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Yes my little Futurists, I realize that I reblog a lot (but the blog posts are sometimes astounding) so I thought I’d rip something that I think is a cute and quick and a tiny poll that is also interesting.

So, here’s the question:

What do you write with?

A fountain

pen

pencil

A computer

A typewriter

A ballpoint pen

Other:

The other can be several choices in one if you’re like me and write with whatever you can grab!

pibarrington:

Gold Dust Woman Indeed! Thanks so very much!!!

Originally posted on Smorgasbord - Variety is the spice of life:

Wonderful news, your hard work in promoting your new book on social media and locally has paid off and you get the call or email. An invitation to do an interview on a radio station, television show or author promoting podcast.

Getting an interview on a radio show or an established author podcast is gold dust for an author and as such requires you to take a deep breath and celebrate. Millions of Indies out there would love the opportunity to get their voice heard about their work so give this serious thought.

Usually the request will come in by email rather than over the phone as it depends on what you have put down as your contact details. To be honest I do not put my phone details on any of my own press releases or social media. Even though I have been on the other side of the…

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Ram it down your throat! I’m no Mary Poppins with a spoonful of sugar Futurists. I’m just as likely to twist your jaw open and pour some damned vinegar into your esophagus.

“Whoa,” you’re thinking about now. “What does this have to do with anything, especially me?”

Everything. In fact I want you all to read the following excerpt and give me some feedback–and not just “likes” either. Someone read The Brede Chronicles #1 and said “Gee, I don’t think I’ve ever seen an author open a book with a sexual climax before!” So, here it is:

*****

The climax brought stinging tears to his eyes. It took a full ten seconds for him to roll on his back and blink them away. The cry of the muezzin sounded out over the city calling the faithful to prayers as the new day came to life. Between dawn and early morning the flight traffic was at its slowest, giving relative quiet to the city for the brief time.  Alekzander Brede rose and stood gazing out the window and then glanced back at the woman still lying in the bed.

“You know it might behoove you to know who you’re sleeping with Mr. Brede,” she said.

“I know who I am sleeping with…” He turned back to the window again.

“Then I presume this seals our deal?”

“It was sealed when you asked and offered to pay.”

“So what was this?”

Brede shrugged.

“Your signature,”

“It’s not polite or helpful to insult your employer Alekzander. And I don’t appreciate being dismissed like a common whore.”

Rather than confirm her status, he remained staring down at the streets of New Cairo below him, watching one thief steal something from another, watched them scuffle until one ran away at full tilt.  So engrossed with the scene, he barely ducked when the multi-rockets launched at him, blowing the top of the windowsill away. They exploded into tile and brick shrapnel raining down and across the room. The woman in the bed squealed, pulling the blankets over her and screaming for servants. They came scurrying like mice, swarming the room and making obeisance to her.

Brede walked over, pulled the blankets down and inspected her briefly.

“You’re fine,” he told her in a dry voice. “If I leave now, they’ll stop and follow me.” He tugged his clothes on and eyed her one more time from her curtained doorway. Her hair and eyes were black and her body as curved and as sweet as her lips.  He refused to let her know he’d have done the job for free. Unlike him she was all human, earthy and hot and passionate in all aspects.

Irresistible.

He’d be damned before he let her know that.

Brede pushed aside the plush curtains and walked down to the street.  He walked down the middle of the street, guns pointed sideways from his hips, occasionally blasting at ships and vehicles as he chose that might pose a threat to him, making them scatter among the crowded streets. The past existed alive and well side by side in 2107 Cairo where hundreds of small craft jetted in and out of the huge new buildings towering above the edifices of the ancient city. Both the space and land craft shared the narrow streets with citizens and camels, squeezing among them in the old city, scattering screaming goats, donkeys, cattle and carts missing them by centimeters at times and leaving the citizens to try to gulp precious non-dusty breaths when they could.  Howdahs swayed uneasily back and forth on the tops of the camels, the speed craft darting between their movements, close enough to lift their curtains from the engine breeze. They zipped over the souks barely high enough to miss entangling with the curtains and banners and flags of every color and design imaginable sending chickens, tables laden with baskets of fruit, vegetables, spices and bolts of silk flying across the narrow streets.

Like the carpet baggers of America’s Civil War the scavengers descended upon New Cairo to take advantage of the entire political, social and environmental chaos resulting from the global economic collapse. Handfuls proclaimed themselves “royalty” related to the ancient civilizations of humanity, mainly by fixing DNA identification to validate their claims. Illegal activity in the technology sector flowed uncontrolled and did not abate when the delivery of Midinium came to Egypt. The city-states of New Cairo and Thebes Two barely lifted their dying heads before the sharks emerged to wrestle and devour any opportunity to grab for power.  Those successfully claiming possible royalty and wealth wielded twisted power over the city-state of New Cairo 2307 and its 127 million citizens. Their rule existed outside the real federal government that largely ignored them and they created their own unofficial laws and punishments that the government also turned a blind eye upon thereby evading controversy and more work. Narita Sabbad took full advantage of that fact and then some. She knew how to twist things to her advantage and didn’t bother circumventing the governmental legal system but merely did as she pleased. She claimed one rare genome that was a possible connection to the pharaohs of antiquity but it went without validation or contest. Narita convoluted the courts and any arbitrators of her royal judgments enough to make them want to lock their doors and hide.

The craft shared both the airspace and streets with cars, citizens and camels, squeezing among and against them when needed, leaving the citizens to try to gulp precious non-dusty breaths when they could.  Brede didn’t bother to check the damage he did as he walked though people dived off the sidewalks as he passed until he determined all immediate enemies discombobulated. He’d added a few with his new association with Narita Sabbad as well as the myriad he already possessed.

People knew him; he was instantly recognizable with his impressive height and broad powerful body.  They knew his dusky skin and glittering dark blue eyes with no pupils and box braids pulled back with a band.  They knew him and they knew to stay away from him.

Brede turned down a side alley away from the crowds and followed its crooked path to the outskirts of the city where he kept his own vehicle, hovering in an archway, hidden by a thick heavy door that opened and rose into the wall.

“Alekzander! Hey! Wait! Alekzaaander!” The high voice followed him from the doorway he exited, through the streets and along the crooked road until he stopped and held the door open.

“Hey Alekzander! Didn’t you hear me? I been calling you since Center Street,” it was the thief he watched from the window just before it exploded. Brede rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“What do you want Elektra?” he sighed.

“I heard you just got a job!”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“I got my connections. Heard you literally just sealed the deal with a kiss. She payin’ ya’ big time Alekzander?”

“It’s none of your business Elektra. Did you chase me down just to ask that?”

“No, I chased you down to ask if you need some help—on the job. I could do it—if you want me that is,” she bobbed up and down, hopeful.

Brede sighed again.

“Elektra…”

“I got time Alekzander. Huh, that’s all I got now. I helped you before Alekzander, remember? I was a good helper.”

“No. I don’t want or need a helper. And I don’t want you.” He pressed a hidden signature station on his gauntlet opening the faux wall completely to expose the Scythe the only ship of its kind and built to his specifications exactly. By him.

“Get out-of-the-way Elektra.”

“Wait Alekzander,” she placed a hand on his forearm. “I’m not asking for a lot of money. If I could just eat every day—or every other day…I’ll stay out of your way most of the time but I could really help you if you need back-up—” The words came out rapid fire to make her case.

“You stole your breakfast today.” He gave her a pointed look. “You can steal it again tomorrow.”

“Yeah, well,” Electra looked at the ground and toed a dusty pebble.

“I can’t afford it either monetarily or in taking care of you. Go find somebody else to annoy.”

“Isn’t she paying you much? With all that money? This is a bad deal Alekzander.” She looked back up at him, the hot sirocco breeze tossing her blonde hair into her blue eyes. “I could re-negotiate this deal for you. I do it all the time on the street.”

“No! You stay the hell away from my business Elektra.” He leaned down and stuck a finger in her face. “You got that? Stay the hell away. I mean it.” he growled.

She opened her mouth to respond but his expression made her reconsider. She stood still while he kicked on the hover rotors and backed the Scythe up silently. It waited for him to board it, the size of a small building large enough for him to travel alone comfortably, with a passenger very uncomfortably. Brede didn’t bother warning her to back up again, but climbed aboard, locked down the doors and lifted it straight up kicking up dust and dirt into a whirlwind and leaving Elektra Tate in the center of it all. She watched him go, hand shading her eyes from the scalding desert sun. He didn’t bother to look back.

*****

pibarrington:

I needed this today! Check it out Futurists!

Originally posted on KRISTINA STANLEY:

As an artist, getting support from your local community is easy. Just ask.

I don’t know about you, but I find it hard to ask people for favours, but here’s what I discovered. My community loves to help locals. Last Friday, my local newspaper, The Columbia Valley Pioneer, published an article about me.

I’d sent them an email, explaining who I am (a local author), what my credentials are and that DESCENT had just been published. They responded within the hour saying they’d love to interview me. I’d procrastinated for days before I sent the email, and nowKristina at Library I wish I hadn’t hesitated.

Because of the article, the Invermere Public Library asked me if they could put a copy of DESCENT on their shelves.

So…DESCENT in now available at the Invermere Public Library.

One little email led to two great opportunities, and each day a new milestone moment creates…

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Why I don’t give star ratings for book reviews.

 

pibarrington:

Any Brits reading my blog? If so, you or someone you know might be very interested by this re-blogged post!

Originally posted on BRIDGET WHELAN writer:

creative futureCreative Future –  an inspirational organisation based in south-east England but with a national reach – is researching the barriers that marginalised and disabled artists face in the UK when accessing arts opportunities.

What does marginalised mean?

The organisations that help to fund Creative Futures define marginalised as those who feel they lack opportunities because of:
mental health issues
physical or learning disabilities
homeless people
substance misusers
offenders & ex-offenders
refugees
long term unemployed
the elderly
travellers
carers
people from LGB&T and BME communities.

If you complete this survey before the 11th September 2015 https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/barrierstoaccess  you also have a chance to win £60.

The survey has 24 questions mostly tick boxes and can be completed in around 15 minutes. The research will help organisations engage more people who are marginalised and disabled.

Please share this post as widely as you can – the more information Creative Future can…

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pibarrington:

USE THIS TO GET RID OF BAD WRITING FUTURISTS. AND I MEAN IT!

Originally posted on Chris The Story Reading Ape's Blog:

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pibarrington:

Futurists! You MUST read (and apply) these words of wisdom from Ronovan–there may be a quiz–but in any case, you need to read this, especially if you are debating “giving it (writing) all up”.

Originally posted on :

I’ve always found the different ways that we scribblers describe our experiences with writer’s block very interesting. Also the different ways the seasoned writers suggest getting over it. Some suggestions are to work around your block, or force yourself to write through it, even if what you write is rubbish. Other advice is to write something completely different. We won’t mention those rather hurtful cries of, “Stop being such a wussy. Adorn yourself in adult underwear! Plumbers don’t get plumbers block!” All of these things can work with a bit of effort and confidence, but one bit of advice that you seldom see is to take a break from writing completely. As if a week away from writing anything will totally strip you of the ability to write at all. It is true that if you don’t do something for a good long while, you could get a little rusty…

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pibarrington:

Oh I am sorry Futurists but I HAD to reblog this!! Check it out and find out what type of book species YOU ARE! WA-HOOO!

Originally posted on Chris The Story Reading Ape's Blog:

To see this informative and entertaining Infographic

and read the accompanying article

click on the image or link below:

Species

infographics/reader-species

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pibarrington:

Interesting. Very interesting…

Originally posted on Kawanee's Korner:

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