The Cerebral  Writer
  • About
  • Books
  • Blog
  • Contact
  • Links

Book Blast: Collective Ramblings

3/28/2016

4 Comments

 
Today, my guests are the winners of 2015's Twenty Short Story Contest, whose work has been published together in the anthology Collective Ramblings, Volume 1. The authors will be awarding 1 print copy of Collective Ramblings: Volume 1, or two e-books (international winner--a copy of Collective Ramblings: Volume 1 and the winner's choice of a second book) to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter during the tour.
Picture
Picture
About the anthology:

2015’s Twenty Short Story Contest winners assembled in one place. Five stories from each category (Super Powers, Deserted Island, Horror, and Labyrinth), including the top winners of each contest shown below.

"The Era of Super Weapons" – Roger, America’s super-soldier, embarks on what seemed a routine mission –until his enemies turn to allies against a horde revealing information that will turn the entire world on its head.

"Synchronysi" – A steampunk masterpiece. After her volunteer operation, a woman awakens to a world made entirely of tiny crystals. As she travels the shining island, the product of her surgery reveals much more than she may be able to handle—neither the land of crystals nor the world from which she arrived are exactly what they seem.

"Terrors Great and Small" – A couple barricades themselves in their home to escape a viral outbreak carried by mosquito bites. As the days of panic and solitude stack up, they battle with both their own crumbling sanity and the terror of what really awaits them beyond their front door.

"The Walls Are Alive" – in a world where violent offenders are placed in a deadly, automated labyrinth—designed to let no one escape alive—the labyrinth’s caretaker steps inside for a routine maintenance. When the automation turns on him, he’s forced to run the maze like all the criminals he’s sent to their own demise.


"Horror" Excerpt:
 
From out in the hall, something big dropped from the ceiling, slamming its bulk into the door and knocking Simon against the desk. He quickly bounced back, throwing all his weight against the door, pushing it back. A terrible droning sound filled them all with a primal fear. It rose in pitch and volume as the door moved toward Simon. He pushed against it with all his strength, groaning as he gained and lost inches. Simon used the desk behind him as a brace, using his legs to add to the strength of his push. The door was closing. He was…winning.
 
He shouted in alarm as something grabbed the door from the outside. At first, he thought it was a stick, like a branch. It was segmented and moving, with bristling hairs, like thorns. He gave a greater push as the droning outside reached a terrifying whine. He was awestruck with horror when he risked a strained glimpse through the narrowing crack and saw a huge compound eye staring back at him.
 
Simon recoiled and the door opened a little wider. He could now clearly see the thing. It was neither a giant insect nor a man, but a ghastly amalgam of both. Torn and bloody flesh was a quivering, wet curtain beneath the bulging eyes. From behind the bleeding mess, a long and slender tube, like an exposed muscle, stretched toward Simon's face. He almost wept when he saw, above those prismatic eyes, a tuft of shocking orange hair. The frantic beating of veiny, cellophane-like wings caused the droning. He could feel the wind of their beating and he could smell the stench of decay it blew off its own shredded flesh.

For more info:

http://ramrampublishing.com/index.html
https://www.facebook.com/RamPubInc/
https://twitter.com/rampubinc
http://ramrampublishing.tumblr.com/
https://www.instagram.com/ramrampubinc/

a Rafflecopter giveaway
4 Comments

T.J. Park: MORTAL THOUGHTS

3/25/2016

1 Comment

 
Today, I have guest author T.J. Park here to share about his supernatural thriller, Mortal Thoughts. He will be awarding an electronic copy of the book to three random readers, so make sure to enter using the Rafflecopter link below.
Picture
Picture
About the book:

The heist is cursed from the start. Doug Mulcahy and his gang hijack a mining plane and a fortune in black opals - gemstones with a rep for being unlucky. Following a brutal shootout on a remote airfield, the hijackers flee in the crippled plane only to crash-land soon after. Shaken and battered, they stagger through the outback until they stumble upon a strange little house and an ethereal woman. Taking the woman hostage, the thieves wait for her husband to return with his truck. But it all goes to hell when a rogue gang member forces himself onto the woman. The house is drenched with blood, the husband returns, and the men realise nothing in this place is as it seems. And the horrors are only just beginning...

From the author:

BLOODY HELL: THE TERRIFYING TRUTH ABOUT BEING AN AUSTRALIAN HORROR WRITER

I’m a lazy man and sometimes when I get up I don’t like to put on clothes. There’s a row of windows on one side of the apartment and though I’ve never seen anyone looking in at me it doesn’t mean there isn’t. It’s a built up urban area so chances are there’s one shut-in with a pair of binoculars, a box of tissues and a love for the obscene. I want to make a confession: I’m Australian. It gets worse – I’m an Australian horror novelist. Wait one second... just had to look out the window to see if the sky was falling. Nope. All clear.

I don’t know how it is where you are but in Australia you don’t call yourself a horror novelist. Not in polite company (believe or not we have some of that here). Referring to yourself as a horror novelist is equally as bad – maybe worse – than admitting you’re a lifelong pedophile serial killer with a child currently locked in the trunk of your car and a few more trussed up in the crawlspace for later. It’s that bad. If you’re canny about the uncanny in this Wide Brown Land you call yourself a thriller writer or a crime writer or a dark fantasist – anything but a horror writer. I heard about this gag response to the word “horror” years ago and took good advice to call my novel a “supernatural crime thriller”. It seemed to do the trick. It’s published with a good company. It exists and that is why I now have to come clean. The guilt is unbearable. I... I wrote a horror novel! There I said it. It’s a horror novel from first page to last. It’s meant to terrify and appall – the noble goal of all fine upstanding horror fiction.  So what the hell is wrong with this continent? Why the spinelessness? Why the timidity to call a spade a spade? I have some theories.

First of all we’re told constantly horror doesn’t sell. My answer: what does? That’s not a good enough reason to bury an entire genre. To completely demonize it – which should be cool because it has “demon” in it but in this context it’s a bad word. A sizeable part of the problem is Australian writers are an institutionalized bunch, easily led. They want acceptance and love and they receive that in the world of literary fiction (believe it or not we have that here. That’s right – we produce high brow literary fiction in Australia – crazy, right?). Horror, on the other hand, is shunned and actively discouraged by the mainstream industry, likewise sci-fi and fantasy (which deserves it). That’s just how it is but there’s still more to it. Sure, we’re institutionalized and easily influenced – who doesn’t crave acceptance? - but there’s another solid reason writers dodge a lucrative career in horror fiction in Australia. I’ll get to it. But first - I’ve never been to Maine, New England but I’ve googled it. Pretty houses on charming lakes, lobster rolls, gorgeous little harbour towns – but the greatest horror novelist in history lives here and has set many of his tales in the state he was born and raised and first became a publisher writer. Just down the road from Stephen King, 80 years before, another titan of dark fiction was also producing his weird tales, enjoying  ice-cream and freaking out about seafood. H.P Lovecraft was born and raised in Providence, Rhode Island – a handsome looking town, named America’s “Best Small City”. From an envious scan of google images – Providence and Maine look like fine places to grow up and live your days. Across the pond, in the late 80’s, another one of horror’s rock stars was writing his seminal “Books of Blood” in the Northern English City of Liverpool. I know bugger all about Liverpool except the Beatles had something to do with it. It’s a working class town I believe but I know it would still be pretty. There’s beauty there. The whole of frigging England is one big Hobbiton.

​So the question: why have these highly livable places produced the greatest horror fiction of the last century and yet an indescribable hellhole like Australia has coughed up next to nothing. Sure there have been a few enthusiastic acolytes but not one master. Sure there’s only twenty million people in Australia – the population of London - so we can’t expect the place to be crawling with great writers – but why have these picturesque places created horror visionaries when the country that could frighten Satan herself produces not one horror international best seller or genre classic? Is the answer as simple as you write what you lack? Are these Yank and Pommie milksops yearning for adventure and visceral experience that their pretty little towns and neighborhoods don’t offer. Are they getting their fix in fiction? And is that why most Australian writers would rather hobnob at the respectable end of town – pumping out turgid and polite literary fiction – so they can forget for a little while that they live on the most malicious landmass on the planet? Do we have an urge to escape where we come from – at least for a while? There’s that other thing also – aside from the plants, the animals, the people, the landscape is the most terrifying part of Australia – and it’s this key to Australian horror storytelling that is the most difficult to capture in writing. It has to be seen for its full awful power to be felt – and that’s why Australia has produced a couple of genre masters in cinema – Dr George Miller (of the Mad Max quartet) and Greg Mclean (the Wolf Creek movies) – but pure horror fiction struggles.  Fatally. Someday an Australian horror novelist might emerge to put us squarely on the horror map but until then a few of us battle on in obscurity and we know the only one who’s watching is that deranged shut-in with the binoculars and love for the obscene. This post is for him. Bless.

Excerpt:

Doug Mulcahy always wanted another smoke before he’d finished the last one, more to feel a cigarette between his lips than nicotine in his lungs. An oral fixation, his ex-wife used to call it, usually earning herself a smack. The only oral fixation he ever admitted to suffering was how to shut her smart mouth.

Gripping the wheel with both hands, searching for the turn, he saw a black snake standing on its tail in the distance down the road, swaying like a charmer’s trick in the midday rising heat.

Getting closer, the snake became a pair of black, stretch denim jeans, long blonde hair, a backpack – and the potential for female company. But then sharper focus revealed scrawny shoulders wider than the hips, a lack of arse and an unfeminine stride.

The snake stuck out a thumb.

“Good fucking luck,” growled the man seated beside Doug.

The truck didn’t slow. In the rear-view Doug saw the hitchhiker hawk and spit in their direction, never breaking stride.

Enjoy the walk, smartarse.

A sign ahead showed their destination writ large in faded letters: Mirribindi Aerodrome. As Doug slowed for the turn, an oncoming white Ford Falcon hurtled past back toward town. Sporting an ostentatious bullbar and radio antennas like fishing poles, it was the kind of vehicle endemic in country areas, favoured by the landed gentry. Its tyres kicked up a stone which cracked hard against Doug’s windscreen.

Doug thought he disguised his reaction, but his passenger chuckled.

Prick.

Both knew he’d never enjoyed the loud, sudden bangs that punctuated their line of work.

About the author:

TJ Park is an Australian novelist and screenwriter. He was raised on a steady diet of Stephen King novels, British science-fiction television, and the cinema of John Carpenter and Sergio Leone. Not much else is known about him. That's just the way he likes it. You can find Mortal Thoughts through the Harper Collins website, Barnes and Noble, and Amazon.

a Rafflecopter giveaway
1 Comment

Ten Reasons Why THE PRIVATE SECTOR Should Be in Your Personal Library

3/18/2016

0 Comments

 
Picture
With the re-release date nearing and pre-orders for the Kindle version available, it's time to take a look at the reasons why The Private Sector should be on your TBR list and in your personal library.

1. You're a part of the 98%.

2. You're a fan of Vonnegut, Wells, and/or Orwell.

3. You like horror that's grounded in reality.

4. You like political and psychological thrillers.

5. Sometimes you like to read a book that makes you think.

6. You're open to challenging your personal ideals.

7.  You need a bit of motivation to become more active in the direction the United States is taking.

8. You have strong feelings about the privatization of government-funded resources.

9. You could use a novel to reference when discussing government size and social services.

10. You care about what's going on around you and want to read a book written by someone who's trying hard to make a difference in it all.

And a bonus--why you should gift a copy of The Private Sector to a friend or family member: Because you want to make a difference too.

0 Comments

An Appeal to America

3/4/2016

2 Comments

 
Hi. You might know me as Lisa or Leigh—I go by both in and outside of my writing—or you might not know me at all. In either case, I’m here to ask for just a few minutes of your time because I think I have something important to say.

Let me begin with a related aside by saying rhetoric is always going to exist as long as there’s a political divide, and both sides are guilty, but it’s important that we look at what it is exactly that we’re saying. The left wing is by no means an innocent party in this, but I’d like to focus on one tiny piece of Rightwing rhetoric that I’ve found particularly troublesome. Recently, I went on Facebook to see a family member post that Democratic voter turnout during his state’s primaries must have been so high because Democrats don’t have jobs. My first impulse was to respond defensively—to inform this person my liberal husband missed the Democratic caucus in my state because of work. But I knew that kind of response would do nothing but open us up to a fight, so I scrolled on by despite my rising blood pressure and strong desire to engage.

Still, I’m left asking: Is that where the rhetoric has taken the Right Wing? To claim now that not only are poor people lazy, but also all those who would see our country base more of its values on fairness and compassion? To glorify the amassing of wealth—the hoarding of capital—when so many people are struggling just to keep food on their tables?

Trump says, “you can never be too greedy.” Think about that for a moment. “[Y]ou can never be too greedy.” Do you think he’d be singing that same tune if he hadn’t been born into privilege, if he’d known poverty and desperation for even a short period in his life? How hard is it to funnel inherited wealth? To have lived a life in which no one has ever told you, “You can’t have that”?

It’s easy to be selfish. It doesn’t take any strength of character to be greedy. It’s just as easy to succumb to apathy and hate. That takes no personal fortitude at all. Now compassion, takes great strength. It’s a heavy burden to give a shit.

The top 200 highest-paid Americans are “earning” salaries between over twelve and a half and 156 million dollars a year. These figures do not reflect other sources of income such as stocks and additional investments, which are usually significantly higher the wealthier a person is. For example, in 2013, Apple CEO Tim Cook made nearly 74 million dollars in stock options alone. How much work can a person possibly do in even a 12-14-hour work day to justly earn 156 million dollars a year? That’s thousands of dollars per hour. Are these executives any less lazy than the people scrubbing their company’s toilets? How much are you personally worth? How desperate for food, clothes, shelter would you have to be to scrub toilets for a living? To flip burgers? To work on a factory line? To work at Wal-Mart?

And yet American rhetoric has somehow deemed people who work these arduous jobs as lazy—but it is perfectly acceptable for CEOs and other high-paid corporate executives to limit minimum wage so, what, they can afford that extra yacht? That fifth vacation home? That tenth luxury car? Pretty jewelry and fine dining? Because they somehow deserve the best simply because they were afforded more opportunities than the people stuck at the bottom? How is it that such inhumane attitudes have deemed these people the good guys and the ones suffering low-paid, dead-end jobs (and lacking the means to rise above them) the bad guys? What have we come to?

And this apathy—or, rather, antipathy—that’s currently being unleashed on a global scale will most assuredly bring jihad directly onto American soil.

I’m not sure how many of you understand how gangs gain and keep their numbers, how they turn innocent kids into killers, or what motivates people to live that lifestyle. I’m going to try to explain it in as simple of terms as possible: poverty, segregation, desperation, resentment, and disillusionment. You go to any ghetto and ask the darker skinned kids if segregation is alive and well in this country, and you’ll receive a resounding yes. Ask them if they have the same opportunities as their white counterparts, and they’ll tell you no. Ask them how many people they know who are affiliated with gangs, and most will know at least a few.

Think of ISIS as a big gang, one that sprang out of political unrest, hatred, and resentment. The more segregation and hatred we send their way, the more fuel we add to their fire. Even more, the hatred we show Muslims who are not affiliated with ISIS and similar movements only fans new flames.

US News shares, “The Islamic State group derives its power from the narrative that the West hates Muslims and that America is actively trying to destroy Islam. Comments like presidential candidate Donald Trump’s, in the wake of the San Bernardino shooting, do nothing to improve U.S. national security.” That’s not to say we shouldn’t take action to ensure radicalized Muslims don’t have the opportunity to organize another 9/11; it means we need to be careful about our approach and not inadvertently lean their focus squarely onto us. It means we need to take measures to ensure we are not creating more radicals as the result of our own behavior. Hate begets hate. The choices we make will have an impact on our society. Please, let’s make sure the choices we make are the right ones.

L.A. Times’ David Horsey wrote, Trump’s “appeals to hypernationalism, his scapegoating of ethnic groups, his fear-driven appeals to disgruntled working-class voters and his presentation of himself as the strong man who can fix every problem through the force of his will all have echoes of fascist political leaders of the past.” While I know this might just seem like rhetoric to many of you who support Trump, it is a fear that has come independently to many who oppose him.

Another bit of rhetoric popular among the Right is, “He tells it like it is,” “He says what he means,” and “He’s just saying what everyone else is thinking.” My response to that is: Is it really such a good thing to lack a personal filter? Moreover, is he really saying what everyone else is thinking? What exactly are you thinking? Are you really filled with so much hate you’d be willing to ostracize roughly 23% of the global population for the actions of a few? Or are you not hateful but afraid? I’m afraid. I’m afraid of ISIS. I’m afraid of the current global dynamic. I’m afraid of religious extremism growing and destroying even more lives.

But I’m also afraid of what all this fear is doing to us as a nation, as human beings. I’m afraid quick words, cynical banter, and an appeal to all this fear is going to land us in a political situation that will only worsen our foreign relations. I’m afraid for this country, and I’m afraid that in this whole mess, we are losing who we are—America, the land of the free, the melting pot, the land of opportunity and diversity and the American dream. I see it slipping away just a little more each time I hear someone say, “He says what we’re all thinking.” No, that’s not what we’re all thinking. It’s what the selfish, the careless, and the rash are thinking. He says what the fearful want to hear.

But he has no real solutions. “Bomb the shit out of them”? “Go after the terrorists’ families”? “Close our borders until we can figure what the hell is going on”? These kinds of words might satiate some of our fears, but they have no real-world, practical value. Think about it. Think about a United States that levels entire regions—terrorists and innocents alike. Think about an America that bloodies its hands in a way that will only beg for greater retribution. What do we do once we halt immigration? What then? Don’t we already know “what the hell is going on?”

It’s ugly, and it’s scary, but if we succumb to our fears to the point of hate—to the point of uncompromising banishment or even genocide—are we any better than the fanatics fueling that fear? Where do we draw the line?

I’m not an expert on politics, but I have put more thought into the social and economic aspects than many, so much thought that I’ve dedicated over a decade of my life to writing dystopian literature—speculative fiction that looks at society, the collective choices we make, and the possible repercussions to those choices. The dystopian author in me sees the choices many are making right now; I see a world headed toward chaos. I’m not asking you to switch political parties or even the deepest of your ideals. I’m imploring you to consider the rhetoric you’ve adhered to in these recent months. Look at it carefully. Consider the reasons behind your choice in candidates and ask yourself, “Am I doing this for the right reasons, or am I letting fear guide me into blindness?”

Thank you for your time.
2 Comments

Coming Soon....

3/1/2016

0 Comments

 
Picture
Scheduled for release on March 22, 2016.
0 Comments

    RSS Feed

    Picture

    Privacy Policy:

    No names or e-mail addresses listed in blog post replies will result in mailing list additions or sharing/sales to other sites via the Cerebral Writer.

    All email addresses, unless added intentionally to the body text of a post or response, will remain hidden from public view.

    Check out the Wiki.Evid's Top 10 Paranormal Mysteries.

    Archives

    November 2018
    October 2018
    June 2018
    May 2018
    April 2018
    December 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015
    May 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015
    December 2014
    November 2014
    October 2014
    September 2014
    August 2014
    July 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    April 2014
    March 2014
    February 2014
    January 2014
    December 2013
    November 2013
    October 2013
    September 2013
    August 2013
    July 2013
    June 2013
    May 2013
    April 2013
    March 2013
    February 2013
    January 2013
    December 2012
    November 2012
    October 2012
    September 2012
    August 2012
    July 2012
    June 2012
    May 2012
    April 2012
    March 2012
    February 2012
    January 2012
    December 2011
    November 2011
    October 2011
    September 2011
    August 2011
    July 2011
    June 2011
    May 2011
    April 2011
    March 2011
    February 2011
    January 2011
    December 2010
    November 2010
    October 2010
    September 2010
    August 2010
    July 2010
    June 2010
    May 2010
    March 2010
    February 2010
    January 2010
    December 2009
    November 2009
    October 2009
    September 2009
    August 2009
    July 2009
    June 2009
    May 2009
    April 2009
    March 2009
    February 2009
    January 2009
    December 2008
    November 2008
    October 2008
    September 2008
    August 2008
    July 2008
    June 2008
    May 2008
    April 2008
    March 2008


    Categories

    All
    Aftermath
    Animals
    Anthologies
    Awards
    Bestseller List
    Bizarro
    Blogging
    Classics
    Contests
    Critical Analysis
    Dystopia
    Edgar Allan Poe
    Editors
    Excerpts
    Film
    Finding Poe
    Flash Fiction
    God
    Grammar
    Guest Blogs
    Horror
    Humanitarians
    Interviews
    Jane The Hippie Vampire
    Language
    Leigh M. Lane
    Literary Fiction
    Lupus
    Marketing
    Movies
    Muses
    Musicians
    My Books
    Myths Of Gods
    My Writing
    My Writing
    Nook
    Novellas
    On Writing
    On Writing
    Opinion
    Other Great Authors
    Paying It Forward
    Pirates
    Poetry
    Racism
    Redrafting
    Revelations
    Reviews
    Rod Serling
    Screenplays
    Self Publishing
    Short Stories
    Speculative Fiction
    Television
    The Hidden Valley
    The Private Sector
    The Twilight Zone
    This Site
    Trailers
    Urban Fantasy
    Vampires
    Weird Western
    Words
    World Mart
    Zombies

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.