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Countdown To Our Next Topic: Dangerous Trends Affecting Authors Today !
Did you know that the average book sells 3000 copies in its lifetime (Publishers Weekly, 2006).
#CWET #1Day

Pimp my 500 character summary.

I’m submitting my novel A Dead God Awakes to the Kindle Scout program. Amazon requests a summary, no more than 500 characters.

What do you think? Edits and suggestions are welcome. I have thick skin so be harsh.


The Doom Who Waits, an alien creature of pure entropy, awakes and promises wealth and power for his freedom. The search begins for his prison tomb and an amulet holding drops of his blood, a relic that can unleash him.

Charlatan. Brute. Apostate. Obsessed. Outcast. Pursued by a Dark Dwarf army, they enter a nightmare land of storms that bend reality in search of the tomb. But lies and deception are the deadliest foes. If this band of schemers does not kill each other, they might save the world.

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Orson Welles gave the world The War of the Worlds, Don Siegal introduces us to "The Invasion Of The Body Snatcheers," and now SilverWing gives us "Cory - Discovery," the story of The Krons who need a new home, and they have chosen Earth...but for what reason has this advanced alien civilization chosen Earth? Discover the intrigue and the wonders of the Krons in the pages of "Cory - Discovery." Visit for more.

#alien #aliens #planetearth #planets #space #outerspace #outerlimits #scifi #sciencefiction #sciencefictionnovel #sciencefictionbooks #sciencefictionart #books #bookstagram #book #novel #novels #waroftheworlds #orsonwelles #martians #invasionofthebodysnatchers #writers #writersofinstagram #booktuber #booktube #authors

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Re: some obvious stereotypes SFF authors need to stop promoting. Now.

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Thought this was a thoughtful post on the topic

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Print on demand... yes? No?

Of course yes.

Rob Adams and I discuss the merits and issues of using print on demand services from companies like DriveThruRPG and Lulu in the first RPG Room episode of 2018.

This is an excerpt from my high fantasy novel, what do you think? I'm interested in absolutely any feedback, it doesn't matter what it is

This is the final stage. This is where all my choices brought me, all over this year. Was it inevitable that I'd be standing in front of this dark, enormous fortress surrounded by lava, black smog, demons, ghouls, undead, and even more things I always prayed weren't truly real? Could I have not been clad in magical armor, with the greatest people I've ever met by my side? Maybe…

It all started that one day, back in my home, no, what I thought was my home but never truly was home, on a bright spring day…

“Riorin Higgsbury, out yer bed and down here in five minutes, or I'll go up ter and drag ya!” mother's shout broke me from my slumber. It was a good dream too, I was a celebrated hero, lute in hand next to a strong and beautiful Paladin covered in shining armor. She was our team's leader, a brave hero who slew the evil lich alongside the rest of my companions. I, of course, being the bard of the group, stayed back and watched from afar, as I always do. But it didn’t matter, I was helping the group in my own way, and was one of the most important at celebrations. We had saved the entire world, and-

“I haven’t heard yer footsteps yet, you better be outta bed now!” Ah, better get up quick. I have these dreams all the time anyway. I throw my purple bed sheets with birds all over off and onto my windowsill, and get up. I quickly walk to my brown wardrobe and open it up, revealing an assortment of outfits of varying quality.
Perhaps I should wear my long dark forest green coat? It has a mysterious air about it, usually making our customers feel as if our shop sells things they aren’t allowed to see. A sense of excitement always helps.
Or maybe my fancy and very expensive candy red vest? It never fails to make our customers feel like they are in a wealthy business. A feeling of importance is something everyone likes.
Then again, my clean, basic beige tunic is always a great choice, as it always strikes an air of familiarity amongst our customers, considering every family with a man or boy in it is likely to own four. The fact that it is beige really makes it easy to notice how clean it is, which lets the customer know we are neat. Furthermore, having it not white makes it seem like we aren’t trying to seem clean, which make us seem unpretentious.
Which would be the best choice?

“Mother!” I shout. “How long will I be working in our establishment today?”

“Four hours, but that is during the afternoon, right now yer free to go play outside. And how many times do I have to tell you to speak simple in this house, the smallfolk hate big words they can’t understand!”

She’s right, many times I’ve spoken a word too large for the average person around our home, and found a “What? A wot now?” or a large eyed stare by a confused customer, or rarely but still sometimes, a nod followed by them looking at whatever they were hoping to purchase with an intense stare, as they try to pretend they know what I had just said. But I will not pretend to be illiterate for them, I have never once lost a sale over an unknown word and have even gotten some thanks before. One day, my dear mother will understand...hopefully.

Well, if I am to be left to my own devices, I might as well put on my favourite blue long-sleeved shirt and brown hemp vest. Blue is my favourite color and my mother knitted this my favourite shade, royal. It’s an unfitting name for our lower-middle class standing but I feel it looks the most blue of any shade. As for my hemp vest, well, everyone wears hemp in the village, be it vests, coats, or even shirts and dresses. This material is used so commonly because hemp is both malleable and durable, fit for working in fields and other various labors that smallfolk do. Although I work in our family business, I have found this is useful in forests and many physical activities. Next, I get my expensive and well-made thick woolen trousers. Last, I choose my pointed brown clog shoes, which everyone wears.

I go over to my mirror and take a look at myself, slightly short, thin with hints of muscle, topped with light brown skin. I have always been a bit smaller than everyone else, but while I may not be muscular and imposing (like my brother…no. nothing.) I am lithe, and have a sort of Elfin quality about me.
This makes sense as I look at my semi-pointy ears in the mirror, I am half-elf after all. My ears are partially obscured by my right above shoulder-length brown, disheveled locks of hair. I grab my green brush and comb and get to work, turning it into a more fashionable naturally curly style, with my locks behind my ears.
As I bring my gaze to my light brown with a hint of green orbs I call eyes, my lips crack into a grin. I look great! Considering I work the morning to day shift here almost every day, it’s rare for me to have time to make myself presentable before I do anything. I put the tips of my fingers together and whisper “Thank you lord Kuphid.”

I smile as I move past my alchemy station, before giving a quick glance back at the various tubes, jars, and cups scattered across it. Later, I promise. But for now, it’s time to get out my room and downstairs.

“My dear, be sure to have fun today, we'll be having a special customer here tonight so be on time.” My mother's red lips curl into a smile as I correct the position of one of our wands for sale. This one’s black with a handle inscribed with thorns, the prickles so realistic I feel a tad reluctant to touch it. And a very rare straight shaft ending in a slightly curled tip. No doubt it will fetch quite a high price.

“I’ll try my best mother.” I turn and tell her with a grin.

My mother knows I'll be on time, I always am. We really have a good relationship, her and I. Mother has brown eyes and chestnut hair, although she lacks my ears as she is a human. She is loving, and hardworking, wise, and many other things any mother should strive to be. I really am proud to be her son, I let her know that every day. But now, it's time to go.

I head out our naturally deep red door, made of Redwood, which is a naturally red type of wood as the name implies. Ours is from a very nurtured source as it is a very deep shade, for Redwood becomes more red the healthier it is. It is quite a unique thing to see in our hovel of Amdale, which is filled with basic wooden homes of almost no color variation. A nice touch is our iron handle with a carving of leaves.

Fabricated near the eastern side of a forest, the village on Amdale is a quiet, peaceful village in Toulion. It happens to be one of the more southern areas in the kingdom of Toulion, and so it is one of the many southern parts that have no army presence. The monarch keeps his army in his northern regions, around his castle and cities with banks and cathedrals. This gives Amdale a semblance of autonomy found very rarely in Toulion, which it’s people seem to love. Even though our village looks basic, it has a warm and inviting atmosphere, which is also a very uncommon thing in this region. It’s where I’ve called home my entire life.

As I close the door behind me I am hit with the smell of chopped wood. Ben must have started chopping early. But his large shack isn't my destination, the inn is.

The big black two story establishment is the largest building in Amdale, with my mother's store as second. It's where a lot of people go for breakfast, and I'm no exception. From the outside it looks cheerful, folksy and peaceful, exactly like the inside. I give a hello to the old men playing lambshark outside before following the scent of pie through it's oversized door.

I always feel happy when I see the familiar interior of Innocence inn. It seems they forgot to hang the sign by the window again...but anyone around will easily point you toward the inn, as it is arguably the the most crowded part of Amdale throughout most of the day and night. Anyway, I go to the vacant round table in the back left corner, which I always go to, and wait for the waiter to notice me. It doesn't take long before he hurries over to me.

“Riorin! Politely waiting, as always. What is it today?” Balor asks with his paper and quill in hand.

“I think I'll have the usual elmbird egg, with some milk.”

“I don't understand how you can stomach that hot egg spice, it always burns my throat out.”

“I don't find it that hot, but the milk usually washes it down well.”

“That's classic you Riorin, you were the one always finishing your milk in school while the rest of us begged for juice!” We exchange a laugh before he goes back into the kitchen.

Balor and I went to school together, before I left. We were friends then, although he was always a bit of a troublemaker while I was a know-it-all. I remember when he used to tell elders their grandchild had put together a fake beard of horsehair and ran away to join a halfling band of nudists. It never failed to urk them, or to bring us a laugh.
Unfortunately, after my mother hired private tutors for me, I began seeing him much less. My mother always told me she only had me do regular education like everyone else to give me a social aspect of learning, and that her hired people would teach me more than they would ever know. Unfortunately, I'd have to say she was right, none of them would ever learn literate words in their schools, or how to practice any form of alchemy like me.

As I wait for my food I notice a group of adult humans I’ve seen before frowning at me from a square table in the middle of the room. “Fuckin half-elves.” A long bearded one remarks. “Should stay out of Toulion.” The rest nod in agreement.

Ugh, even more of them. I always get at least one odd stare as I walk around town, but after living here my entire life I at least expect somewhere I am at regularly to not have local smallfolk openly hostile to me. I ignore them and look away, which based on their grumbles angers them. You can't please everyone, I suppose.

I would be surprised if you hadn’t heard of Toulion, with how bloody it’s history is. Yes, the kingdom of Toulion is a kingdom made by humans. Many people think this means it is also made for humans. Yes, many humans believe that the great King Robshaw should make it law that humans are the only true Toulionites, and that all other races should be persecuted, made servants, or worse, lynched. Hells, maybe King Robshaw would do it if he wasn’t barred by his high council. All of which are human, but many have spouses or friends that are not human. Many of his high council probably also rightfully feel that if they were too pass this law they would personally be targeted by those who are opposed. While the king hardly needs to fear this, the high council does. They are guarded in the council room, but outside must purchase their own guards. This is likely a move done on purpose so King Robshaw can eliminate those he does not like, but tell any human of Toulion that and they would probably challenge you to a duel. Or call a guard and say you spew treason...or even worse, heresy. I feel myself shudder at the thought of being called a heretic.

A laugh sounds out. It seems those humans think I am afraid of them. They can think whatever they want, it does not matter to me.

Heresy is not a crime in many parts of the world, but Toulion is one where it is. Heresy is a crime that would make any citizen of Toulion shudder, and for more reasons than one. The Two is the only religion allowed in Toulion, and is thought of as the one true religion here. Being found guilty of worshipping any other religion or denouncing the ways of The Two will get you arrested on crime of Heresy and publicly flayed. Having your skin peeled off sounds terrible enough, but having just about everyone you know, even your family, watching it all is even worse. And that is just the most common one, used for rejectors of followers of a few other similar religions. Denouncing or slandering it will get you on the torture rack, and having your limbs stretched out in ways nobody could take. And trust me they won’t care if you apologize. Being found following a religion very different from The Two, such as the elven or orcs one, would get you the head crusher. I can’t even begin to think of that one without gagging. And worse of all, if you were found a worshipper of one of the few religions that are of any people Toulion has gone to war with before, you would be hanged, drawn, quartered, and flogged all at once. You may even be flayed if you are not dead at this point, which is a very real possibility for some of the tougher races such as the orcs. One famous individual even survived the flaying, and was then brought into the dungeons and reportedly boiled until death, although other prisoners who escaped or were let free claim he even survived this and was just jailed until death.

Balor interrupts my thoughts when he finally returns with my breakfast, and I see they even added half an orange! I give him an appreciative nod as I hand over my silver and he winks as he runs off to another table. I savor the taste of my elmbird egg, it tastes much better to me than a chicken’s egg, more of a rounded taste with a pop of cinnamon. I resist just digging in like many of the other patrons, instead I remember to use a fork and knife. Soon I get to my fresh off the bush orange and milk, unable to wipe my smile the entire time. When I finally finish it I feel more than completely satisfied, as usual, and I get up and maneuver past all the rounded tables on my way out. I am reluctant to leave these tasty smells of freshly made food, but all good things must come to an end. I spot one of those men standing by the door...I’ll just walk past him without looking, nice and quickly.

He suddenly side-steps right into my way. Luckily, I could tell something was up, and so I am able to stop right before I bump into him.

“Excuse me, good sir.” I give my best disarming smile as I look above my nose at him.

“Uh…” His gruff voice sounds as he suddenly looks past me at his friends around their table. Clearly not expecting this situation, he steps out of my way.

I step right out and hurriedly step down the inns 3 steps, eager to get away quickly, but someone calls my name and I look back.

“Ey, Riorin over her!” It’s the three elderly men I saw playing lambshark before. A bald one with a large gray beard, Brantford if I remember correctly, waves me over.

“Everyone knows the Rabbidman is nothing compared to the Cavernhound, tell em!”

“No, the Rabbidman is way too smart for the barbaric Cavernhound!” The man across from him, another elder with a white shorter beard and hair everywhere but on top of his head argues. They are arguing over which card is superior it seems. Ah, lambshark, the game of monsters and animals. Them arguing does make sense, I’ve heard that a few new cards were added recently from a few foreign nations. I especially can understand having trouble with two monsters that roam in packs almost always.

The Rabbidmen are a race of evolved rabbits and hare who have grown slightly below Elven size and sprouted arms and legs, but not the exact same way as the rest of us. Their legs are still very strong, and so they still tend to hop around when they move. Their great leg strength may have evolved, but their hind legs still distinctly look like a regular rabbits. They’ve built their own small settlements around as well, mostly underground, but they tend to make small hovels around their holes, apparently too keep anything else out! Hares are the least likely to be seen of the the two, which is odd considering they carried over their traits of their ancestors and are the biggest ones. But they have been known to be the first ones out during a threat to their home, teeth bared. Rabbits are mostly seen gathering and wandering around their homes, they are not openly hostile to anyone, and may even begin to like you if you bring them vegetables. This is why the Elf capital _ live in harmony with them, respecting their space and needs. Meanwhile, here in Toulion, like so many others, they are persecuted relentlessly. However, many modern scholars rightfully think they will never die out, as the few who have had the chance to go into their holes and come back claim they have enormous tunnels in every direction conceivable, and it would take years to fully explore them all. Not too mention the Rabbidmen pursuing you.

I’m sad to say I do not know much of the Cavernhounds. I know of their dangers, sharp teeth, high speed, love of packs, and hide dark as the night, making them extremely dangerous at night and especially in caverns, hence the name. My old tutor Percival taught me as much as he could about monsters and their dangers, but he also liked to explain their history and habitats, which I eagerly listened too. However the Cavernhound he only stressed the caution of, nothing of their history or biggest habitats. He was a nice man, of olive skin and with round glasses, but he eventually was summoned to the Whiteridge Academy of Magics. Oddly, the same happened to my Alchemy instructor at a later time. This makes me wonder, is there something happening with Toulions school of magic?

“Ey, wake up! Tell this old geezer how Cavernhounds demolish Rabbidmen!”

“I’m three years your junior!”

It seems my thoughts got carried away, a very rare occurrence despite my constant thinking.

“I can understand why you think the Rabbidman would win, if a herd of Cavernhounds attacked attacked them the Rabbidmens reinforcements would quickly come and help them fend them off, but in a one on one confrontation a Carvernhounds teeth would be too much for a Rabbidman. Ergo, Brantford is right.”

Brantford chortles. “The geezer is never wrong.”

“I’m three years your senior!”

The third elder, who had been silent up until this point, groans exposing his yellow teeth. “You’re a miracle worker, Rio.”

“Maybe I am.” I chuckle before turning and finally getting back on my path.

The path before me changes from small but sturdy wooden houses with slight variations, a chimney here, a garden here, a Toulion flag or two along the way. But my destination is ahead, past the group of shacks right where the houses vanish, over the river, and off the path, within a small group of Eflet trees. It really is quite the rare sight, multi-colored trees with everything from blue to black on them, they’re one of the rarest trees in all of Toulion, and it just so happens my best friend’s family grows them. I always pass them on the way to her family's cottage, and they never fail to brighten my mood. I approach her cottages stone door and use their silver knocker.

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Opportunity only knocks once, but it's twice for you!
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Hello... My name in Kimberly Connor. I am a new and upcoming author. I have been in the business for about three years and still learning the ropes. My first book The Undead Key Series Blood Moon launched two years for the first time. Didn't go so well so tweaked it and republished it. The second book in the series Blood Born launched last year and is doing well.
I an currently working on the third in the series Blood Bond witch will launch in the coming months. The fourth book in the series Blood Lines will launch by the end of this year. I am so happy to join the group and get to know many if not all of you.
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