Wow…what an honor that The Wolf’s Moon is featured on Smorgasbord – Variety is the Spice of Life by Sally Cronin at smorgasbordinvitation.wordpress.com
Echoes of Narcissus in the Gardens of Delight by Jo Robinson featured by Smorgasbord – Variety is the Spice of Life.
A most interesting history and picture documentation of Temple Church: The Hidden Church Founded by the Knights Templar
The term “hidden gem” gets bandied around a lot in relation to all sorts of places in London – bars and restaurants, museums, galleries and historic buildings. It’s a bit of an overworn phrase, but the subject of today’s post definitely fits the criteria for a hidden gem: small and off the beaten track, pretty and perfectly formed.
Through a little gateway on Fleet Street lies the Temple, the inner sanctum of Britain’s legal profession. It’s a curious name – one that always intrigued me when I was younger, going through Temple Station whilst on the District Line and wondering if there actually was a temple there. There is no temple, but amid the chambers of barristers is a little old church that has a history going all the way back to the Knights Templar.
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Cover Reveal: Pearseus, Vigil by Nicholas Rossis
After long deliberation and thanks to your valuable feedback, I have tried another variation on Vigil’s cover:
The background color is close to #3, only a tad lighter, in order to work with the text’s red hues.
However, so many of you liked #1, that I’ve decided to use it for the last book in the series, currently being penned (since I still have no name for it, I thought it’d be fine if I left it with Vigil for now).
This ties in with the plot, as the covers have progressively been getting darker, along with the story. In Vigil, however, several the subplots gradually get resolved. That’s also why the scales, after almost falling apart in Mad Water, are slowly becoming more solid here.
The final book sees the resolution of the overall story arc. As such, it makes sense that the colors get even lighter. Even if it does resemble Schism…
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When I was a kid, maybe fourteen, I walked from my home to Maplewood, MO. It wasn’t far, just a couple of miles, but the walk was worth it.
Tucked away between the bar on the corner (that had the best Polish sausage with Miracle Whip sandwiches ever – of which I could do a blog just on them – maybe later), and the music store was a small book store.
It was indeed small but the shelves went from the floor to the ceiling, with every genre of hard cover or paperback book.
There were new books, traded books and books that looked as though Shakespeare or Poe may have browsed the pages.
At first, I went there to get comic books. They were, after all, only a dime. The little grey-haired lady kept a close watch on me. The thought of ever stealing a book never entered my mind. Those books were the way the lady had money to feed herself. I would pick the comic book I wanted, give her my dime, then leave the store.
In the coming months she grew to know me and her surveillance of me slowly disappeared as I graduated from Superman to Doc Savage.
Then, the Mike Hammer books were the ones I wanted to read.
The grey-haired lady, at first, would not sell them to me. She told me to wait a few years.
I really liked the lady so I said okay and settled on a Doc Savage I hadn’t read.
Winter came, and with working before and after school and going to school, the thoughts of going to a book store was furthest from my mind.
When the winter snows were over and school work dwindled down to a snail’s pace, I had a pocket full of money. The bookstore with all those treasures of written words, awaited me.
My arrival to a corner of the world I felt reserved for me, I found the store closed. Looking through the front window, where the new hard cover releases were displayed, I saw no books. My gaze was met by empty shelves.
I went next door to the bar and asked Gus the bartender, where the little lady that owned the next store moved.
He looked at me with kind eyes and said, “Heaven. She passed away a month ago.”
Borders is now gone and is being followed by Barnes & Noble.
The feel of a book is slowly but surely being replaced by electronic media.
I hope the little grey-haired lady, whose name I never got to know, has a huge bookstore in Heaven, not having to worry about kids stealing comic books.
Copyright © 2013 Patrick Jones, All Rights Reserved
. . In my last blog post I explained the differences between all these rankings and lists on Amazon. Today Amazon’s algorithm is explained and what it
That morning was cold. It was so cold it woke me from a sound, dreamless sleep. The fire in the stove had burned down to ash and was close to being out. I needed to put more wood on the fire.
It was four A.M. and time to get up anyway. Dawn was less than two hours away and it was the opening of firearms deer season. Not that it mattered much. The day before, freezing rain had covered the landscape.
Between the cold and the layer of ice, the deer were not going to forage.
I filled the stove with wood and lit the cook stove to make coffee. By the time I washed the sleep from my eyes, brushed my teeth and made a very quick trip to the outhouse, I settled in a chair with a steaming cup of coffee.
Hoping to get a weather report, I switched on the radio. Because of the high hills, all the radio received was static for the most part.
On my trip outside, the sky was full of stars. At least the morning might be clear.
The coffee cup needed to be refilled. Heat from the stove flooded the room causing my eyes to want to close.
For that moment, I wanted to totally disregard the very reason for the trip.
Shaking my eyes open, it was time to don my hunter orange, get my rifle and go sit at my favorite spot by the fire pit (some thirty yards from the cabin).
Leaving the warmth of the cabin, to walk up the side of the hill, I wondered just how many other people were feeling as stupid at that time of the morning.
For a person to leave a warm and comfortable abode, to sit in the cold hoping to just see a deer did not take high intellect.
By the time I reached my perch, the sun was slowly rising over the tops of the oak trees that surrounded the hollow below.
The warming rays of golden light soon flooded over the land causing the ice covered boughs to mist.
At first, it was a wonderfully beautiful sight; one that, as in a child’s fairy tale, the Maiden of the Mist with long flowing red hair and the bluest of eyes walked looking for her long-dead warrior lover.
As the sun moved a little higher in the sky, it made the limbs of the trees sparkle, then came the sounds of a gently rain falling as the ice melted from the highest branches.
If this was not enough to fill the soul, from across the valley off one of the tallest trees flew a magnificent white hawk (Northern Harrier). It slowly circled, looking for a morning meal. After another pass, then did I see the black tips of it’s wings.
I watched an aerial display presented that no man’s flying machine could match.
It landed on a tree branch less than fifty feet away, and looked directly into my eyes, almost studying me.
The bird gave no indication of fear, yet in a low voice I said, “You’re safe.”
Again it took to the air but rather for my benefit. It stayed airborne for a short time before coming to rest on the same branch.
We both heard the crunch of something walking on frozen leaves. It was a huge ten-point buck. He stopped walking and sniffed the air, and saw me. His body was tense but he made no move. He stood ready for flight, knowing he could never outrun a bullet. The loss of muscle on his left rear leg told me he had his one chance.
The bird turned his head in my direction. His piercing brown eyes questioned my intent.
I smiled and softly said, “He lives today.”
With a shriek that woke the valley and hills he took to the sky flying above the mist out of sight.
The deer rambled across the valley floor into the woods.
I walked back to the cabin for another cup of coffee.
Since that day I have never seen the bird again. The deer I still see from time to time. He never runs away but rather stops, looks and then walks into the woods.
We’re pals of sorts.
Copyright (C) 2015 Patrick Jones
All Rights Reserved
Part Five of the Authors Marketing Yourselves by Susan Toy featured by Chris The Story Reading Ape.
The following is an extract from a talk delivered at the Calgary Public Library in Feb. 2011.
Another area of promotion you should consider developing – and only do this if you are comfortable with it – is speaking engagements. Speaking engagements are something your publisher will not arrange for you, unless they are approached directly by a group inviting you to speak. Make sure you are either allowed to sell books or that a bookseller has been asked to look after sales wherever you appear.
Here’s another important statistic I gleaned from reading Get Known Before the Book Deal: Authors who speak at events sell three times as many books. (This book is listed in the bibliography at the end of this post.)
You can give a straight reading from your book, but my preference is to hear an author talk about how…
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Part Four of the Authors Marketing Yourself Series by Susan Toy featured by Chris The Story Reading Ape.
The following is an extract from a talk delivered at the Calgary Public Library in Feb. 2011.
Okay, now you’ve completed the further editing, the proofs have been approved, and it’s just a matter of waiting for the printer to produce and ship your book. So, what’s been happening at the publishing house all this time? The main thing they’ve been up to is preparing for, and holding, sales conferences for their sales reps. A catalogue page for your book should have been completed and posted online. Be sure to link to this page on your own blogsite, and direct anyone to it who asks about your book. The reps have been told about you, and they have discussed how they can best sell your book to booksellers, libraries, wholesalers and specialty markets. Some of them may have even read the manuscript. If at all…
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