2C – The Second Feast

It wasn’t the surprising sting of a knife’s blade stabbing and slicing. Or the shock of a needle plunging and poking. It was the strange, dull pressure of a wound being stitched, careful and quick.

– Apt. 2C, Eidolon Avenue: The Second Feast

COMING SOON (2019)

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2B – The Second Feast

She wedged the knife deep, the blade angled just so.

– Apt. 2B, Eidolon Avenue: The Second Feast

COMING SOON (2019)

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Eidolon Two – Apt. 2E sneak peek

Though no longer a small girl, I am far from where I came but not far enough. Whatever devil lived in the dirt of that land can travel far and wide. And I trust it was in the dirt or the wood of the house for I cannot believe it was in Ma’s heart, though she could be cruel and unkind. Rough hands and a hungry mouth will do that to anyone.

– Apt 2E, Eidolon Avenue: The Second Feast

COMING SOON (2019)

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2D – The Second Feast

“No one tells you of the consequences of that spiral. Of what waits at that bottom. Of what waits for you in the years of guilt and regret and memory. In the eyes of others who can’t possibly know what you’ve done, what horrible things have occured by your hand, but somehow, in some way, they do.” Her chin trembled. She fought the urge to bite her lip. “No one tells you that no matter how much someone else suffers because of you, and how much they lose, in the end, you are destined to suffer more and lose more.”

– Apt. 2D, Eidolon Avenue: The Second Feast

COMING SOON (2019)

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Umbra – Eidolon:The Second Feast

“‘Tis not death, child, only darkness.”

– Apt. 2E, Eidolon Avenue: The Second Feast

COMING SOON (2019)

Eidolon-Two-Umbra-X

that shallow bowl of blond

He feared the yellow waiting below. That shallow bowl of blond wavering in the breeze ringed by the dark trunks of monstrous trees. He knew what waited there, hidden in the grass.

– Apt. 2A, Eidolon Avenue: The Second Feast

COMING SOON (2019)

Eidolon-Two-yellow-grass

stranger with the tear-drop tattoo

A sneak peek excerpt from Eidolon Avenue: The Second Feast, the WIP (work in progress) sequel to Eidolon Avenue: The First Feast

***

They’d met easy over a year ago. The noisy bar. The sudden argument. The vicious fight. The shouts. The scream. The beer bottle smashing against the wall behind her head. Chaos as he’d been dragged out the door, feet kicking, fists flailing. Her finding him moments later kneeling on the sidewalk, bloody fists punching concrete. Face red, teeth gritted. Cheeks wet with tears.

His silent primal scream breaking her heart.

Too drunk to move, she helped him stand. Too disoriented to walk, she stumbled with him to her apartment nearby. And, his arm wrapped around her neck, his boney bicep squeezing tight, his lips hot and wet against her cheek, she’d fallen in love as he’d wept in a blind rage.

Two days later she’d given this lanky stranger with the tear-drop tattoo a key to her new place on Eidolon Avenue. A day after that, her paramour with the missing front tooth tossed his duffel bag in her closet. Then, stockinged feet plopped on the coffee table, ankles crossed, beer in hand, TV remote nestled in his crotch, he’d sat on the couch.

There he’d stayed.

A year later, nothing had changed.

Except everything.

It’d started with her stomach.

***

coming soon

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myriad pieces of haphazard puzzles

I’m a relentless optimist. I’m also a no-bones-about-it realist. It’s a nice blend. Keeps me relatively stable and sane in what can be a career of dizzying highs (or so I’ve heard) and abysmal lows (first name basis frequent flier here).

And one of the things I’ve come to understand is you need both to effectively move through what can sometimes be the mystifying, frustrating process of being adapted from fiction to film (or TV).

And, believe me, I’m not slamming the process.

What most don’t realize is that moving a project forward in Hollywood, getting from A to B, is often dependent on a haphazard puzzle of myriad pieces somehow finding a way to snap together. It could take weeks. It could take months. It could take years. It could never happen. Some projects click quickly. Others less so. But the pieces need to come together, they need to fit and, as much as possible, they need to be perfect. And the one constant truth linking those two together, and everything in-between, is that you, as the writer, have zero say in how things inch forward. You just don’t.

Nor should you.

But this is the beauty of being a writer and one of the reasons I love what I do: when the no-bones-about-it realist starts to nag the relentless optimist, chipping away at his sunny disposition with perfectly reasonable doubts, the Writer gets to work.

Because not only am I a relentless optimist, a no-bones-about-it realist and a Writer (with that capital W), I’m also blessed with a creative mind that just…doesn’t…stop. The list of projects I have on my calendar currently stretch into 2020. And that’s not taking into account whatever projects land on my plate driven by other people, production companies, my publisher, anthologies, etc.

The Martuk Series. Eidolon Two. Eidolon Three. Eidolon Four. Eidolon Five. The third Martuk novel. A new project about magic and secret realms and dangerous monsters that lurk in plain sight, spanning different timeframes all at the same time. A potential three-book series centered around Mot from the Martuk books. Continued script adaptations for film, for TV.

So when I start to feel a bit grrrrrrrrrrrrr…I just flip it into work. And as I write, as words land on the page, hopefully stretching into paragraphs and then pages, chapter after chapter finally becoming a book or a short story or a screenplay or whatever, all those haphazard puzzles with their myriad pieces, something I can do nothing about, are putting themselves together. Bit by bit. Piece by piece. Phone call by phone call. Rescheduled meeting by rescheduled meeting. Email by email.

But, and this is important, when I get that email or that text or that phone call or whatever by whoever saying “Hey, let’s talk” it makes all the waiting – and furious writing – worth it. It really does.

Because another constant thread with this business is the courage to take a chance. Yes, get those pieces together and make ’em fit. Do what you can to guarantee as much as possible the largest audience possible. (Talk with me ’cause Lord knows I got ideas) But at the end of the day, you’re still rolling the dice and taking a risk.

It’s just what we do.

What’s my point with this? Maybe nothing. I’m not sure.

All I know is, as a writer, I’m lucky I drive the bus and can turn whatever impatience, curiosity or whatever I feel into work. Work that might, at some point, end up being part of yet another puzzle with pieces needing to be put together.

Which will lead me into writing more.

It really is a gloriously vicious cycle, ain’t it? 😊