Friday Flash Review: The Soul Seekers

A few weeks back I had the opportunity to receive an ARC of The Soul Seekers, Amy Saia's debut novel. I met Amy during the April A to Z Blogging Challenge, and I'm excited to share her new book today.

Goodreads Description of The Souls Seekers...

When Emma's father dies, she and her mother move cross country to a small, boring town. Now the only constant in Emma Shay's new life is him. Beautiful, silent, him: the mysterious guy at the library she secretly calls Superman because of his dark, good looks. But Emma is puzzled and intrigued by his behavior. He speaks at her but never to her. He comes up to touch her hair and then suddenly leaves. And then one day an impulsive meeting between them uncovers a strange truth about William Bennett.

Set in Southern Indiana during the summer of 1979, The Soul Seekers is about one girl and the future she tries to deny. Can she save William from his purgatory, or is she doomed to share his fate?

My Humble Opinion...

The Soul Seekers, by Amy Saia, is a young adult paranormal romance with a sweet small-town feel and down-to-earth story that flows like a beautiful piece of music. The teenage protagonist, Emma Shay, is uprooted from her home in Colorado to halfway across the country, to the mysterious small town of Springvale, Indiana. At first glance, Springvale seems like a typical town—with the story set in the summer of 1979—but it quickly becomes apparent that the town is haunted by dark forces, forces enslaving the town in oppressive 1950s ideals.

I love the development of Emma and Jesse’s relationship, though Emma spends her free time pining over the ghostly William. With Emma being the new girl, Jesse wants to save her from the town’s iron grip while Emma wants to save William from the strange limbo he seems to be imprisoned within. He appears to be Emma’s age, but reveals he’s been frozen in his teenage body for over twenty years. Then she is introduced to the cult that is brainwashing and controlling the town for their own insalubrious purposes.

I greatly enjoyed William masquerading as Emma’s guardian angel when she’s in an accident. I spent most of the book feeling bad for Jesse though. He has the bad boy persona, but underneath he seems like a genuinely nice guy. I found him to be the most interesting character.

The Soul Seekers is a fun and fast read. The author does a wonderful job of harnessing a teenage voice that will appeal to teen readers and a vintage, nostalgic 1970s setting that will appeal to adults, making it a great YA crossover debut novel.  

A few minutes with Amy...

Thanks so much for joining me today! I very much appreciate you taking a few minutes to talk with me.

What compelled you to choose 1979 as the setting for The Soul Seekers? 

Well, for a long time I've had a weird love/obsession with that year. I think it's because 1979 is the last of a true simplicity in time. The eighties were rather cold and—forgive me, because I know a lot of people love the songs from the 80's—rock'n'roll kind of lost its soul. There was something very organic about the way people talked and dressed, even things like commercial design had a certain naivety that I love. The world was still a Woodstock generation. Plus, John Lennon was still alive.

Do you feel that being a musician influences your writing?

I've been told so, yes. When I am in the mode, things roll like song lyrics. I know a lot about writing those: find a topic that fits the melody; find words that fit topic; make it smooth; make it catchy. My favorite comment came from an older gentleman whose writing I greatly adore, he said I had a lyrical way of writing and hoped I'd fall down a flight of stairs and break my fingers. Terrible! Haha. Can't help it but I still think that's the best compliment I've ever received.

Are there specific songs you hear for certain scenes in the novel?

Any you’d like to share? I don't know if it seems an obvious pick, but "Don't Fear the Reaper" would be great throughout, especially for the scene where Jesse and Emma drive to the eclipse together. It has that urgency. There's a song from the 1950's called "The Wind" that would be perfect for when Emma wakes up in the hospital. It's a beautiful song by a Doo Wop group, The Jesters, and I love it tremendously. Also, I listened to America's first album (self-titled) a lot while writing The Soul Seekers, and so each song represents a scene from the book for me. "Horse With No Name" is like an anthem; its mood of isolation represents well the loneliness that permeates Springvale. And, of course, I'd have "Sundown" by Gordon Lightfoot for the van scene where William fades into night.

What challenges did you face in finding authentic teenage voices for Emma and Jesse? 

At first Emma was too young. Her voice matured a lot in the second draft to the point where I really felt I knew her deepest, most inner fears and desires. Jesse shocked the you-know-what out of me because he was so instantly rebellious and real. I mean, I literally would sit back sometimes and go, "Did I write that? What just happened here?" I think I had a lot of rebellion still left in me from my teenage years, and it found a release in Jesse. I did go out and read The Pigman by Paul Zindel and found a similarity that was nice. I wanted 1970's teen, but not like The Brady Bunch, "Groovy, Jesse!" "Far out, Emma!" It had to be honest. And with William I wanted that noble, 1950's cleanliness to contrast with Emma's hippyisms. 

What inspired you to write YA? 

Well, like many people, my high school years were rough. I remember having tons of daydreams in the years following graduation. I'd go back, but this time I'd be the Amy who knew who she was, the Amy who could wise-crack her way out of almost any situation, the Amy who didn't care, the Amy who had a car and a life. The Soul Seekers was an extension of me going back to the town where I felt so abandoned and hurt, and fighting all that had brought me down. There's probably—in all of us—a need to go back and find redemption. 

Can you please share what your road to publication like? 

Rough. But it could have been worse. I made the mistake of sending off my manuscript too soon. It was rejected and rejected. I worked my way down from dream agents to whatever and whomever I could send a query to, but by then I found out my query was an awful, stinking mess. After that there's no going back, meaning, once you've spent an agent's time for one book, it's pretty much over. You have to write another one if you want to query them again. But I just could not give up on The Soul Seekers, there was something about it that seemed so haunting and real to me. I could picture the town so vividly, the characters—there was true emotion inside the pages. A couple of things happened to keep me going: one was, I was grocery shopping when a group of men in black suits and black glasses came around the isle. I just stood there in shock while one of them walked up to me, smiled, and then they all left. Talk about a message! The last, fate-sealing occurrence happened when I was about to mail off a revision for a revise and resubmit. "The Seeker" by The Who came on the car radio on the way to the post-office. My publisher, WiDo accepted that R&R, and told me on my birthday last year. I was so happy and overwhelmed! All things in good time. 

What advice do you have for aspiring authors? 

Read as much as you can, a writer is always growing and needs fuel. Don't let people tell you who or how your characters should be. Stay true to what you know is honest. Work hard. Have fun. If you love your book, then write it, send it to every agent until you run out, be your best supporter. Not everyone is going to love what you write, but if you do, you should stick to it.

Thank you again, Amy! It has been a real pleasure sharing a post with you. Below are links to Amy's blog and Goodreads, and where you can find The Souls Seekers. Be sure to check it out. Thank you for reading. Thank you to Amy. Have a wonderful weekend, everyone!

Amy Saia

http://thatamysaia.blogspot.com/

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5818863.Amy_Saia

Pick up your copy of The Soul Seekers on Amazon (paperback / Kindle) and Barnes & Noble (paperback / Nook).

Friday Flash Fiction: Under Sally's Watch

Today's flash fiction is my entry for Candilynn's Follow My Lead Contest. The prompt given is the picture below.

Under Sally’s Watch

The explosions in the distance look like fireworks. Lindi is perched upon her window sill, overlooking the violent festivities. She calmly combs the knots in her wavy, chestnut hair with her callused fingers and makes a wish.  

Marcus is out there somewhere, fighting to hold them back, and her wish is that she’ll be able to see him again. He’s been gone for three days, but she has faith in her brother’s skills. He’s taught her everything he knows—like an older brother should. At least he left her in Sally’s protective hands.

The quakes from crashing buildings shake her high-rise apartment tower. The panic of hopeless pedestrians fills the street below. But she has no intention of running. The sweat across her brow and beading along her forearms is from the summer evening heat, and nothing else. In her favorite dark tank top and faded shorts, she waits like an owl scanning for mice, eager to swoop down at the perfect moment and extend her experienced talons.

When the first soldiers reach the street below, she knows it is time to step away from the window. Lindi hops down from the sill, the wooden floor slippery under her bare feet. She snatches the Savage 110 BA sniper rifle leaning against the wall, kneels before the window, and takes aim. Gazing intently into the telescopic sight, Lindi finds her first target. He is young, probably on his first tour, in way over his head.

“Steady, Sally,” she says, exhaling slowly while grazing the trigger.

Lindi fires one shot and he goes down with an arch of blood outstretching before him. Thinking of how Marcus is out there somewhere, she scans the street for her next target.

Friday Flash Fiction: The Shutter House

The Shutter House

Every picture fell off the walls. The entire house came to life from the shaking. All of the earthquakes Tony had felt since moving to Southern California didn’t prepare him for this level of force and destruction.

He ran to the girls’ room, holding his hands in front of his face while dodging knick-knack projectiles. Lights sparked from above and rained down in showers of fireflies as he charged down the hall. The doorway to his daughters’ room loomed ahead. The sound of their desperate cries reached his ears, cutting through the roar of the house shuttering in its foundation.

Tony found his two young girls huddled together on the floor beside their bed. Their toys and books fell from shelves, posters peeled off the walls, and the bed rumbled like an object possessed.

“Daddy, what’s happening!” his youngest cried, her head on the shoulder of her older sister.

“You’re okay, I’m here.” Tony skidded to a stop and dropped to his daughters’ side, wrapping his lanky arms around them both.

“I want Mommy!”

Tony’s heart sank, though he understood his petrified daughter’s response. The world was collapsing around her and she didn’t understand why. His thoughts went to his wife who had recently left for the store and prayed she was safe.

The quake’s fury was unrelenting. Tony collected his daughters, his youngest in his arms, and his first born at his side. They ran down the crumbling hallway. The only things left on the walls were cracks streaking from ceiling to floor like gaping wounds.

They rounded the corner into the entryway and crashed through the front door. Tony led them to a safe distance, dropping to the grass in the middle of the front lawn. Nothing would hurt them out in the open air as the buildings collapsed around them as the shaking—

There was no more shaking, the earthquake over. Tony looked around and saw no one else exiting their houses. No fallen trees. No damage of any kind for as far as he could see. He looked back at the house, with a daughter clinging to each arm, just in time to see the front door snap from its hinges and fall forward like the house was inviting them back inside. 

Friday Flash Fiction: Gentleman Masquerader

Today, my flash fiction is my entry for Candilynn's Follow My Lead Flash Fiction Contest. It has to be under 300 words and use the first line supplied. Also, there is a picture supplied to use as extra inspiration. Thanks, Candilynn! Follow the link above to check out the other entries. Enjoy!

Gentleman Masquerader

The streets of this restless city never slept. Two couples walking as one stumbled along the sidewalk, clinging to each other for support, prattling and pointing, spilling and sinking, drinking through the night’s festivities. Those standing in doorways watched as they passed; others laughed and flashed, reaching for necklaces falling from balconies.

The street was filled with pedestrians instead of cars, the parties spilling out from the bars, creating a single group of hedonists. The couples finished their drinks and dove into the crowd to dance. Passing masqueraders and exhibitionists, they claimed a spot and let the music take them to the next level of ecstasy. The guys swayed and the girls twirled, reaching out and pulling back into each other’s arms.

“May I have this dance?” a masked man asked, stepping out from the surrounding dancers—offering a painted hand.

He bowed and the girl curtsied with a smitten giggle. Her partner stepped back and allowed the guest into their group’s intimate circle. She took the costumed man’s hand and stepped closer. He kept her at an elbow’s length as he led her through a classical waltz. They glided to the music like royalty amongst peasants.

When the song they started with bled into another, the elegant stranger cupped the girl’s hand in his and held it out.

“You are a lovely dancer, my dear. And so very beautiful,” he said and raised her hand to his lips and gave it a soft kiss. She blushed from his old-fashioned etiquette—and moaned when he sunk his teeth into the meat surrounding her thumb.

The masquerader dropped her hand and met the gaze of the group with blood dripping from his chin. Before the screams, he bowed again and slipped inconspicuously into the restless city crowd.

Friday Flash Review: Slipstream

For my second Friday Flash Review, I have Michael Offutt's debut novel, Slipstream. And I'm lucky enough to have Michael stop by and share a few thoughts as well.

Goodreads Description of Slipstream...

Jordan Pendragon is crazy good at fixing situations that have gone bad. It's a talent prized by his high school ice hockey team. However, when a car accident puts Jordan in the hospital, he wakes up with more than just an amazing slapshot in his toolbox. Jordan can manipulate space-time and in just a few weeks, he'll depend on it to save his life.

My Humble Opinion...

Michael Offutt’s debut novel, Slipstream, is unlike anything I’ve read. It is a sci-fi mystery, adventure with a teenage protagonist, Jordan Pendragon. The book gets its title from the physical phenomenon of the same name, which Offutt uses as an extraordinary ability to manipulate space-time, giving it to Jordon to discover and learn to harness.

The story begins on Earth, where Jordon, a high school hockey star with an aptitude for physics, learns of his ability with the slipstream. He meets a young British man, Kolin, who is from an alternate Earth, called Avalon. Avalon is a dystopian nightmare of megacities separated by vast wastelands, an insane artificial intelligence who claimed the role of God, and societies obsessed with beauty, youth, drugs, and violence. It’s like a gothic, futuristic Rome meets Las Vegas, which I love so much. The megacities are plagued by technologically enhanced versions of vampires, ghosts, and succubi. I find these surgical modifications quite interesting, a cool adaptation of these common creatures of the night.    

Once in Avalon, Jordan and his twin sister, Kathy, have to help a team of eclectic characters to free the imprisoned half of the AI in order to get home. There are many twists and turns along their adventure and I don’t want to slip up and drop any spoilers. But Offutt kept me guessing as the unlikely heroes battle corrupt and surgically enhanced people, mythologically based creatures, and insane super machines. The multiple fight scenes are intense and really propel the story forward. The creation of Avalon is described with in-depth quantum mechanics and technological explanations, which I found interesting—sometimes slightly over my head—but I feel the length of the explanations slowed down the story at times.

Overall, I very much enjoyed the unique story and descriptive dystopian world of Avalon paralleling our own. Even though the adventure revolves around a teenage protagonist, Slipstream is not classified as YA, which I agree with because it has some graphic scenes and language. Slipstream is the first novel in the A Crisis of Two Worlds Series, and I’m looking forward to Offutt’s next installment. 

A few minutes with Michael...

Thanks so much for joining me today! I very much appreciate you taking a few minutes out of your busy day to talk with me.

Where did your inspiration for Slipstream come from?

I don't really know actually. I just had this idea one day that I wanted to try writing a book again. I have several failed novels that just sit in drawers or in dead computer files. I knew the story I wanted to tell was going to be big. And I have all of these plans in my head of things I want to do and gadgets that I want to use in later books. I wrote a pretty detailed outline. Then I started world-building. I knew from the get go that I wanted my protag to be a hot young hockey player because I enjoy watching hockey on television. But I needed a story that wasn't about sports because I didn't want to write about sports. I just wanted that to be a facet of his personality (the same as him being gay--it's just one facet) and a means to progress the plot. I think I had the whole "show don't tell" mantra in the back of my head so wanted to establish that my protag was athletic without just saying "he's athletic" so being great in a sport was one way to do that. Then I had to decide if I was going to write in first person or third person. That's where the biggest inspirations came from. I turned to the works of great sci-fi authors like Frank Herbert, William Gibson, and Robert A. Heinlein. They all wrote in third person omniscient. So that's what I wanted to do. And I'm most comfortable with that style. I struggled with the whole YA label because I know that YA authors tend to write in first person. I knew that if my book got branded as YA, as soon as a girl picked it up and saw the first line and realized it was third person, that it was probably going to get a pass. So I really tried to impress upon people it was a sci-fi novel first (which has more acceptance of third person omniscient even if the hard sci-fi audience is one of the most snooty genres to write for).

Slipstream has quite the eclectic cast. How did you build and develop your characters?

I knew I wanted Jordan to be smart and that I wanted to use a lot of quantum mechanics because I find quantum mechanics and astrophysics to be fascinating stuff. Making him gay was just because I'm gay and well...write what you know, right? I made Kolin an English assassin because quite frankly, my D&D days taught me that assassins were pretty sexy, and I'm a sucker for an English accent. If you don't think assassins always look sexy, you need to pay attention to some ninja movies or look at the demon hunter in Diablo III. Just way sexier than the barbarian and far more interesting to me. And James Bond can be considered sexy, don't you think? And it's not too far to label Bond as an assassin. He has a license to kill after all. I needed Kathy because I have this whole clever thing that's going to happen in book 3 that has to do with the whole Excalibur legend and the Lady of the Lake. Plus I thought that the story I have for Jordan was too big for just himself. Dylan grew out of a desire to have a quirky paranormal character that could do weird stuff because he has a spirit cat as a companion. And Meteora and Chewy were both based off of World of Warcraft characters that I loved playing with in my guild. Meteora was the best shadow priest I have ever seen and Chewy is one heck of a warlock. Chewy consequently is played by Tomeka (one of my best friends) and a black woman in real life as well as in game. So it wasn't much of a stretch to make sure I had a major character that was black, smart, and beautiful.

What is you’re writing process like? Do you have a routine? Daily/weekly/monthly goals?

When I do write, it becomes almost an obsession. I stay up late, get up early, and work so hard that I actually don't like the feeling it leaves me with. So I actually go for months at a time without writing anything except blog posts because I know when I start my story, I won't want to do anything else, and that's unhealthy. It's really weird to explain, but it's almost like I feel I have to get the story out of me in order to get any sleep. And then I drive myself crazy obsessing over words and edits. I don't plan on writing anymore until the winter. I feel it's okay to be unhealthy in the winter because it's cold outside and there isn't much to do.

Would you like to share anything about what you’re working on next?

I'll be working on the third book in the series. The second book is in the hands of a great editor who will take the rest of the year to pore over it. Then DDP will probably look at publishing it sometime next year or maybe 2014 depending on how backed up they are. I know that it will be called "Caledfwlch" which is the Welsh name for "Excalibur". The second book is called "Oculus".  In case you were wondering, there's Arthurian allegory going on in Slipstream, and it's completely intentional. Since you read it, I'll go ahead and tell you that "Caldefwlch" is the only weapon that has the possibility of killing the Horcus because it isn't from Earth. I'm going with the whole "Forged by God" thing that people talk about when they discuss the sword of legend. I'm going to update it though...it's not going to be some crusty medieval weapon. Jordan will be able to transform it into anything in the Slipstream field--that includes shiny snowboards!

  Do you have any advice for writers dreaming of becoming published?

Network with other writers through a blog. Stop being alone. Writers can help you with advice and by being supportive and with reviews. You want to have friends in the industry who've got your back when the Amazon trolls start rolling in with their one star reviews. It helps to have that padding from twenty or so bloggers who have read your work and given you fair reviews before some jerk cruises in and says "I never read this book but noticed all the four and five star reviews so made a one star one to call attention to it." And trust me...this does happen for real.

Thank you again, Michael! It has been a real pleasure sharing this post with you. Below are links to Michael's blog, Goodreads, and Twitter, and a link to get Slipstream for yourself. Thank you for reading. I'll do my best to stop by your blogs this weekend, and I'll be right back here first thing on Monday. Have a wonderful weekend!

Michael Offutt
http://slckismet.blogspot.com/
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3099632.Michael_Offutt
https://twitter.com/#!/MichaelOffutt

Michael Offutt is a writer of science-fiction books. Depending on when you catch him, he may also be an aspiring writer of epic fantasy, young adult fiction, or a daily non-sequitur. He has one brother, no pets, and a few roots that keep his tree of life sufficiently watered.
Mr. Offutt's mother is a four-foot tall Japanese woman and his father is a six-foot tall white man from Texas with a thick southern drawl. She loves city life and sushi. He loves small towns with run-down pick-up trucks and fried chicken.

When he asked his mother how they got together, she happily responded that when she was working in the United States Air Force back in the '50's, she used her spare time as an office clerk at the Air Force Base to look over personnel records for a husband. He remarks that peculiar behavior like this must have been how people met each other prior to the influence of Facebook and Twitter. It puzzles him whenever he thinks about it, so he chooses instead to just love his stalker mother who speaks quite fondly of the family to the fictional people that live in the basement.

CLICK HERE to Download Slipstream on Amazon!

Friday Flash Fiction: Eileen

I saw her for the first time while sitting on the bank of the pond, my afternoon sanctuary in the woods behind my house. Her head emerged from the calm water, with long blonde hair slicked back and the tips spreading out on the sunlit surface like tiny snakes dispersing in all directions. She caught sight of me immediately and produced the most beautiful smile I’d ever had directed at me. As her shoulders bobbed rhythmically with the water, I noticed she wore a collared long sleeved shirt.

I was taken aback by my unexpected visitor and had a fleeting urge to jump to my feet, but her beautiful gaze hypnotized me and kept me seated. She looked about my age, but not like any girl at my high school. She had a wild and carefree spirit that only a girl swimming in a pond fully clothed could have on a humid autumn day. Her face was completely washed clean of make-up, but her skin was so fair and flawless that it would have only distracted from her beauty.

“Hey there,” she said, almost shouting at me over nature’s conversations of birds and trees. “I’ve seen you here before.”

“You have?” I asked. My body released a shutter from her stalkerish statement. “Do you go to Rose Madden High, too?”

“Once upon a time,” she answered, gliding through the water with a graceful breast stroke.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Once upon a time there was a girl named Eileen who went to Rose Madden High.”

She found her footing as the water became shallow and stood up, now with only her legs submerged. She wore washed blue jeans below her plaid, button-down shirt, which clung tightly to her dripping body.

“Do you always go for afternoon swims in your jeans, Eileen?”

“Why, is that weird?”

“A little.”

“Then I guess I’m a little weird,” she snapped back with a smirk.

Our conversation continued uninterrupted for a few minutes, but she never got out of the water. She splashed around, back floated away, and swam back to the shallow edge—never allowing the pond to fully calm.

“Hey, Davy Boy!” a voice called to me from the thick of the trees. It was followed by the crunching of dried leaves as footsteps approached. “What, you too good to wait for us?”

I looked over my shoulder and saw Toby, Stretch, and Tiny wading through the brush.  “I got board so I went on ahead.” I turned back to Eileen and was about to introduce her to my friends (who were never going to believe I was talking to such a smoking hot girl), when I discovered she was gone. The pond was still except for an expanding ripple like someone had thrown a rock into the water. But if she was under there, she never came up for air. 

Be sure to check out my Indie Author Blog Hop Giveaway where I'm giving away paperback copies of Provex City! 

Friday Flash Fiction: My Zombie Little Brother

My little brother, Kyle, has been six years old for six years now. Ever since he was bitten by that decrepit stray cat passing through our backyard, he has stopped growing and smells as retched as that damn cat no matter how many times we scrub him down. He’s always up for play fighting, wrapping his chubby arms around my leg and his little jaws going for the thigh. But luckily for me, I peel him off and throw him easily to the ground, where his little limbs flail spastically in all directions. When he gets too aggressive and adamant about devouring the family, he spends a timeout in his room. Zombie kids never learn and rarely listen. But he’ll always be my little brother and I love him for who he is.

Since he began eating us out of house and home, Mom had to go back to work to pay for the extra pounds of raw meat he goes through daily. The butcher took sympathy on the family and printed a rewards card just for us: One hundred pounds of meat and the next pound’s free! With Mom and Dad away at work, I bring Kyle with me to school. I can’t just leave him home alone to terrorize the neighbors, even though ridding the street of the Paulson kids wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

Kyle follows me around the campus and stands beside me in class. Fellow students in close proximity don’t always appreciate the staring, excessive drooling, and gurgling sounds, but they’ve come to accept Kyle over the past few years. He’s even become the school mascot. The games when he gets to run around like a banshee in his personalized polar bear costume make me so proud and sometimes bring a tear to my eyes. For those magical moments, Kyle’s in zombie kid heaven. They’re also the times when he can’t hurt anyone no matter how hard he tries to bite through the furry, padded suit. Have you ever seen a zombie kid chasing his back zipper like a dog chasing its tail? I’ll try to remember to post a video.

Now that I’m a senior, Kyle and I run the school. He marches beside me like my own personal midget bodyguard. The incoming freshmen have no idea what to expect when they see us strutting down the hall. When I yell, “Sick’em, Kyle!” he charges their huddled clusters, scattering freshmen like a murder of crows. Sometimes he charges off on his own accord and I have to reel him back before he wreaks too much havoc. Silly freshmen, as long as they’re wearing long pants, they’ll be fine. That’s my little brother, always trying to take people out at the knees. His persistence is inspirational. We can all learn a thing or two from Kyle, my zombie little brother.
 

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In fellow blogger news, Nancy Thompson has revealed the cover to her book, The Mistaken today! Hop over to her blog to find out more about her book. The Mistaken has a release date of October, 18th. Mark it on your calendars. Congratulations, Nancy! :)

Friday Flash Review: CassaStar

This is a brand new Friday Flash - my first Friday Flash Review! And I'm starting right at the top with Ninja Captain Alex J. Cavanaugh's first book, CassaStar. And I was lucky enough to have Alex stop by and share a few thoughts, which you'll find below my review, so please keep reading.

Goodreads Description of CassaStar...

Slated to train as a Cosbolt fighter pilot, Byron is determined to prove his worth and begin a new life as he sets off for the Moon base of Guaard. Haunted by a past tragedy, Bassa eventually sees through Byron's tough exterior and insolence. When a secret talent is revealed during training, Bassa feels compelled to help Byron achieve his full potential.

My Humble Opinion...

Alex wrote a sci-fi novel that will appeal to more than sci-fi readers. CassaStar is a character driven story delivered to the reader through a sci-fi universe. It is not bogged down with the world building detail that sci-fi and fantasy books typically have, but paints enough of a picture and lets the reader fill in the rest. Alex has written a streamlined story that propels the plot forward at an enjoyable pace from beginning to end.

CassaStar primarily focuses on the relationship between the rookie, maverick pilot, Byron, and his experienced and highly decorated instructor/navigator, Bassa. From the beginning, Bassa sees Byron as his late younger brother and takes a special interest in him. Byron enters the flight training program as a cocky loner and an extremely gifted pilot with the rare gift of “jumping” (teleporting). Preparing for battle against an alien race called the Vindicarn, the men are dependent on each other for survival. Pilots and navigators communicate through telepathy, allowing unfiltered access to the other’s suppressed thoughts, memories, and fears. Trust is essential. But trust has to be earned, which is how the relationship between the two men is tested and strengthened throughout the story.

As much as I enjoyed CassaStar, I would like to know more about the Vindicarn. The closest we, the readers, come to them is from a spaceship away in battle, never up close. They are a faceless villain. But that would just add description, not change the story. CassaStar is a powerful story of friendship and trust, honor and self-sacrifice. Alex takes a familiar and universal storyline and builds a powerful and unique story. The second book in the trilogy, CassaFire, is currently available, and I’m looking forward to continuing the journey.  

A few minutes with Alex...

Thanks so much for joining me today! You are a giant in the blogging world, with an impressive list of loyal followers, and starting your third book, CassaStorm. So I very much appreciate you taking a few minutes out of your busy day to talk with me.

What were your biggest influences and inspiration for CassaStar?

The biggest influences were science fiction movies and shows such as Battlestar Galactica, Star Wars, and Buck Rogers. I liked the idea of adventure in space. Galactica probably influenced me the most, as I really liked the Vipers and battle sequences. There’s also a bit of Star Trek in there as well, because the human element is the most important.

Looking back to when you just started your blog, two short years ago, how did you go about attacking the blogging world? What was your experience like just starting out?

I had no idea what I was doing! I started my blog on November 9, 2009 with a post that basically said “Hi, I’m Alex.”  I found a couple nice bloggers who helped me out and I started following other bloggers. In the beginning, I followed a lot of science fiction bloggers, but for some reason wasn’t connecting. After six months, I had a little over thirty followers. (Sounds depressing, doesn’t it?)

Finding Arlee Bird and joining the first A to Z Challenge changed everything. I finished April with over eighty followers and finally found my groove. I realized the easiest thing for me to talk about was my passions, so rather than focus on the fact I was a writer soon to be an author, I started blogging about movies, music, tech stuff, and other geeky pursuits. I held my first blogfest, the Movie Dirty Dozen, and it all snowballed from that point.

 Where did the “Ninja Captain” come from?

That title came from my followers almost two years ago. I guess because I write science fiction, someone dubbed me the Captain. (Old Kitty, perhaps?) The Ninja came from my ability to get in and comment fast. (At least, that’s what I remember!) I’ve been given many other titles since then, but those two stuck. And now I really am the Ninja Captain of an army of followers. Just blows me away!

Thank you again, Alex! It has been a real pleasure sharing a post with you. Below are links to Alex's blog and Twitter, and information on CassaStar and the second installment, CassaFire. Be sure to check them both out. Thank you for reading. Thank you to Alex. I'll do my best to stop by your blogs this weekend, and I'll be right back here first thing on Monday. Have a wonderful holiday weekend, everyone!

Alex J. Cavanaugh

http://alexjcavanaugh.blogspot.com/

http://twitter.com/AlexJCavanaugh  

Alex J. Cavanaugh has a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree and works in web design and graphics. He is experienced in technical editing and worked with an adult literacy program for several years. A fan of all things science fiction, his interests range from books and movies to music and games. Online he is the Ninja Captain and founder of the Insecure Writer’s Support Group. The author lives in the Carolinas with his wife.

CassaStar by Alex J. Cavanaugh

6x9 Trade paperback, 246 pages, Dancing Lemur Press, L.L.C.

Science fiction - space opera/adventure

Print ISBN 978-0-9816210-6-7 $15.95

EBook ISBN 978-0-9827139-3-8 $2.99

Book Trailer - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=67YBjQve00U

“…calls to mind the youthful focus of Robert Heinlein’s early military sf, as well as the excitement of space opera epitomized by the many Star Wars novels. Fast-paced military action and a youthful protagonist make this a good choice for both young adult and adult fans of space wars.” - Library Journal

CassaFire by Alex J. Cavanaugh

6x9 Trade paperback, 240 pages, Dancing Lemur Press, L.L.C.

Science fiction - space opera/adventure

Print ISBN 978-0-9827139-4-5 $15.95

EBook ISBN 978-0-9827139-6-9 $4.99

Book Trailer - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qa6VINRGtyE

Friday Flash Fiction: The Man in the Hawaiian Shirt

Jimmy awoke with his head pounding, which was not a new occurrence. The familiar pressure behind his eyes and sour remnants in the back of his throat were a small price to pay from a previous night of exuberant drinking. But when he awoke, he always awoke safely in his bed—until today.

His eyes had to adjust to the unusually bright room. It didn’t take him long to recognize he was in a hospital bed, positioned between the door and a curtain pulled halfway across the room.

In a chair across from him sat a man in a Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts, and penny loafers without socks. He sat casually with his legs crossed and an open newspaper that covered his face.

“Hello?” Jimmy said, just trying to get the man’s attention.

The newspaper lowered and the man behind it smiled. His hair couldn’t seem to reach the top of his head and his circular lenses magnified his blue eyes.

“Jimmy, you’re awake,” he said. “I thought I’d be waiting here longer. How do you feel?”

Jimmy was more than a little confused. He tried to recall the events of the night before and if this man somehow surfaced into those memories—but the memories were not there.

“I don’t know.” Jimmy brought a hand to his face and felt a bandage over his nose. His left arm was in a cast. “I’m still in one piece. Do I know you? I’m sorry if I met you last night and don’t remember.”

“No, it’s nothing like that—but there isn’t much time. Do you remember anything?”

The pounding in Jimmy’s head made it next to impossible for him to think clearly. He tried to recall. He was at a bar with friends. Some girls joined the group. There were shots between beers. He had intermittent smokes in the alley. After last call, he got into his car alone…

“Why isn’t there much time?” Jimmy asked hoarsely.

“You were in an accident.”

Jimmy bit his lip as flashes of the accident returned like a broken movie reel.

“Did I cause it?”

The man in the Hawaiian shirt nodded. “The lady you hit is on the other side of that curtain.”

Jimmy couldn’t believe his ears. He was always cautious behind the wheel after drinking, on the lookout for cops along his route home. He would never be so careless—and this man was making it sound like he was there.

“Who are you?” Jimmy’s voice trembled.

“The husband of the poor lady is sitting at her bedside. She doesn’t have long, and when she goes, that man in a fit of anguish and rage will come and kill you.”

“What?!”

“So you have to decide—I can take you now, put you to sleep peacefully or you can stay here and wait for him to come for you.”

“You’re insane!” Jimmy exclaimed.

“I understand how you must feel. This is probably unsettling. I’m just advising you of what’s to come—giving you the facts. He will kill you and won’t even try to get away.” The man in the Hawaiian shirt folded his paper and set it on a chair to his left. “So which will it be?”

“I don’t understand what’s happening here! Are you going to kill me, too?” Jimmy reached for the remote control device on his bed and pressed the button for nurse assistance.

“Your button is defective. I’m sorry.”

Jimmy pressed it again, hoping a nurse would get the call. If one didn’t come soon, Jimmy was prepared to scream.

 “It’s almost time,” the man said, tapping on his wrist with his forefinger.

 “No,” Jimmy simply said, lying back and looking up at the ceiling, praying a nurse was just about to turn in.

Then the high pitched hum of a flatlining heart monitor consumed the room like everything else had gone silent.

“Olivia!” a male voice cried.

Seconds later, several nurses and doctors rushed into the room to perform emergency procedures on the lady slipping behind the curtain. Jimmy couldn’t see what was happening, but he could see that the man in the Hawaiian shirt no longer sat in the chair across the room. The man was gone.

An orderly rolled a smaller bed into the room and, seconds later, the lady was rolled away with great urgency. Jimmy could only assume the man following the gang of hospital staff out of the room was the husband. He looked over at Jimmy before exiting with a morose expression beaten into his face.

Jimmy let out a long breath with the relief of finally being alone. Now he could recollect the broken memories of the night before in peace and hopefully everything would be ok.

         Not five minutes later, the husband reemerged in the doorway with the same sullen expression as before. The two men stared at each other for a long moment without sharing a word. Then the husband stepped into the room and closed the door. 

Friday Flash Fiction: The Blind Man's Trumpet

Gabriel watched a haggard looking man, known as Harry to the other transients in this section of the city, stumble into the crosswalk with the rest of the pedestrian traffic. He clutched an old trumpet in his left hand and a blind man’s cane in his right. Professionals of the Financial District gave him a wide berth as he tapped his way to the opposite sidewalk. The locals called him Dirty Harry.

Upon reaching the sidewalk, Harry stopped amidst the flow of people like a boulder in a river, lifted his trumpet to his chapped lips, and began to blow. He didn’t attempt a tune like a street performer, he just belted out a monotone scream that cut through the morning air like a sonic boom.

People in Harry’s vicinity fled the street corner. Others standing nearby kept their distance. The crowd grew as more people from surrounding buildings exited by the dozens at the trumpet’s emergency calling.

Gabriel observed as Harry’s trumpet screams caused a restless commotion to ripple through the gathered crowd. Passing cars slowed to see what was happening. Observers began to yell for Harry to stop, but he continued his warning undisturbed.

Finally, one man stepped out from the crowd and approached the lonely messenger. The man placed a cautious hand just past the bell of the trumpet and gave it a tug.

Harry screamed in a wild fit of flailing arms and ripped his trumpet from the stranger’s grip. Yelling in gabbling tongues, Harry stumbled back a step, swinging his cane until he found the man’s ankle. Now out of reach, Harry blew into his trumpet again with an even greater intensity.

The man looked around at the infuriated crowd and decided to reach for the trumpet again, this time pulling it with enough force to peel Harry’s lips from the mouthpiece. But Harry refused to give up his instrument, now in a bitter game of tug-of-war. His cane fell to the ground as he latched on with both hands to pull his endangered friend to freedom. The stranger refused to give up in front of all the spectators and held on tight.

Three more men leapt from the crowd and grabbed Harry, each by an arm, yanking the trumpet from his frantic hands in seconds. They tried their best to restrain him, but Harry refused to be restrained. He screamed incoherently, and kicked and spat at his aggressors. His bony arms were flexed and sweaty hands balled into fists as he thrashed his weight around in a desperate attempt to break free.

The man now holding the trumpet backed away as the other three men took over the fight. With a man securing each arm, the third man bent down to pick up Harry’s cane. Unable to anticipate what was coming, Harry was dropped to his knees by a swift jab to the stomach with the marshmallow tip of his cane. And his arms were suddenly freed, but they just fell limply to his side. A second man punched Harry in the nose, sending him reeling backwards onto the cement. All three spat on his bleeding body and marched off. No one in the surrounding crowd moved. Without the scream of the trumpet, the sounds of the city had quieted to a murmur.

With the fight over, Gabriel crossed the street, broke through the crowd, and took a knee next to his friend. He removed a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped the spit and blood from Harry’s chin, and then held it to his swollen nose.

“Gabriel, is that you?” Harry asked.

“I’m here, Jeremiel.”

“Were you here, did you hear; did you see what I did?”

“I heard.”

“But I lost my trumpet.” Jeremiel coughed and cringed, clutching his chest.

“Not to worry. I’ll get it back.”

“I broke the final seal.”

“That you did, my friend,” Gabriel said with just the hint of a smile. “Can you stand?” He looked around as Jeremiel slowly got to his feet, bracing himself on Gabriel’s arm. The crowd had fully dispersed. The only sign left that something had happened on this corner was the spattering of blood on the sidewalk. “You have called forth the beginning of the end. And these people today were all witnesses. No more Dirty Harry.”  

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Also, I'm thrilled to announce that Allison from Geek Banter wrote a wonderful review of Provex City! She is also a member of the Insecure Writers Support Group (IWSG for those in the know) and a great blog to follow. Please check out the review HERE.  Have a great weekend, everyone!