ACTION!

The black keys sit beneath outstretched fingers, white letters mocking in their tiny square borders. Micro muscles pull the phalanges in tiny jerks and spasms of anticipation. Pull, relax, pull, relax, a dance of contraction.
The fingertips gently stroke across the keys in a wave of language. The response is immediate. One tentative word splashed across the white screen. The fingers pull back, waiting for the eyes to catch up.
The mind clicks. Unspoken orders fly through nerves, setting them on fire. The fingers react with flash and fury. Dive forward. Strike. Pull back. Strike again. Pressing harder each time, driving down, trying to push the mocking letters through the other side.
The fingers dance around each other, circling with purpose. Darting in and out, barely missing each other. Words spill out across the screen like blood on ice. Stark and quick, laid out in an ever growing puddle of hot, sticky language. The keys cry out, clacking for mercy, but no mercy will be given. Not this time. Not now. Not until the final word is torn from them and left lying among its fallen brothers.
.
.
.
Okay, that may have been a bit of a gimmick and I'm not going to obsess over that. LOL.
I LOVE action scenes. I love writing them and I love reading them. Hell, I love watching them on tv too. When I am writing the Deacon Chalk series I find that if I go too long in writing without an action scene I start to get antsy. I begin to go back and count to make sure that not too much time has passed without one.
But action can be hard to write. You have to find the rhythm of it, the ebb and the flow that makes it exciting and not a hot mess a reader has to wade through.
But I find that I can tell a lot about the character in how they react to a fight. You never really know how you are going to react to a violent situation until you are put in it. Reading about a character the first time they have to make the choice to fight for something they want is a great way to know them. Action scenes lay the character out to their most basic desires, giving us insight into the things that matter most to them. Do they fight to save others? Are they trying to save their own skin? Are they just being cruel to someone weaker than them? What is the one thing they are willing to not only risk themselves for, but also to hurt someone else for?

It can get deep quickly in an action scene. See, my fingers are willing to hurt the keys in order to get words done. They are merciless in this pursuit, uncaring of how much the keys protest. Their clicking and clacking falls on the deaf ears of my fingers as they continue to pound away.

So what does this say about my fingers?

(Okay, this post officially got weird.)

So, dear reader, do you love action scenes and if so why? Are they just mind candy with all the pretty explosions, or do you look for the depths of the character in them?

AN UNEXPECTED SUPRISE

Well, I certainly hope that each and everyone of you had a very Happy Holiday, whichever of the multitude available you celebrate. It was a very nice Christmas and Hanukkah around the Tuck house.

So here was a little surprise that I discovered just 3 days ago.

Apparently the E-novella prequel to the Deacon Chalk series I write goes on sale TOMORROW! This was supposed to come out later in January, but I guess the good folks at Kensington moved it up so that folks could use their gift card and new devices for it.

It's called THAT THING AT THE ZOO and it is up now for preorder on Barnes and Noble. It was up on Amazon, but there was a glitch. I am sure Kensington will fix it today and when they do I will drop the link here. But for now, you Nookies can preorder it. (see link below)

So here is what THAT THING AT THE ZOO is about:

Shredding monsters is his stock and trade. He sniffs them out, tracks them down, and corners them. End of story. But when the tables are turned, expect the unexpected.

Knowing his enemy is a rule Deacon Chalk swears by. But he's never seen anything like whatever is leaving the Atlanta Zoo's most dangerous predators bloodless, skinned, and hanging high in treetops. And he’s only got till sunrise to keep it from turning the entire city into a slaughterhouse. Now Deacon is in zoo lockdown with a handful of staffers to save. His zookeeper backup has more guts than monster-hunting experience. And the only chance Deacon has to run this thing to unholy ground is to risk unleashing his darkest, most uncontrollable instincts.


And now for a handy excerpt.

I moved away from the wall. My legs made long strides across the grass, the smell of piss fading as I walked. Jimmy the zookeeper hustled to catch up with me. He was breathing hard by the time he did, doing a jog-step to keep pace.
“What the hell are you doin’ now?”
“We need some bait. This thing likes to swoop down and grab its victim.”
“But you had me lock up all the animals so they would be safe from it.”
Listening to the night air, not looking at him, I drew out the Bowie knife. “I know.”
“So what are you gonna use for bait?”
“Us.” The silver edge gleamed in the full moonlight as I laid it against the skin of my forearm. I keep my knives sharp so there was only a thin flash of burn as I drew it across my arm. The tattooed skin parted, blood welling up behind the slice of the blade. I didn’t cut deep, but it bled freely, running red rivulets down my arm, filling my palm, and dripping off my fingers.
A flick of my hand sent droplets of my blood arcing out onto the grass around us. I try to keep my blood. Too many things out there can use your blood to harm you, but once it hits the earth its magickal properties are grounded out unless it is being used in ritual. This wasn’t ritual; it was bait. Chum in the water so to speak. The cut stopped bleeding, so I wiped the blood off on my jeans.
I turned to Jimmy the zookeeper. “Get ready. I don’t think it will be long.” No, not long at all. The hair on my arms was standing on end, static electricity crackling between each one like tiny Tesla coils. My ability to sense supernatural stuff was wide open and I could feel something coming closer. In my mind’s theater I felt leather and fur rub along the inside of my skin. A crunchy taste filled my mouth, sucking out all the moisture, like eating too much roasted coconut. Whatever we were after was headed our way.
Something flashed into existence over the scent mark on the wall, moving so quick and silent it seemed to appear from thin air. It was black against the white-washed wall, hanging by a hooked claw. I heard it draw a long inhale through its lungs. It snorted and shook its head, not liking that its scent mark had been desecrated. One inhumanly quick pull swung it to the top of the wall where it squatted, a dark shape against the low moon.
Its head swung slowly from the left to the right, mouth open, breathing in the night scent through glistening fangs. Large triangular ears ran from cheekbones to the top of its flattened skull. A low screech followed the turn of its head, like the rusty screen door on Hell. Its face came around to our direction, low cry vibrating my skin with sound waves. They passed over me as it continued to turn its head. Immediately that monstrous face snapped back towards us and snarled. Red eyes glowed with a satanic light, throwing ruby highlights across a flattened snout and curving wet teeth.
The beast rose, standing on the wall. Clawed arms whipped over its head. The moonlight glowed through thin membrane wings that stretched from knotted hands to cadaverous waist, black veins traced through in relief. One wing was torn, a rip in its center that the moon shone through. It was covered in patches of greasy rat fur, glistening in the night. Where it had skin, it was bare and mottled gray. Anatomy showed it was female, breasts hanging pendulous in a mockery of womanhood. It once was human. It once was alive. Now it was neither. I knew exactly what we were up against.
Nos-fer-fucking-atu.
Pulling down on the slide, I checked the shotgun to make sure there was a shell in the chamber.
Bring it on, bitch.



FOR MORE GO BUY THE E-NOVELLA FROM OH AND IT IS ONLY $.99! Less than a buck gets you a great slice of kick-ass urban fantasy!

HERE


And don't forget that my fellow Word Whore Linda Robertson has a release coming out tomorrow also! So pick up THAT THING AT THE ZOO by James R. Tuck (me) AND grab a copy of WICKED CIRCLE by Linda Robertson!