After she stumbles upon his suicide, Kate Nardek sees her dead neighbor everywhere—hanging from the ceiling fan, in her rearview mirror—dark holes where his eyes should be. Three days after Michael’s suicide, Kate envisions her own thirteen-year-old son, Josh, hanging from a garage rafter. She realizes the kind of despair that led Michael to kill himself fuels Josh’s increasingly violent blowups. She seeks psychological help for her son, a decision that dramatically changes the course of both their lives. In her quest to vanquish Josh’s demons, Kate must face down her own, forcing her to rethink her beliefs about mental illness, good and evil, death and, finally, her own self-worth.
Michael’s journey parallels Kate’s as his soul flies into the center of creation. There, he discovers someone—or something—has noted every twist of his life since sperm struck seed. This being’s perfect knowledge generates the healing salve of perfect compassion. If Michael will confront the truth about key people and violent episodes from his recent life, he too can learn compassion. It’s a painful exercise he can refuse. But other journeys to the center have taught him that willful ignorance is like the river Lethe; it leads to only one place. He chooses knowledge.
Gripping, poetic and powerfully uplifting, Falling into the Sun explores spiritual truths of Hindu, Native American and Christian traditions as it tenderly grapples with the generational legacy of alcoholism and mental illness.
Review:
I haven't read a lot of Christian fiction in my life. Not for any particular reason, I just haven't really picked one up. When I first read the blurb for FALLING INTO THE SUN, I knew it would be an emotional read and hopefully a powerfully written one. And while I admit there was more reference to religion than I would prefer, I still felt a really strong connection to the book.
FALLING INTO THE SUN starts out with our main character, Kate Nardek, walking into the suicide of her neighbor Michael. And while she was never close to her neighbors, his death shatters the foundation that Kate has stood on all her life. Her son, Josh, is a troubled teenager. Violent and filled with rage, Kate struggles to find the help she and her family needs. She looks to her godmother Jean, her priest and even her sister for guidance and support.
Even though reading this took me a lot longer than I was hoping for, I was completely absorbed with the story. This is definitely a book to savor. Each character is so fleshed out and entirely real. Josh can be a very sweet kid. He's smart, interesting, and can be wonderful to be around. But he's basically scary; his mood swings are so abrupt and violent that I felt completely sympathetic for Kate and her family. He's abusive to Kate, his two younger sisters, and his father. But don't think the novel is full of explosive action-oriented moments. The part that keeps you on edge is the emotion, plain and simple. I felt Kate's frustration and fear. I felt her hopelessness. Hazard definitely has a gift with writing.
I wasn't turned off by the religion. It wasn't preachy in any way. Hazard never once made me think I had to be more religious to be happy. I wasn't uncomfortable while reading the novel either. It's easy to understand that in times of stress and heartache many people turn toward God or religion in general. So I wasn't surprised at all to see that Kate did this as well. I was surprised at the way Hazard approached spirtuality in general. Jean, Kate's godmother, is a very spirtual person. Instead of limiting herself to one religion, she embraces all. And I believe that was Hazard's attitude as well as she wrote FALLING INTO THE SUN. I found it refreshing and a wonderful thing to experience since I'm not very religious myself.
I really enjoyed this and I highly recommend it to anyone that is willing to give it a try!
When I began researching this novel, I had no idea quite how devastating our impact on the aquatic ecosystem has been—and how what we are doing to water is affecting us on the land. I had no idea, for example, that killer whales are filled with flame retardants—chemicals that are compromising their immune systems and ours. I had no idea that beluga whales are so filled with toxic chemicals that when they wash up dead on shore, they must be treated like toxic waste. Let me explain how I began a journey that took me to swim with the humpback whales and cage dive with the white sharks in search of answers.
I start out every novel with a question, not an answer. One day, I was sitting by the fire reading my twin daughters a children’s story about a trapped whale, just after another whale had swum up the Thames. A scientist friend was visiting and started telling me some astonishing facts about new environmental dangers to our children’s and other animals’ health on the land and in the water.
I asked myself: what if these events were connected? What if whales and humans were threatened by the same dangers? I knew that the answer to this question would result in a thrilling and important story. I had no idea when I started quite how thrilling and important the story I discovered would be. I discovered that there is an environmental threat as grave as global warming, and it is doing to our bodies and the rest of the animal world what global warming is doing to our climate. It is called endocrine disruption—toxic chemicals are shifting our fundamental physiological processes in the body. It has been linked to a rise in infertility, childhood cancers, breast and prostate cancer, birth defects, even autism and the decrease in the number of boys that are being born. We know what’s happening at the macro, but I had no idea what was happening at the micro level.
That day when I was sitting by the fire reading to my daughters, I asked myself a question that was both deeply personal and universal. It is a question that many of us are increasingly asking ourselves: Can we survive, and what might be stronger than our greed, our fear, and our denial?
I needed an answer to this question, and there is no better place to ask questions about the future than in the fictional world. I did get an answer to my question. There is indeed something that is stronger than greed, fear, and denial, but I better not say more or I may give away too much of the story.
I do think there is hope. Writing this book terrified me, but it also gave me hope. What is important is not just to lament the long litany of environmental destruction—that most of the edible fish in the oceans will be gone by 2050 from overfishing and that coral reefs are dying faster than anyone anticipated. What we need is to understand how all these individual tragedies fit together and are caused by the relationship that we have to the wild and to the environment as a whole. Writing this novel was my attempt to understand how it all fits together and how we might just be able to turn it around.
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Thank you so much Douglas for visiting! I enjoyed EYE OF THE WHALE immensley and I encourage everyone to go out and pick up a copy. If you haven't already, check out my review here.
Elizabeth McKay is a dedicated scientist who has spent almost a decade cracking the code of humpback whale communication. Their song, the most complex in nature, may in fact reveal secrets about the animal world that no one could have imagined. When a humpback whale swims up the Sacramento River with a strange and unprecedented song, Elizabeth must decipher its meaning in order to save the whale and ultimately much more. But as her work with the whale captures the media's interest and the world's imagination, many powerful forces emerge who do not want the whale's secrets to be revealed. Soon, Elizabeth is forced to decide if her discoveries are worth losing her marriage, her career, and possibly her life.
As timely as today's ecological challenges and as timeless as the whales themselves, this novel takes readers into the mysterious world of humpback whales and great white sharks. In writing Eye of the Whale, Abrams worked closely with leading scientists and did extensive research on the shockingly true facts on which it is based. This powerful story will transform the way readers see their relationship with other species and with the fragile world in which we live.
Review:
I'm a huge animal lover. And I really like to see authors respect the intelligence and crucial role that animals play. I think whales are magnificient creatures and despite what science already knows about them, I feel there is that much more to discover. I knew before I read the book that I would enjoy it and find it interesting. I wasn't prepared for it to leave a lasting impression on me or really affect me emotionally. Although I probably should have because animals really tend to touch a soft spot in my heart.
Elizabeth McKay, a marine biologist, is currently working on her PhD thesis. She plans on discussing humpback whale communication and how their songs relate to their behavior. The passion she has for the whales she studies is clearly expressed in Abrams writing. She's so deep into her research that her personal life along with her marriage is starting to fail. And it doesn't help when Elizabeth discovers an impossible change in the whale's song from a humpack that swims up the Sacramento River. She finds herself quickly dragged into a mystery that will not only affect the whale population, but even the human race.
Elizabeth was a very likeable character. I can understand an all consuming passion that takes over someone. She desperately needs to get her dissertation done. She needs to find the time and energy to bring her marriage back from the brink of divorce. Elizabeth is very strong-willed, intelligent, and bold. Other times she can be very cautious. I think she was developed nicely along with many of the other characters.
Her husband, Frank is easy to sympathize with. There are other whale researchers and even whalers that are important to Elizabeth and her story that Abrams reveals enough personality and background information to thorghouly satisfy me. Not only do they have to race against the clock to save this stranded whale, but they have to fight off a Japanese corporation that aims to promote whaling and make whale meat and international delicacy.
The research that Abrams did for this novel had to be extensive. I can't help but think how much of an adventure it was to research humpback whales. If you visit Abrams' website you can see some pictures he took and more info on the type of research he conducted. And while I appreciate the research that was woven into each chapter, I found the end lacking something. The beginning of the novel started out so strongly, but after closing the book I felt a tad bit disappointed. The writing didn't change and the ending was done fine, I just felt somewhere Abrams lost his momentum. But I can overlook that because overall I really enjoyed EYE OF THE WHALE. I think it's found a permanent home on my bookshelf.
And while I'm all for animal rights and against whaling myself, I didn't feel this was "preachy" at all. The environmental issues brought up in the book were extremely thought-provoking but I don't think they will make people uncomfortable. I know and understand how some are not comfortable with the issues that the world is facing. Sometimes ecological documentaries and books can be depressing and upsetting while they are nothing but the truth. But Abrams was able to weave the horrid facts of the world with a fiction story that will sure to stay with you after reading.
I think this book would be a great choice for any animal lover or just a person that wants to feel a little bit more. The emotion set in this novel is pretty amazing. Abrams is able to give us a glimpse into the lives of these whales and give them a "human" presence that I've never read before. The whale scenes were beautifully written and extremely enjoyable.
Teaser Tuesdays asks you to: -Grab your current read. -Let the book fall open to a random page. -Share with us two (2) “teaser” sentences from that page, somewhere between lines 7 and 12. -You also need to share the title of the book that you’re getting your “teaser” from … that way people can have some great book recommendations if they like the teaser you’ve given! -Please avoid spoilers!
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"Beside me, Thisbe was now screaming, and I wanted to join in, sit back and open my mouth and let the years of frustration and sadness and everything else just spill forth into the world once and for all. But instead, I just sat there, silent, until I suddenly felt someone looking at me." (64)
I'm very excited to have author Douglas Carlton Abrams at mis(h)takes. He has kindly agreed to answer some questions about himself and his book Eye of the Whale.
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A little background info before we go on:
Douglas Carlton Abrams is a former editor at the University of California Press and HarperSanFrancisco. Abrams writes fact-based fiction that tells an exciting story while at the same time changing the world we live in. His first book, The Lost Diary of Don Juan, has been published in thirty countries around the world and was recently optioned for film.
Doug is also the co-founder of Idea Architects, a book and media development agency that works with visionary scientists, scholars, and spiritual leaders to create a wiser, healthier, and more just world. Abrams has collaborated with a number of the world’s great scholars, scientists, and moral leaders, including Archbishop Desmond Tutu, founder of EarthSave International and best-selling author John Robbins, primatologist Frans De Waal, and astrophysicist Joel Primack.
Douglas:This is an eco-thriller about a marine biologist who must risk everything to decode the mysterious song of a trapped humpback whale and its implications for human survival.
Me: What inspired you to write Eye of the Whale?
Douglas:I was sitting by the fire reading my twin daughters a children’s story about a trapped whale, just after another whale had swum up the Thames. A scientist friend was visiting and started telling me some astonishing facts about new environmental dangers to our children’s and other animals’ health. I asked myself: what if these events were connected? What if whales and humans were threatened by the same dangers? I knew that the answer to this question would result in a thrilling and important story. I had no idea when I started quite how thrilling and important the story I discovered would be.
Me: What kind of research did you do for the book?
Douglas:I worked with some of the world’s leading scientists—marine biologists, eco-toxicologists, veterinarians, physicians, and others. I also believe in experiencing what my characters experience, so I went swimming with the whales in Tonga, cage diving with the great white sharks off the Farallon Islands, and even met modern day whalers in the Caribbean.
Me: Which of your characters would you say is most like you? Why that character?
Douglas:I really love the main character, Elizabeth McKay. Actually, I’m quite attached to all of my characters. I especially like some of the whale characters. It was an extraordinary challenge to write from their point of view without anthropomorphizing. I had to work with marine biologists to determine what whale intelligence, thought, and communication might actually be like.
Me: If you could write a book about absolutely anything with any other author, who would you choose and what would the book be about?
Douglas:Perhaps an eco-thriller with Al Gore about global warming or something with Gabriel Garcia Marquez, whose work I love.
Me: Are you planning on any sequels to this book?
Douglas:Not currently.
Me: What are you currently working on?
Douglas:Right now I’m waiting for the next question to come to me. Meanwhile, I’m so consumed with the exciting interest with Eye of the Whale and the promotion of the novel that I don’t have a ton of time to be asking that question.
Me: Do you have any advice for upcoming writers?
Douglas:Start with a question that you deeply want to know that answer to. Focus on plot, on getting the plot, the story breathless, and read Robert McKee’s Story.
Me: If you weren’t a writer, what other career would you pursue?
Douglas:Well, I have a multiple career disorder already, since I’m a book editor and agent, but I think I’d love to be a helicopter pilot. Have to write a character who is, so I can try it out!
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Thank you so much Douglas! Be sure to check back tomorrow for my review and watch out for a guest post on Thursday!
So I never really got into the Rambo movies, but when I was asked if I'd like to review author David Morrell's newest book, The Shimmer, I jumped at the idea.
Here's the blurb for the book:
Creator of Rambo and co-founder of the International Thriller Writers organization, David Morrell has been called “the father of the modern action novel.” Now this award-winning, New York Times bestselling author delivers The Shimmer, a novel of chilling impact.
When police officer Dan Page’s wife disappears, her trail leads to Rostov, a remote Texas town where unexplained phenomena attract hundreds of spectators each night. Not merely curious, these onlookers are compelled to reach this tiny community and gaze at the mysterious Rostov Lights.
But more than the faithful are drawn there. A gunman begins shooting at the lights, screaming “Go back to hell where you came from!” then turns his rifle on the innocent bystanders. As more and more people are drawn to the scene of the massacre, the stage is set for even greater bloodshed.
To save his wife, Page must solve the mystery of the Rostov Lights. In the process, he uncovers a deadly government secret dating back to the First World War. The lights are more dangerous than anyone ever imagined, but even more deadly are those who try to exploit forces beyond their control.
With The Shimmer, David Morrell takes readers on a brilliant, terrifying journey. Suspenseful, yet thought-provoking, it is the master at his very best.
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I haven't received my copy to review yet.
Has anyone read any of David's other books?
Are you a Rambo fan??
Check out this article by David about some of the research he did for The Shimmer and how getting his pilot's license helped. Feel free to share your thoughts and opinions =)
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Rising Above it All: How Rambo's Creator Earned His Pilot's License
By David Morrell,
Author of The Shimmer
Readers familiar with my fiction know how much I love doing research. For Testament, I enrolled in an outdoor wilderness survival course and lived above timberline in the Wyoming mountains for 30 days. For The Protector, I spent a week at the Bill Scott raceway in West Virginia, learning offensive-defensive driving maneuvers, such as the 180-degree spins you see in the movies. I once broke my collarbone in a two-day knife-fighting class designed for military and law enforcement personnel.
Two years ago, I began the longest research project of my career. I was preparing to write a novel called The Shimmer, a fictional dramatization of the mysterious lights that appear on many nights outside the small town of Marfa in west Texas. When the first settlers passed through that area in the 1800s, they saw the lights, and people have been drawn to those lights ever since, including James Dean who became fascinated by them when he filmed his final movie Giant near Marfa in 1955.
The lights float, bob, and weave. They combine and change colors. They seem far away and yet so close that people think they can reach out and touch them. In the 1970s, the citizens of Marfa organized what they called a Ghost Light Hunt and pursued the lights, using horses, vehicles, and an airplane, but the lights had no difficulty eluding them.
Because an airplane was used, I decided to include one in The Shimmer. I'd never written about a pilot, and the idea of trying something new always appeals to me. The dramatic possibilities were intriguing. But a minute's thought warned me about the monumental task I was planning. As a novelist version of a Method actor, I couldn't just cram an airplane into my novel. First, I would need to learn how airplanes worked so that real pilots wouldn't be annoyed by inaccuracies. Real pilots. That's when I realized that it wouldn't be enough to learn how airplanes worked. I would need to take pilot training.
I live in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Our small airport has a flight school: Sierra Aviation. I made an appointment with one of the instructors, Larry Haight, who took me up in a Cessna 172 on what's called a "discovery" flight. The idea was to "discover" whether I enjoyed the sensation of being in the cockpit and peering several thousand feet down at the ground. Flying in a small aircraft is a much more immediate and visceral experience than sitting in the cabin of a commercial airliner. Even in a Cessna, the canopy is huge compared to the tiny windows on an airliner. The horizon stretches forever.
It turned out that I more than enjoyed the experience. It was exhilarating and fulfilling. I realized that this was something I wanted to do not only for research but also to broaden my life. As a consequence, I eventually earned my private pilot's license and bought a 2003 172SP. The plane was based near Dallas, and my longest cross-country flight to date (600 miles) involved piloting it from there to Santa Fe. Truly, nothing can equal controlling an aircraft, making it do safely whatever I want while seeing the world as if I were an eagle.
In The Shimmer, I wanted the main character's attitude toward flying ("getting above it all") to help develop the book's theme. The following passage shows what I mean. You only need to know that Dan Page is a police officer. When I started pilot training, I figured that one day I'd be relaxing in the sky, listening to an iPod and glancing dreamily around. As we learn in this section, the actuality is quite different and more substantial.
"Non-pilots often assumed that the appeal of flying involved appreciating the scenery. But Page had become a pilot because he enjoyed the sensation of moving in three dimensions. The truth was that maintaining altitude and speed while staying on course, monitoring radio transmissions, and comparing a sectional map to actual features on the ground required so much concentration that a pilot had little time for sightseeing.
"There was another element to flying, though. It helped Page not to think about the terrible pain people inflicted on one another. He'd seen too many lives destroyed by guns, knives, beer bottles, screwdrivers, baseball bats, and even a nail gun. Six months earlier, he'd been the first officer to arrive at the scene of a car accident in which a drunken driver had hit an oncoming vehicle and killed five children along with the woman who was taking them to a birthday party. There'd been so much blood that Page still had nightmares about it.
"His friends thought he was joking when he said that the reward of flying was 'getting above it all,' but he was serious. The various activities involved in controlling an aircraft shut out what he was determined not to remember.
"That helped Page now. His confusion, his urgency, his need to have answers -- on the ground, these emotions had thrown him off balance, but once he was in the air, the discipline of controlling the Cessna forced him to feel as level as the aircraft. In the calm sky, amid the monotonous, muffled drone of the engine, the plane created a floating sensation. He welcomed it yet couldn't help dreading what he might discover on the ground. "
At one point a character asks Page, how high he intends to fly.
David Morrell, author of The Shimmer, is the award-winning author of numerous New York Times bestsellers, including Creepers and Scavenger. Co-founder of the International Thriller Writers organization and author of the classic Brotherhood of the Rose spy trilogy, Morrell is considered by many to be the father of the modern action novel
It's Monday! What are you reading this week?, hosted by J. Kaye's Book Blog, is a weekly event to list the books completed last week, the books currently being read, and the books to be finished this week.
Books Gobbled Last Week:
Falling Into the Sun :: Charrie Hazard
Wait Until Twilight :: Sang Pak
Gobbling Down This Week:
Along for the Ride :: Sarah Dessen
Once Upon a Nightmare :: Lee Moylan
**Sidenote(s)/FYI** -SoI decided to wait to read Kelly Gay's Step Into the Darkness from last week's post because it comes out in November. -Also my review will finally be up forEye of the Whale by Douglas Carlton Abrams on Wednesday for his blog tour. There will also be an interview and a guest post on Tuesday and Thursday, respectively with Douglas, so stay tuned =) -For those of you that read my notes just wanted to give you a heads up that my birthday is coming up in mid-September and I will be hosting some giveawaysso keep your eyes open!!
I can't remember where I first heard about The Birthing House by Christopher Ransom. I do remember seeing the cover, reading the title, and just feeling compelled to read the blurb:
(from St. Martin's Press)
It was expecting them. Conrad and Joanna Harrison, a young couple from Los Angeles, attempt to save their marriage by leaving the pressures of the city to start anew in a quiet, rural setting. They buy a Victorian mansion that once served as a haven for unwed mothers, called a birthing house. One day when Joanna is away, the previous owner visits Conrad to bequeath a vital piece of the house’s historic heritage, a photo album that he claims “belongs to the house.” Thumbing through the old, sepia-colored photographs of midwives and fearful, unhappily pregnant girls in their starched, nineteenth-century dresses, Conrad is suddenly chilled to the bone: staring back at him with a countenance of hatred and rage is the image of his own wife…. Thus begins a story of possession, sexual obsession, and, ultimately, murder, as a centuries-old crime is reenacted in the present, turning Conrad and Joanna’s American dream into a relentless nightmare. An extraordinary marriage of supernatural thrills and exquisite psychological suspense, The Birthing House marks the debut of a writer whose first novel is a terrifying tour de force
I definitely had to add it to my wishlist! I was lucky enough to receive an email with some exclusive material about the author and his debut book.
Please feel free to leave comments, visit the links provided, and check out The Birthing House which has been released this month!
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Q&A with Christopher Ransom: (edited version)**
Please introduce yourself and tell us a bit more about you and your writing career. I’ve been writing prose off and on for sixteen years but took a five-year detour to write screenplays before working up the courage to write my first novel, The Birthing House, which is out now in the UK and will be released in the US this August. I spent three years writing The Birthing House and it was the best education in writing I ever received. I was a terrible student in high school and college, and never attended a writer’s workshop or other writing program, so maybe it took me a little longer to do it on my own. At any rate, I never enjoyed writing as much as I did while working on my novel, so I plan to stick with this for a while.
What is your most recent novel about – if you are allowed to tell us? The Birthing House is about a couple in their 30s, Conrad and Joanna Harrison, who are trying to reboot their marriage, so to speak, by moving from Los Angeles to a small town in rural Wisconsin. Soon after they settle in, Jo leaves Conrad for eight weeks of training for a new job, and Conrad, stewing in the house all summer, discovers that their new home, which is really his new home, was a birthing house at the turn of the century and may now be haunted. Conrad is wrestling with the idea and reality of becoming a father, the growing pains of leaving adolescence and his early 20s behind to become domestic. He is haunted by a destructive relationship from his high school years that continues to wreak havoc in his life and is responsible for almost literally opening the door to the entity that still resides in the former birthing house. In the course of uncovering (or ignoring at his peril) the house’s history and trying to salvage his dying marriage, Conrad becomes obsessed with his next door neighbour, Nadia, who is 20 and pregnant, and has some experience with the evil residing under Conrad’s roof. The novel is about the toll of a dual-income marriage, how our past relationships inform and disturb our present relationships, how infidelity and sexuality fit into the larger scheme of procreation, and—as I like to joke—only incidentally about a haunted birthing house. I make that joke because, in truth, I did not set out to write a haunted house novel at all, or even a horror novel. I am not particularly interested in or frightened by ghosts or monsters. However, in terms of communicating what’s going on in someone’s head, a house is a great metaphor for the mind, and the ghost is a marvellous mirror of the psyche. And people—they scare me. So I just started writing about three characters locked in a situation I found fascinating. About a hundred pages in, I realized the story was following the classic haunted house trajectory. Coincidentally (or not very), my wife and I had recently moved from Los Angeles to Mineral Point, Wisconsin, which is a town of about three thousand people, so we were experiencing an amusing form of culture shock. We bought a 140-year-old Victorian and later learned it had been a birthing house and small clinic near the turn of the century. I did not borrow my house’s real history in any way; the idea of what it would be like if my house really was haunted was quite enough. During the first draft, I was only vaguely aware that I was writing about a troubled marriage, sex, birth, and all the rest while living under the roof of a birthing house. The potential of a haunted birthing house became intertwined with the questions and themes I was exploring, and the title was too appropriate to resist. Who knows, maybe the house wanted me to write the book (he says with nervous laughter and mild fear).
What do you think makes the horror genre so fascinating to readers and writers? The power, for one. The raw, straight-to-your-primal-center-ness of it. There is no question fear is one of the most compelling emotions, that it is one of the strongest and most fundamental. It’s not like delight or melancholy, relative lightweights. Fear is right up there with love. It is crucial to our survival. From one perspective, it is fair to say fear drives nearly every other emotion, including love. Do we not love out of fear of being alone, at least partially? Do we not work for fear of going hungry? For readers, horror fiction is a safe venue we visit to experience fear without being overwhelmed by it. No one wants horror in their life, but we will all face it in one form or another. I forget who said stories are tools for living, but I believe that. I cannot imagine living without quality fiction. So, if that is true, then horror stories might contain some tools for learning how to deal with the bad shit life throws our way. Maybe that is a stretch, but I find reading dark fiction fortifying in some way. I also just like experiencing a good thrill, without the hangover.
As for writers, for this writer anyway, the horror genre comes equipped with another marvellous set of tools. The ghosts, the houses, the monsters, the descent into a self and reality (even an everyday, real-world reality) we did not know existed, the whole range of darker human psychology. It’s almost another language. There are tropes and tricks and rules to break. When the writing is going well, the writer feels every event in the story as it is being written, as if by surprise, as his reader will experience it eventually. This makes for a fun ride behind the keyboard. But more importantly, writing horror, like writing in any other genre, should be an exploration of the self. It’s not easy to plumb one’s deepest fears and bring them into the daylight, but it is rewarding on many levels.
What movies / books influenced your development as a genre writer? Similarly, what books, movies, comics, get you excited as a fan? I suspect we live in an age when there are two types of horror writers: those who admit they were influenced by Stephen King to some degree, and those who lie. It might be a cliché at this point, but King’s books taught me to love reading. I read Cujo when I was 11 and I never looked back. Pet Sematary is the scariest novel I have or probably ever will read. It’s also a very serious novel, when you look beyond the cat that comes back from the grave. He’s writing about the most painful things a human can face: death, burial, the loss of child. How our culture does almost nothing to prepare for the natural eventuality of death. I honestly don’t know how he found the courage to go that far--that deep into his fear. I reread it again for the fifth or sixth time last summer and was struck by how even the vocabulary and syntax King uses in Pet Sematary reek of sour earth, embalming fluids, medicine, cold soil. There is a vintage texture, as if it were aging well in the sense of a classic, which of course I feel it is. So, yes, like many readers in the 80s and 90s, I was weaned on Stephen King, Peter Straub, Clive Barker, Dean Koontz, Robert McCammon, and many others. They all influenced me in some way, large or small.
Dan Simmons’s speculative-horror-love story of a novel, The Hollow Man, is quite different than my novel (or any that I will likely ever attempt to write) but it was a pivotal book in my life. I read it when I was 20, trying to decide what to do with myself, and the novel terrified me, challenged me, and made me weep, all in the span of about seven hours. I decided shortly after that to become a writer. There were a lot of books that nudged me toward the decision, but The Hollow Man was the nail in my coffin. As I neared my late 20s and began to get serious, there were a few other authors, in various genres, not just horror, that changed how I thought about style and narrative, and I am sure they influenced me as well. Colin Harrison’s Afterburn took my head off. I still study the way he achieves such momentum without sacrificing nuance of language and depth of character. Nabokov has playfulness and an ability to find humour in the most wretched of circumstances, and that can be useful when writing horror.
What gets me excited as a fan is when one of my favourite authors releases a new novel. Peter Blauner is in my humble opinion the best “crime” writer working today, though he is much more than that. The only problem is, he only publishes a new novel every four years or so. But I am glad he takes his time, because the quality really shows and he is always worth the wait.
Who do you go all fan-boy about when it comes to the horror genre? Have you ever met anyone more famous than yourself and how did you react? When I worked a Barnes & Noble in Los Angeles, I once waited on Julia Roberts, just like Hugh Grant in Notting Hill. She was very polite but she didn’t fall in love with me. Does that count? No, I guess not. Well, I haven’t met too many famous writers. I did meet Dan Simmons years ago, when I had just decided to become a writer and he was signing copies of The Hollow Man (which as I said had just become my favourite novel). Dan was seated in this tiny newsstand on Main Street in Longmont, Colorado, near my hometown of Boulder, so it was easy for me to wander over on my lunch break. Anyway, I was the first (okay, only) person in line; Dan was not yet the supernova he is today. I probably could have had his ear for half an hour, and he was very polite, but I was too frightened to squeak much more than, “Thank you.” I quickly fled the store, clutching my signed first edition to my bosom like a schoolgirl with her first love note.
If you had a chance to invite any horror legend, be it actor, writer, director, author (living / dead / undead) over for some tea, who would you choose and why? After reading Charles LaBrutto’s excellent biography of Stanley Kubrick, wherein he chronicles many of the director’s bull sessions with writers and actors, I couldn’t stop thinking about what that must have been like for those who had the privilege—and some would say the curse—of Kubrick’s company. I realize Kubrick was not a horror guy per se, but he was tuned in to the dark side of human nature. There is a coldness to his work, his control, his obsessive nature. But he was also reputed to be a very sweet man, and an expert on a huge array of subjects. There is something tantalizing and terrifying about getting one of Kubrick’s phone calls in the middle of the night, being whisked off to his hidden estate, and hired to be a writer on one of his films, only to find oneself locked in a seemingly endless conversation with the man, who, it was reported, went through phases where he and his guests ate the same meal over and over for weeks, until he tired of it. Visiting writers seemed to emerge from the Kubrick compound like aged moles, gray-haired and blinded by his intensity and brilliance. I wouldn’t have been able to resist that call, had it ever come.
Lights on or off when watching horror flicks? Off, of course, without exception. I am allowed to make my wife watch only one scary movie per year, so that means for all the others it’s me and one of my dogs under a blanket, lights off, eyes bugging out. Actually, watching a scary film by yourself increases the potency, so I don’t mind. Last summer I watched The Orphanage all by myself and that one got me pretty good.
Which do you prefer: Romero originals or remakes? Oh, I know this is sacrilege, but I’ll go with the Dawn of the Dead remake here. The screenwriter on that one, James Gunn, is a very funny guy who gets zombies and I thought he handled it very well. It was scary and funny and full of great action set pieces. His characters were solid, his dialogue chewy. The sniper going after “Burt Reynolds” bit in there is priceless. What is the best advice you ever received from someone about horror writing? The best advice I know of for writing horror is no different than the advice we hear for writing any other kind of fiction and literature. The same things are important. Quality writing, characters that feel and behave like real people with real problems, realistic dialogue, evocative setting, all of it. In fact, when it comes to writing horror, or any genre that tends to rely too much on the wowee factor, we need to be extra vigilant, mindful of the fundamentals—namely, writing well. Plot and suspense are the least of our problems. We can’t rely on ghosts and serial killers and zombies to fool the reader for long. Or maybe we can, but we shouldn’t. Because while the apocalypse might get some fanboys in the door, the fanboys are all growing up, too, and eventually the day will come when they demand better of us. Actually, in all fairness, they already do. So, we owe it to our careers, our genre, our publishers and readers, to strive for quality. The writing is everything. That is what I tell myself every day, because I know I have a long way to go, and if you’re not constantly trying to improve the quality of your writing, you’re dead.
The horror genre has seen many incarnations over the past few years – what do you think the future holds for the genre? I have been hearing about the death of horror in publishing since I attended The Pike’s Peak Writer’s Conference in 1993 or thereabouts. But good writers kept on publishing horror novels every year, right up through today. The vampire stuff seems to be bottomless. I know a lot of the large houses in New York are a little skittish about horror, but on the other hand, my editor at St. Martin’s Press told me he had been looking for a good ghost story for four years before he acquired The Birthing House. Now, look, I’m not saying I wrote The Turn of the Screw or The Shining—I know I did not. But four years? That tells me that either agents are extremely gun shy about submitting horror or there just aren’t that many well written and truly frightening manuscripts floating through the channels. In either case, we have only ourselves to blame.
But of course there are cycles. Trends. You can’t plan for them or write with an eye on them, though, so why bother? Hollywood ate up a ton of ghost stories after The Sixth Sense made $300 million domestic, and once that milked out, they went after harder stuff, exploitation fare, torture porn (which does nothing for me), and some great zombie flicks (which I do like). Now that those are playing out, we’re back to psychological stuff and ghost stories and dark fantasy and . . .
All of which is to say, I don’t have a clue where horror is going, and I never gave it much thought. I focused on writing the book that I wanted to write, to the best of my abilities, and it worked out. I am fortunate that it did. I am sure timing was a factor. But the reality is that there will always be a market for quality horror fiction and writing that truly moves the reader.
Do you have a zombie apocalypse survival plan – apart from going to hide in the Winchester, that is! – and will you be able to implement it? You know, if it comes to that point, where we are truly being overrun by the zombie hoard, I think I would rather just join them. I mean, think about it, do zombies looked stressed to you? Other than finding food, what’s a zombie got to worry about? They don’t have to get up and go to work every day. They don’t have to pay taxes or fret about the state of the world or try to get laid. They have no fear of death because the worst has already happened to them. All a zombie has to do is duck some bullets and find some brains to gnaw on, and there are plenty of those to go around. Hey, I’m a foodie. I could live like that. Kind of do already, now that I think about it.
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Here's an excerpt from The Birthing House...
THE BIRTHING HOUSE an excerpt from the novel by Christopher Ransom
They were in the house a week before it came for him.
Joanna Harrison was dozing on the couch in the TV room while her husband stood on the deck, breathing through a sweet clove cigarette that burned his throat and floated a candy cloud above his empty thoughts. The cigarette was the kind found on the back covers of men’s magazines, the smoke of wannabes. What Conrad wanted to be this night was content, and, for a few more minutes of this vanishing sunset hour, he was. Content equally with himself and his lot: a full acre of sloping lawn, century-old maple and black walnut trees, and a garden as large as a swimming pool, its aged gray gate roped with grape vines. Raspberry and clover grew thick in the shade of the shaggy pines still moist with the day’s sweet rain.
He heard running water and looked through the window into the kitchen. Her blurry, sleepy-slouched shape hovered for a moment, probably filling a glass to take to bed. He waved to her. She either did not see him or was too tired to wave back. She turned away and faded back into the house.
He wanted to follow her, but he waited. Let her brush and floss, finish with a shot of the orange Listerine before she turned back the freshly laundered Egyptian cotton. You can’t rush these things. These are delicate times. Eyes closed, he could almost see her stretched out in one of her tanktinis and cotton boy-cut underwear, a big girl-woman reading another marketing book he always said were made for people on planes. She must be happy here. Otherwise, she would be cleaning and planning and avoiding bedtime.
Summer had arrived early. The house was muggy. He wondered if she would be warm enough to go without covers, but cool enough to allow his touch.
He had been shocked to discover that he wanted her more now. He was still madder than hell about the entire stupid scene with That Fucker Jake and all its implications, its mysteries. But he knew the balance of things and how he’d not been holding up his share of them was half the problem. Maybe more than half. She’d almost slipped away. Even before that nasty little homecoming it had been months, and since the fresh start (that was how he thought of it, but never named it as such, not aloud) he’d been watching for signs. If Luther and Alice were in their crates, that was one sign. If she had showered that was yet another, though never a binding one. None of the signs were binding, which added suspense to the marriage and kept his hopes in a perpetual swing from boyish curiosity on one side to blood-stewing resentment on the other.
He walked up the deck steps to the wooden walkway, into the mudroom. He climbed stairs (the servants’ stairs off the kitchen, not the front stairs with the black maple banister, which for some reason he had been avoiding since the move) and felt the weight of the day in his bones.
By the time he finished brushing his teeth he was tired the way only people who have unpacked ninety percent of their possessions in a single day can be tired. His mind was empty, his muscles what his mom said his father used to call labor-fucked, the old man’s way of suggesting that work is its own reward.
I’m sorry, Dad-
Work. He knew his hands still worked for her. He thought she liked his hands better than just about every other part of him. He no longer relied on his appearance as the catalyst, didn’t know many men married more than a few years who did. He knew he wasn’t a Jake. At thirty he was what divorced female bartenders had from time to time called cute, no longer handsome, if he ever was. He felt remarkably average. He had acquired a belly, but the move had already burned that down from a 36 to a 34. With the yard work he’d be down to a 32—his high school Levi’s size—by the end of June. Jo always said she liked his laugh lines, the spokes radiating from what his mother used to call his wily eyes. Wily used to be enough, but now he was just grateful for a second chance. He could live with average—so long as he could still seduce her.
Conrad wound his way through the back hall, making the S-turn through the library, into the front hallway. The creaking floorboards were a new sound, allowing him to birth one final clear thought for the day.
This is a healing place. This is home.
Conrad waded into the moonlight pooling on the new queen-sized bed—another purchase, this one more deserved—he’d made without her input. The ceiling fan was whirring, the dogs were curled into their crates on the floor, and Jo was waiting for him on top of the new sheets. She was without a top, wearing only loose fitting boxers (his), which were somehow better than if she were naked. That she had gone halfway without prematurely forfeiting the under garment was a gesture that made him feel understood. The arc of her hips rose off the bed like the fender of a street rod and his blood awakened.
With his blood, his hopes.
No longer content, Conrad stretched out, not caring what funny tent shape his penis made as it unfolded like a miniature welcome banner. He rolled to one side, facing her. She smelled of earth and lavender and something otherwise herbal—new scents for her in this new place. Her belly was nearly flat except for the smallest of rolls just above the waistband, and he loved this, too. He called it her little chile relleno and she would slap him, but it didn’t bother her, not really. Her hips were womanly wide, but with her height she remained sleek, especially when prone, like now. She stood a little over six feet to his five-nine. His fingers grazed her fine brown navel hairs. Her eyes gleamed under heavy lids, glassy and black as mountain ponds at midnight.
It was a beginning, and he was a man who loved beginnings more than middles or endings.
“Come,” Jo said. Or maybe Con, half of his name.
“Hm?”
“. . . not ready.”
“Not what?” His hand found the elastic rim of her waistband, then moved into the open front of his boxer shorts on her.
“. . . about behbee,” she murmured.
“What, Baby?”
Not baby. Uppercase, Baby. A nickname he used.
“. . . owin me the behbee…be-ah-eye,” she mumbled, which sounded like was going to be all right.
“Of course,” he said, like it was his idea too. He had no idea.
“. . . bee woul’ go a father.”
We should go farther.
He pushed one, then two fingers lower to her mound, but her legs were crossed and he swerved off course, touching only her thigh. Just her thigh, but soft was soft and his excitement ratcheted up another notch.
“-not ready,” she squeaked, rolling away.
Shit. Might not have been sleeping before, but was now. Snoring too. Weird, he thought. Had she done this before? With the eyes open and the talking?
Should he let her sleep or try one more time?
Yes . . . no. He kissed her goodnight and rolled to his back, allowing the fan to push warm summer air over his fading, obedient hard-on. His mind dropped into that lower gear, the one that is not yet sleep but somehow dreaming already.
In the half-dream he was in the house, beside her, finding the wetness and sliding in not for the first time but as if they had been moving this way for minutes or an hour. He was all corded muscle and arched away, feeling her soak him in her own undulations. The movement was soothing, almost non-sexual, like being rocked in a crib.
Her grip on him strengthened and clenched, pushing back with legs and ass, drawing his ejaculate out in a sudden burst that ended too quickly, leaving him weak and sleepy all over again.
Drifting . . .
Until the dream, the same one or some new post-coital version, was split by the sound of crying. His body twitched itself awake, and he knew these were not Jo’s tears. This was the noise a newborn makes after sucking in its first violent breath as it enters this violent world. It was a sound that had skipped mewling and launched straight into wailing, and it was coming from behind a wall or far away.
Faintly, under the baby’s hacking shriek, there arose another sound. This one did sound like a woman, and he imagined the infant’s mother, or the midwife, perhaps. This older cry in the dark was a trailing scream, as if something was pulling her away from her child and down a long corridor that narrowed to nothing.
Panicked, he rolled over to shake Jo—why hasn’t she woken up and grabbed me?—and felt the cool stirring of air as she lifted off the bed. He could see only blackness, and with the drone of the fan he could not hear her feet padding on the wood floor. A flash of her silhouette in the doorway left a retinal echo, but the room was too dark to grasp any details. If he saw her at all, she was gone now.
To the bathroom, he thought. There she goes, carrying my seed. The semi-sleep-molestation and abrupt ending made him wince with guilt, but he did not seek her out in the ensuing silence. Exhausted from the day of unpacking (and tossed dream sex), Conrad decided the crying was but a fragment of the dream, a lingering scene planted by her words.
“. . . the behbee, the behbee . . .”
The crying returned once, quieter and farther away, until like a passing thunderstorm it faded to nothing.
He hovered on the edge of sleep.
Something’s wrong.
He sat up and rubbed his eyes. She had not returned.
“Jo?”
She did not answer.
“Jo,” he said, louder. “Baby, you okay
His eyes adjusted to the dark. The dogs were standing at the master bedroom door facing the hall, whining, tails stiff like the hairs on their shoulders. Conrad flattened his body and counted to ten. It’s rational, he told himself. When something so unexplainable and real (the dogs made it real) as a crying baby in your childless home wakes you, it is normal to ignore it and go back to sleep. So back he went, as deep as a man can go, until he forgot the all about the crying sounds and her cold departure, her absolute absence.
Even when, in the morning, waking to a half-empty bed, he padded downstairs and found her where he’d left her before he stepped out for a smoke at dusk, sleeping on the sofa.
From afar, Sheriff Jackson Deveau has always loved Elle Drake, the youngest telepath of seven magically gifted sisters. After a long time away she's finally returning home to the small coastal village of Sea Haven. But someone has been following Elle, someone who doesn't want her to make it back. And when Elle fails to arrive, her disappearance strikes fear in the hearts of everyone who loves her. Now it's left to Jackson to uncover the mystery of Elle's vanishing, and rescue her from an unseen danger. But Sea Haven is no longer safe for anyone, and it'll take the powers of all the Drake sisters and their men to survive the coming storm.
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From Book Mooch/Paper Back Swap:
Through Wolf's Eyes :: Jane Lindskold
Book one in the Through Wolf's Eyes series
Firekeeper only vaguely remembers a time when she didn't live with her "family," a pack of "royal wolves"-bigger, stronger, and smarter than normal wolves. Now her pack leaders are sending her back to live among the humans, as they promised her mother years ago.
Some of the humans think she may be the lost heir to their throne. This could be good-and it could be very, very dangerous. In the months to come, learning to behave like a human will turn out to be more complicated than she'd ever imagined.
But though human ways might be stranger than anything found in the forest, the infighting in the human's pack is nothing Firekeeper hasn't seen before. That, she understands just fine. She's not your standard-issue princess-and this is not your standard-issue fairy tale.
Her deadly dreams leave her in grave danger. Since half-vampire Cat Crawfield and her undead lover Bones met six years ago, they've fought against the rogue undead, battled a vengeful Master vampire, and pledged their devotion with a blood bond. Now it's time for a vacation. But their hopes for a perfect Paris holiday are dashed when Cat awakes one night in terror. She's having visions of a vampire named Gregor who's more powerful than Bones and has ties to her past that even Cat herself didn't know about. Gregor believes Cat is his and he won't stop until he has her. As the battle begins between the vamp who haunts her nightmares and the one who holds her heart, only Cat can break Gregor's hold over her. She'll need all the power she can summon in order to bring down the baddest bloodsucker she's ever faced . . . even if getting that power will result in an early grave.
The Better Part of Darkenss :: Kelly Gay
(Thank you Suzie!)
Divorced mother of one, Charlie Madigan, lives in a world where the beings of heaven and hell exist among us, and they aren't the things of Sunday school lessons and Hallmark figurines. In the years since the Revelation, they've become our co-workers, neighbors, and fellow citizens. Charlie works for ITF (Integration Task Force). It's her job to see that the continued integration of our new "friends" goes smoothly and everyone obeys the law, but when a new off-world drug is released in Underground Atlanta, her daughter is targeted, and her ex-husband makes a fateful bargain to win her back, there's nothing in heaven or earth (or hell for that matter) that Charlie won't do to set things right.
Off Season :: Anne Rivers Siddons
(Thank you Yvonne!)
For as long as she can remember, they were Cam and Lilly—happily married, totally in love with each other, parents of a beautiful family, and partners in life. Then, after decades of marriage, it ended as every great love story does...in loss. After Cam's death, Lilly takes a lone road trip to her and Cam's favorite spot on the remote coast of Maine, the place where they fell in love over and over again, where their ghosts still dance. There, she looks hard to her past—to a first love that ended in tragedy; to falling in love with Cam; to a marriage filled with exuberance, sheer life, and safety— to try to figure out her future.It is a journey begun with tender memories and culminating in a revelation that will make Lilly re-evaluate everything she thought was true about her husband and her marriage.
Dancing With Ana :: Nicole Barker
(received for review from author)
Beth is a lucky girl… She comes from a loving family. She has three best friends. She loves to surf and lives five minutes from the beach. She also recently discovered that the boy she’s grown up with has the most amazing green eyes…Beth has every reason to smile. Every reason to be happy. Every reason to feel blessed. Then why is she sticking her fingers down her throat? Sixteen year old Beth Baxter’s life merely resembles the one she’s always known. Her father has left. She is falling for Jeremy Duscana and the diet she started has somehow turned into an obsession. Yet her three best friends remain the same, always there for her. But even their love can’t save her from herself. Dancing With Ana. A story about the journey to acceptance of one’s own reality, the incredible bond that exists between friends and a love that truly endures all things.
Legacy :: Cayla Kluver
(received for review from author)
The first boy disappeared on the day of his birth, on a night when the pale yellow moon of the nighttime sky turned red and bathed the heavens in the ghastly color of blood, on the same night the Kingdom of Cokyri abruptly ceased its merciless attack. Across the land of Hytanica, under the shadow of the crimson moon, infant boys continued to vanish. Not until the blood had faded from the sky did the disappearances stop, and the bodies of the murdered infants were found outside the gates of the city, a final word from the greatest enemy Hytanica had ever known. For the next sixteen years, peace reigned, but one mystery remained unsolved. The Cokyrians had abducted forty-nine newborns, but returned only forty-eight bodies. Now, as seventeen-year-old Princess Alera of Hytanica is besieged from all sides by suitors vying for the Throne, a teenage Cokyrian boy, Narian, is encountered within the walls of her Kingdom, a boy who will show Alera a world where women serve a purpose and not just a husband. As Narian helps Alera find her voice, she struggles against an arranged marriage that will shatter the life she has scarcely begun to live. And when Narian's shocking past is uncovered, and war with Cokyri looms once more, he must fight to defy a fate ordained at his birth.
Dunny knew from an early age what it meant to be an outsider. Her special abilities earned her many names, like freak and water witch. So she vowed to keep her powers a secret.
Now, though, her talents may be the only hope for two missing children. A young boy and girl have vanished, feared lost in the mysterious bayous of Louisiana. But they didn’t just disappear; they were taken. By something far more dangerous than the ghosts and spirits living in the swamp. Something with very special plans for the children—and for anyone who dares to interfere . . .
Review:
Dunny Pollock is a pretty normal gal. She's stresses about paying her bills and dealing with her deadlines at work as a freelance writer. She has a stray dog that keeps scratching at her door and she doesn't have the heart to shoo it away. So instead, she feeds the scraggly thing and even gives the little moocher a name. But there is something different about Dunny. Because of an extra finger on her left hand, she has been given many names in her younger years - like freak and water witch. How can an extra finger cause so much grief?
Well, Dunny's little finger has given her strange abilities. If she concentrates hard enough the extra appendage allows her to find things. It's helped her find water, oil, keys and even her sister's cat. Most of the time her finger gets warm and points Dunny in the right direction. Except when it came to her sister's cat the finger turned ice cold because it turned out the cat was dead.
So ever since that episode Dunny has tried to keep her secret to herself. But she'll have to use her ability when her sister calls on her for help. Angelle is a school teacher in a small Lousiana town. She's worried about two of her children that have dissapeared into the swamp. Dunny may be the only one that can help. But no one knows what's really going on deep in the swamp. A shaman-like ritual gone wrong produces an evil supernatural presence that permeates the town.
The premise itself is alright, but I really enjoyed LeBlanc's characters. Dunny has a very laid back personality. Despite her problems, I feel like she knows how to handle things. After arriving in Louisana, she meets Angelle's mother-in-law, Poochie. Now this lady sure is a character. At first I found her quite annoying, a batty old woman that was a little off her hinges. But her Cajun accent and quirky outbursts really grew on me. Her character development was particularly well-done because towards the end the reader can see a glimpse of who Poochie is despite her old age.
This is my first LeBlanc novel and I must admit I thoroughly enjoyed her simple story telling and the way she wove horror elements with paranomral thrills. I'll definitely be picking up some of her other books.
From Dracula to Buffy the Vampire Slayer; from Castlevania to Tru Blood, the romance between popular culture and vampires hearkens back to humanity's darkest, deepest fears, flowing through our very blood, fears of death, and life, and insatiable hunger. And yet, there is an attraction, undeniable, to the vampire archetype, whether the pale, wan European count, impeccably dressed and coldly masculine, yet strangely ambiguous, ready to sink his sharp teeth deep into his victims' necks, draining or converting them, or the vamp, the count's feminine counterpart, villain and victim in one, using her wiles and icy sexuality to corrupt man and woman alike...
Gathering together the best vampire literature of the last three decades from many of today's most renowned authors of fantasy, speculative fiction, and horror.
Edited by John Joseph Adams (WASTELANDS, THE LIVING DEAD), BY BLOOD WE LIVE is 200,000+ words of the best in vampire fiction. Thirsty? By Blood We Live will satisfy your darkest cravings...
Authors to be featured in By Blood We Live include:
Kelley Armstrong
L. A. Banks
Elizabeth Bear
Neil Gaiman
Joe Hill
Stephen King
Sergei Lukyanenko
Tanith Lee
Brian Lumley
Ken Macleod
Garth Nix
Anne Rice
Lilith Saintcrow
Harry Turtledove
Catherynne M. Valente
Carrie Vaughn
David Wellington
Tad Williams
...and many more
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Reason: I've seen this around blogland recently and it sounds like a great collaboration of authors about a subject that I just can't help but love : VAMPIRES! You know you want to read it too!!
Cover Discussion: I really like the different characters portrayed on the cover. I can almost imagine the stories that are written about them in the book. I love how they look drawn instead of straight up photography.
By Blood We Live will be released August 31st!
What are you waiting on this week? To see more books that are being waited for click here
Falling Into the Sun 
