Posts Tagged ‘Dystopia’

Yikes…  a year and a half  being cloistered  writing 13 Angels.  I suddenly  resurface and join the mainstream….so weird. A lot of new social media sites have opened up. I ‘m  learning to relate ….. the majority on social media  are now very very very young.  I’ve  rarely spoken to anyone since beginning my last project. In all honesty, it’s strange….my social brain atrophied during a long hibernation. I think inwardly like a person locked in a coma. I have  rare verbal exchange with adults . It’s like being a parent with small children…you forget how to speak except in gibberish baby talk. I have  people mention that I  talk the way I write…in prose…..huh…..too funny.

I  hang out in the Dallas-Deep Ellum art scene , but my interactions are as weird as the LSD inspired bar scene in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Artists are a strange bunch collectively and should be taken in small doses. Worse, I live in a hotel and have nothing to do except write…. I don’t even pick up after myself…the maid vacuums around me as I work…..the staff is Spanish….. our communications are limited to new soap products and how freaking hot it is outside. …..I must seem  strange ..a foreigner gringo who sits inside and types all day…. with no visible means of support.  My wife arranges the furniture, only to have the staff put it back. It’s like an episode of the Twilight Zone.

I  give the girls popsicles so they don’t carry me out with the trash. So what to do? Of course I  begin a new novel…a  dark and twisted love story…..the antithesis of romantic expectations..  I am useless to the world. I hope 13 Angels sells…but at this point I don’t care …….writing takes precedent over  history. Goodbye …cruel world….

BTW….The chile sauce in the dish pictured below was concocted out of Habanero’s….the hottest chili’s on the planet…..a Scoville index in the range of 350,000….take that !!! I have an ice maker that  makes one ice cube every hour…. one cold drink a day….  like living on Devil’s Island. Is this the kind of annoyance that drove DH Lawrence around the bend?

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I’m not sure how many people understand the process that goes into designing cover art of any kind. In this world of instant media  people are confronted with millions of images every day. The grill of your car is contrived to enunciate a primordial urge… your streets are lined with hungry spendthrift logo’s. Do we block them out….not even close. Are we in control of our thought processes in response to imagery …..not for millions of years. Where does that leave the lonely writers…who don’t have billions to research archetypes and trawl through focus groups? I know my process.. I work with my family.  We do what we think is cool…viva la revolution. All my books are available as eBooks on Amazon, Kindle, Smashwords, Kobo, Sony…be kind to a starving artist and leave a comment…..thx.

13 Angels cover

Oh the manic life I lead. A writers life is one of fits and starts… drudgery and exhilaration. After approximately one and a half years I  get to rest my weary head and scream for a day or two now that my newest book is out the door. For my friends who have followed my progress  since the project began I give you the first page of the final manuscript… just hours before it becomes available to the general public. Thanks for all your support. Thirteen Angels will be available on Kindle, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Sony, Kobo ( and others- distributed internationally at $2.99 usd) as an eBook. Hard Copy will become available soon for collectors.

CHAPTER ONE

CASTLE D’ARC, 2065

Tangled lightning lashed Castle D’Arc. Its crenulated silhouette outlined a gap-toothed scream against every explosive crack of fire. Each quick following barrage of thunder suggested Armageddon. The embattled redoubt fought raging tides threatening to rip out foundation stones and cast them into the greedy maw of an encircling leviathan. Two cassock-draped figures strode desolate battlements, unrecognizable under long woolen hoods. The cloth was stretched into shapeless socks, a vain attempt to thwart the stinging slap of freezing rain.

“Damn this weather”, snarled the smaller man. His teeth flashed white. No matter which way he turned, an icy wind stabbed at his eyes, blinding him, as if the world vengefully denied him sight of it. Another splinter of ragged lightning shred the gloom, exposing his upturned face, a mask of angry vexation. “This is how I imagine hell”. He beat his skeletal hands and stamped like an impatient stallion.

“It is a hell of your own creation brother”. A familiar voice subtly reminded Azazel they stood on hallowed ground. Conscious-stricken, he choked back his irreverence and offered up a prayer of contrition. The rueful monk hoped his deity would understand a loyal servant’s frustration after a lifetime of disappointment.

“Oh lord”, he begged, “Have mercy”. He bowed his painfully stiff back into the attitude of a grateful supplicant and whispered, “If you look down upon me you will see I have been the victim of the constant and unremitting malice of fortune”. His need for penance sated, the monk resumed his march. “Where is it?” He returned to ranging the impenetrable night with bursts of psychic energy. Azazel shook his fists in the face of the wind like a combatant avowed to fight on in defeat. He prayed the coven’s collective will was strong enough to turn back this storm. It felt certain nature’s wrath was set deliberately against them.

“It’s just a storm”, the same voice chastised. “Remember where you are”. Azazel kept his lips closed with the expression of a man inwardly laughing that he would be the one to welcome the Holy Arc and resurrect the Eye of Ba’al. Destiny chose him to lead this cycle. He hoped it was the final step towards ending his miserable life.

“I don’t see you out here” he shot back contemptuously. His obdurate prayers had been stripped naked by the tempest.

13 Angels cover