A very sincere thanks to the lovely & talented Valarie Savage Kinney for allowing me on her blog to post the A-Z basics of Livian!
I think this may be the root of truth for an author. Home is where your book is.
Sure, many authors have more than one publishing home for their works, and I highly encourage using multiple outlets for every author. I want to go in depth on this topic, and I will- in the near future and likely through a vlog. If you know me or my work at all, you know my debut novel was previously published with another publisher and is now in the process of becoming a second edition through Twisted Core Press. Let’s take a moment and celebrate this new cover.
That is what home looks like to me. Yes, the previous cover was very nice and the artist was top notch, but authors are these stubborn, obtuse, critical perfectionists. We have things in our mind a certain way and like minds with true communication are the only ways to fully capture the magic.
We hear so much about bad author/publishing deals.. We hear about scams. We hear about diva authors. But sometimes, it isn’t that dramatic. Sometimes, it is like a decent date. You meet someone. You are attracted to them. You checked them out, and they aren’t felons but you don’t realize until you go on a date, that no matter how perfect the match may seem, the spark and the long term goals just do not exist. Publishing is like dating. You have to get that right match and the right match for you, may not be the one you thought it would be. Sometimes, sadly, you do not know, no matter how good it looks on paper.
As I said, I will go into this much deeper very soon and it will be a conversation you’ll want to check out. The main point of this, is Livian. She is home. If you have never read Livian, I do hope you keep an eye out and grab a copy. If you have read it previously, it will be different. It will be worth reading again. It will be my vision. The ending is darker, twisted, and sends you straight into a part of the world you didn’t see in the first edition.
So here is to the warrior fairies, the tattooed elves, the dwerger beneath the dirt, the hidden dragons, the demonic unicorns, and the dreamers. Livian is home.
I’ve been tagged in the “look” challenge by the wonderful Jude Johnson. According to the rules, you’re supposed to do a search in your work in progress for the word “look” and then paste the surrounding paragraph(s) and tag as many people as possible.
I am tagging the following authors to do the same because I think highly of them. (So please check out their sites and work):
HERE YOU GO! A very UNEDITED sneak peek at “The Boot” A 7DS Short Story- Coming Soon.
“I’m sure I’ve seen worse.” he pulled his glasses from his jacket pocket.
The sheriff chuckled as his eyes widened. He shook his head and motioned for Emery to follow past the group of cop cars and the single ambulance. The emergency workers stood back from the crime tape. Whispers and laughter muffled as they walked toward the tape.
“Know the victim?”
“Everybody knows that son of a bitch. Not much of a victim, though.” Sheriff Gardner lifted the crime tape and allowed Emery to walk before him.
“Oh my Holy Father!” Emery covered his mouth, “Who the hell is that poor bastard?”
“Who in the hell do you think it is? Look, you see what that is? Shoved right up in there.”
Emery walked around the crumpled corpse. No pools of blood. No dismembered body parts. Yet, this had to be the most stomach turning site the coroner had ever witnessed. He leaned over and lifted the cowboy hat perfectly placed over the victim’s face.
“Ricky Dalton.” Emery fought a smile. “Look at that boot, right up your ass.”
He gently placed the hat back over his frozen face. Emery could feel the onlooking officers waiting for his reaction. He had always forced himself to place work over emotion. Being the coroner of a small town was hard. He’d held back tears several times. It seemed much harder, for some reason, to hold back a smile.
He stood silently and examined the body. He was normal and perfect Ricky Dalton. His clothes were crisp and clean. No dirt beneath his fingernails. The only thing that seemed out of place were his too tight jeans around his knees and the missing boot from his right foot. And there it was, halfway hanging out of his rear.
Emery felt his own anus clinch. “Any idea at all who did it?”
“Well, I’d say let’s start with anyone Ricky told he was gonna put his boot in his ass.”
“You can’t consider the whole damn town full of people suspects.” Emery snorted.
“So, I narrowed it down to people that have a good serious cause to take him out.”
“A little over half the town,” he shook his head, “So who is the last person anyone saw him with?”
The sheriff paused. “My daughter.”