If you know an Indie author, don’t criticise them, leave that up to the moronic Internet trolls. Instead, why not support the author by actually buying their books instead of waiting for a free copy…
I’ve heard from one of the two scifi authors, (Derek Haines and Nicholas Rossis) who I asked to check over the first fifteen thousand words of my latest science fiction work in progress – still entitled Céleste with the following as a possible subtitle – love, hate and danger among the stars.
In Derek’s case, I asked him specifically to put on his English tutor’s hat when he read it through, as that is what he does for a crust when he’s not writing – teaching English to foreign students in Switzerland. The following is what he said in his email:
“Ok, I gave it a quick read. Great story developing! And I DO like the quantity of dialogue that is helping develop the characters. Not so keen on some of the adverbs in the dialogue tags though. Better to describe. eg; he said angrily. —- he said, glaring at him with rage in his eyes. The only other thing I noticed is that Internet should have a capital. Apart from that, great start!!”
Cheers Derek. It will be a while before I hear anything back from Nicholas, considering the impending birth of the child he and his wife Electra are expecting in a matter of days. So while I wait for him to eventually get back to me, the time for procrastination ended yesterday when I stopped re-reading The Hobbit for the nth time and immediately got back to work.
It really helps that from Derek’s considered point of view I’m on track with this one. How do I know that? Because in a follow up email he added: “It got my attention, so it works so far!” which is Aussie-speak for I like it. Coming from an author of his calibre that is praise indeed.
There is a lot to be said for an expertly laid out book.
He’s right – Amazon’s Author Central is anything but…
John Ronald Reuel Tolkien CBE FRSL
While I wait to hear back from Derek Haines and Nicholas Rossis regarding their thoughts about the first fifteen thousand words of my current science fiction work in progress, I now have the time to read one of my copies of The Hobbit – the latest Kindle incarnation.
All my life I have loved Tolkien’s books. Once upon a time when I was a good deal younger, (seven going on eight) my father used to read to me from The Hobbit every night before I had to go to bed. I wish I had that copy. It was a first edition. Unfortunately like a lot of the precious books he had at the time, it was sold for a few pounds when we left England for New Zealand back in 1958.
Beside the Kindle copy, I also have the exquisitely illustrated hard back versions of The Hobbit and The Lord of The Rings. I have never opened either of them. The very thought of breaking their spines to read from them has never entered my mind. They are precious works of art and literature to my way of thinking, to be owned and never read.
Beside The Hobbit and The Lord of The Rings, I also have the following Tolkien books:
The Silmarillion – a tough read
Unfinished Tales – compiled from Tolkien’s notes by his son
The Children of Hurin – edited and published by Tolkien’s son
So, to take my mind of things I’ll be spending a lot of time in Middle Earth for the next week or two.
Ah, my life is tough – not…
For all my fellow PTSD sufferers…
So many returned service men and women suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder, often unable to cope with society because of it. This short story is a tribute to them…
I walked into the autopsy room at the beginning of the day to find a body awaiting my undivided attention which had been found in the woods above the neighbouring village where I grew up. I was equally shocked and saddened. It was my childhood friend Dhobi.
Back then most of the kids in our village were merciless towards him, throwing stones and shouting obscenities. None of them knew the simple gentle man hidden beneath the grime the way I did. I was the only kid who didn’t pick on him. To me there was something very special about this loner who had shunned society for the woods. Never once did I wonder why he lived the way he did…
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