How to Read Auras

Describe someone you know to yourself. It doesn’t have to be a friend or someone you’re close to. It doesn’t even have to be someone you like. Just make the description as detailed as possible. Close your eyes if it helps, and once you feel you have a grasp on that person, go to the next paragraph.

What stood out the most about this person to you? Was it a physical feature? How the person dresses? Or was your description based on how that person makes you feel?

All too often, we judge people because of how they look. How they dress. And the list goes on. Sometimes that breeds a bias or even a prejudice that helps shape our perception of that person. To be able to read an aura, you have to cleanse yourself of that mindset.

I sometimes hear people describe others to me, and even if they like that person they may make a not-so-nice comment about their looks. That alone can hinder one’s ability. It’s all to easy to make assumptions on people, but to see what and who a person truly is, you have to look at someone from the inside.

While I don’t read auras per se, and while I don’t consider myself psychic, I think it’s safe to say I have a deep intuition on people. I can meet someone and tell if they’re going to be my best friend or worst enemy (which is a hyperbole, of course), even if they’re kind to me. Most times, I’m proven right on my instinct because of how they treat the people around them, for better or worse. I never treat them any differently because for all I know, that intuition could be wrong so I try to treat everyone as if they are a friend. The only thing that hinders me is that I want to believe everyone is good, and sometimes when someone has a dark side (which we all have, but I’m talking about the kind of dark side that overshadows the good) I can’t see it. I can feel it sometimes, and I disregard that negative feeling until I have something to go on. I normally don’t hold things against people so it takes a lot for me to say whether I found a reading to be right or not. And there are times when I can’t shake a bad feeling that lingers around a person.

But notice how I said everyone has a dark side. For most of us, it doesn’t obliterate the goodness inside. We’ve all made mistakes, and we have to forgive ourselves for our “shortcomings” and put forth that same understanding in order to accept others as they are. It’s really about putting yourself in another’s shoes, because without that, we wouldn’t be able to let grudges go, and we wouldn’t be able to have that understanding and compassion that we’re all human. Some of us hold things against others that has nothing to do with us. There is a tendency to reject those who get into drugs or alcohol, or just don’t live as “we” see “fit.” And note that there’s a difference between someone who has gotten wrapped up in something bad but is a genuinely good person, compared to people who are just—as much as I hate to say it and as rare as I find it to be—evil. Evil people, to me, have a sort of “CAUTION” label on them that you can’t see, but you can definitely feel it. It’s like a “Proceed No Further” sign, and those are the people I generally try to avoid if possible.

Then there are the negative people. They just make you feel like you don’t have a voice because every time you have something good to say about someone or something, they say something negative about it. It’s not that they’re mean or doing it intentionally (in most cases anyway). They just can’t help themselves. This energy can be felt because every time you think something is good, they knock you right down. We may not think of this as an “aura,” but think of it as energy. It’s like a battery being drained. You may not be able to see it, but you can sense the shift in your emotion. Sometimes even just being around that person can make you feel blah.

On the flip side, there are the positive people. Those are the people that may have something going on in their lives that you wouldn’t know about, but if you look on a deeper level, you might be able to sense it. Even though they may be going through something, they make you feel good just being around them, but something might feel a little “off.” You know when someone acts a little out of character and you can tell that? This is similar, except they may not act any different at all, but you just know something is wrong.

Just a couple instances. I knew someone who was a mutual friend that I’d just met one time, and after swallowing my labret ring I was desperate to get in touch with a nurse. I called my friend and asked if So&So was a nurse and sure enough, she was. I just “felt” it. Then I proceeded to ask if I was going to die for swallowing my labret ring.

The most recent one was just a few days ago. I knew this person and I still don’t know her name, but I felt good around her. I thought how great she would be at giving seminars just because she had that kind of vibe about her. I thought about how she would be able to change people’s lives just because in those brief moments when I’m near her, I feel good. Turns out, she’s a motivational speaker, amongst other things.

Something that has always bothered me is that there are people who are good, but their chemistry doesn’t connect quite right. It’s like trying to jam a puzzle piece where it doesn’t belong. That puzzle piece has its place and purpose, and without it, the whole picture won’t come together. It’s every bit as important as any other piece, but it can just make you feel fried. Maybe those people need a little patience in order to relate to them. And learning how to relate to a person who is just off-centre with your own energy is sometimes all it takes. And sometimes it just seems impossible. In those cases it’s hard because you see the good in them and like them as a person, but they might be difficult to be around just because you don’t mesh well.

In most instances we tend to take what people say as truth. When they say they’re okay, or talk about how much they do for others, it’s easy to believe them. Sometimes it’s easy to sympathise, especially when they give a sad story and sometimes you think they’re these great and wonderful Super People because, well, they pretty much tell you they are. But, people sometimes don’t say what they feel, and sometimes people stretch the truth. And some can tell such convincing stories, but when you’re in tune with people as individuals, it makes it easier to tell if they really is the kind of person they claim to be, or if those claims are fruitless. And it can also give a little insight as to whether they’re just saying everything is fine when it’s really not because they don’t want you to worry.

I can sometimes feel when someone’s going through a bad time, even friends that I only know on Facebook. I want so badly to tell them it’s going to be OK before they even bring it up, but I don’t know how well those messages would be received. It’s a bit like infringing upon someone’s privacy, and sometimes I don’t know if respecting their boundaries or telling them what I’m feeling is the best option. Usually it varies from person to person, as well as what kind of mood he or she is in, and I try to go by that. But more often than not, I wait for them to say something because I feel like I would be overstepping a personal boundary. However, when you get a sad vibe from someone and they don’t bring it up, you can still give them a little lift to their spirits without even bringing up your concern for them. There are ways to let people know that there is someone out there who is listening, and who cares.

So try it again. Close your eyes and envision the same person you thought of before. Focus on how they make you feel when you’re around them. Pay attention to what kind of person they are and what kind of image they project. Practice on looking at people as people and cast appearance to the side. It makes it a lot easier once we get past all that. And if you pay close attention to the people you know, you can even read people you’ve just met.

There are two things to remember: First of all, never hold your intuition against someone, because it may be inaccurate, and secondly, there is no room for stereotypes. It’s perfectly fine to be cautious of someone if they give you that vibe, or to automatically like someone. But remember that you may find yourself telling someone your deepest secrets because you “feel” you can trust them, or you might find yourself talking badly about someone that you get a negative feeling from. You may be right about that person, but it may be that the negative feeling was that sort of “puzzle piece” thing I talked about earlier. And trusting someone too much may also be that human desire to believe everyone is good.

For years I have tried to hone those skills, and I often read people just to see how accurate I am. I’ve actually been quite surprised at how on-the-money I have been, and the same goes for those little gut instincts that I keep to myself when I meet someone for the first time. If they’re around enough, I’m able to put it all to the test.

Even so, it’s important to keep that sense of balance when you read someone so that you won’t base a relationship completely on a reading, same as you wouldn’t want to base it on a stereotype. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone involved, including yourself.

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Another Time, Another Place – HORROR

This is another short story that I am considering featuring in the anthology, but I would love to have some feedback. Please spread it around and post, comment, repost and reblog please. And thank you in advance for the support. It is a rough draft so please don’t be too harsh about grammatical or punctuation errors, but also please don’t hesitate to draw my attention to it.

Another Time, Another Place

“Dammit, Grayson! I trusted you!” Nomie screamed, throwing his phone across the room in a fit of rage after he screamed at her for invading his privacy when she insisted upon looking through his texts. It hit the wall and she hoped she’d broken it to smithereens. She wanted to throw the computer across the room after she’d found his email open but was hoping to have a civilized talk about it first.

“It’s not what you think! Tony has been the one talking to all those girls! I don’t know why you’re going through all my stuff, anyway. I have nothing to hide!”

“Using your email? Really? And how dare you accuse me of not trusting you; I did until I saw those messages, and it’s not like I deliberately went on the computer to look at your stuff! I’ve never questioned you about your privacy before, but if you have nothing to hide then why did you make such a big deal about it when I asked for your phone PIN? How stupid do you think I am?”

“I don’t!” Grayson protested. “I don’t think you’re stupid. If Tony’s wife would have found out she would have freaked! That’s why I gave him my email info so he can use it from his house.”

Nomie’s world spun and as he spoke, she started to believe his words. He was so warm, so convincing. She knew that he would never hurt her. But that night as he held her in bed, something inside her kept her awake as he held her. She cried silently to herself as he snored in a deep sleep, cutting through her eardrums.

She wriggled out of his tight grip and went to the bathroom to wipe her face. How could he do something like that to her? He wouldn’t. She knew that in her heart. It was stupid of her to read his emails even if he’d left it open. He was right when he accused her of not trusting him after she questioned him about cheating. She looked in the mirror at her puffy-eyed reflection and scolded herself for being so silly. Then she slipped back into bed to a troubled night of sleep.

The next day while Grayson was at work, Nomie tried to forget it all but she just couldn’t focus. She sat at the computer to get some work done for her boss, the invoices she had planned to have done the day before when she ran across the email that stared her in the face, telling Tony, or Grayson, as she didn’t know what to believe, how good he was in bed. But she didn’t get past typing the date. May 10, 2015. She started crying, remembering what she’d found the morning before. She remembered that the phone had hit the wall but wasn’t sure about the damage yet. She went to where it had hit but it was gone, so she walked into the kitchen to grab a soda and found the phone on the kitchen counter. It was banged up pretty good and didn’t seem to work. Curious, she tried to turn it on—Nothing. He probably left it knowing it was a goner. Or was it?

She plugged it into the charger and turned it on. There were signs of life in it! He’d never given her the passcode but she tried the PIN from their mutual bank account. It worked, but she wished it hadn’t. The text messages and voicemails she found were heartbreaking. She recognized a few of the girls’ names from his email account, and she knew from what was said that the messages were not intended for Tony as he’d claimed, but had to be for Grayson. The last one she read before breaking down was sent ten minutes ago. “Where r u? R we still on for lunch today?” It was from some girl named Chrissy, the girl he talked to most.

In a midst of a panic attack the size of Texas, Nomie slunk to the kitchen floor and sobbed uncontrollably, saying an unintelligible prayer that it would all go away and that things would be different. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to know about these things, but she wished he’d never betrayed her trust. She knew she had to leave him, but how could she? She hadn’t heard his side, so maybe there was an explanation like with the emails. And maybe he’d die in a horrible accident on the way home and she wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore. She felt guilt at her hope for his demise.

A cold wind whooshed by her, but she was too busy to truly notice. A few minutes later, she felt a presence. There was a thing standing in her kitchen that looked like a shadow that had been burnt to a crisp, but there was something sympathetic in its blue eyes as it looked upon her. She felt a calm about this entity, as if he, or she or it, was going to make everything okay.

“I know what happened, you poor thing. And I can make it all go away.”

She was desperate but cautious as she stared at it for a moment, trying to take it all in. Maybe it was just a hallucination. “How?” she asked, drawing the word out with skeptical reservation.

“He betrayed you. I can take you back to another time, another place, before the betrayal began. I can make it so that it never happened.”

“You can take us back to before all of this even started?”

“Yes,” said the crispy creature. “But in exchange, you have to give me your soul. Fair deal?”

“What does that mean?” she asked hesitantly.

“It means you can have happiness with your beloved once again while you’re both here on Earth, but your soul will be mine for Eternity.”

Without putting any thought into anything else that the Shadow-Thing said except for “happiness with your beloved once again,” she sniffled and whispered a feeble, “Fair enough.”

“And one more thing. You won’t remember anything that happened these last few days. I wouldn’t want that interfering with your happiness. I’ll take you back to a time before the affairs began.”

“When was that?”

“Chrissy was the first. He started a friendship with her on February the fifteenth of 2013. Do you remember the day before? He took you out to a nice Valentine’s Day dinner. He even went into work earlier than he had to because he couldn’t bear being home without you. That morning, they both stopped in to get a cup of coffee at the convenience store and stood in line together. Every day after that, Chrissy stopped at the store hoping to catch him and even waited until she saw his car before she’d set foot in the store. It was around March that he started falling for her and took her up on a lunch date, and when he got away with seeing her, he started seeing the others. But I’m sure I’ve already told you more than you can handle in your delicate state. I can change all that; I can make it so that they never even cross paths.”

“That bastard!” Nomie screamed. She thought of how she and Grayson had a nice dinner and went home early since they both had to work the next day, but they made up for the early-night-in in bed. Afterwards, he spooned her and gave her small kisses along her shoulder, caressing her body gently with his fingertips as he whispered sweet words in her ear. “I love you, baby. I hope I made your Valentine’s Day as good as you’ve made mine,” he said as she drifted to sleep, still feeling his loving touch on her skin. It was so perfect. “And I’ll forget all of this?”

“Yes.”

She sighed, desperate for relief from the pain in her mind, heart and body. “Yes.”

Suddenly everything went black. She woke up on February the Fourteenth, 2013. It was the same as it was two years ago, but she didn’t remember it. She had a sense of deja vu all day but couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. But she ignored it. She was just excited to get home from work after he’d sent her a text about how he had a special surprise for her.

That night she went to bed feeling the most love for him she’d ever known for anyone. From the Five-Star restaurant to the sex, everything was perfect as she curled up in his arms and fell asleep in a state of euphoric bliss under his touch.

The next morning she still felt that sense of deja vu, but was still high from the magic of the night before to think much of it. He sat on the bed buttoning his shirt with a sly smile, He motioned to her with a “come here” gesture and pulled her in, giving her a long, seductive kiss. “Too much of that and both of us will be late to work. If we make it in at all,” he laughed. “That would be fine by me,” she said, wishing she could just lay in bed with him all day. Then she looked at her watch. “Well I’d better get going, I think I’m going to be cutting it a bit short here.”

“All right, baby. I still have forty-five minutes, maybe an hour before I have to leave. Gonna be lonely here without you.” He gave her a sad puppy dog look and she smiled. Then he pulled her in for one final kiss before she left the room. He heard some noise from the kitchen before the front door closed and her car started up. He felt so much more love from him than ever, but couldn’t figure out why. Maybe it was last night’s escapade. And he also had a strange sense of deja vu.

He was going to leave early because the night before was so wonderful with Nomie that he was missing her like crazy, but something told him not to. It was a nagging feeling in his gut that if he left early, things wouldn’t pan out the way that Fate, or possibly some other Entity, had designed it to. Instead, he passed time by sending out a few emails. He didn’t realize that he’d let time slip away and then he headed out the door, knowing he would have to speed a little to get to work in time.

It was around 9:51 on the morning of February 15th that Nomie received the call that Grayson had been in a terrible accident. “Is he okay?” she asked with her heart pounding.

The officer on the other line hesitated before saying, “I’m sorry; Grayson didn’t make it.” He didn’t want to tell her that not only had his car been T-boned by a big rig, but it had pretty much crushed Grayson’s car with him in it. He had briefly rehearsed the right words to say to her before calling, but in a situation like this, he found it difficult.

A guy from the cleanup crew yelled, “We got another chunk of him over here!” as the officer grimaced at the lack of couth, hoping his voice hadn’t carried over the phone.

As the officer explained what had happened, Nomie crumpled to the floor, screaming as her co-workers ran to her to see what was wrong. her boss drove her home, promising that he would look after her car and told her to keep in touch and take a little time off if she needed to.

Grayson’s family was notified by police, which she was grateful for since she barely had the strength to relay it to her mother without choking up. Her mother called the rest of the family and ten minutes later showed up at her doorstep.

Nomie was quiet and could barely eat. She went into the corner of the living room where the computer was and noticed that Grayson hadn’t turned his computer off. Desperate to know what some of his last thoughts were, she sifted through his “sent” folder. Every message she came across mentioned her in some way, but the very last one was to his brother who was having girl troubles.

“If you ever find a girl like Nomie, don’t let her go. I hope someday you’re as lucky as I am.”

The tears began to flow in a neverending torrent. He was the most loving, caring, faithful and loyal husband any woman could ask for.


Pimped to Satan

Have you gotten your copy yet, or can you handle it?

Pimped to Satan by Joslyn Corvis, available on Barnes&Noble.com

pimped to satan

If you love horror, you shouldn’t be without this book!


M-O-M by Joslyn Corvis – Horror

M-O-M by Joslyn Corvis

Everyone has a best childhood friend. Tiffany was mine. We used to do all the typical little girl things together. Tea parties, sleepovers, and playing silly kid games.

We’d usually end up at my house. I had the feeling that her dad didn’t like having kids over. And I kinda got the feeling that he didn’t really like having Tiffany around, either. I never asked and never really saw anything for myself, but his kindness seemed forced to me. He seemed to act a bit sharp and cold toward her. I don’t think he was physically abusive, but it seemed as if she were almost afraid of him.

Inevitably, we got older and grew apart as most friends do. At the so-very mature age of twelve I started hanging out with the popular kids. I would invite Tiffany to hang out with us, but she was so awkward and just hung in the background. When I’d walk off with my new friends she’d just stand there. I told myself that it wasn’t my fault. It was hers. Why was she so weird? How was I supposed to fix that? We were at that point where we would just greet each other in passing until we stopped any sort of acknowledgement of each other at all. I don’t know about her, but I would go out of my way to look the other direction. I’m really not sure why. Maybe by that time I’d become more concerned about my own reputation.

A turning point in our relationship came during my senior year of high school. I was to graduate in December at the age of seventeen and couldn’t wait. Everyone was always asking me about jobs, college, career choices. I was enjoying the attention. And in all of my own social and academic success, I’d totally forgotten about Tiffany.

I remember it was in October, two months before graduation. Someone called me on the phone, but I didn’t recognize the shaky voice. “Is this Morgan?” asked the caller.

“Yeah, it is.” Silence on the other end. Curiosity consumed me and I listened closely, waiting for someone to say something. Seeing how the caller went quiet, I spoke. “Who’s this?”

“Tiffany. Shankley. Remember me?”

“Oh, right. Right. How have you been?” I was trying to sound genuine, but I really didn’t care. I knew perfectly well how she’d been. She started dressing in black and hanging out with those weird kids. In my mind I kept thinking of what I would tell my friends, and how we would joke that I’m lucky she didn’t call me up to lure me to her house as a human sacrifice. Then we’d all laugh.

“Been okay. How about you?”

I started to tell her about all the wonderful things that were happening in my life and what the future held in store for me. We chatted for a while and something inside me sparked. I was reminded of old times. Things had once been so great between us! What went wrong, I wondered, shamefully arriving at the answer. It was me. I went wrong with Tiffany. She wasn’t that bad, just shy. Even though we weren’t friends, I didn’t have to laugh when people made fun of her. I could hear my voice trail off as I became lost in thought. She took my pause as an opportunity to speak.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out for a bit tonight. Just catch up on old times,” she asked. “I’d heard you were going to graduate soon and figured you’d be busy after that. So,” she paused, seeming unsure of what to say. “I thought it might be my last chance to get ahold of you.”

Thinking it over, I decided to go. Things seemed as if they hadn’t really changed much over the phone, so why would anything be different in person? I walked the short distance to her house. Her house was on a back street, kind of secluded, but I still knew the way.

I stood in front of her house, motionless. Since it was October, I couldn’t help but think of how appropriate the scene looked. She sat on the front stoop, dressed all in black with her elbows on her knees and her head resting in her clasped hands. She looked so pale, enhanced by the black makeup around her eyes.

“Uh, Hi,” I said. “So, what do you wanna do?”

Her face lit up. “Hi!” she squealed. “Come in!”

As she held the ratty screen door open for me, I cautiously entered, remembering how intrusive I used to feel at her house. I stepped as if I were walking on eggshells as I entered. It was almost as if she’d read my mind.

“My dad died a couple years back,” she said without emotion.

“I’m so sorry!” I stammered, wanting to ask why but holding my tongue. She just shrugged, making an, “Eh,” sound.

Her room was nothing like I’d remembered. Pentagrams and skulls. Weird stuff everywhere. Everything was black. A far cry from how I remembered it: The pink “Little Princess” bedspread and the dolls scattered on the floor.

She sat on her bed and beckoned me to sit next to her. It felt as forced as her father’s smile, but pretty soon we were chatting like crazy! She really wasn’t that different from my other friends. The ones I’d abandoned her for.

All the topics were covered—Boys, clothes, and even some gossip. We did each other’s hair and nails and when the clock struck midnight, we realized how hungry we were so we went to the kitchen. After snacking and goofing around, we passed by the clock in the hall back to her room. It was 12:30. On the dot. We sat back down on the bed and I was about to thank her for having me over, but I didn’t get the chance. She jumped up without warning and crouched by the bed, pulling something out from underneath.

“Wanna play?” she asked with a strange grin, holding a folded board game in her hand.

I think I nodded, a little nervous. I knew this wasn’t going to be Candy Land. Either way, she pushed a narrow table in front of her bedroom door, exerting minimal force, and put a black cloth on top. After strategically arranging a few black candles on top of the table, which she lit, she sat on the floor in front of me and opened the board game, revealing it to be a Ouija board.

“My mom is working until two in the morning so we’ll have plenty of time. She freaks out about this stuff, you know how moms are. Oh, one more thing!” she said, jumping up and hitting the lights. She was like a ball of energy, a side of her I hadn’t seen in years. I think I’d come to view her as nothing more than a stick in the mud.

We sat there and I followed her lead having seen a million movies with these things. I gently put my fingertips on the triangle, or whatever it was called, as she closed her eyes. “Who are you?” she asked.

Nothing happened. We focused some more. “Who are you?” she repeated. And then the triangle jittered, but only slightly. I wondered if she was moving it to scare me. But then it started to move as if it had a mind of its own. Her eyes popped open and she stared at the board as if in a trance. We said each letter together as the little window of the triangle hit upon them.

“M…O…M…”

And then it stopped. We looked at each other with puzzled expressions. Suddenly there were footsteps in the hall. “Tiffany,” called her mother’s voice. I hadn’t heard it in years, but I’d never forget how pleasant her mother’s voice always sounded. “What are you doing, Tiffany?”

I didn’t have time to think rationally as I was afraid of getting caught, but why would her mom bother her in the middle of the night? The room was dark, unless she saw the glow of the candles from outside. My main concern that her mom would tell my mom, and that everyone at school would make fun of me.

There was a strong burst at the door that tipped the table over. The candles quickly caught the black fabric on fire. I saw a glimpse of her mother in the doorway which was open at least a foot. Tiffany and I glanced at each other and made a break for the window. I pushed the screen out thinking she was behind me still, but then I heard her mother’s voice. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Tiffany had run back to save her mother, trying to get through the flames to open the door. I thought her mom would have been long gone by that time, but she stood there doing nothing as Tiffany continue to battle through the fire.

“Tiffany!” I screamed. “Let’s go! Your mom has time to get out through the front door!” Neither of them answered, and Tiffany’s mom just stood there, oblivious to the smoke. Oblivious to Tiffany. I ran back and tried to drag Tiffany away. “Come on!” I yelled, choking on my words and the smoke. But she wouldn’t budge.

I ran to the window once again and looked back, but she was still trying to get to her mother. It was hopeless for me to even try. If the flames hadn’t been licking at her hands she could have just easily opened the door which would have pushed the table out of the way, but the fire was growing. I had to save myself.

I struggled to get through the window and rolled out to safety. Frantically dialing 9-1-1, I could see that the fire was starting to get bigger from the golden blaze from within. Smoke flooded through the open window and I was crying as the dispatcher asked for my location. Could she understand me, I wondered?

Screams started to fill my ears. By that time I don’t think I could even speak. I was a mess, gagging on my words as the dispatcher tried to keep me calm. I could swear I saw Tiffany twirling around in flames, but I still wonder if that horrible image was in my imagination. It’s the only way I can cope with that night, to try to erase it all from my memory. A few years have passed, and I wonder if I’ll ever forget.

And then the screams from within stopped as my own became louder. Suddenly I was being enveloped by two dark figures who pulled me away and I heard a staticy voice, but couldn’t make out what it was saying. I thrashed around in a panic and looked up, seeing a police car parked in the street, the staticy voice coming from one of their radios. I screamed that my friend and her mother were still inside, finally finding my voice. Everything after that was pretty much a blur.

The fire was finally out. It was all over. I sat in a daze of silent shock wrapped in a blanket as a firefighter came to tell me what I already knew. I didn’t cry. At least not then. I was too numb. They asked me repeatedly about Tiffany’s mother being inside and I kept telling them I was sure of it, though not in so many words. It was still hard to talk.

I thought the police had come in response to my call, but as I later found out, they were there to talk to Tiffany. Her mother had left work early that night, and some time around midnight while on her way home, she had been killed in a car accident.


Interview with Kent Holloway of Seven Realms Publishing (A must-read for all writers!)

If you’re a writer, you may very well know how stressful it can be as you go through the process of writing a billion query letters and waiting for the responses.  Just wondering if you have your query letter perfect, or if you even have a chance at writing, can make you wonder if you should keep going and, if so, where to go from there.

I was fortunate enough to get an interview with Kent Holloway http://kenthollowayonline.blogspot.com of Seven Realms Publishing http://www.sevenrealmspublishing.com!  He answered those questions and thensome, including the burning question of how e-books have changed the book world as we know it!  Not only was the interview informative, but Mr. Holloway’s delivery was so entertaining, I cracked a smile once or twice, and I even found myself stifling a giggle at times.  His enthusiasm for writing, publishing, and books is absolutely contagious!  If you’re a writer, you may want to read this, especially if you are trying to get published; I’m certain this interview will answer some of your own questions, and best of luck to all on your destinations to publication!

(P.S.  Don’t forget to check out the new-and-upcoming titles from Seven Realms Publishing, featured at the end of this blog!)

 Interview with Kent Holloway: Seven Realms Publishing

 

1.)    What are some qualities that you have to have to succeed in your line of work?

To be a publisher (a decent one anyway), I kind of think there needs to be three major qualities.

1) Strive for Patience. Let’s face it, there are a lot of things going on that can go wrong in the publishing business and very little time, money, or other resources that can be wasted. I have to remind myself when I get a little stressed or frustrated that whatever irritation that has reared its head at any given moment will pass and that it’s important to take things in stride.

2) Strive for Compassion. This might sound strange coming from a publisher, but I think a certain amount of compassion should be an absolute requirement in any publishing company. I’m not saying that it’s going to happen. I’m just saying there should be. We need to remember that people have worked hard to put their books together. They’ve infused their works with great portions of their soul. Granted, sometimes, even the greatest of labors do not produce good authors. Or perhaps, the story just doesn’t fit with a particular company’s vision or game plan. Or, what I believe is the most common scenario, a particular manuscript just doesn’t appeal to the subjective tastes of the acquisitions editor. That’s perfectly fair. Perfectly reasonable. But what is neither perfectly fair or reasonable is to forget to have compassion when we decline their submissions. When we forget to be human.

Now, I won’t lie and say that I’ve always acted with the utmost of empathy toward every single submission that is sent to me. No. On the contrary…to my own mortification, I have been bombarded with submission after submission during a time or two in which A) we weren’t accepting submissions and B) I was up to my eyeballs in edits, promotional work, book cover design, interior formatting…etc., etc. etc. And you can imagine what comes next.

That’s right. I reason that our website clearly states we are not accepting submissions at the moment. I’m just simply too busy to deal with them right now. And into the trash bin their submissions have gone. Without even the slightest glance.

I don’t tell you this because I’m proud. No way! It, like I said earlier, mortifies me that I would behave so callously. But that’s my point of why I say a publisher should “strive” for compassion. We’ll all have lapses. We’ll all become overwhelmed with the day to day operations of running a company. And we’ll all occasionally lose that patience I mentioned in #1 and fail to have compassion on someone who simply wants to see their greatest dreams fulfilled. But what we must try to do…must make an absolute priority…is to try to always deal with those who seek publication from us with a great amount of compassion and respect.

3) Love your books. The final thing I think that is essential for a publisher is to LOVE the books he publishes. All too often, publishers rely on trends or market research or blah blah blah. Forget all that. Don’t worry about whether Harry Twilight is still popular or not. The publisher would do very well to listen to his/her own tastes. Her own instincts. His own…dare I say it…enjoyment of the manuscript itself.

To me, it’s relatively obvious. If a publisher isn’t one hundred percent in love with a book that he publishes, then how on earth is he going to sell it? How is he going to market it? How is he going to put his one hundred percent into it? And writers, let me say this…you don’t want a publisher to publish your book who doesn’t believe in it completely. No matter how badly you want to see it published…if you don’t feel that the publisher is completely into it, don’t let them touch it. Move onto the next one until you find the company who loves it even more than you do!

2.)    What are some qualities that can help a writer to become successful?

Well, in a nutshell, I’d say all three of the characteristics I mentioned for the publisher. If both parties would learn to strive for patience and compassion, the process would go a lot more smooth.

In addition, I don’t think there should be anyone on earth who loves their book more than the author. When I first decided to pursue writing…long before deciding to become a publisher…I did so with one absolute in mind. I would only write books that I wanted to read. I would only write books that I personally loved. The entire world can hate and despise my books…but as long as I wrote something that appeals to me, I could really care less what others think about it. I’m writing for an audience of one basically. If other people enjoy the show, it’s all the sweeter!

On a practical level, I’d say the paramount quality a writer has to have is—quite simply—talent. It doesn’t take much, but writing does require at least a miniscule portion of raw talent. If the writer has just a smidgeon of talent, they can hone and perfect that through practice, practice, practice. And how does a writer practice? By writing, writing, writing…um, and reading (a lot), then writing some more.

Finally, a thick skin is absolutely essential for obvious reasons. You pour your blood, sweat, and tears into your work. More times than not, you’ll have your soul ripped out of your work by criticism (both fair and unfair). So, it’s best to refer back to the part where I said you should only write books that you personally love. You’ll find the skin is much thicker that way!

3.)    Do you have any query peeves? What will guarantee that a query letter will go straight to the slush pile?

I have three primary query peeves. And every single one of them can be summed up by one characteristic: arrogance.

Here are my peeves:

  • ·       Sending me a query submission despite the fact that my website clearly states that we are not accepting submissions at this time…in numerous places throughout the website. Typically, for any publisher, submissions are closed for a reason…not just to annoy writers. In a small press like 7R, we’re just getting started. We really do have very limited resources and we can only publish a handful of titles per year. I typically close submissions when I simply have no room for more titles for the year (or maybe even the following). It’s not that I’m being insensitive to the author’s plight. It’s just that I physically and financially cannot consider any more submissions at the moment.

So, when I receive a query despite the numerous places on my website that says SUBMISSIONS CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE, I get a little annoyed. What that author is saying to me when they do this is, “Yeah, I know submissions are closed for other people, but my book is so incredibly special, you’ll thank me for disregarding the rules and sending it anyway.” And they could be absolutely right. It could possibly be the next Twilight or Harry Potter. And if they send it to me that way…well, then I guess we’ll miss out on publishing the next great fad in publishing because I typically disregard these submissions out of hand.

Sometimes, such as now, I put on the website that submissions are by “invitation only” (which we’ll come back to a few questions down). When I have submissions by invitation only, I do allow for some room for people to send queries if they’d like. But they are placed on a lower priority bracket than those I’ve specifically requested from people. 

  • ·       Completely disregarding the submission guidelines. This one really drives me crazy. I’ve been rather specific on the format in which I want all of our submissions to be sent. I’ve talked about sending the initial query letter with a brief synopsis, then to paste the first three chapters into the body of the email. Simple, right? Well, apparently, not for quite a few people because I can’t even begin to tell you the crazy styles and formats I’ve received as queries. For someone to completely disregard the guidelines in such an obvious way tells me immediately that this is one person (I hesitate to call them an author) that I do not want to work with. After all, who wants to work with someone who can’t follow directions?
  • ·       Sending a query that is entirely too familiar, personal, or silly. Now anyone who knows me will tell you that I cannot stand pretentiousness. I don’t like anything fancy. There’s nothing worse to me than wearing a suit and tie or being all ceremonial. At 7R, we are very laid back. Very relaxed. My authors have become like my family, so there’s no need to the formalities.

But if you’re not one of my authors (yet) and you don’t know me personally, then we need to be introduced. A query letter provides that introduction. If you saw me on the street and wanted to introduce yourself, you wouldn’t walk up to me and expect me to do the “secret handshake” with you, would you? Of course not…because we don’t know each other well enough to have a secret handshake. So, why would a person approach a potential publisher with such a cavalier demeanor.

Yes, I know they tell you to approach query letters like you have the utmost confidence in your book (you SHOULD have utmost confidence in your book…especially if you hold to my “Love your book” philosophy)…but there is a fine line between confidence and arrogance.

Now by overly personal query emails, I’m not referring to whether they address me as Mr. Holloway or Kent. That just depends on how your mamas raised you on how you want to handle that. I’m just saying that it is probably wise that you don’t act like the potential publisher and you went to one too many keggers while in college together…unless, of course, you actually did. Then you might actually have some leverage over the publisher to consider your work.

4.)    Now, if a person commits these faux-pas, what, if anything, just *might* grant them enough redemption so that you would finish reading the query, or even move on to the sample chapters?

A display of sincere humility. Hey, we’re all human! We make mistakes. We become over eager. We’re really excited about this awesome manuscript we’ve just completed after working on it for so long and we just get carried away when sending them out to publishers and agents. If the author, realizing their mistake without me saying anything, writes back and shows true humility…explains why they might have been overzealous, etc…that would go a very long way in, not only giving them another shot, but also helping me to like them even more.

You see, let’s be honest…anyone can write a novel. It’s true. They can. Some novels are naturally better than others, but when it comes down to it, anyone can punch out letters on a keyboard and throw down a completed manuscript. And frankly, I’m more concerned about the author’s state of mind and whether they are going to listen to what I, as the publisher, say without arguing or bowing up and playing prima donna on me. An author who shows great humility is an author who is flexible and open to making their manuscript the very best it can be! That goes a very long way in helping me decide whether I want to work with that author or not.

 

6.)    It seemed that a few years back, the world of writing and publishing was on the decline because readers had swapped paperbacks for e-books. From what I had read, publishers and agencies were more choosey with the projects they took on, and writers had a harder time breaking into print. With e-books, Kindle, and the spread of technology in this field, how has it changed things for those in publishing, and for the writers?

It’s actually an amazing thing. The explosion of ebooks, not to mention digital Print-On-Demand (POD) book printing, has blasted the gates of publishing that had been barred for so long. Anyone…from the little granny who wants to write her memoirs for family and friends to the aspiring next Clive Cussler…now has the opportunity to share their brilliant works with the world. Even more, they don’t even need a publisher to do it. With services such as Lulu.com and Createspace.com, writers can have their own books available in print. And with a little study, they can upload their books as ebooks at absolutely no cost through Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Smashwords.

Of course, POD and ebooks—well, the digital revolution in general—have allowed people like me an opportunity to gain relatively equal footing with the big publishers. After all, in cyberspace, shelf space is unlimited! (And yes, you don’t know how badly I wanted to use a “no one could hear you scream” joke there…but this is evidence of my maturing.) Seven Realms books sit side by side with Simon & Schuster, St. Martins, and Penguin books. With a little luck, some decent marketing, and a touch of patience, my authors at 7R have just as much chance to succeed as anyone. It’s really a beautiful thing!

However, going back to my original statement about it allowing anyone to publish without need for a publisher, one might ask…well, why do they need you? Well, publishers still come in handy. We have more experience at the whole putting a book together (editing, cover design, promotion, etc.) than the average author. However, I do foresee a day where the publisher might literally be replaced by another animal altogether! But that’s a question for another time (and yes, I’m very prepared for that day. It will be a good day for publishers and authors alike actually).

 

7.)    Aside from publishing, do you also act as a literary agency for your authors? What other services do you offer?

We are a straight up publishing company. We do not act as literary agents. After all, that’s an entirely different profession. However, I will say that there have been times that I’ve recommended other publishing companies to authors in those unfortunate times that I’ve had to decline their manuscripts. I’ve tried to point them in a plausible direction for their particular work. But it’s actually very bad business to act as both publisher and literary agency. I’d hazard to say it borders on the unethical and I wouldn’t trust any company that dabbled in both.

 

8.)     I love how Seven Realms Publishing promotes its authors. You give *EXCELLENT* PR! What are some of the career backgrounds of those at Seven Realms Publishing, and how does it extend into your field?

Ha ha! This is a great question simply because the answer may sound so…um, insane. Until recently (like up until the last three months or so), I, Kent Holloway, have been every single employee 7R has. That’s right. I acted as managing editor, editor, cover artist, cover designer, marketing specialist, web designer, FB promoter, Tweeter, book interior formatter, printing and distribution coordinator….and all while having another 40 hour a week job to put food on the table. Oh, and that forty-hour a week job? I’m a forensic death investigator for a Medical Examiner’s Office.

However, though my profession has been investigations for more than 10 years, I have done a number of other jobs. I’ve been a newspaper reporter, a high school English teacher, an assignment editor for two TV news stations, a private investigator, a probation officer, and a preacher (yes, I’m an ordained Baptist minister as well). So, pretty much, all of these experiences have taught me a great deal about promotion.

But honestly, I don’t see what I do as “marketing” or “promotion”. I see it has trying to do the world a favor. You see…if I go to a restaurant and discover the “World’s Greatest Pie.” I am so going to savor every morsel of that pie. Then, I’m going to run out and tell everyone I know and love about that pie. I’m going to recommend that they go immediately and try that pie. I’m going to write down directions to the restaurant. Heck, I’m going to drive them to the restaurant myself if I have to…just so they can experience that awesome pie (and of course, I’d get me more pie while I was there). Well, that’s how I see 7R books. I honestly don’t publish a single book that I am not 100 percent enthusiastic about. If I love that book, then I’m going to want you to love that book too. But you can’t love that book like I do unless I tell you about it. So…that’s why our PR campaigns may seem so enthusiastic. Because I truly am.

Oh, and FYI…I’ve recently hired some help. Have a handful of contract editors (including an editor-in-chief). Have several contract artists for book covers. Recently acquired a business partner to handle much of the business-ey things that bore me….just so I can spend more time doing the things I love to do…which is telling others about our books.

 

9.)    I’ve read a lot of positive things about smaller publishers, like they have more freedoms that larger publishing houses do not, and that publisher-author relationships are more on a personal level. Could you elaborate on some of the perks you get as a “small” press?

Oh, I love this question! You’re absolutely right. The relationship between author and publisher, I believe, is so much better in a small press environment. To be honest, I’ve never had a book published by one of the “Big Six”, so I can’t say with one hundred percent certainty…but from the things I’ve heard, I’d say I’m correct in saying that.

I have tried to make 7R an extremely author-friendly company. This goes from the contract to the production process and all the way through sales and marketing. As far as contacts, I believe 7R has some of the best terms out there (20%+ royalties across the board, decent advances (the royalty/advance varies on the notoriety of the author), and many other things). Then, the author has a huge say in the production process. For instance, cover design. We will not go with a cover that my author doesn’t absolutely love. We will work at the cover until everyone involved in the projects is completely satisfied. This is way different than most big companies. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard some of my Big Six author friends complain about the direction their publishers went on the book cover. That makes no sense to me. Once again, it goes back to that “gotta love the book completely” deal. If the author isn’t super excited about the book cover—and especially if they’re embarrassed by it—they’re not going to work as hard to promote it.

Even the editing phase is very author friendly. Yes, there are many things that must be fixed in the editing process. Things where there is simply no choice (like typos). But if one of my editors suggest a chance that is a matter of preference or a plot element that MIGHT make the story better, I usually trust the author’s judgment and allow them to make whatever changes they think will work best.

So, yeah, our authors do enjoy a great deal of “say” in the entire process and I think that really helps in creating the best books.

 

10.)    When should a writer decide to retire the pen and paper? When their family sends back negative critiques? When they fail writing classes? When they receive Rejection Letter#1,234,567,890? Not that anyone is counting, *LOL*. . .

Oooh, I don’t like this question at all! Not that it’s not a very excellent question, mind you. It’s just that I am an encourager. I don’t like discouraging anyone from following their dreams. But let’s face it…the cold hard reality is that some people are just not cut out to be writers. Heck, they may be the best story tellers around…but when it comes to putting pen to paper and  connecting a string of words together in a piece of prose, well, you know where I’m going with this. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. If a person isn’t cut out for writing, then I’m sure there is something that they can do that I couldn’t even begin to attempt in a million years. I’m reminded of one extremely gorgeous super model. She was (still is) amazing at modeling and, like I said, beautiful. Then, she is asked to do a commercial for a certain well known cola. And in this commercial, she has to sing. And when her mouth opens and the words start pouring from her mouth, her attractive-quality meter just starts spiraling downward with each stanza she blurts out. Oh, the humanity! What a horrible singing voice. [Um, not that I could do any better, mind you.] My point is, this woman is a highly successful model with an equally successful acting career. Who cares if singing isn’t one of her gifts. Just don’t ask her to sing again and we’ll all be okay.

So when should a writer give up the ghost? Give up the dream? Close the lid to his/her laptop for the final time and take up sculpting instead? I’ll refer you to rule three of the essential characteristics of an author. The moment the LOVE is gone, the author should stop. The moment the author becomes truly honest with himself. The moment they realize, “You know, this just isn’t working.” Only the author can determine the right time to give it up. And thank goodness for that!

 

11.)    If you see potential in a piece, but maybe the word count is too low or too high, or maybe the manuscript requires a few changes here or there, would you work with the writer to make it marketable, or would you automatically give it a rejection?

I never really get caught up in word count to be honest. Granted, I would prefer at least about 70,000 words and I definitely don’t want too many novels over 120K. But I don’t use those numbers as a basis for if I decide to publish a book or not. Heck, a little secret here: we published Rick Nichols’ debut hardboiled detective novel (Survivor’s Affair) and it was a year later that I realized that the book was only about 55K words! Lol It’s just not a priority for me.

However, manuscript changes are another thing. There have been a couple of books we’ve published where I LOVED the story, but knew the manuscript was going to need a great deal of polishing. I’ve worked with these authors hard to bring their manuscripts up to 7R standards. To be honest, I probably won’t be doing that much in the future. My rule of thumb is, like most things in publishing, very subjective: If I feel the amount of work required to bring a book up to snuff is going to be too costly in both time, energy, and money…I probably won’t accept it.

Okay, let me rephrase that. If I REALLY REALLY like a story, I might sign the author for the book with the stipulation that they do a full re-write on my specifications. Then, I’ll ask them to fully edit their new manuscript and polish it up to near perfection before I even start the 7R process of editing it. If they’re willing to do that, it says a lot about them as authors and human beings.

Once again, it’s just a matter of subjective rationalizing. “Do I love the story enough to commit the time and resources required to publish this book?” If the answer is yes for me, then the author has a shot.

 

12.)    As a writer, there is a lot of conflicting information when researching the perfect query letter. One will say to compare your work to other books; others tell you not to compare it to anything. Some agents/publishers feel any mention of their notable achievements is an insidious way to get ahead, while it lets others know why you chose them and makes them feel like you’ve done your research. And then, some don’t want to hear about your personal hobbies, interests, or achievements unless it’s pertinent to the writing, while others want a little insight into the person behind the writing. Since these things are subjective, and some agencies and publishing houses don’t list these preferences, how is one to know what’s right to include in that particular submission?

Wow. That’s a tough one. And the only way to answer that question honestly is to shrug my shoulders and mumble “Idunno.” Seriously. How can anyone on earth keep up with all the craziness in regards to queries? You’d almost have to be Kreskin to do it. Or maybe God. It’s a mystery as big and as wide as the Bermuda Triangle and just because I’m on the other side of the query desk doesn’t give me any more insight.

So here is my tip to you: ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS follow the submission guidelines of the particular agent/publisher to the letter (even if it requires you to write one hundred and three different query letters). If they didn’t specifically say they wanted a particular piece of information on their website, then they can’t very well hold you responsible for not providing it. Then, if you decide to add things like accomplishments and/or hobbies (FYI, I’m personally only concerned with one thing when I read a query…does it tickle my fancy!), feel free to do it unless the instructions tell you explicitly NOT to include that information.

As long as you follow the guidelines to the letter, you will be okay. Promise.

 

13.)    Is it better to regard a query letter as “All-Business”, or to let the voice convey the feel of the actual manuscript? What do you look for in a query letter?

On this one, I can’t speak for other publishers. It’s one of those very subjective concepts, I believe. As I have already mentioned, overly-friendly queries lose my interest very quickly. If I feel I’m not being given the amount of respect that should be given (I’m very old fashioned with very southern ideals (so I like Yes, ma’am and No, sir kind of etiquette)), then it’s a turn off real quick.

At the same time, I don’t want a query letter to read like a “How To Build Your Very Own Proton-Pack Generator” manual either. If you can make me laugh, then all the better. Just make sure your jokes are truly funny. I had one clown send a query letter to me once that actually poked fun at some of our titles (and in a very mean-spirited way, I think). Not very funny to me actually. Instant rejection, to be quite honest.

But I think a professional demeanor in a query letter is probably the safe way to go. Just don’t confuse “professional” with “Arid Extra Dry”.

 

14.)    I see a lot of publishers and agencies that only take proposals upon invitation. How does one go about getting a request to send in a proposal or manuscript?

Well, as I’ve already stated, 7R is currently “Invitation Only”. Hmmmm…so how does one get an invitation? Well, I’d say the most common way is simply for me to know about your work and think you’d be a good fit. That’s how it happens most of the time. For instance, I’m a huge fan of Scottish indie author of Lovecraftian-style detective stories William Meikle. So, I approached him and will be publishing his The Concordances of the Red Serpent in print around December 2011. Same with Hy Conrad and his upcoming Rally ‘Round the Corpse cozy mystery…I’m a huge fan of his, even before he became the writer/producer of TV’s MONK. So I actively pursued him and he agreed to let me publish him.

Then, there have been those authors who were suggested to me by other 7R authors (Sean Ellis is notorious for introducing me to potential authors). So, it’s sort of a “who knows you” kind of thing.

Still, when 7R does the by “invitation only” thing, I usually allow for unsolicited queries. I don’t feel obligated to respond to them (as I would if submissions were opened), but if a query catches my eye, they may receive an invitation for more.

I honestly can’t say how it works for other publishers though.

 

14.)    I’m reminded of the old joke. The teacher goes to her student’s house and says, “Susie, is your mother home?” and Susie says, “She ain’t here.” The teacher says, “SUSIE! YOUR GRAMMAR!” to which Little Susie responds, “She ain’t here, neither.” Because of the type of work that you do, does it make you *cringe* whenever someone uses improper grammar?

Haha! Love that joke. And as to the question, well, it kind of depends on the context. Anyone who reads this interview can see that I don’t necessarily follow all the rules of grammar to the letter. Plus, I tend to overuse the ellipses like a madman. But if a person is writing dialogue of a character and the improper grammar is true to the character, then I’m fine with it. If certain use of improper grammar goes with the voice of a particular work, I can overlook it from time to time as well.

But if you’re submitting a query to me or if you’re presenting yourself as an author, then you better be able to show me that you have a strong command of the English language.

I guess where my pet peeve comes in is the use of texting language. There is nothing more disheartening to me than the explosion of popularity for grammatical conventions necessitated by the increase in texting. Granted, many linguists could argue that the English language is ever-evolving, ever-changing. It is alive. It is growing. Conventions of today were the texting conventions of twenty years ago. There’s no such thing as a language purist…at least, that’s what they say. Case in point, when I was in grammar school way back in the early 80s, I was taught a certain school of grammar. When I made it to high school and even college, it was MLS. Now, I believe the current accepted style of grammar comes from the Chicago Manual. Yet, when I was in seminary a mere seven years ago, we were forced to use Turabian’s manual. While I was a newspaper reporter, it was AP style. The point…grammar and English is constantly changing and how are we to keep up?

Answer: I have absolutely no idea. Just don’t “OMG” or “LOL” me when writing a query letter and we’ll both be happy. 🙂

 

15.)    What gets you excited over a project? What really *WOWS* you?

Ummmm…that’s kind of like asking why is a sunset beautiful. It’s a very difficult one to actually answer. And I hate to spatter this interview with the word “subjective, subjective, subjective” but the truth is…most of publishing is exactly that. It’s completely subjective.

Once again, it goes back to my love for the book. But what kind of books do I love? It’s really hard to say. I don’t really have on particular genre that I enjoy. But I can say that I only have a handful of authors that I read consistently and will ALWAYS buy their next book. These authors: Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child (perhaps my favorite all time), Jim Butcher, Ted Dekker, Frank Peretti, William Meikle, Sean Ellis.

I guess I would say I love adventure stories with a HINT of the paranormal about them. But it’s often a matter of just the story in general. Is there something about the concept that just resonates within me? Case in point…I’m currently reading a manuscript from a fairly well-known mid-lister for consideration. He was concerned that I might not like it because A) it didn’t fit with other books that 7R has done and B) it has certain elements that he thought I might find offensive considering my Christian background. But I encouraged him to send it to me anyway and I started reading it…and simply can’t stop. I absolutely love it. Why? I have no idea…except to just say, it’s just a great read. Very different. Very well-written. And the story is exceptionally well thought out.

So my answer to your question, in short, will have to be…it’s totally subjective. Sorry about that.

 

16.)    Can you name a few upcoming titles from Seven Realms Press?

Oh wow! Can I?! J It would be my pleasure. Allow me to just list the next few books and their dates:

  • ·       September 2011 – Double Heart by Rob MacGregor (NY Times bestselling author of seven Indiana Jones novels). Double Heart is a young adult mystery adventure set on a modern Hopi Indian reservation and features the adventures of a high school student there who starts investigating a murder only to find himself stalked by an evil shapeshifting witch known as Double Heart.
     
  • ·       October 2011 – The Supernaturals by David L. Golemon (NY Times bestselling author of The EVENT Group series). Think Ghosthunters on steroids and you’ll get an idea of what this book might be like. A team of ghost hunters are recruited to investigate a house with a huge appetite for a live show on Halloween night! What could go wrong, right?!
     
  • ·       December 2011 – The Concordances of the Red Serpent by William Meikle. An ancient text lost to the world resurfaces in the office of an unassuming book restorer…and her entire office is murdered because of it. Now on the run from both the bad guys and the police, she must turn to a mysterious reporter who knows much more about the book than he lets on for help.
     
  • ·       January 2012 – Devil’s Child (Book 3 of The ENIGMA Directive series) by J. Kent Holloway. This is my own book and the third in my series of adventures featuring wisecracking cryptozoologist Dr. Obadiah “Jack” Jackson. In this adventure, Jack and the team travel to New York City where there’s a new tourist in town. It seems that Jersey Devil has left it’s comfortable territory of the Pine Barrens to take a bite of the Big Apple and Jack has to figure out why.

 

I want to give a *BIG* thanks to Mr. Kent Holloway of Seven Realms Publishing to taking time from his busy day to do this interview!

And don’t forget to check out the following links!

http://www.sevenrealmspublishing.com

http://kenthollowayonline.blogspot.com


Werewolves: Beware the Texas Moon . . .

Shapeshifting is generally associated with Native American culture and legend, but I can’t say for certain whether or not it is regarded as truth among Native Americans themselves.  However, it has become a sort of mainstream interest with paranormal and occult enthusiasts, with books and websites that explain how to shapeshift and documented sightings of shapeshifters.  The idea behind shapeshifting is that one can become just about anything they want, whether it’s an animal, a tree, or a chair!

There are so many stories of werecreatures.  Werecreatures are generally large bipedal canines or felines, but I’m sure there are others.  Maybe there are werehorses, werebutterflies, and weredolphins.  Who knows!  It might seem a ridiculous stretch, but to someone who believes in werewolves, anything is possible!

The main difference, to my understanding, between shapeshifters and werecreatures is that a shapeshifter does not only have the ability to choose what they want to become and can will it at any time, but that they take on the appearance of your average every-day housecat, or maybe a common raven.  And no one is the wiser.  With a werecreature, legends usually state that the transformation is usually out of the person’s control, and they do not appear as a normal animal, but something larger and monstrous.

(  THIS JUST IN!  My friend, Audrey, who is quite the werewolf expert, enlightened me a bit more upon these creatures.  I had her read this because if you need to know something about werewolves, she’s the one to go to.  I was so intent upon the story rather than the legend, I failed to mention one of the more interesting takes!  But it’s okay, because Audrey was there to remind me.  She responded: “In many cultures, the were can also shift at will. Like European legend of a man who puts on the pelt of a wolf, or wears it like a belt can take on the form. Then take it off again when he doesn’t want it anymore. Or even in old Norse Mythology, those who follow Fenris were given the ability to take on the form of his children at will. =)” If you’re interested in reading some of Audrey’s inspirational writings, you can find it here:
http://audrey-haveyounotheard.blogspot.com/  )

 
But werewolves, my friend…Werewolves are a whole ‘nother story!

I am not talking about lyncanthropy, where a person believes themself to be a wolf and sometimes possesses super-human strength during a full moon while staying in human form.  People suffering from lycanthropy actually visualise themselves in the form of a wolf, and bite and claw at people, and when they are locked in a room they sometimes tear at the walls or doors at an attempt to escape.  Some even act on their desires of bloodlust, whether it is upon small animals, raw meat, or even people.  It has been noted by some that people with this affliction actually show more agility and coordination when they are walking on all fours than they do when they are walking upright.  Although lycanthropy is an interesting topic, my motive in this article is to give a little background on your Everyday-All-American Blood-Thirsty Werewolf!

Generally speaking, werewolves are regular people who turn into wolves when the full moon rises.  There are many theories on why someone is cursed to dwell among the damned.  Gypsy spells.  A bite from another werewolf.  A pact with the Devil.  Yes, there are some who become a werewolf by choice.  Their history is rich, dating back centuries ago and from what I’ve read, seems to have started in Europe, though there are werebeings in so many cultures from all over the world.  So, technically, our “American” werewolf is actually a mixture of legends and myths (and perhaps some truth) of the European werewolf, along with the eclectic mixture of cultures that we find here in the U.S.

But, as a true-blooded Texan, and I wanted to write about some down-home werewolf stories.  I turned up a couple of creepy tales, along with a very special story which was told to me firsthand!  So, read on…if you’re not easily scared. Mrs. Gregg of Greggton, Texas, had a brush with a strange creature in the late 1950’s.  Her husband was away on business, so she was alone that night.  There was a storm rolling in, so she decided to push her bed closer to the open window to enjoy the cool fresh air.  She drifted off to sleep, and shortly thereafter was awakened by the sound of something clawing at the window screen.  There was a sudden crash of lightening, and that’s when she caught a glimpse of a large creature with the face of a wolf.  She described him as “huge” and “shaggy”, and his eyes, she said, were “baleful”, “glowing” and “slitted”.  She grabbed a flashlight and watched the thing run into a cluster of bushes, waiting for it to run out from the shrubbery so that she could get a better view of it.  She fully expected to see the monster pop out, but instead, she saw an “extremely tall man” walking quickly toward the road before the black night swallowed his form. 

One of my favourite werewolf stories takes place in Lawton, Texas.  In 1970, there was an outbreak of sightings over the course of three days, and calls were flooding into the police department left and right!  One man had a heart attack when he looked out his window and saw a beast having a drink from his fish pond.  A group of soldiers stationed in the area also saw the monster.  There was another man who looked out of his apartment window and saw it leaning against a railing.  I don’t know what railing he was leaning against, but everything I’ve read on the Lawton werewolf says that he was leaning against a railing, so that’s all I know.  Anyway, he thought it was someone in costume until the beast jumped nearly twenty feet to the ground and ran away with the gait of a monkey!  The part that I find most amusing about this story is that the wolf-man was wearing pants that were a few sizes too small for him.  In most real life werewolf stories I’ve heard, the werewolves are just gallivanting around in the buff!  I think the clothes gives the creature a more humanistic quality than some of the other tales I’ve heard. 

Now, I cannot leave out the Converse Werewolf!  I live fairly close to Converse, so this story hits home and makes me wonder what might have become of the creature.  In the 1800’s, a farmer sent his son out to kill a deer and bring it home for supper.  The boy, aged fifteen, set out to do just that.  It was two or three days before he came home, and so the farmer went out to find him.  He heard a sound and set off in that direction with a ray of hope, but what he found was an eight-foot-tall creature hovering over the young man.  The poor boy had been eaten, and when the farmer approached, the animal disappeared into the woods.  It was said that the man became very depressed and died because he couldn’t cope with what had happened, and quite possibly felt as if he was to blame for his son’s death. 

I have heard about the Cleo Face, but I don’t know what to make of it because I haven’t been able to turn up a lot of information about it.  N.Q. Patterson was one of the early residents of Kimble County and had an interesting background.  He carved gravestones for a living, and during a bout with tuberculosis, he spent a lot of time carving things on the rocks that lined Bear Creek which ran along his property.  I would love to view an image of the Cleo Face, but there’s very little info that I can find on this particular case as it is.  Time had made it harder to discern the image, so I wonder if it’s visible now since it was carved near the turn of the twentieth century, or if anyone had taken pictures of it.  The face could have been that of a bear, but it was rumoured that it was actually the face of a werewolf.  Who knows?  But if anyone is interested in finding out about the image, maybe we should plan a roadtrip to the little ghost town of Cleo!  I would love to stop at little diners and gift shops along the way and collect stories about the local legend. 

And here is my final short, the reason for my delay in getting this piece done.  I wanted to make sure I got down the important details to this one, and I was finally able to sit down with Joe and my laptop and ask the questions I needed to know. 

This happened in Devine, Texas in 1963, around midnight and about a week before Christmas.  It was a moonlit country night.  Joe, a teenager at the time, was taking shortcuts through fields after watching a picture show.  As he made his way home, he came upon a large German Shepard, larger than any he’d ever seen.  At first all he could see was a pair of glowing orange eyes, perhaps a reflection from the moonlight?  Thinking the dog was friendly, he leaned over and put his hand out.  “Here, boy!”  But then the dog started growling, slowly making its way toward Joe.  He thought at first that the dog must have been rabid; living in the country, it is not rare.  And that’s when he ran, two miles back toward the highway that he had just come from.  The dog was nowhere in sight, and it was late and he wanted to go home.  So, he walked back toward a creek.  It was about a mile from his home, but there was a lot of brush and it was hard to see, so he made a detour toward a trailer where his friends lived, right next door to their parents’ house.  There was still no sign of the dog, and he was going to go through the corral to get to the trailer where his friends lived.  He looked around, and was right about to go through the gate, when in the blink of an eye, there was the dog on the other side of the gate!  It was as if it was waiting for him.  It seemed nearly impossible!  It was clear that this was no ordinary animal.  There was a large post, about ten feet tall, six feet around, where they would tie the cows to milk them.  He climbed the post to safety, even though it was smooth and took some effort, and sat at the top.  Again, there was no sign of the dog.  When he thought it was safe, he climbed back down, went through the gate and toward the trailer.  He knocked, but his friends weren’t home.  Luckily, the door was usually unlocked.  But the dog was still lurking outside.  Joe was in the living room, in complete darkness, and the dog started to pound and scratch against the walls of the trailer.  “BANG-BANG-Scraaaaaaaatch…BANG-BANG-Scraaaaaaaatch…”  No matter where he went in the pitch-black trailer to find safety, it was right outside.  BANG-BANG-Scraaaaaaaatch…. 

The dog pounded hard, rhythmically, and clawed on the outside of whichever room he tried to seek refuge in.  Somehow, it knew which room Joe was in.  So, Joe began to pray.  Soon he heard another dog.  He was sure it was the family dog, a little collie they called Lassie.  He heard the two dogs fighting, and then he heard one of the dogs give a few final whimpers of defeat.  There was no doubt about it.  One of the dogs had been killed, and he was sure it was that little collie.  It didn’t stand a chance against the German Shepard.  After that, Joe passed out from fear and exhaustion.

The next morning, he went outside and his friend’s mother was tending to her garden.  She was shocked to see someone come out of the trailer since her sons were working with their dad at the cotton gin.  He told her what had happened, and she didn’t say a word.  There was no air conditioning in her house, and her window was open and had been all night.  She didn’t hear the dog fight, and here’s the kicker:  It was right near her open window.  There were no traces of the battle, and Joe was sure he would have found blood or even the ragged body of the collie, because it was a very vicious fight.  But then, Lassie trotted right by, as if everything was fine, and without a single scratch on her!  Interestingly enough, it was thought that some people on the property engaged in white magick.  Was this dog a normal dog?  A demon?  Or some sort of shapeshifter?

On a sidenote, someone who lived in the vicinity had problems with the radio and television coming on in the dead of night, all by itself.  There were other strange things, like disembodied voices speaking in Spanish in a little barn.  When they looked through the windows, they could see shadowy people, but when they opened the door, there was nobody there.  When walking the empty fields at night, people would hear someone walking next to them…in shackles!  They could hear the chains as clear as a bell, and when they would stop, the sounds would stop.  Most people refused to go out by themselves at night!  But those stories are on a whole ‘nother topic completely!

I can’t help think of the bazillions of possibilities that could explain any given one of these stories.  Myth.  Local legend.  Hoaxes.  Pranks.  Undiscovered or misidentified creatures.  Delusions.  Vivid imagination.  Or, could it be, that there are things out there that exist beyond our knowledge?  Something unexplainable?  Something terrifying?  Something evil.   

Ask yourself what you honestly believe.  In the daytime, it’s easy to identify such tales nothing more than campfire stories to give a thrill of frightful fun.  But when you close your eyes to drift off to Dreamland, or when you’re walking on a path dimly illumed by the moonlight, and suddenly you visualise a pair of glowing “orange” or “baleful slitted” eyes staring at you unblinking, you just may think a little differently.


The Haunted Hummel by Joslyn Corvis

My dad was always telling me about this music box that, every now and again, would go off all by itself.  It wasn’t a real Hummel, but an imitation that to the untrained eye looked quite similar to the real deal.  Yeah, right. Suuuuuuure, I thought to myself.  I knew of the music box.  It was one my mom had for years and years.  If it was going off all on its own, why didn’t I ever hear it?  Even in the middle of the night when I was sound asleep, why didn’t the thing ever wake me up?

One day he was talking about it, and curiosity got the better of me.  It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in this stuff.  We’ve had all sorts of weird and unexplainable things happen here.  For instance, one day as my parents were sitting at the kitchen table, a magnet flew from the fridge and landed right in front of them, and there’s no logic as to how the thing could have achieved such an angle and such a distance without any help.  And one time my brother (who would probably say he was making a sandwich at the time), along with my dad, saw me flash by them.  But it wasn’t me.  Anyway, I guess I just wondered why I had never experienced anything with the Hummel, and maybe I felt a bit left out.

While my dad was at work one day, I went to their room, picked up the music box, and I wound it up.  I wound it pretty good, but the gears inside (which you could see when you held the hinged lid up) didn’t move.  Okay, the stupid thing is broken.  The gears weren’t moving.  It must have been some other sound he was hearing.  I don’t know, maybe the Ice Cream Man was making his (or her) rounds in the middle of the night and he was hearing the music from the Ice Cream Truck.  Maybe it was some alarm on some new-fangled machine that we’d just gotten and neglected to read the instructions to.  Who knows?  But there was no possible way it coulda been the music box.

Now let’s fast-forward.  It’s a few days later, maybe two or three, and my dad’s at work.  I’m in my room.  I hear a happy little song.  It was like little chimes going off in a melodic tune.  “Hmmm,” thought I, wondering where it was coming from.  Now, I would have thought it was a cell phone, but at that time, my mom’s cell had a ring like a regular phone.  It is significant to point such things out today because the first question asked by our modern youth would be, “Could it have been  your cell?”  I didn’t even have a cell phone at that time.  Oh, and by the way, I’ve noticed the majority of teens and pre-teens have cell phones, but it wasn’t like that then.  I didn’t have one, but the majority of my peers were still using landlines like I was, so it wasn’t unusual.

Back to the story.  Suddenly, I thought of that music box!I took off like a bolt of lightning to my parents’ room which was just across the hall, but I didn’t want to miss out!  I still heard the music playing.  I stared at the music box, which was playing at a normal speed.  I picked it up and held it in my palm, careful not to jostle it too much.  I sloooowwwwwly lifted the lid so I could watch the gears.  And as I lifted the lid, the music slowed, chimed the last few notes, and stopped before I could even get a glimpse of the gears to see if they were moving.

I figured that when I wound it up, maybe the gears didn’t move because the pin was down, holding them in place.  But if memory serves, I tried moving the pin and tried a few things before giving up on it the few days before.  However, maybe that’s the way this music box worked.  I don’t know.  There are lots of reasons the gears may not have budged.  And maybe, even though it took a couple of days, maybe there was some vibration that jiggled the table and in turn the music box, setting the gears in motion.  That, I can explain.  But for ever logical reason I come up with, I find myself asking more questions.The thing just didn’t seem to work at all, so how did it manage?  Why would it take so long for the box to go off on its own?  Why would it go off in the middle of the night if no one was messing with it the other times?  And the music box was just one weird thing that happened, so how could I ever explain all of the others?

While most instances with the Hummel were random and unprovoked, I think my interest in it may have sparked something.  Since I had been playing around with it, trying to see what made it tick so to speak, whatever entity that made it work knew just how to get my attention.