Tag Archive: guest post


by Myke Cole

Shadow Ops Control PointMuch is made of the humans in my military fantasy SHADOW OPS series. This makes sense. The books are, at their core, stories about the military, which (last time I checked) is chock full of humans.

But there are monsters too, and judging by the reviews and interviews, these get much less attention. I see this as a good thing. I put a lot of work into my humans, and I’m happy they’re taking center stage. It’s their story after all.

But I put a lot of work into my monsters.

I mean a lot of work. In the SHADOW OPS universe, the powers that be believe the Great Reawakening is due to a thing they call “planar orbital theory.” The Home Plane (our world) and The Source (where magic comes from) orbit one another. Every millennia or so, they come close enough that magic bleeds through the barrier between the planes. A very limited number of people have Limbic systems that can channel it, and they come up Latent. Wackiness ensues and you get the story you’re reading in CONTROL POINT and FORTRESS FRONTIER. A Portamantic gate is necessary to move between planes.

But there is another theory circulating in military intelligence circles, that there are rare “thin spots” in the planar fabric that allow fauna to occasionally wander across. Those rare instances of Source fauna spotted in the Home Plane gave rise to every medieval bestiary ever written, not to mention the Lochness Monsters, Bigfoots and Chupacabras of the Cryptid world.

Is this theory correct? Let’s take a look at three beasties you meet in the first two books:

- A tall, black feathered bird who can emit sonic booms when alarmed.

- A hyena like creature that mimics human voices.

- A two headed, horned snake. View full article »

Howard Andrew Jones is the author of two of my favorite reads from last year: The Desert Of Souls and Pathfinder Tales: Plague Of Shadows, both great sword and sorcery reads! His popular prior post here on the historicals of Harold Lamb is one of our most read guest posts.  This time, he talks about why a white midwesterner set his fantasy novel in historical Arabia.

Plague of Shadows - HA JonesPeople ask me why I’m so interested in the ancient Middle-East. Why isn’t everyone? The 8th and 9th century of the Abbasid caliphate was a true golden age, when scientists, poets, philosophers, scholars, and explorers were sponsored and celebrated. Science and arts flourished. It’s no wonder that later storytellers looked back at the time with longing and threaded the caliph Harun-al-Rashid and the vizier Jaffar into the fabric of The Arabian Nights. These two were said to wander Baghdad nights in disguise – as they do in the Nights — and they weren’t the only fascinating figures of the time.

But I think a lot of people aren’t really asking why I find the time period interesting. They’re asking how a white guy from southern Indiana got interested in the Middle-East.

I occasionally run across the implication that by writing of the ancient Middle-East I’m practicing cultural appropriation. I never know quite how to respond to that, although I try to be sensitive. After all, there’s a long history of people from the west writing other cultures as stereotypes. A LOOONG, painful history. I can only say that I strive to write characters, not caricatures. A lot of people don’t realize that the stories of the Arabian Nights are a blend of Chinese, Arabian, Persian, and Indian myths. A few of the stories might well have been inserted by a Frenchman who claimed he’d gotten them from a Christian Arab, although there’s no record of their existence before Monsieur Galland’s translation of the Nights. Anyway, a lot of other people have gotten to play with the Arabian Nights, and I would like to think it’s okay for one more to sit down at the campfire and spin a few, even if he’s a white Hoosier. View full article »

by Patty Jansen

Great. Another how-to post. The internet is full of them. Judging by the popularity of books like Novel-writing for Dummies and 12 Things Not To Include in Your Novel’s First Chapter, people seem to love being told what to do. As if writing a book is a paint-by-numbers thing that guarantees success once you’ve ticked all the boxes.

For writing a novel, you’d better have some solid work practices or your work is doomed to fail. Ahem.

Let me describe my novel-writing process.

Stage 1: I write random crap into a file. Anything goes. It doesn’t have to follow the previous scene. I can be a rewrite of the previous scene. As soon as I hit a block, I press control-enter and start a new page. I set myself an arbitrary goal, usually 1000 words a day that I must add to the novel. Usually, I write a lot more than that, but I find that higher limits actually discourage production.

Stage 2: I sort out all these scenes and half-scenes into storyline order. This would be the stage at which I’d write a synopsis, if I needed one. I may end up having several goes and versions of the storyline, but in the end, I’ll have a file that has the scenes more or less in order, albeit sometimes written in the wrong POV character or in the wrong setting.

Stage 3: polish, polish, polish.

It’s chaotic, and in the middle I may not see the wood for the trees. Now, what is so unusual about this method?

Nothing. It’s chaotic. I has a let’s-throw-wet-spaghetti-at-the-wall-and-see-what-sticks element about it. It’s not particularly efficient, but it’s mine. It cannot be found in any how-to books, but it is how my process has developed in the course of writing many novels, and it works. I’m a pantser at heart, and rigid outlines written prior to the storytelling bore to death. I also recognise that at some stage, you need to bring structure into a novel, and adhere to it, or the novel will forever meander between directions you could possibly take with it. Say after me: there are a thousand different things I could still do with my novel, but does that mean I have to do them? View full article »

Guest Post by Howard Andrew Jones

Before Stormbringer keened in Elric’s hand, before the Gray Mouser prowled Lankhmar’s foggy streets—before even Conan trod jeweled thrones under his sandaled feet, Khlit the Cossack rode the steppe. He isn’t the earliest serial adventure character, but his adventures are among the earliest that can still be read for sheer pleasure.

He was created in 1917 by Harold Lamb, in a time when “costume pieces” provided the same kinds of thrills that fantasy and science fiction adventure stories deliver today, and he appeared in the pulp magazines.

The best remembered of these magazines today are probably those devoted to the adventures of single characters—like Doc Savage or The Shadow—or the early magazines of the fantastic wherein those we now recognize as giants were published—Weird Tales, and, later, Unknown, Planet Stories, and other science fiction magazines.

Shortly after World War I, though, there was very little to be found in the realm of the fantastic. For all their fame, the later science fiction magazines and Weird Tales were hardly representative of the content found in most pulps. The most popular of magazines tended to be devoted to westerns and detective tales. Aside from the occasional Verne reprint and a few innovators—like the fellow who’d written of a civil war soldier transported to Mars—adventure was found in more recognizable places.

And then came Lamb. View full article »

By Matt Forbeck

Adapting a game to a novel isn’t as easy as it might sound. When you work on other tie-in novels, like say a novelization of a film, the publisher sends you a script to work from, and often all you have to do is take it and fill in the descriptive bits around the dialog. Voila! Novel.

That’s much easier said than done, of course. I wrote the novelization of the Mutant Chronicles film that came out a few years back, and the film’s producers gave me a ton of leeway with it, allowing me to add in whole new scenes and characters not even implied in the script. That’s an exception, though, and one granted to me because I’d worked on the game that the film was based on too.

When you adapt a game, though — particularly something open-ended like a tabletop game — you don’t have nearly as much to work with. Most of the time, the only thing you’re given is the setting itself, the world in which things happen and the rules by which they occur. It’s up to you to come up with everything else: characters, plot, action, and so on.
View full article »