Controlling Time

Finally.

Don’t know if our ISP had a few too many yesterday, or what, but it fell down in the gutter. Probably barfed on its own shoes and got picked up on a drunk and disorderly. A night spent in the drunk tank hasn’t sobered it up any that I’ve noticed. Finding someplace unaffected has been a challenge.

But here I am. To tell you how I keep track of the time line(s) in my stories. Yeah. That sound you hear? That’s my local critique group laughing me off the internet. It is possible I’ve had some challenges on that front. The urban fantasies, especially, suffered a few temporal challenges . . .They may still. I mean, there are plenty of ways to increase tension in a story. Compressing the time during which the world must be saved, the ring tossed into an inconvenient volcano, or the murderer caught is an easy way for a writer to get a story screaming along.

Not all that effecting, however, if you’re writing something other than a heart-pounding thriller-y type story. Someone associated with your story, somewhere, had better be wearing a watch and counting the days on the calendar. I submit you’ll be happier if that someone is you and not your editor. Or worse. Your readers.

In an attempt to take my own advice, (stop rolling your eyes, your face will stick that way) I’ve started mapping out a rough timeline at the same time I try to map out the turning points of my story. It looks something like this:

Open (1st 10th of book)	1st Twist (1/4 through)	Midpoint	Climax (black moment)	Resolution
Hero starts here	No one saw this coming!	This is total surprise, too	Uh oh. Very bad, no good day	Hey. Not so bad, after all
June 5, 4pm	June 7, all day	June 15, (this date is immovable because plot point!)	June 20, 2AM	June 20, 6PM

No. They don’t really look like this. The 5 points I track usually have lots more detail than this – info for me about where characters start, notes about WHEN in the timeline each character enters the story. In truth, none of it fits in a neat table. I usually end up with pages. One for each twist point. I do try to keep my time line loose so there’s room to adjust as surprises crop up in the story, but usually, I find there is one point in time somewhere in the story that determines how the timing of all the other scenes falls out. It’s rarely at the beginning of my stories. Suppose in the example above the midpoint twist is the hero succeeding in convicting a killer, but it turns out nothing like he expects because a death sentence is handed down and the hero subsequently discovers he convicted the wrong person. Worse, back at the first twist point, he’d gotten the news that the cancer he’d thought cured three years ago is back. With a vengeance. The rest of the timeline is driven by his need to right the wrong he committed before he dies.

It’s not a perfect system, but it is better than some of the scenes I wrote for the urban fantasies where the only way my heroine could have done everything I had her doing in the timeframe I had her doing them – would have been if Star Trek were real and teleportation was a thing. New market. Scifi urban fantasy.

WHY ARE YOU WRITING FANFIC?

I apologize for this blog being a bit late on the day. I have been at Dragoncon all weekend and am lucky to be awake, much less coherent enough to type.

Speaking of:

That was my first panel I was on. That's me, Faith Hunter, Kalayna Price, Laurell K. Hamilton, and Jeanne C. Stein. The panel rocked face and the house was packed. Hell yeah.

Now, to the topic at hand.

Look, if you want to be a professional writer, if you want to be published, if you want your book on the shelves of a store then knock it off with the fanfic.

I'm not hating on fanfic, but if you have the drive to write and the creativity to develop alternative plots and storylines then quit mucking about in someone else's world and start writing your own.

You can't sell your fanfic. You can't publish your fanfic. You can't truly call your fanfic your own.

What you can do with your fanfic is get sued for copyright infringement. (and before you get pissy at the "greedy" authors you need to understand that if an author does NOT defend (ie: sue you) their copyright then that copyright, by law, can be considered abandoned and fair game to published by anyone WITHOUT THE AUTHOR BEING PAID A DIME.)*

So, seriously, just write your own stuff. Don't be afraid. You can do it. And you will be happier for it.

And who knows, it might just become your first published book.

*this is a vastly oversimplified explanation of the complexities of copyright law. I am not an attorney, nor do I play on on television.

GETTING THE WORD TO BE HEARD

I am a fairly new author. My first novel hit the shelves back in February and book two will come out in 2 short weeks. I also have a few short stories and two novellas that have already hit. Even with that I don't have a huge body of work to draw readers in.

So when I have a new book about to be dropped into the world I still have that need to get the word out. I need people to know that the newest James R. Tuck story is available and they need to buy it.

I have found that the best thing for this is a two-pronged attack.

One- Book Bloggers.
Now I LOVE book bloggers. I read book blogs. I am a bibliophile. (James, how many books have you bought in the last 48 hours? Ummmmm, 8) So when you give me a blog written by someone who loves books too then I am hooked like a mackerel and will spend a ton of time enjoying their opinions. That's as a reader.
As a writer I also see how important book bloggers are for my career. They are the CNN and FOX News of the publishing world. They get the word to the people. I mean really, if you are a reader and not an author do you read Kirkus or Publishers Weekly or any of the other publications that the industry cares about? Normally, no you don't. But I bet you have a favorite book blog you check out. Even if it's a weird, conglomerate blog like Goodreads it's still a book blog. That's because, like Jeffe said yesterday, we are all interconnected and we are all hand selling books now. We like to hear about new books from someone who loves books, not from a cold dispassionate news source. We want that person who is telling us about a new author, a new series, a new book to be trustworthy because of their love for stories.
This is why I will work my ass off for a book blog. If a book blog asks me for an interview, a guest review, a guest post I will kill myself on an overdose of caffeine to make it happen. I appreciate what they do, almost always without pay and never enough thanks from the publishing "industry".

Two- Conventions
Being a guest at conventions is one of the major highlights to being a published author. It's a lot of work, but it is a lot of FUN work. I love it. I am a social person, not shy, and really, really enjoy being around other authors and most of all, fans of books. Conventions are where I get to meet and mingle with the folks I write for. And the people I write for, they love books just like I do, so it's not a blah-blah lovefest for my writing, it's a group of like minded, interesting people in a group dynamic that is energizing as hell.
People love to meet authors, especially if they are real. I have sold a ton of books just by being on panels and doing my damnedest to entertain the folks there. I also know that at a convention I am there for the readers. I am always willing to talk about anything they want, not just my books.

So those are the ways I get the word out about my books. They are the two most effective ways I have found and, coincidentally, the two avenues I enjoy working the most.

Keep checking back all week though, I can't wait to see what killer advice comes out on this topic from my awesome co-bloggers here!

ABOVE ALL ELSE, BE COOL

There is one huge thing you need to realize right now about the publishing industry.
Pull in close so I can whisper it in your ear.
Closer.
Ready?
EVERYBODY KNOWS EVERYBODY ELSE IN THIS INDUSTRY!
Truly they do. And they all talk. Now if you have a good reputation, someone likes you, they will tell others about you. That's a good thing.
However.
If you screw up it also means you will be talked about. Word will spread.
Now does this mean you have to sit on your hands, remaining meek and mild, super self-concious and on edge so that you don't ever offend anyone?
No of course not.
Have you met me? I'm loud. I'm big. I have strong opinions about a lot of stuff and gladly share them.
What you do have to do is maintain a level of professionalism.
According to Dictionary.com a Professional is: "a person who is expert at his or her work".
Simple.
A professional handles their work. They maintain their commitments. You take a deadline, meet that deadline. Yes, sometimes you need an extension and there is a professional way to ask for that extension, but a professional holds that card tightly.  You don't get to play it very often. 
What a professional does NOT do is blow off their deadline because they are too "busy" playing Skyrim (or whatever frivolous distraction you are wasting your time with.) or just being lazy.
A professional doesn't blow off a panel at a convention simply because they aren't interested or it's the last day.
A professional doesn't treat readers like some kind of second class citizen, somehow lesser than the esteemed writer class.
A professional doesn't smack talk their fellow authors, or publishers, or agents, or bloggers. If you have a legitimate beef with someone, be an adult and take it to them. Don't tweet it or blast it on your blog.
A professional walks away from a bad review, no matter how unjustified it may be.
In short:
BE COOL AND NEVER MAKE GEORGE TAKEI DO THIS

If you can maintain your cool and be professional then you could have Dean Winchester doing this instead:

 And isn't that preferable?

JUST BECAUSE YOU ARE A CHARACTER DOESN'T MEAN THAT YOU HAVE CHARACTER

Okay, I am pretty damn proud of Deacon Chalk. I like the character, I love the secondary cast, I love the villains. I am writing the books that I would want to read.

But.

There is always a but. lol. Every writer, no matter how much they love their world of fiction, we all have books that we read and go "Damn you (insert jealousy inspiring badass author) I wish I had written that!)

Now there are a ton of great characters out there that I love. Anita Blake, Harry Dresden, John Taylor, Burke, hell even Buffy Summers.

I wish I had come up with Hellboy.

And Jill Kismet.

And Sonja Blue.

But the character I really deep down wish I had invented isn't even a character at all.

He was a real person so totally amazing that he should be fictional.

Nikola Tesla.
 (BTW he is holding a bulb powered by a WIRELESS power grid he invented....you read that right...electricity in the air. Take THAT cloud technology, boo-yah.)

Mad genius, eccentric as hell, good looking and yet always without female companionship. He was so insanely brilliant he was conceiving of things that wouldn't come out for almost 100 years.  He was thinking of things that the basic rudimentary technology for didn't even exist. Cell phones? Tesla saw that coming.
Wi-fi? Same thing.  Deathray that could split the earth into four parts? Yep, developed it and destroyed the papers before he died.

He hung out with Mark Twain.

He dug ditches rather than give Edison one ounce of his work.

If you don't know anything about this revolutionary supergenius from the turn of the century then at least go wikipedia him. Better yet, read a book about him and his life. His feud with Edison, his love for a pigeon, and his death in a New York hotel room surrounded by empty Nabisco cans. All his pall bearers were Nobel Prize winners.

I mean really, you can't make this up. I wish I had.

I'M GONNA MAKE SOMEBODY CALL ME A BAD NAME

Why would I make one of my fellow Word Whores call me a sumbitch? Cause I post on Mondays which means I get second pick of what we are talking about and I am about to steal someone's choice for B-movie. See, watch this. THE EVIL DEAD. Somebody just cussed me. If you don't know why Evil dead is the greatest B-movie ever made I am not sure I can explain it to you. First of all you have Bruce Campbell. He's the freaking man. And this movie is him when he is all young and raw and full of hunger. He really puts it out there in this movie. You should go buy THE EVIL DEAD COMPANION and read about all these people went through to make this damn movie. It's CRAZY. Then you have a new swing at the monster/zombie/possession gig that turns up in movies. The Deadites are off the hook. Especially for 1970 something and on a $5 budget. It is a crazy, nutso, no holds barred, grab your sack kinda film. If you haven't seen this, EVIL DEAD 2, or ARMY OF DARKNESS then get the hence to the video store and just buy the damn things.

BRING THE HAPPY ONE TINY TENDER MOMENT AT A TIME

I am a very happy person. Truly I am. I own a tattoo shop and tattooing is a really cool day gig. I have a well-recieved series from Kensington that I am truly happy with. the Deacon Chalk series is EXACTLY the kind of book I want to read and I am damn proud to have written them. I have a wonderful woman that I am married to. I have a great family that I love and am really proud of. I have some good friends. I live in a house that is exactly the kind of house I wanted with exactly the kind of yard I was looking for. But none of these are the secret to my happiness. They are sources of happiness for me, but the reason for my happiness lies inside me and today, today only, I am going to share that secret with you. You have to stop worrying about shit. Seriously. It's very simple to say. Very hard to do. Simple very rarely equates to easy in life. But in near 42 years on this planet we call home I have found that 1) things happen for a reason and 2) it all works out if you give it long enough. Now I am not telling you some pie in the sky BS. You have to get involved in life. You have to get up, get out, and get some and there are things that happen in this world that are terrible. Cancer sucks and all that. But in the everyday, man just chill. Let it come. Relax. Say the serenity prayer (not: “Now I did a job; and got nothing but trouble since I did it, not to mention more than a few unkind words as regard to my character. So let me make this abundantly clear. I do the job and then I get paid. Go run your little world.“) Drink some green tea. Whatever you have to do to stay loose and relaxed. When you get all uptight you miss the small things and the small things are what make life worth living. It's a kiss from your wife, your kids telling you they love you, or any of them doing something that makes you so damn proud of them you want to bust open. It's a banana and mayo sammich at midnight, it's an Elvis song, it's a prayer in the morning, it's a twenty spot you find in your wallet, it's the perfect drive into work when the temperature outside is crisp and just right for driving with the windows down and that song, THAT SONG, comes on the radio. It's good books, a good episode of How I Met Your Mother, a good orgasm, a good cup of coffee, a good insert your random weirdness that brings a smile to your face. (ummmmmm bacon.) Don't waste your life and your opportunity for happiness waiting for the big stuff to come along and knock you off your feet. Trust me, the big stuff that whallops you usually won't be good. It's the small stuff you have in your life every moment. Fill it from now til the end with THAT and I guarantee you will be happier. That's the secret man. And now, for the rest of my fellow word whores happiness and to drive traffic to the blog a hunk of half dressed man. (You're welcome Allison!)

THESE THINGS ARE FOR CHILDREN???

Ahhh fairy tales. They seem so innocent, so friendly, so sweet. No, they are just so sanitized. lol. The original fairy tales were born in a really horrible time. Plagues, crushing poverty, oppressive caste system, brutality abounding... you name it and it sucked big time in the dark ages....this wasn't no damn Ren Fest. My favorite original fairy tale is Rumpelstiltskin. You are familiar I am sure, but here is the recap, James style. A miller decides to let his mouth write checks his ass can't cash so he makes some dumbass claim that his daughter can spin straw into gold. The king says: "Well, that sounds pretty damn good to me." Orders her locked in a tower and demands she spin straw into gold for three nights. If she can then he will marry her, if not then off with her head. Of course the girl is a bit distraught by what her (probably drunk) dad has gotten her into. She cries and cries until the emanating grief from her calls forth an imp. Now, word to the wise, if an imp appears in your room like Nightcrawler from the X-men, you should probably NOT play Let's Make A Deal.

He tells her that he can spin straw into gold if she gives him a gift. She pulls off her necklace, gives it to him, and he spins the straw into a pile of gold. The next night, same deal. Crying, imp, deal, gold. (Some say the miller's daughter gave up the goods on night 2 since she had already lost her necklace and the 3rd night offered the same, but old Rumpy said no to used goods.) The third night the imp shows up, and the daughter has nothing to give him. He asks for her first born. She agrees and the deal is struck. The king marries her and sure enough, one thing leads to another and one year later, she pops out a kid. Guess who shows up to claim his prize? Yep. She of course is a welsher and doesn't want to pony up so he tells her he will let her keep the kid if she tells him his name.

She doesn't know it, some random woodsman (what is it with the woodsmen in these stories?) passing by hears him bragging that she'll never guess his name is Rumpelstiltskin. He rats him out to the now Queen. The imp shows up to collect, she drops his name, and he flips his lid. Stomps his foot so hard it sinks into the floor then freaks out trying to get free that he RIPS HIMSELF IN HALF. So what is the moral of the story? Beats the hell out of me.

OH WAIT, THERE WAS A FREAKING CHOICE IN THIS?

Most of you know by now that I grew up reading. I read from a wee child. Not namby pamby SEE SPOT RUN crap either. Real deal books. I was always a huge fan of comic books, voraciously reading everyone of them I could get my hands on. Stuff like this:

I mean look at that. That's freaking Conan. He would stick with me for YEARS. I never stopped loving the character. "Hither came Conan, the Cimmerian, black-haired, sullen-eyed, sword in hand, a thief, a reaver, a slayer, with gigantic melancholies and gigantic mirth, to tread the jeweled thrones of the Earth under his sandalled feet..." Robert E. Howard The Phoenix On The Sword I would follow him into the books like this one.

And even to the movies. I also read comic books like this:

That is a red-ass T-rex my friend! This is what my young mind was consuming. Sword and sorcery mayhem along with lobster-skinned T-rex's with friends!

Then we get Edgar Rice Burroughs Hollow Earth stuff. Whoa! Mind blown! There is a civilization that lives on the inside of the crust of our earth? Crazy! And Wonderful! AND THEN MY OLD FRIENDS COMIC BOOKS CAME ALONG WITH MORE SWORD AND SORCERY KICK-ASSERY INSIDE HOLLOW EARTH! OMG!

I know my youth had a harder sci-fi/fantasy edge to it than what I write today, but this is where the seeds were planted. I grew up on a steady diet of this stuff and it was awesome.

THE DIVISION OF LABOUR AIN'T CALCULUS

Chores. You know, they aren't called chores because they are fun. I live in a house with 3 teenagers. Two of them are the fruit of my loins, the third is a new addition, a nephew of my wife. They are all "the kids" and all part of the household. No true differentiation between them especially when it comes to chores. Now we don't ask much of the kids. Do your own laundry, don't leave food in your room, pick up your crap, you know, simple stuff. Big chores we are willing to pay for. You mow the grass, it's worth $20 bucks. You move big trash up to the curb for Big Trash Day and it's worth a tenner. Not a bad deal. The only glitch in the system is the damn dishes. The Missus recently came to the conclusion that there was no reason the two adults in the house should cook and do the dishes. So now dishes are divided amongst the three. One unloads, one loads, one has a break in a weird rotating schedule that is flexibly adjusted depending on a multitude of factors. Here's the thing. Somehow, I have a 14 year old, and 2, count 'em TWO, 17 year olds who are incapable of loading the damn dishwasher right. It doesn't matter how many times you explain that the hole in the center of the dishwasher cannot be covered by a pot because THAT IS WHERE ALL THE WATER COMES FROM, they still throw something over it. That one pan will be clean as hell, but everything else is dry as a bone. And they will either cram everything in the dishwasher, stacking things on top of each other, cups inside of glasses, bowls inside of pans... Or more commonly they throw two bowls and a cup in the top rack and proclaim the damn thing full. This is with a sink overflowing with dinner dishes left. (This especially happens when dinner runs late and there is Buffy on Netflix to be watched.) Sometimes I swear they suck at doing this so that we will take it back just to have a clean plate to eat on. They don't know us very well. lol.

PUTTING THE OOH IN THE OOH-LA-LA

I know this isn't a writing blog, it's a blog by writers and I think more than a few of y'all are writers yourselves.

So while this may be a bit short it will be an actual writing technique post.

Writing sex scenes.

Now, I'm not going to go into the specific tips and tricks such as pay attention to all the senses in the act of instead of focusing on just the sights and the sounds. Or using clever fresh words to describe things. (Slick being one of my faves) Or how using a lot of soft sounding words such as slick will make the scene flow. S sounds, C sounds, Z sounds roll off the tongue like....well, that's about enough of that. lol

I'm not even going to talk to you about varying the tempo of your sentence structure so that longer sentences build the tension, making it climb, building pressure as the sensations are spilled out onto the page for the eye to watch until you switch. Using shorter and shorter sentences. Quickening the pace. Moving faster. Doing. The. Deed.

Nope. Today I am going to speak, really quickly, on making the sex scene matter.

You should never write a gratuitous sex scene. Not even in erotica. If you do then you have failed. I know that sounds harsh but it's the truth. Sex is important and it means a lot of things. It can be a sign that your character is moving into a new phase of emotional growth. It can be a sign of healing. It can signify how damaged your character is. (Which is what George Pellacanos is doing in DRAMA CITY which I am reading now) But it should matter. It matters in real life and it should matter to your character and to your reader. It's not enough to write a hot scene, you have to make it serve a purpose in your character's emotional story.

There is a great book that I recommend if you need help writing that pesky lovemaking scene. It's by Stacia Kane and it's called: BE A SEX-WRITING STRUMPET.

See, here it is. Click HERE to go read more about it and where to get it. It's cheap.



She will put it all in perspective for you. LOL.

And that's all for me. Sum up, buy Stacia's book and make your sex scenes matter.

I had a great time at Con Nooga this year. Thank you to all the fans who came out to see me.

Til next monday Loyals and True Believers.

I AM A VERY SECURE MAN. (or in which James discusses his man-crushes which are not few in number)

Celebrity crushes. Well, pull up a chair kiddos and let's talk about my celebrity crushes. Being the only man 'round these here parts I bet you thought you were gonna pull up a bunch of pictures of pretty ladies. Well, you would be wrong. lol. Keeping in the spirit of my fellow word whores I am gonna share with you my man-crushes. Yep. I have man-crushes on some celebrities. Now let's preface this all with a brief aside and a bit of an explanation. I am not a pretty man. I know this. I have a lot of look going on with my size, the tattoos, the shaved head, the goatee. I look like a thug. I am just fine with this. The Missus likes it and I have no problem with my appearance. No low self-esteem at all. So while I am not actually attracted to other men I do have a measuring stick for if a man is attractive. I look and I say:" would I trade places with him in the looks department?" If the answer is yes, then he is attractive. If the answer is no, then he isn't. Some of this is based on the actor's appearance, some on their personality, and some, truthfully on the roles they play. So here is the list of the man-crushes currently going on, along with an explanation for each. 

 4) Timothy Olyphant This one is directly tied to his role as US Marshall Raylan Givens. If you aren't watching Justified then shame on you. This is a badass show and Olyphant is acting his ass off in it. Damn his character is cool. This is the level of quiet badassery that little boys strive for when they are trying to be cool. Like Gregory Peck in TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD, Marshal Raylan Givens just shows up and does the work. 

 3) John Barrowman Not only is John Barrowman the "straight version of Tom Cruise" (Thank you Joan Rivers) he is one charming sonnuvabitch. He is funny, clever, and witty. Watch him host shows on the BBC, sing on stage in musicals, or kick alien ass as Captain Jack Harkness on Torchwood and he does it all with style. He still holds resentment for being turned down for the role of Will on Will and Grace for being too straight (John is openly gay and has been in a long term relationship with his partner Scott for EVER) and then having the role given to an actual straight actor. He has the movie star good looks and winning personality to make the list. Whenever I am famous and doing a UK book tour I want to meet him and Scott and then me and The Missus can go to their house for dinner. 

 2) Nathan Fillion The Missus and I had our picture taken with Nathan at Dragoncon. That is one charming bastard. Seriously. It's not so much the looks, but all that charm he oozes in Castle, that's the real deal. At the photo thing he was tired, bone tired, you could see the dark circles under his eyes and he had the world's biggest coffee, but he was still full of energy and cracking jokes. 

 And finally 1) Dwayne Johnson Okay, admit it. Dwayne Johnson is the pinnacle of male perfection. Seriously. He's not even a sexual object as much as what an artist would draw if told to design the ultimate male physique. The sonnuvabitch is carved from marble. Plus he is a pretty good actor and has more than his share of charm. He can swing from ass-kicking action to charming and tender-hearted, to downright damn funny. He's the person I had in mind to play Deacon Chalk if a movie is ever made. Ya hear that Dwayne? Do you smell what the Tuck is cookin'? An BTW, thank you all for all the books you have bought and all the reviews, posts, and comments you have made for my new book BLOOD AND BULLETS. I am truly grateful for just how supportive you have all been.

OMG! TOMORROW! TOMORROW!

Holy crap.
Tomorrow I will be a published author.
Holy.
Crap.
Actually, I am already a published author. I have a short story in One Buck Horror's special issue (One Buck Zombies) called "He Stopped Loving Her Today." That came out in October. I also have THAT THING AT THE ZOO the e-novella prequel to the Deacon Chalk series. It's available everywhere ebooks are sold for less than a dollar and you should buy it.

But TOMORROW I will have a real, physical book on the shelves of your local bookstore!
BLOOD AND BULLETS A Deacon Chalk: Occult Bounty Hunter novel is released into the wild on 2/7.

It feels good. Real good. I have been blessed with a lot of support from my fellow writers, including my bordello-mates here at the Word Whores. Most reviewers have liked it, more than a few loved it, a couple were blind to my genius. (That last one was sarcasm)

It feels good. I love being a writer.

Here is what some kind folks had to say about my book!

BLOGCRITIC

MY BOOKISH WAYS

LOV-LIV-LIFE REVIEWS

LOVE VAMPIRES

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!

Ahhhhhh Chocolate, welcome home for the holidays.

It's Christmas, the most wonderful time of the year. One of the reasons that sentiment is true is this little chunk of wonderfulness.

The Terry's chocolate orange. Dark preferably, just because I ALWAYS prefer dark chocolate. But this little gem is available in milk chocolate and (shudder)white chocolate also.

They used to only be available here at Christmas which made them all the more special. (Now you can get them year-round.)

For the unfamiliar, these are globes of orange oil infused chocolate that are divided in wedges so that they look like pieces of an orange. Wrapped in an orange foil and about the size of your fist they are perfectly engineered to perform the best part of the Terrys orange when you are a kid.

See, if you just unwrap the foil then you are presented with what looks like a solid chunk of chocolate (which is just fine in most cases lol). But no! The magic of the Terry's orange is that you take it in your hand and you WHACK IT ON THE TABLE LIKE YOU ARE TRYING TO BREAK THE DAMN THING! Seriously, just pick it up and slam that little bastard on any hard, flat surface like it called you bad names.

Then peel back the foil.

VIOLA!

Now enjoy the best thing you ever had ever.
(Oh, and for me they are the BEST when they have been in the refrigerator for a few hours. Then they are refreshingly crisp.)

Y'all have a Very Merry Christmas. I hope you and yours are truly blessed this holiday season.

Oh! Eek! When your folks read your naughty bits.

FROM: James R. Tuck

Hello, hello, hello. It's me, the new kid on the block. Proud to be the first Man-Word Whore 'round these parts. I promise to try and do the wonderfully talented ladies here justice in their choice of including me.

So my first topic to post about is when your parents read the sex scenes you write.

Well, it hasn't happened yet since the book isn't out until Feb 7. 2012 (BLOOD AND BULLETS from Kensington. End shameless plug.) but it should generate a conversation at least. That is, if my mom makes it to the vampire brothel/strip joint much less to the actual naughty scene.

See, I am a Southern boy. I was born and bred in Georgia. I grew up going to church. (In fact, for a very short window of my life I was a Church of God youth pastor.) My mom still goes to the church that I went to most of my young life, from 13 until my early 20's. She is morally conservative. She was only ever married to my father and to my knowledge has never really even dated anyone but him, not even in the decade plus he was taken by the cancer. She is your typical, Southern, religious, totally awesome mom. And she is proud that her son wrote a book, but I am trying to think of a way to let her know that my book, well, it ain't for her.

I wrote it because I wanted a DARK, violent, thrill ride of a kick ass book. I had hit a streak of reading books in urban fantasy that were supposed to be dark and violent but wound up being really tame IMHO. I set out to push the edge of Urban Fantasy. To not treat it like a nice safe thing. And I think I succeeded, I mean I put some really crazy shit in my book.

So, I guess I'm not so much worried about the racy bits with my mom because I don't think she'll get past the bloody violence and the four-letter words that I used like it was my job. I mean, is a vampire handjob all that shocking after you blow a hole clean through someone's chest?

I still feel I should give my dear mother a heads up though, before she runs out to buy the book. Hmmmmm, maybe I should call her. (I know, when in doubt you should always call your mom and say hello.)

If you have any advice on how to break the news leave it in the comments!

Keep the faith until next time,

James R. Tuck