A word can change a mind. A sentence can change a life. A book can change the world.
I write historical fiction novels. I have published five novels with six more planned in the Midnight Series. For more information on my books, why not join my newsletter. My newsletter, The Storyline, is free and sent to subscribers on a regular basis. Featuring news on my books, industry news about books and publishing, exclusive…
Writing fiction is, without a doubt, a process that is full of love, worry, fear and surprise. Almost like raising a child. With the writing process, the creation of plot, characters and setting, when completed, is an entity created by us. It’s not alive, it can’t be compared to human life, but in a way…
Ever since I picked up a pencil and wrote my first short story, Planet A for Acid, I’ve been told I should write about what I know. Back then it was 1963, I was eight years old and to be honest, I didn’t know a lot. I was, however, precocious. Someone described me as an…
I’m no marketing expert, in fact, quite the opposite. Despite being an indie author for over twelve years, I still feel my marketing efforts are perhaps a little hamfisted, even amateurish. But I have discovered little niche areas that seem to work for me. I’ve read so many books that purport to give you the…
As an Indie Author, I’ve had my fair share of great reviews, bad reviews and on several occasions’ horrible reviews. I’m no doubt not alone in this revelation that not all reviews of a writer’s book are going to be good reviews. As writers, all we can hope is that the majority are good reviews,…
At my chemo session the other day, I was all ears at the commotion going on in the next room. Mine was a four-hour chemo drip session. I felt like a plastic container for a Johnson & Johnson product. But while this drip was being dripped, I was listening to another drip in the room…
A Death on the Street – March 15, 1931 The sidewalk on 42nd wasn’t especially crowded for an early spring Sunday in New York. The well-dressed old man walked freely between passing pedestrians, jauntily swinging his cane, the cane he told everyone he needed for the war wound he had never received. He whistled a…
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