Posts Tagged ‘The Prodigal’s Foole’

#Readercon 23, And Yes, I Came Back

July 25, 2012

Yeah, I kinda fell off the radar after Readercon, didn’t I? Well, this has been the craziest few weeks for me, so busy that I seriously considered skipping Readercon this year.

I am SO GLAD I didn’t. Once again I got to stay with my great friend and fellow author, R.B. Wood, @rbwood, and his lovely wife, and enjoy all that is Readercon. (To the left you see us participating in the annual take-a-picture-of-ourselves-sticking-our-tongues-out-while-waiting-for-the-Bad-Prose-Competition-to-start with Glenn Skinner, @keyaquests.) I got to meet Chris A. Jackson, @ChrisAJackson1 and have dinner with him and Gregory A. Wilson, @gregoryawilson both of whom are in the upcoming anthology, When the Villain Comes Home.  I also got to have lunch with a lovely man I met at Ad Astra this spring, Peter Halasz, this year’s chair of World Fantasy, who was at Readercon this year doing his tireless work to support Canadian authors with the Sunburst Award.

I met editor and lovely man, Marty Halpern, and I may have gotten slightly, ahem, inappropriate with Scott Edelman. ——->

Speaking of everyone’s favorite part of Readercon, the Kirk Poland Memorial Bad Prose Competition, I had a special treat this year. Last year, my first ever Readercon, was also the first time, in 25 years, that the audience won the Bad Prose Competition. Yay! So this year, they gave a prize to one random audience member who had been part of the winning audience and also there for the first time. There were about a dozen of us, and from among them, I drew the random prize. Ain’t it great??? (below)


I’d write up a long, detailed account of the rest of the con but, well, Mr. Wood already did that, so I’m totally going to steal it from him. So, want to know how our Readercon went? Go here:

Readercon 23, by R.B. Wood

The Prodigal’s Foole RE-RELEASE Day!

April 20, 2012

Welcome again to my good friend, R.B. Wood, who is celebrating the re-release of his debut novel, The Prodigal’s Foole. As part of the re-launch, I’ve invited him to guest post here today.

I love good stories.

I have a vague recollection of my mother’s soft voice reading to me when I was very young.  The delight of receiving a picture book as a toddler.  The fear, when heading off to first grade, when I asked my father what would happen if I couldn’t learn to read.

The triumph of reading my first book out loud to the first grade class just three months later.

We were all voracious readers in my house.  Books always play a major part in growing up.  From my obsession with The Hardy Boys to that penultimate moment when I read H. G. Wells  War of the Worlds at age nine.

Today, with the re-launch of my first written work, The Prodigal’s Foole is available in stores again.  Why I’m doing a re-launch is touched upon in my blog posting of a couple weeks ago.  It was a long time coming, and more will follow.  But my passion for good tales—from the fantastical to the everyday—burns as bright today as it did that wondrous day I picked up War of the Worlds.

I’ve just finally reached the maturity level to give back a little of what I’ve enjoyed by so many other authors over the years.

I know I’ll never be a Dickens, a Tolkien or an H. G. Wells.  And I’m okay with that.  As long as I can build a story that people will enjoy and take them to another place for a few hours, I’m happy.

And really, as a writer…what more could you ask for?

———-

R.B. Wood is a technology consultant and a writer of Urban Fantasy, Science Fiction and quite frankly anything else that strikes his fancy. He is working on the follow up to The Prodigal’s Foole, as well as a Science Fiction trilogy and a collaborative comic book project.

He is also host of The Word Count podcast. R.B. currently lives in Boston with his partner, Tina, his dog Jack, three cats and various other critters that visit from time to time. Feel free to contact him at:

WEB: http://www.rbwood.com

FACEBOOK: http://www.facebook.com/rbwoodwriter

The Word Count Podcast: http://itunes.apple.com/podcast/the-word-count/id392550989

The Prodigal’s Foole is available via Amazon

#5MinuteInterview w/ R.B. Wood, of The Prodigal’s Foole

November 3, 2011

Today we’re going to do a little thing I like to call the 5MinuteInterview. This week we’re celebrating the release of The Prodigal’s Foole by R.B. Wood. You can buy your copy RIGHT NOW!

So let’s interview Mr. Wood, (oh gosh, there’s so many places I can go with that…) shall we?

1. Tell me one thing about little Richy Wood that, looking back now, you think was proof that one day you’d be a writer.

I loved stories of all kinds when I was younger.  Even at an early age I wondered what went into creating a story from the imagination—and I’d try it on my own.

Plus, as a kid, I always hated waiting for the next “Hardy Boy” book, so I’d try and create my own in the interim.  Frank and Joe hardy were probably glad I wasn’t writing their stories as they ended up in far more trouble in my tales than in Franklyn W Dixon’s.

2. Where did the idea for The Prodigal’s Foole come from?

All those fantasy stories about magic have this throw-away line about “magic can’t be known/used in front of ‘normal’ people.  I started off with the idea—“What if non-magical folks started figuring out what was going on?”  And the series started from there.

3. Name two people from all of history you’d love to take to the pub, and one you’d avoid like the plague (or punch his/her lights out.)

I’d love to go drinking with Theodore Roosevelt and Mark Twain.  Avoid?  YOU know the real answer to this one, but I’ll pick Adolf Hitler because he was a serious Jackwagon.

4. What was the biggest surprise in this whole writing/publishing game?

How supportive and open to questions professionals in the business are.  Once I started to connect with writers, editors and the like via social media, everyone was VERY patient with my newbie questions and either answered them directly or pointed me to helpful resources.  It’s been a wonderful experience—and I was expecting a lot less.

5. Give me one sentence, no more than a dozen words, of wisdom you’ve learned since you decided to write TPF.

Keep going!

I have ten words left…

6. Your favorite place to be/One place you never want to be again.

My favorite place to be is anywhere with my partner, Tina.  Never again? Hong Kong.  Long story.

7. You get to name one person who had been the biggest influence on you as a writer, only one, from any point in your life, whether you know them or not. Why?

Oh bugger.  I can pick only ONE? Well, I’ll say my parents (two people, one partnership) who encouraged me to do what I enjoy.

8. You have an unlimited amount of time and money: Where are we going drinking?

Ireland.  We are going to every bloody pub in the 36 counties.

Back to your host: I bet you can tell I had fun with this interview. The book’s better. Go get it!

———–

R.B. Wood is a technology consultant and a writer of Urban Fantasy, Science Fiction and quite frankly anything else that strikes his fancy.  His first novel, The Prodigal’s Foole, is now available from Pfoxchase Publishing.  Mr. Wood is currently working on the second book of his Arcana Chronicles series and is host of The Word Count podcast.

R. B. currently lives in Boston with his partner, Tina, his dog Jack, three cats and various other critters that visit from time to time.

Find him on his blog: http://www.rbwood.com
Twitter: http://twitter.com/rbwood
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/rbwoodwriter
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/3844039-r-b-wood
Feel free to contact him at: me@rbwood.com

You can find The Prodigal’s Foole on:

Amazon
Amazon (Kindle)
Barnes & Noble
Smashwords
OmniLit
Goodreads

#5MinuteFiction Week 75 #NaNoWriMo Edition WINNER!

November 2, 2011

We have a WINNER!

As as often happens with Nicole, @nicolewolverton it was a landslide. Well, you’ve just gotta love her details and funny twists.

So congrats Nicole, you’ve won not only the competition, but a signed copy of The Prodigal’s Foole by R.B. Wood@rbwood and a 5 page critique from me!

But there were other prizes this week, right? Well, that means more WINNERS!

The winner of an e-copy of The Prodigal’s Foole is:  John Hancock, @Grokdad

And the winner of an e-copy of The The Prodigal’s Foole and a 5 page critique from me is: N.R. Brown, @nrbrown

Congrats everyone!

I’ll be in touch with the winners. In  the meantime, here’s Nicole’s winning entry for you to enjoy.

See you next week!

“But, Janet, what if something goes wrong?”

“What could go wrong?” I asked, my finger tracing the spiky cursive flowing over the page of the spell book.

Violet paled, her carefully applied blush standing out on the apples of her cheeks. “I don’t know — but when you mess witht his kind of crap, bad things happen! I heard Steve Pinner invoked some kind of demon, and a big whirling hole opened up in the middle of his kitchen and sucked his entire family in. That’s how his dad died, you know. That story about him taking off in the middle of the night was just a front.”

“Whatever. That’s a load of crap.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.” I glared at Violet, hoping to convey the fact that I wanted her to shut the hell up. It must have worked because her lips sucked closed, chin dimpling with the effort. “Okay, let’s begin.”

I read the words, paying careful attention to the accent marks and hoping I wasn’t butchering the language to badly…whatever language it was. I couldn’t be sure — I’d never seen it before, but what did I know? I was a high school senior with three years of Spanish under my belt.

The second my last syllable died away, Violet whimpered, and the dog — a tiny brown furball of a thing — darked out of the room as though I’d lit his poofy tail on fire. The air grew heavier, an almost oily breeze eddying around me. I dropped the book on the coffee table and waited.

Violet wrung her hands.

I pretzeled my arms across my chest.

Violet covered her eyes with her fingers.

I shifted my weight from foot to foot, impatient and irritated.

Ten minutes later, the living room door…well, it didn’t really fling open, so much as it exploded inward, and in its place stood — nothing.

“What the hell?”

A mouse squeak of a voice emanated from the doorjamb. “You have invoked me, Hruuglen the Demon of Small Places! How dare you disturb my rest! There will be consequences, human!”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It was just a wee thing with purple skin and long black hair only two inches high.

It didn’t matter — my father tread squarely on its head on his way into the house after work. “Is your mother home?” he asked.

“No, Dad.”

He continued through the room, leaving a red-purple splotch behind.

“You’re right, Violet. Bad things happen.”

#5MinuteFiction Week 75 #NaNoWriMo Edition FINALISTS!

November 1, 2011

I loved the NaNoWriMo Editions last year, and I’m excited to see it come back around, even though NaNo is passing me by this year in a flurry of edits and revisions. Ah well. C’est la vie.

Well, enough of that. Here are our finalists!

DL Thurston, @DL_Thurston

John Hancock, @Grokdad

Corinne O’Flynn, @CorinneOFlynn

MLGammella, @MLGammella

Nicole, @nicolewolverton

Don’t forget, because we’re celebrating our guest judge’s new book, there are PRIZES! How’s this sound:

This week’s winner: Signed copy of The Prodigal’s Foole by R.B. Wood@rbwood and a 5 page critique from me.

One finalist chosen at random: E-copy of The Prodigal’s Foole

One participant chosen at random: E-copy of The The Prodigal’s Foole and a 5 page critique from me.

Congrats to our finalists! Their entries are below so read and vote if you please. Then come back tomorrow morning at 9:00 Eastern to see who wins!

DL Thurston, @DL_Thurston

I’ve seen it every day for the last month. If it started earlier than that, I can’t remember. It was hardly distinguishable from human at first, but I learned what to look for. The tell tale signs.

I tell people I’ve seen a demon, and they laugh. Religious friends think I’m making fun of them, other friends think I’m making fun of religious people. I’ve actually been to see several priests, working my way through denominations, a rabbi, an imam, even a few spiritualists and faith healers I found in the phone book. I describe what I see to them. None want to admit it’s a demon.

Funny those points that belief fades away.

I may have to start my own denomination. Demonination.

It watches me. There’s a hunger in its eyes, nasty black pinpricks that poke out from above its human eyes. I saw them first. Then the mouth, right in the thing’s neck, full of teeth that glimmer with starlight and dread. I’ve seen it open that mouth, I’ve seen right down inside. I know what it has planned for me if I can’t get away from it.

Last night it started whispering to me as I tried to sleep. Horrible words in a horrible language. I don’t know what it is saying. But I know what it means.

I don’t think I’ll be sleeping anymore.

My last chance it to confront it. There, where I always see it. Face it down, let the whole thing end, let it be either it or me.

And so I go to my mirror.

John Hancock, @Grokdad

Your main character encounters a demon. Turn left 8 paces.

prompt: invesigate left hallway. what do I see?

You see corpses.

prompt: human corpses?

Yes.

prompt: Has the demon killed them?

Be more specific.

prompt. crap.

I don’t understand.

prompt: never mind, ok, is the demon moving?

Yes. He is chewing on your left foot.

prompt: Damn!

Probably.

Prompt: What happens if I stab the demon with my magic dagger?

There are no magic daggers.

Prompt: no, I have one right here.

You have no magic daggers.

Prompt: what happened to my magic dagger?

The demon ate it.

Prompt: I attack with any weapon.

The demon is now eating your right foot.

Prompt: I run away! quickly!

You have no feet. You cannot run.

Prompt: I scream loudly!

No one hears you but the demon, and he seems very invigorated by your screaming.

Prompt: How do I get out this?

You don’t. this is hell. You don’t get out.

Prompt: but… but…

haha. and here you thought this was a computer game.

Prompt: who are you?

I’m the demon.

Corinne O’Flynn, @CorinneOFlynn

Wavy hid behind the trees as she approached. She could tell that there was something more wrong with the boy, beyond the apparent injury that knocked him unconscious. He was witch, she could sense that about him without a problem, but there was something more, something darker.

She sat next to him in the dirt on the bank of the river. His breathing was steady, his pulse strong. She leaned down into his hair and breathed in his scent. Yes, definitely a witch. But there was something else here.

She looked at his face, so peaceful is sleep. Then she touched his cheek. His eyes shot open and she knew instantly what that other thing was: a demon.

Wavy raised her hand to utter the protection charm, but the boy threw himself upon her, sitting on her chest and covering her mouth. She cursed herself for neglecting her mental work. Aunt Pea would kill her if she died because she was unable to produce magic with her mind alone.

“I need to speak to Amber McClintock,” he said. His voice was deep and raspy, the voice of the devil. Whoever was speaking through this boy was not of this world.

Wavy wanted to nod or signal her willingness to help him, anything to get him off of her chest. She could barely breath.

Then she saw what he held in his free hand and it froze that though before it turned into action. Her had her dead mother’s locket.

MLGammella, @MLGammella

Alana was terrified as she stared at the demon that stood on her front step. First the whispers and the man following her and now this? What could she have possibly done to deserve what was happening to her? Sure, David explained a bit about what her family was and what they represented but she never expected this.

“What do you want from me?” she cried out weakly.

“Your life and all the life you can create,” the demon uttered, its voice deep and gravely.

Alana took a step back and grasped her spiral pendant tightly. It had no effect on the demon. She looked wildly around for anything to defend herself against the creature, but to no avail.

The demon stood just outside the door, waiting for something it seemed, but she had no idea what. Suddenly, the house began to shake, slowly at first but with increasing vigor. Alana had no idea what to make of this latest development until she heard the cracking of wood.

The door frames and window sills with the engraved shepherds crooks were starting to splinter and shatter, destroying the protection they offered. The demon smiled and finally stepped through the threshold.

“Your guardian cannot help you now,” it said.

Nicole, @nicolewolverton

“But, Janet, what if something goes wrong?”

“What could go wrong?” I asked, my finger tracing the spiky cursive flowing over the page of the spell book.

Violet paled, her carefully applied blush standing out on the apples of her cheeks. “I don’t know — but when you mess witht his kind of crap, bad things happen! I heard Steve Pinner invoked some kind of demon, and a big whirling hole opened up in the middle of his kitchen and sucked his entire family in. That’s how his dad died, you know. That story about him taking off in the middle of the night was just a front.”

“Whatever. That’s a load of crap.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.” I glared at Violet, hoping to convey the fact that I wanted her to shut the hell up. It must have worked because her lips sucked closed, chin dimpling with the effort. “Okay, let’s begin.”

I read the words, paying careful attention to the accent marks and hoping I wasn’t butchering the language to badly…whatever language it was. I couldn’t be sure — I’d never seen it before, but what did I know? I was a high school senior with three years of Spanish under my belt.

The second my last syllable died away, Violet whimpered, and the dog — a tiny brown furball of a thing — darked out of the room as though I’d lit his poofy tail on fire. The air grew heavier, an almost oily breeze eddying around me. I dropped the book on the coffee table and waited.

Violet wrung her hands.

I pretzeled my arms across my chest.

Violet covered her eyes with her fingers.

I shifted my weight from foot to foot, impatient and irritated.

Ten minutes later, the living room door…well, it didn’t really fling open, so much as it exploded inward, and in its place stood — nothing.

“What the hell?”

A mouse squeak of a voice emanated from the doorjamb. “You have invoked me, Hruuglen the Demon of Small Places! How dare you disturb my rest! There will be consequences, human!”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It was just a wee thing with purple skin and long black hair only two inches high.

It didn’t matter — my father tread squarely on its head on his way into the house after work. “Is your mother home?” he asked.

“No, Dad.”

He continued through the room, leaving a red-purple splotch behind.

“You’re right, Violet. Bad things happen.”

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