Most of the time we do all our own editing, all our own proofreading and in many cases, even our own covers. That is frikkin' dedication. We're doing this for a different reason than well-established writers.
We do it for love. We don't do it for a fan-base. Or to pay the mortgage on that cabin in the woods where we write in the blissful solitude of nature. We don't do it to fulfill the demands of publishers and agents. We do it because we have all these voices in our heads that demand to be heard. We do it because we love to oblige them.

We write for kids, pre-teens, teens, young adults, old adults, cranky adults, and anybody that can read. We even write for the lucky few at the start of life (or closer to the end of it) that have someone to read to them. We write about our lives, other people's lives, our dog's life and the risque tales of Fifi the Ruffled Guinea Pig's life. We write about real things, imagined things, true events and some weird space shit that might just happen one day.
We write to make you smile, cry, laugh and more importantly, to touch you in a way you'll remember for a lifetime. Not in an inappropriate way, despite what some of you might want, but on an emotional level that you've not felt before. In a way you'll demand to be touched again. That is what indie writers bring to the table. And they bring it every time!
So, what I want you to do is very simple. I want you to go to the Secret Santa Indie Book Giveaway and show support for the indie community. Say "Hell yes! I want a free book damnit!" and enter the contest. Then, read the book and remember this. The best way to thank an author is to leave a review. Nothing elaborate, unless you happen to work for the reviews at the New York Times Bestsellers List, but just a few words about what you liked.
Thanks for your time and remember, have a safe and happy holiday season!

Milestones

Well, today I have reached a milestone in my life. I have reached the ripe age of 60. To all of you folks that have also reached this milestone and made the statement "I don't feel 60", screw you! I want you to know, I feel 60! Physically that is. My friggin' knees hurt, my back hurts and yeah, there's a little dry skin!
The worst part to this is that mentally, my age ranges from 17 to about 24. This means I see stuff and I want to do it. That's when my support group comes in. My wife who warns me about breaking a hip, my daughter who giggles exuberantly and tells me "you're silly Daddy" and of course, Noob the wonder dog who runs me down the street. He can't talk so that's his way of saying "stop it old man".

There are certain advantages to age though. For instance, I can be goofy (er) in public now and people think it's cute. I can also just speak my mind and not worry about being politically correct or worrying about hurting the feelings of some overly-sensitive little prick.
I can wear what I want for the most part without wondering if it's hip. Virtually EVERYTHING I wear is hip...well, it was in other time periods. I'm just pissed that I threw away my paisley-print Nehru jacket! Now THAT would have been one helluva fashion statement.
I've gotten lots of well-wishes from my very dear friends on FaceBook. I actually know some of them too! Same with all my other social networks. I have more birthday greetings than I know what to do with. At the same time, I can fake being confused and let thanking everybody wait for a few days. That seems to be the secret weapon of the elderly...one of them at least. I'm learning them quickly and I have to say, old people have been pulling this shit and completely fooling the world.

For instance, whenever I fly or use the train now, I carry my cane. I don't need it, but I found that if an older man carries one, nobody rushes them and the better seats are usually up for grabs. The first time my son met me at the airport and I had my cane, he freaked out and immediately took my bag. As soon as I told him the reasons behind it, he handed it back to me. Another ploy is to stand in the middle of the aisle at the supermarket and squint at the boxes. You can expect someone to grab your shopping list and fill your cart in minutes. With any luck, you can hear them cursing your loved ones for not taking better care of you.
Admittedly, my eyes have gone south from all the computer working, so I wear reading glasses. Not real reading glasses, the ones you get in the dollar store. Just the same, I can say I don't have my glasses and get people to read to me. Yes, old folks have been playing us for years.

But to be fair, there are limits now that I didn't have before. Roller-coasters are out now. In fact, anything that spins, twists, zips or loops is out. Log flume rides are still working for me though. Swimming is a little different too. I used to be able to swim the length of a pool underwater. Now, I'm lucky if I can do a quarter of the pool. I'm pretty sure that's a result of cigarettes, but still, if not for all the years I spent smoking them I'd be fine.
I quit smoking four years ago and got my taste buds back. Now I just wonder if food tastes bad because I'm old or because it always tasted like that and I just didn't know. I can climb stairs without sounding like Darth Vader now, but my knees hurt when I get done.
There are pros and cons to getting old, just like everything else. It sounds odd, but the longer you've lived, the more memories you have. I'm not sure if they seem so great because you can remember them or because they are reminders that you've done so many great things.
Your common sense takes over when you get older too. If something is stupid (planking, ass-level waistbands, skateboarding down steps), you realize it's stupid no matter how many people do it. Instead, you get to remember the stupid things you've done in your life and thank your maker that you are still alive.

You get to retire too. No more getting up to drag your ass to work. You can do whatever you want or nothing at all. You can wear pajamas all day and nobody can say anything because, you've earned the right!
So when they bring out that birthday cake tonight, and the candles are so bright that the space station reports seeing them, I'll be one happy old geezer. I've lived a good life, grew up in a great place with tons of friends, made lots of choices, some good and some not so good but none regretted and forged the life that was best for me.
Now, as this article slips to the ending, I'm going to put on Frank Sinatra singing "My Way", grab my cane and glasses and make my way to the supermarket to get some young chippie to do my shopping for me. After that, I might go to the park and toss a chicken sandwich to the squirrels and eat some peanuts.

North Carolina is NOT Florida

So, part one of my move is finished and New York is just a bad memory. Wonderful people have accepted us here in North Carolina till we get straightened out, but North Carolina itself is not holding her arms open for us. She is however, holding her hands open for us to drop money in. It seems, nothing comes easy in NC.

North Carolina is a beautiful state. There's no mistaking that. Even though there is no tar on my heels or even on my soles for that matter, I can see the untapped potential for a writer here.
The scenery is spectacular, and the people are all so nice. Of course, it could be a sugar rush from the sweet tea, but I'm raring to go. I'm waiting to take in everything, and eventually I'll get to it. But, there are a few dozen things I need to do before I can explore.
There is the North Carolina DMV lurking over my shoulders, just waiting for me to attempt to even start my car. The ticket books are poised.
At least that is what I'm told. I am not yet ready to find out either. I firmly believe that you should live somewhere for at least a year before you obtain a criminal status. That's where New York screwed up. I wasn't there more than four hours before cops started handing me tickets.

It was as if radar went off somewhere and the warning of an out-of-state license filled all of them with visions of monthly ticket quotas. They flocked to me, setting road-blocks and bringing the dogs out to track me. They even had the boat cops patrolling the shoreline just in case.
I got 3 bullshit tickets for no registration, no insurance and no license. Not that we didn't have all of that, we just didn't have it with us. So just provide proof and the ticket gets dropped. Right.
We provided proof TWICE and now, 11 years later, they are still there. Yes, New York has a special kind of ineptitude.
Now in Florida, where I will be in a few months, I can go to the DMV and surrender my PA license, show proof of identity, pay $48.00 and walk out with a new Florida license. In North Carolina, I have to surrender my PA license, take the driver's test, pay at least $200.00 or better and then get a new NC license. Guess who ain't getting a NC license?
My wife is a licensed CNA. New York has the strictest guidelines and tests to get that license. In Florida, all she has to do is fill out paperwork and transfer it. In North Carolina, she has to fill out paperwork, take the test (which costs $101.00...don't ask what the extra fucking dollar is for) and maybe get a new license. Guess who ain't getting a NC CNA certificate?

 I'm not quite sure what all this money is for. The website says, these funds go towards keeping the state sales-tax free. My friends say they pay sales tax. They pay property tax, income tax, pet tax, car tax, school tax and sales tax. They pay taxes out the wazoo.
Somebody is making a lot of money, but it's not going where it's supposed to go. You should know, that I expect the government to steal. I expect them to steal the pennies from a dead man's eyes, but goddamnit, you need to give a break somewhere. You have to. Otherwise, you're no longer stealing like a well-dressed governmental career criminal, you're just a common mugger. A filthy mugger.
Now in Florida, I'm pretty sure the government officials steal too. However, they do have no sales tax. You need to throw the people a bone. North Carolina needs to figure this out yet. But you can't blame them. This is probably new to them...after all, North Carolina is the home of the legendary Mayberry. Sheriff Andy Taylor and Deputy Fife.

Andy, Barney, Opie and Aunt Bea gave the people in the dirt-boxes of Philadelphia, New York and Boston a look at the quaint life-style of North Carolina. In all honesty, I didn't really expect Mayberry when I planned this. Hell, I wasn't even expecting Mount Pilot.
But life outside of Raleigh is the same as life outside of Manhattan. Just hotter. And every bit as greedy. And that just doesn't sit well with the memories of that beautiful little town we all loved so much. It's what happens when you let Otis, Floyd and Goober pick the elected officials. It's just wrong.
But, Florida is the next and final stop for my crazy train. It's where I've wanted to be for the last ten years and now, it's on the horizon. The sights and sounds of the Cuban community, the celebrities on South Beach, swimmin' pools, movie stars...oh wait, that's Beverly Hills. But Florida is where I'm heading. We'll be living in Hialeah, laughing at the scenes of those New York winters and at the open hands of the greedy North Carolina DMV.

Marketing Yourself

I read an interesting blog the other day about marketing. It seems, I have been promoting instead of marketing myself and my books. There's a difference.

The marketing guru says to find something that is consistent in each book and then apply it to yourself. Like "The writer who talks about love" or "The writer of battles". So I looked through my books and came up with a few. There's "The writer with hands", "The writer who writes stuff" and my favorite at the time, "The writer that has pages".
Pretty snappy huh? Don't be a hater, those titles didn't fall into my lap...I worked hard for them. Granted, I did have hands before I started writing, but I didn't use them for writing until after I started writing.

Still, I wasn't satisfied. Those were nice, but they didn't really tell the world who I was, what I did. I thought harder and came up with "The writer that drinks coffee" and "The writer that uses a laptop". Again, both fine choices but absolutely not perfect for me.
Now it was getting serious. I had no identity of my own. I was doomed to walk the planet as simply "the old guy that owns Noob the Wonder Dog". It was not going to inspire people to read my books unless Noob growled at them. I needed to brainstorm.
I spent hours watching TV, hoping for a smackerel of inspiration, a dollop of genius...a smidgen of brain activity. Then it hit me...I was watching a "My Little Pony" marathon. The ponies were slowly but surely sapping my brain stem functions. Instead of being "The writer with higher brain functions", there was a strong possibility I would go through life as the leader of Team Fluttershy.

I was getting frantic. If I couldn't think of something soon, I would be no better than the Justice League...highly anticipated and probably horrible. I was downcast, trodden and generally feeling blue.
My hopes and dreams were about to be bashed against the rocks by the angry waves of the marketing seas. I returned to my books and scoured them for a clue as to who I was. Even my muses...writers have muses as opposed to crazy people who have voices in their heads...even my muses were mocking me now. I could hear them giggling.
Then it happened. It. The defining moment of my literary career. The inspiration of inspirations, the shining beacon on the hill, the one thing everybody wants...I got a fan letter. It was an email, but it was from a fan and goddamnit, it was mine! I toyed with making it full screen and nailing the laptop to the wall, but I figured it would be a drag to keep refreshing it. But here it is in all its inspiring awesomeness.

"I just finished The Last Ranger of Sarn and it was wonderful. You make the characters come alive. I can't wait to read more."
Huh? Isn't that something? My fan base came to my rescue. I love that lady. There was my identity, the person the literary world would know me as... "The writer that got fan mail"! HA! Now I know what Elvis felt like, what The Beatles felt like. I wondered if I would have to get a disguise when I went to Shop-Rite for milk now.
My public was out there, waiting for their chance to be around "The writer that got fan mail". It was dizzying! Even Noob the Wonder Dog was impressed. I could tell because he licked his nuts extra clean for our walk.
Yet there was still no recognition from the populace. I figured it was time to get serious, turn off the Pony marathon and get to work. She said my characters came alive. I started looking through reviews and sure enough, every book had a review that stated the characters were the kind that you felt for, cared about, believed in, ect. There was the common bond between four high fantasy, two crime dramas and one collection of short stories.
If one wanted to market themselves, attention to details and research into character development were good things to build on. The characters in all of my books read like real people because, in essence, they are exactly that. The character of Fire in my Chronicles of the Free People Series is based on my wife. She's quiet yet strong when need be and she has a heart of gold. Sal DeSantos, the hit man in Crime Scene is a blend of my Uncle Frank and a couple of guys I hung around with as a ne'er-do-well youth.
My characters are very alive to me. Maybe that's why they come across to my readers as so lifelike. I also happen to think that the more you care about a character, the more you'll keep turning pages to see what happens to them. So the marketing wheel turned again and it stopped at the one I hope will catch on... Ed Ireland, The Author that creates people.
I thought it had a nice flow to it. It says what I do in a unique way and should be a very marketable title to work with. Now I just need to get my fan base into a group that needs a bus to get around instead of a scooter.