And now to the review .-)
http://www.amazon.com/Build-Castle-Seven-Easy-Steps-ebook/dp/B00SOZYR6G
...which is also copied here :-)
by Laura Roberts
Format:Kindle Edition
Friday, March 13, 2015
Another Great "How to" Review!
Another great review from yet another TIW writer, this time Laura Roberts, erotica writer extraordinaire! Her blog is over here at Buttontapper Press.
And now to the review .-)
http://www.amazon.com/Build-Castle-Seven-Easy-Steps-ebook/dp/B00SOZYR6G
...which is also copied here :-)
And now to the review .-)
http://www.amazon.com/Build-Castle-Seven-Easy-Steps-ebook/dp/B00SOZYR6G
...which is also copied here :-)
Wednesday, March 11, 2015
Interview and story with 'Spanky Strawberry Slokovich :-)
I'd like to welcome Spanky Strawberry Slokovich, winner of the "Escribe de' Trois" challenge over at TIW. Spanky, hello.
"Whoopie fishie fishie."
Yes. Now, please tell us how you wrote this fine story of yours.
"Spinky winky fank dank."
Right. Thank you, Spanky...
A nice profile picture...
And to round this off, here's Spanky's story...
"Whoopie fishie fishie."
Yes. Now, please tell us how you wrote this fine story of yours.
"Spinky winky fank dank."
Right. Thank you, Spanky...
A nice profile picture...
And to round this off, here's Spanky's story...
"Escribe de'Trois" Challenge – Up in the Trees
(a tree stand, star dust, edible underwear)
by Spanky Strawberry Slokovich
Gark the bear settled himself down in the
undergrowth under the star-filled sky, munching on some berries he’d picked up
earlier and watched his weekly hunter entertainment. Dave, tall and lanky, was
over in the tree on the left, while Bob, a fat ball of a man, on a tree to the
right. They both sat there in their state-of-the-art-the-best-money-can-buy
tree stands some twenty feet up, their guns loaded and ready as they scanned
the forest for movement. Not a soul was about. They’d already been up there
half the night and looked about ready to quit.
“What does it all mean, Bob?” asked Dave, lowering
his gun and staring up at the stars.
“‘It’s a pronoun, Dave,” replied his overly-chubby
partner.
“No, Bob, ‘it’, the ultimate question.”
“Oh.”
“Looking up at that sky, it makes me
feel…insignificant, you know.”
“You are insignificant, Dave.”
“Shut up, Bob.”
“Right.”
“No, I mean, I feel like we’re all just ‘cosmic
dust’ in the universe.”
“Oh yeah, right. Deep, Dave, real deep. Like star
dust, you mean?”
“Stardust? That was a shit movie.”
“Come on,
Dave. Any film with Michelle Pfeiffer in it is worth a look.”
“Good point.”
Gark scratched himself and accidentally snapped a
twig. Both hunters aimed their guns out into the forest below, searching, but
finding nothing. He heard Dave’s stomach growl louder than his Aunt Nellie’s.
“So, what have you got, Bob?”
“Eh?”
“The food, the food. What have you got?”
“Erm…nothing?”
“What? But it was your turn to bring the food!”
Dave’s shouting upset an animal some distance away,
causing it to flutter and squawk away into the night.
“Shhh, we’re not gonna shoot anything if you shout
like that.”
“Are you telling me that you didn’t bring ANYTHING?”
“Erm, well, I do have something.”
“Great. I thought we were done for. What have you
got?”
“You won’t like it.”
“You didn’t bring dry roasted peanuts again, did
you? You know I hate them.”
“No, not that.”
“Well?”
“Erm, well...”
“Yes?”
“Well, you know, I hadn’t actually planned on being
here with you tonight.”
“Yeah, I know. You had that date with Maisy, the
bird at the diner. But she had to change shifts at short notice. Sad.”
“Yep.”
Gark looked on as Bob sat in silence and Dave came
to some hideous realisation, one he truly didn’t like.
“No.”
“What?”
“No, Bob, don’t tell me.”
“Come on, at least it’s something.”
“I am NOT going to eat them!”
“Very nutritional, you know, edible underwear.”
“Oh, come on!”
Bob had already reached into his camouflage trousers
and ripped off a large chunk of candy-tasting pink boxers. Dave’s stomach
roared once more, one Gark would have been proud of.
“Oh, go on, then. Throw me over a bit.”
“What would you prefer? Front or back?”
Gark choked on his berries, only to lift his head to
find two barrels aimed straight at him. Ever heard the joke of the bear
crapping in the woods? No rabbit this time.
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
2 new FANTASTIC REVIEWS for "How to" ! :-)
Yes, they're starting to come in, those lovely reviews of people who were so kind to read my stuff :-)
The first new review is on Amazon.co.uk...from a regular reader of mine!
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Build-Castle-Seven-Easy-Steps-ebook/dp/B00SOZYR6G
The first new review is on Amazon.co.uk...from a regular reader of mine!
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Build-Castle-Seven-Easy-Steps-ebook/dp/B00SOZYR6G
By Frank Clark
Format:Paperback|Verified Purchase
Monday, March 2, 2015
3rd review for "How to"! :-)
Yes! Another great review of "How to Build a Castle in Seven Easy Steps"!
See it here..
http://www.amazon.com/Build-Castle-Seven-Easy-Steps/dp/1940938430
Or read it here and then take a look later :-)
Hold onto your hat!
See it here..
http://www.amazon.com/Build-Castle-Seven-Easy-Steps/dp/1940938430
Or read it here and then take a look later :-)
Hold onto your hat!
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
My take on TIW 103
Caught up with all the TIW challenges. Here's my 500 word take of Challenge 103...an interesting one...
The Elements: Iron Handcuffs, Barn owls, a light bulb salesperson, a Bumper sticker
Unsatisfied
How is it that straw can always find a way under your clothes and scratch you to death?
"It's a jeep. If I wanted a Hummer, I'd call your sister." He threw my ripped off bumper sticker at me.
"Hey! That wasn't cheap! $1.99 at the drive-through!"
"You were robbed."
I was assaulted. Driving down Highway 10 past Phoenix, I noticed this pick-up on my tail. I thought nothing of it until it rammed me and pushed my car off the road and into a ditch. Before I could recover, a fist came through my window and that was that. Now I'm lying in some farm building, dead of night, trousers missing, tied to a strut on a chain with iron handcuffs, with only a couple of hooting barn owls and a crazy to keep me company.
"You think you can disrespect my sister like that, you got another thing coming!" It wasn't his loud manner that was disturbing, it was the shotgun under his arm.
"It's only a bumper sticker! Hell, you knocked me off the road for that? Unchain me right now!"
"You're in no position to order anyone around! Shut your mouth or I'll shut it for you!"
He paced up and down, glancing at me and toying with his gun.
"Look, guy, I'm a nobody. If it's money you want, I've got some in my..." He'd taken my jacket.
"Yes, I know. I've got all your stuff."
"Then...what? What is this all about?"
"Don't go playing the fool with me!" It isn't the weapon that hurts you, it's the person holding it. A gun butt hurts when placed forcefully against your head. Took me a while to get up from that one.
"So...it's not money, you've got my money. It's the bumper sticker? Seriously?"
"No, of course not! But it shows your shallow mentality!"
"Do...do I know you?" I would have recognised this monster of a man with a gun under his arm if I'd seen him before.
"No. But I know someone you've met."
Met? I'm a light bulb salesperson. I meet a lot of people, sometimes in dark rooms.
"Who? Who do I know?"
"My mother!"
Crap. I'd done a few dodgy deals with some old ladies in the past week. Even sold a tonload of LEDs to an old girl down in Ajo. About $200 worth. What she was going to do with them, I had no idea. Perhaps make a disco ball from all her chandaliers. Nice town.
"Really?"
"Yes, really. Does Mavis Henkell ring a bell?"
"Err..." That was the one. Damn. He threw a large opened cardboard box in front of me and aimed his gun.
"Remember her now?"
"Err...yes, yes, I do. I'll reimburse her, I promise. I'll give back double she paid...really, really, I will. I'm sorry..."
"What? Reimburse! No, you dumbass! You gave her the wrong box! She wanted pink and purple lights, not blue and green!"
He locked and loaded.
The Elements: Iron Handcuffs, Barn owls, a light bulb salesperson, a Bumper sticker
Unsatisfied
How is it that straw can always find a way under your clothes and scratch you to death?
"It's a jeep. If I wanted a Hummer, I'd call your sister." He threw my ripped off bumper sticker at me.
"Hey! That wasn't cheap! $1.99 at the drive-through!"
"You were robbed."
I was assaulted. Driving down Highway 10 past Phoenix, I noticed this pick-up on my tail. I thought nothing of it until it rammed me and pushed my car off the road and into a ditch. Before I could recover, a fist came through my window and that was that. Now I'm lying in some farm building, dead of night, trousers missing, tied to a strut on a chain with iron handcuffs, with only a couple of hooting barn owls and a crazy to keep me company.
"You think you can disrespect my sister like that, you got another thing coming!" It wasn't his loud manner that was disturbing, it was the shotgun under his arm.
"It's only a bumper sticker! Hell, you knocked me off the road for that? Unchain me right now!"
"You're in no position to order anyone around! Shut your mouth or I'll shut it for you!"
He paced up and down, glancing at me and toying with his gun.
"Look, guy, I'm a nobody. If it's money you want, I've got some in my..." He'd taken my jacket.
"Yes, I know. I've got all your stuff."
"Then...what? What is this all about?"
"Don't go playing the fool with me!" It isn't the weapon that hurts you, it's the person holding it. A gun butt hurts when placed forcefully against your head. Took me a while to get up from that one.
"So...it's not money, you've got my money. It's the bumper sticker? Seriously?"
"No, of course not! But it shows your shallow mentality!"
"Do...do I know you?" I would have recognised this monster of a man with a gun under his arm if I'd seen him before.
"No. But I know someone you've met."
Met? I'm a light bulb salesperson. I meet a lot of people, sometimes in dark rooms.
"Who? Who do I know?"
"My mother!"
Crap. I'd done a few dodgy deals with some old ladies in the past week. Even sold a tonload of LEDs to an old girl down in Ajo. About $200 worth. What she was going to do with them, I had no idea. Perhaps make a disco ball from all her chandaliers. Nice town.
"Really?"
"Yes, really. Does Mavis Henkell ring a bell?"
"Err..." That was the one. Damn. He threw a large opened cardboard box in front of me and aimed his gun.
"Remember her now?"
"Err...yes, yes, I do. I'll reimburse her, I promise. I'll give back double she paid...really, really, I will. I'm sorry..."
"What? Reimburse! No, you dumbass! You gave her the wrong box! She wanted pink and purple lights, not blue and green!"
He locked and loaded.
Monday, February 23, 2015
Escribe de’Trois Challenge
Escribe de’Trois Challenge - mmm, yes, I'm in this.
There was a grudge match set up on TIW, where 3 teams of 3 writers battled it out...well, when the date finally came, only 4 of those writers wrote a story with the 3 set elements. And then each writer chose a 'pen name'...I can't tell you which one I am but if you've read enough of me, I'm sure you can spot which one it is :-)
Please go and vote for the one which makes you laugh :-)
http://theironwriter.com/escribe-detrois-challenge/
There was a grudge match set up on TIW, where 3 teams of 3 writers battled it out...well, when the date finally came, only 4 of those writers wrote a story with the 3 set elements. And then each writer chose a 'pen name'...I can't tell you which one I am but if you've read enough of me, I'm sure you can spot which one it is :-)
Please go and vote for the one which makes you laugh :-)
http://theironwriter.com/escribe-detrois-challenge/
Saturday, February 21, 2015
#livestory over in Twitter
I'm trying something out on Twitter with another writer, A. Francis Raymond (see blog here).
We're writing a story. Who knows where it'll go? Who knows how long it'll be? We don't.
We just write a little within the confines of a tweet (140 characters including @AFrancisRaymond or whoever and #livestory #amwriting - which gives me about 100). Sometimes we do 3 or 4 tweets a day, sometimes 1.
It's a Sci-fi. Here's what we have so far.
I counted 12 stars. Yesterday, there were only 11. I checked my goggles, maybe some sand had broken the seal during the storm. No sand, no breaks. And twelve more hours before the comm sat was overhead again and I could get a message back to base.
Checking and rechecking didn't change that there were now 12. The implications were too vast...
The Trollers move had begun. This was only the 1st star of a billion to be moved from their galaxy to ours. Slowly at first, they said, the first of many trials... and then the real 'invasion' would begin.
I couldn't think about that now. The task at hand was to pack up and get back to base. With three hours to go before the next storm, the chances of getting back were slim. They weren't expecting me back, either. And I wasn't certain the shuttle left to me would get off the ground.
There was, of course, always the beacon. No one had used it yet. I'd read the manual but it was only supposed to be used if my life was in danger. Which is wasn't. I just wanted out.
The choice. Use the beacon and be court-martialed or die trying to get back to base in the storm. What was that my mother used to say?
"Always wear clean underwear." No, not that one. Underwear was the least of my problems.
I would ask her when I got back. So yeah, I flipped up the beacon's outer control panel and hit the power on. Damn the High Commission, damn Officer Trappet and his shiny blue buttons. This information needed to be delivered from my outpost on our galaxy's far edge.
The beacon's light flashed indicating success. All I could do was sit back and wait. There was nothing more to do than look on and wonder at what the night sky would look like from any corner of the galaxy before long. A few moments later the comm came to life with an automated message.
"Control 472 Sector 7, Base has been notified of emergency status. Rescue and return drone on approaching your location. Do you need medical assistance?"
Medical assistance? How was I to reply? Perhaps these messages were salvaged from a defunct system.I pressed the button to acknowledge the message with no response. The only thing left to do was...wait. The small screen above my comm system flickered to life. I'd never seen the thing work. A pixelated face appeared. Only half the data bits were getting through, but I still recognized the face as that jackass Dilby. A couple of ranks higher up the ladder and he thought he owned the solar system.An annoyance not helped by the fact that he did indeed own 7 of the 12 planets and a handful of moons.
"472, our sensors indicate that other than a little cholesterol and 3lbs overweight, you are inno medical danger. Are there outside threats?"
"Yes," I responded, providing no details. They would have todelve a bit deeper than that. Besides, I wanted that drone to go past the halfway point, about the time I'd have my stuff packed up. Dilby's pixelated face snorted.
"Fine, when you get back we'll debrief you of all necessary information. 2 seconds left on this message. See you...” The screen image broke up for a brief moment. The last word I heard before Dilby's face disappeared was "forget."
I looked up at the cluster of stars in the sky once more before putting away my essentials. Yes, I was looking forward to getting off this rock earlier than planned. And I knew what I'd say to Meesha, if she would allow me to get a word in before her usual gush of greetings from being away for so many years. Even though I knew she'd forgive me I'd say "I'm sorry. I know where I went wrong." Sitting in this damn box of an outpost for one. But the offer was too good to miss.
In hindsight, I should have stayed my post on Comm Ops 5. I could have asked her to marry me there. We could have been living the family life. In poverty with the majority of the State's citizens but at least life would be simple. None of this thankless work monitoring dead outposts watching for signs of Trollers.
Contrary to belief, there are no sounds in space, but the clang of metal against metal rang clearly through the thin atmosphere surrounding my outpost. I put on my helmet and opened the small window portal. It was a common occurrence that small metallic crystals from the nearby orbiting rings magnetised some electronic components in my gear, which is why they were shielded so well. This was different. This was too big to be a crystal. Was it the drone? Surely it was too early, too soon. I switched on the outside light. What I saw was five times the size of the drone I was expecting. Landing lights reflected on the roof of my boxlike outpost. Drones had no need for landing lights. There were no markings I...
We're writing a story. Who knows where it'll go? Who knows how long it'll be? We don't.
We just write a little within the confines of a tweet (140 characters including @AFrancisRaymond or whoever and #livestory #amwriting - which gives me about 100). Sometimes we do 3 or 4 tweets a day, sometimes 1.
It's a Sci-fi. Here's what we have so far.
I counted 12 stars. Yesterday, there were only 11. I checked my goggles, maybe some sand had broken the seal during the storm. No sand, no breaks. And twelve more hours before the comm sat was overhead again and I could get a message back to base.
Checking and rechecking didn't change that there were now 12. The implications were too vast...
The Trollers move had begun. This was only the 1st star of a billion to be moved from their galaxy to ours. Slowly at first, they said, the first of many trials... and then the real 'invasion' would begin.
I couldn't think about that now. The task at hand was to pack up and get back to base. With three hours to go before the next storm, the chances of getting back were slim. They weren't expecting me back, either. And I wasn't certain the shuttle left to me would get off the ground.
There was, of course, always the beacon. No one had used it yet. I'd read the manual but it was only supposed to be used if my life was in danger. Which is wasn't. I just wanted out.
The choice. Use the beacon and be court-martialed or die trying to get back to base in the storm. What was that my mother used to say?
"Always wear clean underwear." No, not that one. Underwear was the least of my problems.
I would ask her when I got back. So yeah, I flipped up the beacon's outer control panel and hit the power on. Damn the High Commission, damn Officer Trappet and his shiny blue buttons. This information needed to be delivered from my outpost on our galaxy's far edge.
The beacon's light flashed indicating success. All I could do was sit back and wait. There was nothing more to do than look on and wonder at what the night sky would look like from any corner of the galaxy before long. A few moments later the comm came to life with an automated message.
"Control 472 Sector 7, Base has been notified of emergency status. Rescue and return drone on approaching your location. Do you need medical assistance?"
Medical assistance? How was I to reply? Perhaps these messages were salvaged from a defunct system.I pressed the button to acknowledge the message with no response. The only thing left to do was...wait. The small screen above my comm system flickered to life. I'd never seen the thing work. A pixelated face appeared. Only half the data bits were getting through, but I still recognized the face as that jackass Dilby. A couple of ranks higher up the ladder and he thought he owned the solar system.An annoyance not helped by the fact that he did indeed own 7 of the 12 planets and a handful of moons.
"472, our sensors indicate that other than a little cholesterol and 3lbs overweight, you are inno medical danger. Are there outside threats?"
"Yes," I responded, providing no details. They would have todelve a bit deeper than that. Besides, I wanted that drone to go past the halfway point, about the time I'd have my stuff packed up. Dilby's pixelated face snorted.
"Fine, when you get back we'll debrief you of all necessary information. 2 seconds left on this message. See you...” The screen image broke up for a brief moment. The last word I heard before Dilby's face disappeared was "forget."
I looked up at the cluster of stars in the sky once more before putting away my essentials. Yes, I was looking forward to getting off this rock earlier than planned. And I knew what I'd say to Meesha, if she would allow me to get a word in before her usual gush of greetings from being away for so many years. Even though I knew she'd forgive me I'd say "I'm sorry. I know where I went wrong." Sitting in this damn box of an outpost for one. But the offer was too good to miss.
In hindsight, I should have stayed my post on Comm Ops 5. I could have asked her to marry me there. We could have been living the family life. In poverty with the majority of the State's citizens but at least life would be simple. None of this thankless work monitoring dead outposts watching for signs of Trollers.
Contrary to belief, there are no sounds in space, but the clang of metal against metal rang clearly through the thin atmosphere surrounding my outpost. I put on my helmet and opened the small window portal. It was a common occurrence that small metallic crystals from the nearby orbiting rings magnetised some electronic components in my gear, which is why they were shielded so well. This was different. This was too big to be a crystal. Was it the drone? Surely it was too early, too soon. I switched on the outside light. What I saw was five times the size of the drone I was expecting. Landing lights reflected on the roof of my boxlike outpost. Drones had no need for landing lights. There were no markings I...
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