Author Interview: Steve Bargdill

Hey everyone! As promised, here is my author interview with Steve Bargdill, author of 'Wasteland' series and 'Banana Sandwich'. After the interview, (yes, you have to scroll down!) are excerpts and links to his work. Images are throughout!

Without further ado, Steve Bargdill!

1. Please tell us a little known fact about you.

When I was thirteen, I was really upset that Santa Claus was not real. I mean, I had known for a long time he wasn’t real, but at thirteen I thought the world was at a loss because he wasn’t real. That Christmas Eve, I snuck out of the house at around midnight and left candy canes and tree ornaments on people’s doorsteps and doorknobs. And I got caught. On my way home, I heard my parents calling out my name, searching for me. I tried to sneak back into the house without getting caught, but of course that didn’t happen.

2. What was your favorite genre to read growing up? Is this the genre you currently write in?

Oh most definitely fantasy. The Shannara series. Terry Brooks’ Magic Kingdom: Sold. And okay, I hate to admit it, but I picked up my mom’s romance books by Roseanne Bittner. I still remember the novel Wyoming Woman, which is ironic because I grew up in Ohio, and then moved to Wyoming. And I even wrote to Roseanne Bittner—my one and only fan letter. She wrote back and really encouraged me to keep writing. My dad collected antique books, so I also read things like The Hardy Boys Mysteries and The Pickwick Papers and all the Tarzan novels by Burroughs when I was like ten. Then there was some Louis Lamoure thrown in for good measure.

I read the poems of Langston Hughes in high school too, and had no idea what he was writing about, except I knew his writing was gorgeous. My high school English teacher introduced me to James Thurber, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Jack London.

I remember reading One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovichby by Aleskandr Solzhenitsyn when I was sixteen, seventeen years old just cause. About a guy in a Russian prison camp, and the book was like thick. I mean in pages, but I just Googled it, and it’s only like 182 pages in the hardback, but in my mind I remember it as being a thousand pages all about a single day.

As a teenager though, I always came back to the fantasy genre. The Dragonlance Chronicles Trilogy, Ender’s Game, and I remember some weird little novella thing about a guy being sucked into another dimension because dragons liked stories from our world and he had to go on a quest and there was a foul-talking dwarf and a damsel in distress…I don’t know. That could be just something I made up in my head still floating around all these years later.

As for the genre I currently write in: I don’t know. I don’t think I can be pigeon-holed like that. Wasteland certainly has fantasy and dystopian elements. Banana Sandwich is about a bi-polar pizza delivery driver. Breath: An American Story, a piece I’m working on right now,  I’d consider—if I had to label it—American Gothic. The Yellow Mountains of God, another in-process piece, is about a Lutheran pastor who kills a man in Appalachia. I Want an Indian is a collection of poetry, short stories, and personal essays in relation to Native Americans. The I Want an Indian writing is slow slow going though. It’s difficult to wrap my head around a culture of people I only am aware of from an academic point of view. With the anthology, I’m really trying to personalize my experience as an outsider looking in

In the past, I’ve written fantasy, but nothing I would feel comfortable putting out into the world to share. My first novel—which I will show no one because it is that awful—was/is a fantasy novel about a world stuck in an eternal winter, which, you know, how much more Narnia can I rip off, right?  

3. What inspires you to write?

First and foremost, I want to entertain. I want to write a damn good story and have people walk         away going, “Wow, that was an awesome story!” That’s probably egotistical.

Beyond that, writing really helps me make sense of my personal life. Wasteland, I’d say is ninety percent fiction. The story takes place in the Nineties, in Columbus, Ohio, in a boarding house on Twelfth Avenue across from Ohio State University, down the street from a bar called Street Scene, and a coffee shop called Insomnia’s, and yeah I was in my twenties living in Columbus, Ohio in a boarding house on Twelfth Avenue…

It was a dark, confusing time in my life. Writing Wasteland was cathartic. And fifteen years later, I was still processing this information, this life experience that didn’t make any sense to me, but yet there it was smack in the middle of my life.

I mean, I never drove a cab, I never had stigmata, I never worked on a nuclear reactor, I never had a woman I loved die on me, I was never on mind-altering drugs, and all of that’s in Wasteland. I was just really lonely and really lost, and I think that is the ten percent of the book that is true, that inspired me to write the thing.

Banana Sandwich came out of a fifteen year off and on career delivering pizzas. In addition, I’ve known people that have really struggled with bipolarism, and I wanted to know more about how they dealt living with that particular disorder. The purpose of the book is mainly to bring awareness to that disorder.

Breath: An American Story comes out of dealing with my grandmother’s death and a conversation I had with a young college senior, and how she was considering a graduate degree, but her parents weren’t going to support her, and lots of personal questions with my wife about today’s economy, the demise of the American small town—how the so-called American Dream is playing out in today’s world.  Stuff that just doesn’t make sense for me, stuff that I think doesn’t make sense for a lot of people. And I really want to speak to that. I don’t think I answered any profound questions, but the people who have read early drafts, they’ve asked me, “How did you get my town so right?” Well, I didn’t get their town right, I got my hometown right, but what’s going on there, the lack of jobs, the take over of Main Street by large corporations, the minimum wage paying part-time employment opportunities, the dearth of higher education, the idea that we can still pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and everything will be okay—that stuff is going on everywhere. I wanted to address it.

4. What sort of atmosphere do you need to write?

Authors all the time talk about their writing caves. What the hell is that? Seriously, I have two kids, a wife, a small three bedroom where you can hear everything, two part-time jobs, my home office is in a dank basement shared with the cat litter box.

The ideal atmosphere to write is when I have a pen and a piece of paper and five minutes. And       my six-year-old can be screaming, “Dad! Dad! Dad! Dad!” and my fourteen-year-old can be telling some crazy story that happened at school, and “Dad! Can I stay over at so-and-so’s house?” And trips to dance rehearsal and orchestra recitals and let’s go to Wal-Mart one more time, please because we need toilet paper—AGAIN.

When everyone is out of the house and it’s quiet, you bet your little butt I’m taking a nap.

My wife is incredibly supportive. Never mind she’s in school full-time as well, and oh yeah, did I mention she writes too?

When I was in graduate school, the University of Wyoming gave me a really nice office on the fourth floor of Hoyt Hall. It had a window that overlooked Prexy’s Pasture, and I could look out and watch the students rush from class to class. And I could go down the hall a ways and talk to Brad Watson who has written some awesome stories himself, or my next door office neighbor was poet and essayist David Romtvedt, and I was just surrounded by these amazing people.

I often imagine myself in that office writing. It’d be the perfect absolute perfect writing cave. I’d have some coffee going, a bit of music, I’d chat a bit with the other writers’ that reside in the             building, and I’d compose the all-time great American novel, bigger and better than The Great           Gatsby.

This, of course, never happened. I did a lot of homework. Finished off reading an entire book on spatial theory, and read The Rape of the Lock, and lots of pedagogy stuff too. And this kind of work, it’s enjoyable and good for me. But perfect writing environment? Doesn’t exist. It’s work, and it’s passion, and if you don’t have either, you’re not going to write.

5. What is your all time favorite book?

This is an unfair question and I refuse to answer directly. It’s like asking a coffee addict what their favorite coffee is. Sure as hell isn’t Sanka Instant—but, you know, some days…Sanka Instant, I have that memory of dating my wife and meeting her parents, and that’s what they had in the house, and that instant coffee taste brings back that exact memory. How can I give up Sanka?

Can’t. Won’t do it.

I’ve read those crappy ten cent paperback books you get at library book sales because not a single patron is reading them, and you wonder how in the hell they even got published, yet here  I am reading them. So obviously I’m not the only one enjoying them.

So my favorite book? Right now? This instant? Moby Dick, because that’s what I’m reading right now.

  

6. Who is your all time favorite character that is not your own.

This is just as an unfair question as the one that preceded it. Who is my all-time favorite character?    

Geesh.

I’ll be honest, I don’t have one.

Archie in Zadie Smith’s White Teeth—I like him because he just bumbles along. Things happen to him; he does not happen to things. The unnamed narrator in Amitav Ghosh’s Shadow Lines because though I’ve never been to India or London, the character thinks like me. Or, I think like him? Oscar Wao in The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao because he is pathetic and the antithesis to The Heart of Darkness—“beautiful” is the last word of the novel instead of “the horror.”

You know, seriously, I could keep going. How about Rose of Sharon in The Grapes of Wrath? That last scene, her husband left her, her baby died, and she finds a homeless man near death of starvation, and she literally nurses him back to life.

Or you know, Frodo who is confronted with an adventure so much bigger than himself, yet he goes forward. Dresden, because he’s fun. Harry Potter. Miss Havisham, Anne of Green Gables, Antonia, The Cat in the Hat, Leopold Bloom, Paddington Bear, Hamlet.

7. Who is your favorite character of your own creation?

This question is by far easier! Sometime ago, I wrote a short story by the name of, “Neighborhood Mums,” and it was the first story I ever published. And the narrator, nameless, steps outside to walk his dog, and he notices the mums from his front flowerbed have been stolen. So, he goes through the neighborhood searching for these stolen flowers. And he’s this incredibly racist person. Hates everyone. Yet, and I can’t tell you anymore because then I give away the entire story.

But I like him because readers have either one of two reactions toward him. Either visceral hatred or complete utter love. But then too, the ones who hate him admit, reluctantly, that you have to like the guy. And the ones who love him admit, reluctantly, that he’s kind of an ass.

As a writer, if you can illicit that kind of reaction from your readers, one of hate and love at the same time, that’s an incredible feeling. I’ve had moments when I’ve made people literally cry after they’ve read something I’ve written, I’ve had people laugh out loud, and I’ve had people walk away shaking their heads. And those are all very good indicators that I’ve done my job as entertainer. But to illicit two opposite emotions in the same person at the same time about the same piece of writing—that’s pro-writer stuff.

           

But, if  you asked me how I managed that, how I created that on the page, I couldn’t tell you. Luck? Probably luck. I’d like to be able to do it again, for sure though.

8. When did you decide to become a writer?

I have no idea. I have always written stories. I can’t remember a time I didn’t write. My wife tells this story about me, about us in Nebraska. We were living in a really crappy apartment. It was always cold, we were so incredibly poor, had a baby that was just a few months old, and we had the computer in the basement, and my wife tells me she remembers me down there typing away wearing a coat and fingerless gloves. I don’t remember that.

I mean, I remember splitting a McDonald’s Big Breakfast between the three of us, my wife selling blood for money, pawning our wedding rings almost on a weekly basis, freelancing for three newspapers, working all the time. There was a meat packing place I worked at; I’d push the cow carcasses off the trucks and into a refrigerated warehouse for processing. I mean, that stuff I remember, like dragging my daughter to an interview for a piece I was doing for one of the newspapers, and I had to take her ‘cause my wife was at work and I couldn’t afford a babysitter.

But writing in the basement with fingerless gloves? Yeah, no recollection, but that’s because writing is just something I’ve always done. No matter what. 

9. Where are you from?

Originally, this little town: New Knoxville, Ohio. No one knows where it is at.  Because, you know, I mean small. My graduating class was eighteen people, and one was an exchange student. The next biggest town was St. Marys, and that town you may have actually heard of because it made NPR news a few summers back. Pollution problem with the lake. The lake has killed dogs and sent people, who thought it was okay to go swimming, to the hospital. I mean, back in the day, I’d start a fire in one of the shelter houses out by the lake, and sit there through the night listening to the water against the rocks, the crackle of the driftwood I had gathered for the fire—I mean, we’d all do that.

We moved back to St. Marys for a while about five years ago. My daughter had this white bathing suit and we took her to the lake beach. It was the last time we went. She came out of the water, and her bathing suit had turned brown, and we could never get it cleaned. It was shortly after that that they put up no swimming notices, then no fishing notices.  I worked at this small gas station convenient store third trick, and fishermen would come in and tell stories of catching fish with their organs on the outside of their bodies, or fish with a random third eyeball. I don’t know if those tales are true or not; they never made the news.

Now, when we go home to visit family, we drive past the lake to look at it, and those drives feel like funeral dirges.

10. Why do you write?

I don’t know.

I mean, this is fundamentally a very different question than “What inspires me to write?” Lot’s of stuff inspires me. But I’m not sure why I write.

I know that when I don’t write, I get cranky. Like a smoker who doesn’t have his cigarette. The      coffee addict who decides one day just to quit caffeine.

If I had to give up writing, what would I do? Devote myself to Facebook, TV? I already do enough of that. Writing is what I do. Who I am.

11. What’s the best piece of writing advice you have ever been given?

Go back to school; go to the University of Iowa. Got that advice from Patricia Wrede.

12. What’s the worst thing someone has ever said about your work?

I got a two star review for one of the short stories included in Wasteland. The short story in question is Pills and Cigarettes, and it’s about a guy who is coming to terms with his sexuality, and if you read T.S. Eliot’s poem Wasteland, well a lot of that poem is about sex too. The headline on the comment is “when vanity publishing goes wrong.”

And the Amazon reviewer also wrote, “Bargdill did a serious disservice to Eliot with this title.”

I’m not sure why the person wrote what they did. It felt like they had an ulterior motive because in the review, the person says they read through the available free pages and didn’t like what they read, but bought it anyway, and the story only got worse from there. When I read that, I thought, well, if you didn’t like the first few pages, why did you even bother to buy the rest of it?

I was really angry after initially reading the review. I can take criticism, but I really wondered why they wrote what they wrote; it felt like a personal attack.

I had another Wasteland reader email me and tell me I needed Jesus in my life, and that if I wanted, they could help me with that. And I thought, did you read the book, because the whole thing is about redemption in a hopeless world.

13. Has your writing ever been compared to another, famous author? If so, who?

Cormac McCarthy. I’ve read The Road and No Country for Old Men, and I don’t really see the comparison. Banana Sandwich, I was told, reads like the book Go Ask Alice, and I didn’t even know what that book was, but was written in the 1970s by Beatrice Sparks in the form of a diary of an anonymous teenage girl who gets caught up in drugs.

I find the comparisons ultimately humbling.

14. What inspires you to write when you hit a block?

I don’t hit blocks. Authors all the time talk about writer’s block, and how it’s messing with their lives. The thing is, I teach writing and writer’s block doesn’t exist. It’s an excuse. I don’t remember who said it, but when you can’t create, you should simply then work.

I mean, don’t get me wrong. There are times when I stare at the blank page for hours, but I also know that is my subconscious working out problems. There are also periods of time, long stretches of not writing, but then that’s when I’m thinking about my next project, mulling it over. And I have my problem children. Yellow Mountains of God keeps stalling out, but only because the story keeps getting more complicated, and I keep struggling with it, keep working at it. The plot is there, and I could write it straight through, but if I didn’t allow myself to struggle with the writing, the story wouldn’t be any good. It’d be just okay. And I’m not about being just okay.

15. What advice would you pass on to new authors/young authors?

The industry has really changed. I sent out my first pieces of writing when I was sixteen. At that time, you sent stuff out directly to publishers and or agents and hoped. There were official gate keepers back then. Now, publishing is in free-fall. Independent authors all over were making lots of money with Amazon, until recently when Amazon decided to change how it paid out royalties, and now these people have to find real 9 to 5 jobs. Writing is a penniless, thankless job. It’s difficult to get noticed, to gain an audience for your work. Don’t let Amazon or any publisher be your single point end game. Figure out who you are as a person. Don’t give up your day job. Don’t stop writing. Love what you do. Struggle willingly; it’s where inspiration comes from. Be thankful for every opportunity. Live passionately.

16. What is the best thing someone has said about your work?

Um, this: https://www.tumblr.com/search/steve+bargdill

17. And last, but not least, something really random:

~ What is your dream vacation?

To have one.

~ What’s your favorite alcoholic drink?

Martini.

~ What is your favorite meal?

Pizza.

~ Motorcycle or SUV?

My wife won’t let me have a motorcycle.

~ Real books or eReader?

Yes.

Steve, you're awesome! Thanks for such an engaging interview! As promised, links and excerpts below:

About Steve Bargdill

Steve Bargdill received his bachelor's in English with an emphasis in creative writing from the University of Iowa December 2012. Originally from Ohio, he has lived in Dayton, Columbus, Troy, St. Marys, and New Knoxville as well as West Branch Iowa, Lincoln Nebraska, Muncie Indiana, and currently lives in Laramie Wyoming with his wife and two children.

Since 1998, Steve has mainly worked in the pizza industry. However, he has also worked as a day laborer, a truck driver, and a beat reporter for a couple of newspapers. He has worked at grocery stores, gas stations, and convenient stores. As a teenager, his dad forced him to stack lumber, which built character. He recently earned his Master of Arts in English from the University of Wyoming in May 2015. Currently he teaches developmental writing at Great Bay Community College in New Hampshire.

He believes literature weaves through our everyday lives and that stories explain who we are as a society.

Links for Steve Bargdill:

Website     Blog     Goodreads     Facebook     Google+

Twitter: @stevebargdill

WASTELAND SUMMARY:

Jack had the perfect life until his wife died of brain cancer. Confused and lost, alone, Jack found himself living in a boarding house in Columbus, Ohio not knowing why or how he got there.

Told through six inter-related short stories, the reader is confronted with plagues, aliens, serial killers, and ageless fortune tellers. Cab drives through the middle of the night, burying the dead on Highway Eighty, hearing the voice of God in a foxhole, demons emerging from mirrors, and mysterious angels strung out on heroin.

Filled with drugs, sex, and cigarettes, Wasteland is loosely based off T.S. Eliot’s poem of the same name and takes you through the night streets of 1990s Columbus.

BLURB:

They whispered to each other, “Beautiful.”

Buy on Amazon

ABOUT BANANA SANDWICH

Christmas Carol Madison lives in a van and is bipolar schizophrenic. She’s in love with her coworker and decides maybe he’s worth getting her life together. She takes her medication. She visits regularly with her probation officer and therapist alike. Carol’s new path suggests normality and hope, a

college degree, a career, a family. But when she decides to be better, it is the city that goes insane: her ex-boyfriend murders her roommate. To fight back, she must decide how she to live her life.

---

BANANA SANDWICH BLURB

“These nights are very dark. I hear all the sounds. My heart beat, the blood pulsing through my wrists, it is like the hollow echo broadcast from the rings of Saturn, empty and surging and crying out for someone to listen.”

Buy on Amazon

Excerpt:

CHAPTER ONE

You can't order a pizza by banana phone. It can't be done. Pick up any banana and put it to your ear and you get dial tone. Simple as that. Just doesn't work. Now if you want to call Jupiter, a banana phone is your ticket. I knew a guy once who lined his hat with aluminum foil to stop the outer space transmissions from reaching his brain. Which is just crap. Everyone knows aluminum foil isn't going to do the trick. You got to use something like Adamantium, which you can't use anyway because it's a made-up comic book metal bonded to Wolverine's skeleton. Which brings me back to the banana phone, because Wolverine kind of looks like a banana if you think about it. I mean, his costume is yellow, right? And bananas are yellow, except for when they over-ripen. Then, they are black. And the only thing aluminum foil is going to block are the government transmissions—and those are boring anyway. They tell you to do stuff like mow the lawn, wash dishes, buy more stuff, rinse your mouth with fluoride fortified mouthwash. It's the outer space transmissions that are interesting. Once, I received instructions on how to build a warp drive for my van. And the line of work I'm in, that comes in real handy.

I used to work for this upscale pizza shop. They tried to be all fancy with artichoke and broccoli toppings. Those whole wheat and gluten free crusts. I quit because they always gave me crap about my piercings. Or maybe I was fired. Yeah, that's how it really went down. I was fired. So I went to work for this other pizza shop, but we don't do much except sit on the store steps smoking blunts and ordering delivery from Domino's. Jordan brought in a bunch of bananas one night too. He picked one up and put it to his ear and tried to order Domino's. But like I said, it can't be done because all you get is dial tone. What is truly annoying is when you go to the Wal-Mart in the middle of the night, and you're going through the produce section. Inevitably, there is that person wearing a bath towel as a dress and still in hair curlers, his butt crack hanging out like clothes on a line. They have that whole display stand of bananas. Normally, the bananas are still green. Those don't work. The yellow ones work fine, and when five or six bunches of yellow bananas all start ringing at the same time, you don't know which one to answer first. Sometimes, I put a banana to each ear and carry on a couple of conversations at one time, which is easier to do than you might think.

This is how it all started too. I was in the Wal-Mart examining cumquats because who the heck buys cumquats? Why does the Wal-Mart even have cumquats? It's the Nineties, and I don't know anyone who eats cumquats except total health nut freaks. I'm certainly not a health nut freak. Give me a good juicy medium rare steak any day. Baked potato with cheddar cheese, chives, and tons of sour cream: that is a meal. Not some deformed looking orange. I'm standing in the middle of the Wal-Mart produce section examining the cumquats, but in actual reality, I avoid as much eye contact with the guy wearing the towel. Then the bananas started ringing. I looked around searching for a hidden camera. I remember that show by Peter Funt in the Eighties, Candid Camera. I asked the towel-dress guy if he heard the bananas ringing. He didn't say anything to me. I asked again and he said ‘No.’

I heard them. All of them. I didn't know which one to pick up. I answered one, because what are you going to do, right? ‘Hello,’ I said, and they all stopped ringing.

‘Carol? This is Jupiter.’

I think maybe Jordan was teasing me when he tried to order Domino's from a banana phone. I like Jordan like chocolate syrup on vanilla ice cream, but sometimes, he can be an ass.

My Awesome, Talented Sister-In-Law...

Most of you know my sister-in-law, Cheri Chesley, is a writer as well. I love having a sounding board for stuff and she loves to bounce ideas off of me.

And, not that it's a competition or anything, but she does have a lot more out there than I do.

Darn it.

I'm kidding, I love that she has so much out there. I thought I would help her with a little promotional stuff and do a cover reveal for her Christmas short story that will be available on Friday. I'll reveal THAT cover at the end of this post. You'll have to get through some other links, first.

She has her Peasant Queen series going, which include:

The Peasant Queen:

"After running away from home, Krystal is transported to a faraway kingdom where an evil tyrant is bent on taking the crown - and Krystal's hand in marriage. But when she falls in love with the rightful heir to the throne, she must make an impossible choice: sacrifice her one chance at happiness or face the destruction of an entire kingdom."






The Wild Queen:

"In the exciting prequel to The Peasant Queen, Roweena is the crown princess of Norvallen, a tiny kingdom with only one thing of value—the Healer’s Grove. The trees in this small section of forest are enchanted, giving a sap that can be mixed into potions or salves to heal almost any wound.

And it’s in high demand.

Lucien, the young king of neighboring Demarde, comes to Roweena’s father seeking an alliance, but comes away with a marriage contract for young Roweena’s hand. Furious and stubborn, this untamed beauty vows he will never conquer her. But the contract purposely gives her time to come to terms with her fate.

Before Lucien can return, Roweena’s home is attacked and her parents are murdered. The Healer’s Grove is also attacked—burned to the ground. With nothing more than her horse and the clothes on her back, Roweena goes to the only person she knows can help her. Lucien."


The Tyrant King:

 "Krystal’s peaceful life as queen of Fayterra is shattered when a stranger arrives with a connection to Jareth that threatens to change everything. Soon her loved ones are threatened, her people are under attack, and Krystal must face a devastating loss.

As the future becomes bleaker and the mystery continues to unravel, Krystal’s enemies will learn just how far she will go to defend the people she loves."



She also has a short story called Ghost Bride:

 "Arianne died on her wedding night, but her ghost can't rest in peace."






 And now she has a new short story out called A Haunting Love:

 "When her fiancé, Drew, suggests having their wedding at his family home in the Highlands of Scotland, Alita only thinks about the beauty and romance awaiting her. She’s unprepared for the frosty greeting she and her sister receive from each member of his family, particularly his domineering mother.

But nothing shocks Alita more than the odd, menacing dreams she begins to have her first night at MacColum House. Over and over again she dreams of a grisly murder—with herself as the victim"

She has a children's book out as well, called Lizzie Lilac and the Left Socks, which the proceeds go to the Huntsman Cancer Institute in Utah:

"Little Lizzie treasures her socks, especially the ones her mommy made. When some of her socks start to go missing, Lizzie is determined to find the culprit and get her treasures back. Author’s note: A few years ago, K.C. Rose and I got some devastating news: a sweet friend and mother had an extremely aggressive form of breast cancer. Since I had just launched my first novel into the world, I decided to donate all my royalties for a period of months to the family to help them fight this horrible invader. But it wasn’t enough—we knew we could do more. That’s where the concept of the Lizzie Lilac book was born. This book is not only dedicated to our friend (who is now cancer free!!) and her family, but also to all the families who struggle with this disease. K.C. and I make no profit from sharing this story—everything we raise will go to the Huntsman Cancer Institute in Utah to help them help others. Thank you for being part of our fight. ~Cheri Chesley"

Okay, finally, the one you have been waiting for! This is the cover reveal for her latest short story, which will be available on Friday!

So, see? She's pretty awesome and talented, that sister-in-law of mine. Hmm... now I just need to catch up!

Hope you are all having a good week. What new books do you have out? Please drop a link in the comments!

Book Review: Eagle En Garde by Olga Godim

Title: Eagle En Garde

Author: Olga Godim

Publisher: Burst

File Size/Book Length: 1420kb/271 pages

ASIN: B00K4PIH3S

Purchase: Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords
(I was given a copy of this book in exchange for a fair review.)
 
About the Book:

The kingdom of Talaria is surrounded by a magic-resistant spell. While the king wishes to invite magic back into the country, the fanatical sect of Cleaners is determined to prevent its return. Darin, a mercenary officer, doesn’t participate in the dispute, until he accidentally overhears the Cleaners’ hidden agenda to destroy all magic workers in Talaria, including witches and elves, including assassinating the royal family. Darin can’t allow their treachery to succeed—it would plunge the country into dogmatism and war—but what can a lone mercenary do against a horde of traitors? His only choice lies in trickery and deceit to outsmart his enemies.

My thoughts:

I really, really enjoyed this book. Olga did a bang up job of creating a fantasy world and dragging me along on Darin's adventures! This book kept you moving, as Darin is a busy man, working for the Eagles, a mercenary group. Each adventure takes you through this world that was seemingly effortless for Olga to create. Darin has the right amount of snark and humor. I did not find one spot of the story that lagged at all. The story pulls you in to the pages, the characters are well fleshed out. This was a treat to read. It has something for every fantasy buff out there. I highly recommend this book if you like fantasy.

My rating:

Five out of Five skull and crossbones.

Enter To Win A $40 Gift Card...

Hey everyone! You all got a chance to meet Dave Ferraro, author of "Dark Genesis", a YA paranormal fantasy, in my interview on Wednesday. Now here is Dave again. His book is now available on both Amazon and Barnes & Noble as well as Smashwords. He's having a contest over at his blog where you can receive a coupon code for a free copy of his book as well as enter into a drawing to win a $40 gift card from either Amazon or B&N, your choice.

So here is some more about Dave and his book:

Author bio:

Dave Ferraro grew up in Brooklyn Park, Minnesota, where he was warped by a steady diet of
comic books, horror movies and young adult novels. He is the author of the paranormal fantasy
series "Hunters of the Dark," as well as the gay teen paranormal romance "Twice Bitten." He graduated
with a B.A. in English and creative writing from Saint Cloud State University, and currently resides in
Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

Book synopsis:

Alyssa opened her eyes to darkness. And in the first flash of light provided by a gathering storm, she
could make out a ring of bodies surrounding her.

With no memory of who she is, Alyssa stumbles into a dark world populated by witches. The witches
are powerful, and demonstrate frightening powers, but even more terrifying are the monsters who rule
over the land. Vampires, werewolves and other awful creatures of the night have taken over, forcing
the witches behind stone walls, afraid to venture outdoors. But Alyssa finds that as she kills certain
monsters, memories return to her, memories of a life on Earth, and the boy she left behind.

The quest to collect her memories and piece together the puzzle of what has happened to her is a
daunting one, with betrayals and sacrifices every step of the way. But Alyssa is determined to fight for
a world that is not her own, destroying powerful monsters along the way, so that she can return home to
the boy she is coming to love through the memories she recollects.

Excerpt:

The rest of the coven had gathered around the courtyard. Just minutes earlier, they had chanted

and used spells to make their limbs faster, improve their endurance, enhance their might, and hasten

their reflexes. Alyssa, of course, felt none of this. The others, however, seemed flushed and ready for

battle, newly painted runes exposed on their arms to guide them safely back home.

“Good luck to you, brave souls,” Octavius said, bowing to them as the gate opened.

Alyssa licked her lips and prayed to god that she was right about the silver. She shifted her two

long knives in her hands, nine inches long and deadly sharp, marveling at how natural they felt in her

hands, like they belonged there. They made her feel more confident, even though, for all she knew,

she’d never lifted a knife in all her life.

She led the troop out of the gate, walking cautiously, her eyes darting left and right, watching

for any sign of the wolves. And while she knew that they were out there, they didn’t present

themselves.

The gate closed behind them with finality and Alyssa looked back into the scared faces of the

men and women who had followed her. “They are likely waiting for us in the forest,” she said. “They

think to ambush us and destroy us with one mighty swoop, but they have yet to taste their poison.”

She lifted one of her knives high into the air and everyone looked at it, as if it were holy. She smiled

confidently at them and turned back toward the forest, and began to march them toward a battle for

their lives.

“Very inspiring,” Parker sidled up to her.

Alyssa smirked. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Mmm. Very much so. I’ll have to add brazen confidence to your list of uncanny qualities.”

“You do that,” Alyssa said, unable to keep a smile off of her face.

“You feel responsible for this,” Parker said in a low voice, glancing back to ensure that a good

distance was between them and the others. “Is that why you lead them like this?”

“Why should I feel responsible?” Alyssa asked. “Someone needed to step up, and nobody else

seemed likely to do it.”

“Really?” Parker frowned. “Because both you and I know that one of the girls is the spy.”

Alyssa flinched at the word, earning a grin from Parker.

“And you let them walk past that barrier unscathed,” Parker continued.

Scoffing, Alyssa turned to him with a sneer. “Why would I do that? I’m putting my life on the

line here too, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” he assured her. “It wasn’t intentional, I’m sure. But we both know what you

can do. Negate magic. When you passed over that barrier of salt, you sucked the magic right of it,

allowing for your comrades to step over it, whatever intentions they had for Haven.”

Alyssa’s eyes widened, and she nearly came to a stop, but Parker nudged her forward. “Don’t

fret over it. What’s done is done. And you’re about to rectify your foolishness.”

“I didn’t mean…” She let her voice trail off as she turned his words over in her head. He was

probably right. It probably had been her doing that had allowed for the traitor to strike. She had given

them the opportunity they’d needed to bring down the entire village. She’d been so careless. How

could she not have thought about the consequences? How could her very presence put so many people

in danger?

“Hey, come on,” Parker elbowed her gently. “We need your head in the game here. You’re

going to lead us to victory here.”

Alyssa nodded and turned to look back at the people following them, so trusting, like lambs to

the slaughter. She glanced over at Parker, who read the horror on her face.

“You can do this,” he told her.

She looked into his eyes, deep brown wells of warmth, and suddenly felt a calm come over her.

He was right. What had happened had happened. But she could do this. And she would see it through,

one way or another.

**

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