Turkeys, werewolves, and publishing

Now that Thanksgiving has come and gone, I find myself giving thanks to the many hands that went into the technologies we have today (i.e., computers, software developers and publishers, and turkeys). Yes, you read that right, turkeys. Why, you might be asking. Its simple really. Turkeys remind me that capitalism works.

Without capitalism, turkeys would have become extinct along with bison and other animals. By taking ownership (through property rights) we've been able to not only save turkeys, but the iconic bison still roam somewhat free in large ranches specifically designed to maintain and foster these remarkable creatures. Before, when they truly roamed free, they were hunted until only approx. 2,000 head were left in the world. Some smart cattle ranchers saw an opportunity to save the animals through a profit motive. Today, ranchers across the west raise bison, like the Jayjak family.

Today, much of the American lifestyle is attributed to individual entrepreneurs who saw an opportunity and put in the effort to make it work. My hats off to you all, as well as my deepest thanks. Because its dreamers like you who make reality as good as the imagination.

That leads me to another front. Publishing.

I'm still awaiting word from yet another agent. Its tough waiting it out, because I'm eager to find someone who will represent me. But I can imagine how difficult it must be for agents and editors who scour through pages and pages of unsolicited requests to find something golden. I know I'm not the only writer out there with potential, so it is a difficult thing to pick and choose among the throngs of voices. I just hope my voice resonates with someone very soon.

What has me all excited is the release of World of Warcraft: Cataclysm. I'm especially excited because this expansion features my favorite paranormal creature, the werewolf. After all, The Shaman's Beacon is about werewolves. Naturally, I'll be rolling a worgen. Now if only they were cowboys too.


Initially I wasn't going to write a paranormal novel, because I feel its being done ad nauseam. That changed after I read Sarah McCarty's, Running Wild. Although she isn't a well known author, her books are a combination of erotica meets adventure. I love her Hell's Eight series, so when I picked up Running Wild I expected something good and she delivered. The premise is not outstanding, but the writing and scenes are well done. So I found myself wondering what my werewolf story would be if I did write one. One thing led to another and Linda Menendez came to be. Then came Clayton McIntyre. It took me about three months to write that novel. Its the fastest project I've written to date, and the most exciting. In fact, I'm so excited about it, I want to share some of it with you.

Here's a little sample of what's in my current book:

“Linda sat in a corner on a stool, the only available seat in the room. At least she had some food in the way of a peanut butter cookie, which was the size of a small pizza. Milk would have been good right about then. The damn stuff was beginning to stick to the roof of her mouth.

Most of the cookie remained on the napkin on her lap. Clayton moseyed on over and gestured to the cookie. “You going to eat that?”

“I was going to save it to feed a small village in Africa,” she quipped.

He chuckled, took the cookie, and in a couple of bites it was gone.

Damn it! She wanted that cookie. Just because she didn’t have a mouth the size of Montana didn’t mean she wasn’t going to eat it. She pouted as she looked down at the crumbs on the napkin and nibbled on them. “Cookie thief.”

His eyes glittered with laughter. “I asked.”

“Uh-huh.” Booger. “I’m going to the kitchen and see if there’s anything for that small village in Africa…in my stomach.” Everyone turned to look at her. So much for reticence. Okay, maybe she did have a temper. But the man ate her cookie!

“Can you get me something too?” He didn’t just ask all sweet and nice, did he? Yep, he did, looking as innocent as the honey-bunny he was.

If all eyes weren’t on her she’d have pinched his nipple again. “Uh-huh.” She grumbled on the way to the kitchen, passing pink versions of the Hulk who tipped their cowboy hats and handed out ‘howdy-dos’ without a single inflection in their voices. They were all a sober bunch, including the women, but neighborly too. The humans weren’t so big and nasty. In fact, most of them seemed to enjoy the excitement. Some were talking about their emergency preparations with enthusiastic pride, while others discussed who they reached on their ham radios from allying packs and what information they gathered. The children—or were they cubs?—played war games wearing Fatigues. Tiny Velveteen Rabbits were apparently over the top for werewolves. No doubt it was like idolizing lunch. Speaking of lunch… Her stomach rumbled again.”


Be sure and let me know what you think by commenting to this post.