tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74850350407856906922024-03-05T01:10:14.023-08:00Scott A Borgman - AuthorAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12989918707512918674noreply@blogger.comBlogger62125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7485035040785690692.post-74784297782247146902017-12-10T12:22:00.000-08:002017-12-10T12:24:54.425-08:00Dropping Prices<div style="text-align: justify;">
With the cold weather having arrived, the temperature isn't all that's dropped! I've lowered the price of several books for the winter.</div>
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There's never been a better time to grab a copy. And who says traveling has to cost you an arm and a leg? You can step into the fantasy world of Tal'Avern with the first book in the series, <i>Province of a Thief, </i>for just $0.99. You'll meet Jaelyth, a master thief who will steal your heart... and possibly your money pouch.</div>
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If you're into superheroes, you can travel to Angel City to see the sights, hang out and have a drink at Club Rave, go to the amusement park, or maybe catch a ball game. Don't worry about the deadly alien in the city. There's a superhero to keep you safe. She doesn't wear a cape or costume, and doesn't exactly follow the traditional rules of a superhero... but she still knows how to kick ass! While I'm working on the second book in the series, you can pick up the first book, <i>Angel: The Mithista Incident</i>, for a mere $0.99!</div>
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Finally, if you've got the courage, Celeste is an exiled angel with a foul mouth, an attitude, and has a tendency to break rules. It's forgivable, though. I mean, be honest... if you'd been struggling for ages to keep Lucifer from breaking out of his prison, you might drop the occasional F-bomb too. Oh sure, there's action, suspense, thrills and unexpected twists like the other two, but when you grab <i>The Exiled</i> for $0.99, you get strong language and even some steamy romance as well.</div>
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So whether you're a fan of high fantasy, something more urban with a
superhero and a sci-fi theme, or paranormal romance, head on
over to Amazon! The first book in each series is only $0.99! Kindle Unlimited members read for free!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg-wX_0LOeTYsBT7Ow92RjJ_V1S36N1DrEW48Fmfpd7z0O1fyCBmqoQs6UqUzfMuoIUlXuytzm5bWVhawmRgH0KDjC-thj32Yk3G91C4dMqKy7jQTPy6sAiDKhkaGtVq2lEXu6aIC28XI/s1600/newprovincecover1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1000" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg-wX_0LOeTYsBT7Ow92RjJ_V1S36N1DrEW48Fmfpd7z0O1fyCBmqoQs6UqUzfMuoIUlXuytzm5bWVhawmRgH0KDjC-thj32Yk3G91C4dMqKy7jQTPy6sAiDKhkaGtVq2lEXu6aIC28XI/s200/newprovincecover1.jpg" width="125" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFRhX8fp8TBuKqP4KWqgMXgXkPT7JF83jSJltB5vzI9YY4eKsBhYuqSBUXqjc6_dZr3o4h_uuodWVmOOfycTLPEKMnw3YzUdS3ox22DRan_p02W5AveiE-5IqB2Ih-yrTU7t6NEt26Wok/s1600/new_e_cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1000" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFRhX8fp8TBuKqP4KWqgMXgXkPT7JF83jSJltB5vzI9YY4eKsBhYuqSBUXqjc6_dZr3o4h_uuodWVmOOfycTLPEKMnw3YzUdS3ox22DRan_p02W5AveiE-5IqB2Ih-yrTU7t6NEt26Wok/s200/new_e_cover.jpg" width="125" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheOwgkzVS3zjEDOUwixEuwE2JD7gGuybF5iMaKPd1L3LDfYLekWwIrERVFxUeU2kcZPQ2LFBlcYga8uuAk-ZWAyoh4pXdSIyoPBPTXRXgDOyFZ3SnRy8ksDpQmzRqnIqmcFXFeVHc9d0s/s1600/Angel_final_cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="961" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheOwgkzVS3zjEDOUwixEuwE2JD7gGuybF5iMaKPd1L3LDfYLekWwIrERVFxUeU2kcZPQ2LFBlcYga8uuAk-ZWAyoh4pXdSIyoPBPTXRXgDOyFZ3SnRy8ksDpQmzRqnIqmcFXFeVHc9d0s/s200/Angel_final_cover.jpg" width="120" /></a></div>
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Amazon link: <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Scott-Borgman/e/B00KROBR4W/">https://www.amazon.com/Scott-Borgman/e/B00KROBR4W/</a> </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12989918707512918674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7485035040785690692.post-77841310965661193312017-05-26T23:03:00.000-07:002017-05-27T21:10:42.868-07:00All Grown Up<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="9d10e" data-offset-key="4lvid-0-0" style="text-align: justify;">
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<span data-offset-key="4lvid-0-0"><span data-text="true">In less than 10 hours, my baby girl </span></span><span data-offset-key="4lvid-2-0"><span data-text="true">will be taking her final walk, getting her diploma, and becoming a HS graduate.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlT2EkYwJrq8yo5fpHmqlvf7uKp1MA0a2Ue9QJpvYVUiBRv4g5PoknkNQl8AjlgJXVAf9rFYax1u-4J7P_orBmO6n6wZ7NwZH9Sx5lfCQOAjwhZumDqxhgxPkDKfo2c-DiAtrFS6ohfWE/s1600/DeAnna.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlT2EkYwJrq8yo5fpHmqlvf7uKp1MA0a2Ue9QJpvYVUiBRv4g5PoknkNQl8AjlgJXVAf9rFYax1u-4J7P_orBmO6n6wZ7NwZH9Sx5lfCQOAjwhZumDqxhgxPkDKfo2c-DiAtrFS6ohfWE/s400/DeAnna.jpg" width="240" /></a><span data-offset-key="8fc4t-0-0"><span data-text="true">As I sit here thinking about what's about to happen in the morning, I'm starting to tear up. It seems like only yesterday I was in the hospital, holding my wife</span></span><span class="_247o" data-offset-key="8fc4t-1-0" spellcheck="false"><span data-offset-key="8fc4t-1-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span></span><span data-offset-key="8fc4t-2-0"><span data-text="true">'s hand as she was shaking her head and sobbing, saying "I can't do it... I can't do it," while giving birth to our daughter, encouraging her by telling her what an amazing job she was doing and how proud I was of her.</span></span><br />
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<span data-offset-key="8fc4t-2-0"><span data-text="true">She had no drugs. No epidural. She gave birth naturally, pushed through the pain that as descriptive as I can be in my writing, I have no words to describe what it must have felt like. Nor would I, because that is an experience which is as alien to me as trying to describe a walk on the moon or some distant planet. I would be doing every woman who has given birth a disservice by attempting to describe what it must have felt like.</span></span><br />
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<span data-offset-key="8fc4t-2-0"><span data-text="true">When it was over, the tears that ran down her face were not of pain, but joy and love as she held our daughter, who we named DeAnna, in her arms for the first time. </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="5gjd0-0-0"><span data-text="true">And then in the blink of an eye, DeAnna was no longer a newborn baby but an infant in her bouncy chair, smiling and laughing as she waved her arms back and forth, causing the bouncy chair she was in to scoot across the floor. Even back then it seemed she had my sense of humor, as the more my wife and I laughed at the almost comical scene, the more DeAnna would wave her arms up and down.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1c3M3vrdDxwe4ttsL7Zc9D3tuwN0de5f4prNPmcz6lO6QsWNxjnsjdc9On9zqy6yNDZ-lz4FvjpQqSq4rxgB-p1gnBSctLKl0r8tKdMAjVIzB3to7yLH7VNJefHyWcWWf18piWTXfVrY/s1600/DeAnna2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="528" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1c3M3vrdDxwe4ttsL7Zc9D3tuwN0de5f4prNPmcz6lO6QsWNxjnsjdc9On9zqy6yNDZ-lz4FvjpQqSq4rxgB-p1gnBSctLKl0r8tKdMAjVIzB3to7yLH7VNJefHyWcWWf18piWTXfVrY/s400/DeAnna2.jpg" width="220" /></a><span data-offset-key="7cv4-0-0"><span data-text="true">The moment she would walk across the stage and get her HS diploma was light years away back then. But now it seems like those years flew past <i>at</i> the speed of light. Where did the time go? I swear she was just a baby a minute ago! I look over my shoulder, and that infant in the bouncy chair has grown up into a young woman who is spreading her wings and testing them out.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="26geg-0-0"><span data-text="true">I'm proud of her. So damn proud. That's part of why the tears are trickling down my face right now. I'm in awe at how intelligent she is. I'm amazed that as dark and dismal as this world seems to have become with everything going on in it, she's such a bright light within it. DeAnna knows who she is and who she wants to be.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="aan0t-0-0"><span data-text="true">The tears fall as well because I know that in when she spreads her wings in a few short hours, it won't be to just move them back and forth to test them out. It will be to take that first flight. And in the fall, those wings are going to carry her out of the nest and off to college.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="aan0t-0-0"><span data-text="true">She's not only intelligent, funny, and caring, but coming from a gamer family, she's been a gamer herself since she was probably ten years old. So it seems only appropriate to honor her in gamer terms: All Grown Up. Achievement unlocked! 💖💖💖 </span></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12989918707512918674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7485035040785690692.post-18566627368753442242017-04-17T13:13:00.001-07:002017-04-18T00:38:38.280-07:00To Thine Own Self, Be True<div style="text-align: justify;">
With <em>Angel: The Mithista Incident </em>released, I have a bit of a breather. Not much, as the promoting aspect of this job is a never-ending task, but I have a little time before I return to Tal'Avern and get back to working on the last book in the Chronicles series.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZr_8mRB5pvBGDxPnKxBMShxXloNLrs59THTJrGYulq64S9hHF0nbafR4sQ23O1DI9B6ylon2dcHwPpDPAuwZHGJy9L0Asgbsl8OpOOs_uJrd-M20wQUhYAyLAKs-nbt1lHeGzB6XfxPc/s1600/Angel_final_cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZr_8mRB5pvBGDxPnKxBMShxXloNLrs59THTJrGYulq64S9hHF0nbafR4sQ23O1DI9B6ylon2dcHwPpDPAuwZHGJy9L0Asgbsl8OpOOs_uJrd-M20wQUhYAyLAKs-nbt1lHeGzB6XfxPc/s320/Angel_final_cover.jpg" width="192" /></a>As I sit here looking to my left where a paperback copy of <em>Angel: The Mithista Incident</em> sits, the reality of the past six months of work sinks in. With it comes the usual bouts of excitement that I've published another book which I hope people will enjoy, along with trepidations... nervously hoping that people will enjoy it.</div>
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Every artist goes through these feelings. That mixture of excitement and nervousness is universal, and it occurs to me that much of the reason behind those feelings boils down to something that can be summed up in a single word: style.</div>
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Every artist, whether musician, painter, sculpter, writer, actor, or any other which I haven't named, has their own style, their own unique flair. It's what sets them apart from all the others, after all. I suppose that's why I felt the need to write this, because that unique flair is what distinguishes each and every one of us.</div>
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If every musician played the same, we wouldn't be able to tell them apart when we heard their songs on the radio. If every actor used the same gestures and inflections in their dialogue, the only difference they'd have would be in their appearance. If every painter used the same kind of brush, canvas, colors, and methods, the only way we would be able to tell one painting from another would be by their signatures. And if every writer told their stories the same, the only difference from one romance to another, one fantasy to another, one sci-fi to another... would be the covers and authors' names.</div>
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What makes every artist unique is their own personal style. As a writer, like every other artist, I have my own unique style which is most easily seen by the amount of descriptiveness I use. In some places, my descriptions are full and precise, like watching a show on TV where everything is handed to you on screen, silently saying "this is how it is." In other places, my descriptions are very basic, almost like I was given a task and just did the bare minimum required to get that task done.</div>
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Why do I do that? Why am I very descriptive in some places and not in others? Shouldn't I keep things constant? Why not describe every blade of grass, every leaf on every tree, in order to give the reader that TV image in their mind? The reason is simple, and it's something which I've said quite often, which some will surely recognize:</div>
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I almost broke from my style with <em>Angel: The Mithista Incident</em>. I came close... closer than anyone will probably ever realize. For example, Dani, the main character, has blue eyes. I thought I needed to be more descriptive, so I looked up 'How to describe eye color' to get ideas. I found over a dozen ways to describe blue eyes based on the different shades from light to dark.</div>
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I started to look at the various descriptions. There was icy-blue, sky-blue, ocean-blue... just to name a few of them. As I sat at my desk trying to decide which would be the best one to use, it occurred to me that even those descriptions were vague. Icy-blue? That could be mostly white with just a hint of blue, to almost blue with a hint of white. Sky-blue? Which one? The morning sky that's very light? An afternoon sky that's a strong but beautiful medium shade of blue? What about right before the sun drops below the horizon and the sky turns a midnight blue?</div>
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At that moment, I realized that despite all the opinions I'd come across insisting eye color should be descriptive, doing so would change my style of writing - and I wasn't going to do that. So I decided not to follow those opinions. Not because I <em>couldn't</em> do it, but because that's not my style of writing.</div>
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Dani's eyes are blue. No more, no less. Why? Because that's not my part of the story to decide. It's the reader's. What one reader pictures could be the color of an afternoon sky. Another may see a deep ocean blue. Still another may think of the beautiful light blue eyes someone close to them has and so in their mind, Dani's eyes become that particular shade. I breathe life into the characters. But it's the reader who gives them their souls.</div>
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I almost stepped off that path. I almost took away one of the things that I hold so dear - my readers' ability to give the characters their souls... because I thought I needed to change my style and be more descriptive throughout the <em>entire</em> book, not just in some places.</div>
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It's that lack of description in places which allows my readers to see the story, not as I see it in my mind, but how <em>they</em> see it in <em>their</em> minds. This is my style. This is what creates an invisible, unbreakable bond between myself and my readers. What makes every writer different is that we each have our own unique style. Some will love a writer's particular style, others won't. That's just the way it is, and nothing can or will ever change it.</div>
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So to my fellow authors: Whether you describe every blade of grass and every leaf that falls from a tree or you give nothing but a basic description when you introduce characters on one page, since they just die on the next because they were wearing red shirts, never change your style. You can always improve your writing, but don't change your own unique, personal style. To thine own self, be true.</div>
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To my readers: I want to give you my most heartfelt thank you... not only for your continued support, but for making those decisions when the opportunities present themselves and seeing what <em>you</em> want to see in your minds. In so doing, you give the characters their souls. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12989918707512918674noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7485035040785690692.post-48145307922146908032017-04-05T03:33:00.001-07:002017-04-10T19:38:23.071-07:00Angel: The Mithista Incident<div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Angel: The Mithista Incident (Aetherian Chronicles, Book One)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Genre: Urban Fantasy</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Official Release: <strong>April 15, 2017</strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Official Book Trailer: <a href="https://youtu.be/1sEqYh57Wjk"><span style="font-size: small;">https://youtu.be/1sEqYh57Wjk</span></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Digital (Kindle) Pre-order: <a href="http://hyperurl.co/3mwqr7"><span style="font-size: small;">hyperurl.co/3mwqr7</span></a> </span></div>
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<span style="color: red;">The Story</span></h4>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Twenty-three year old Dani Taylor
has a job, an apartment, and bills. She’s single. She loves pizza, ice cream,
and hanging out with her two best friends. At the end of the week, she likes to
go out with them both to unwind and have a night of fun at their favorite dance club.
She has a typical, normal life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">That’s about to change.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">What starts as a headache becomes
an image burning in her mind that she discovers is no figment of her
imagination. It’s a repressed memory. And there’s a reason why it’s suddenly been
recalled.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">What do you do when a repressed
memory isn’t all that’s come back? When there’s a deadly Haragan alien hunting
for you, and a mysterious, shadowy organization also wants you dead?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">When you’re
Earth’s only hope for survival, do you hide who you are? Or do you choose to
fight, to embrace your true self…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And be the superhero the world needs you to be?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;">Breaking the Superhero Mold</span></h4>
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She doesn't wear a cape or costume. She doesn't have a mansion or millions of dollars. She doesn't change her hair style, put on fake glasses, or change her voice. The traditional comic book superheroes do that. This isn't a comic book, and Dani's not your traditional superhero.</div>
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<span style="color: yellow;">* * *</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond";"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> <span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">“I can smell your fear, Aetherian,” Mithista growled, baring
razor sharp teeth as Dani backed away and moved onto the dance floor. Mithista
followed, flexing her clawed fingers with anticipation, and then charged forward
faster than Dani thought possible.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> Mithista hit her with such force that Dani was knocked backwards
across the entire length of the dance floor. She cried out in pain as she
struck a support pillar with a bone-jarring crunch that sent bits of plaster
raining down around her.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> Before Dani could recover, Mithista charged forward again
and grabbed one of her legs. Spinning around, she sent Dani sailing through the
air once more, sneering with pleasure when she cried out again as she slammed up
against the bar and then fell to the floor on her hands and knees.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> Dani’s entire body felt as if it were on fire, the pain
running through it was so intense. Gasping for breath, she attempted to stand
as Mithista changed back into the human form she had taken and walked casually
across the dance floor.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> “How many others from your world are here with you, Aetherian?”
Mithista asked as she stepped up to the bar and put her hand around Dani’s
throat, lifting her up as though she weighed nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> “Dozens,” she gasped, fighting to breathe as the Haragan
squeezed her throat with an iron grip. “The others will be here any minute.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> Mithista’s eyes narrowed angrily. Leaning forward until her
face was a hair’s width away from Dani’s, she inhaled another deep breath in through
her nose - and then laughed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> “You’re a terrible liar. There aren’t any other Aetherians on
this world. You’re all alone here.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> “I may be the only Aetherian,” Dani choked out. “But I’m not
alone.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> With all the strength she could muster, Dani flapped her
wings as forcefully as she could. Not expecting the sudden move, Mithista
quickly loosened her grip around her throat.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> But Dani was quicker. She grabbed Mithista by the wrist as
she shot up into the air and then spun, whirling around several times before
letting go.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> Mithista screamed with
unbridled fury as she went careening through a large mirror on the wall to the
left of the bar and into the security room that was hidden behind it.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Every light in the club went dark and the pulse-pounding
music stopped abruptly as Mithista crashed into the club’s main electrical box.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
Dani fell back down onto the floor on one knee, clutching
her stomach and biting back the excruciating pain that was ripping throughout
her entire body.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
After a minute, she slowly got back to her feet and on shaky
legs, started to make her way toward the front doors of the club. In the
distance, she could hear sirens coming closer with every passing second.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
As she neared the doors, Mithista came out of the darkness
in her natural form once again and hurled into her from behind. Dani barely had
time to throw her arms up in front of her eyes before she flew through one of
the doors, shattering the glass and sending razor sharp shards everywhere. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">She cried out as the glass cut into her arms and legs and
then hit the hard, unforgiving pavement of the parking lot and rolled like a
tumbleweed for several yards before stopping.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="justify">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span></div>
</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><o:p><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> “Turn
over, Aetherian,” Mithista growled, stepping through the shattered door and
stalking over to where Dani lay on the ground. “In these final seconds of your
life, I want to be the last thing you see. Every human is going to know that it
was Mithista who destroyed their only hope!”</span></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> </span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5CkTn787W1nV6_6-ucZAGgQliWVH7XhUnKXrTriWxZeLxNVWcg-kX2Y3cZYr0QO39Aip6VkGCpgdBXvhETpZNtBWL1CmdpIqyRLbxjLJZw8i4i7jsA4GD0shSOKv05MRFHcGB9tp_B3M/s1600/angel_promo1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5CkTn787W1nV6_6-ucZAGgQliWVH7XhUnKXrTriWxZeLxNVWcg-kX2Y3cZYr0QO39Aip6VkGCpgdBXvhETpZNtBWL1CmdpIqyRLbxjLJZw8i4i7jsA4GD0shSOKv05MRFHcGB9tp_B3M/s400/angel_promo1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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There's plenty of action, unexpected twists, humor, and some language (no F-bombs).</div>
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And of course, a kickass female in the leading role. Welcome to Angel City.</div>
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#TeamAngel</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12989918707512918674noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7485035040785690692.post-91248417317225321762016-10-11T22:01:00.000-07:002016-10-12T14:30:50.235-07:00A Skyrim Story - Chapter Three<div style="text-align: justify;">
So far, Kylie has been yanked from her world and dropped into Skyrim. She's figured out a few things along the way thus far, such as Sneaking, Archery, and Alchemy (the third one has given her plenty of gold - it's a good thing her pouches are magical and can hold far more than they appear to be able to!). Last time, she also stumbled upon a fast way to travel to any locations she'd visited before. What's next for my favorite Shadow Walker from Tal'Avern with the red hair and green eyes? Let the fun, the tips, and the silly captions under the pictures commence!</div>
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<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Chapter Three</h4>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
<em>Magic and a Home</em></h4>
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Kylie awoke feeling content for the first time since being dropped into Skyrim. While there was still a trace of homesickness, it was less apparent. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she got up, walked over to the door, and headed down to the main floor of the Bannered Mare.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Stepping outside into the crisp morning air, she took a quick look around. The marketplace was quiet, as it wasn't quite time for it to open. With her money issues solved, Kylie turned toward the palace and began to make her way up to it. She <em>had</em> promised Gerdur she would speak to the Jarl and request aid for Riverwood, after all. After that, she had another promise to keep - to steal the golden claw back from the thieves who had stolen it from the general store in Riverwood.<br />
<em>Thieves don't steal from each other on Tal'Avern,</em> her inner voice scolded her.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"I'm not <em>on</em> Tal'Avern," Kylie reminded her inner voice. "So it doesn't count."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Crossing the bridge that led up to the palace, Kylie opened the door, stepped inside, and made her way toward the man sitting on a throne who she assumed was the Jarl. As she approached, a dark-skinned elven woman wearing leather armor almost identical to Kylie's drew her sword and began walking toward her.</div>
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</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsZZGT1u3Ocwfm35czjCZLcQ8QSe48imKxDrcMCdryfJT58ruMkqWneLnFemYGLGYEpz-gK5cWHS_Uj7kXmiGRJRVg5CZZ9zUS6JnGvAJLp_ExzM5TevSF4df_Kbq3WWVODEljTsZ4GQk/s1600/irilith.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsZZGT1u3Ocwfm35czjCZLcQ8QSe48imKxDrcMCdryfJT58ruMkqWneLnFemYGLGYEpz-gK5cWHS_Uj7kXmiGRJRVg5CZZ9zUS6JnGvAJLp_ExzM5TevSF4df_Kbq3WWVODEljTsZ4GQk/s400/irilith.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"You'd better have gotten the order right this time. I said<br />
<em>no</em> anchovies. If you put anchovies on my pizza again..."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"What's the meaning of this? Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors," the dark elf said in a suspicious, threatening tone.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"A dragon burning Helgen to the ground isn't something you think he'd like to hear about?" Kylie asked. The dark elf balked at the mention of Helgen.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Let her approach, Irileth," the Jarl ordered. The dark elf reluctantly stepped aside, allowing Kylie to pass. "So you were at Helgen? And you saw this... dragon... with your own eyes?"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Yeah, I had a front row seat," Kylie answered. "With my head resting on a chopping block."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"You're certainly... straightforward with your criminal past," Balgruuf commented.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"There wasn't anything criminal about it. I was in a tavern, having an ale and playing Elemental Dice - which I was actually <em>winning</em> at for a change. The next thing I knew, I was half-naked on a cart with three men I'd never seen before, and no idea where I was at! And even though no one knew who I was or how I'd gotten there, the Imperials were <em>still</em> going to cut my damn head off!"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Elemental Dice? Is that a new tavern game I haven't heard about?" Balgruuf inquired, glancing at Irileth, who shrugged and shook her head. She'd never heard of the game either.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Not where I'm from," Kylie replied impatiently. "Look, for some reason, I was pulled from my world and brought to yours. I don't know who brought me here, but I'm trying to make the best of it. And incidentally, almost getting executed for no reason right after I got dropped onto this world wasn't exactly a warm welcome." Balgruuf snorted and shook his head.<br />
"Another world! I have a hard time believing..."<br />
"That makes two of us," Kylie snapped. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to calm down. "Whether you want to believe me or not, a dragon has returned to your world. And if there's one, there's bound to be more."<br />
"And what makes you think that?" Balgruuf asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.<br />
"Because something similar happened on my world," Kylie answered quietly. "Maybe that's why I was brought here - because I've had to deal with them before. It's not exactly something I'm happy about having to go through again, but if that's what I have to do to get back home, then I'll help any way I can."<br />
"Assuming everything you've said is true, what can you possibly do to help against a dragon?"<br />
"I don't know," Kylie admitted. "From what I've been told, no one on this world has seen a dragon before. I wish I could say the same, but I've seen the kind of destruction they can cause on my world... and now here on yours as well."<br />
She grew silently thoughtful for a moment before she spoke again.<br />
"People are scared, and for good reason. They're looking to you for help, which is why I came here. Gerdur owns the mill in Riverwood. She asked me to come here to request aid from you, in case the dragon decides to attack the village."<br />
A heavy silence fell over the room while Balgruuf sat with a thoughtful expression on his face.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"An interesting story," he said, finally breaking the silence, and turned to look at the dark elf. "I'll not stand idly by while a dragon slaughters my people. Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once. They've asked for aid and by the gods, we'll give it to them."<br />
"Yes, my Jarl," Irileth replied, and immediately headed for the front doors of the palace. Balgruuf turned his attention back to Kylie.<br />
"As for you...?"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"My name is Kylie. Kylie Destaine."<br />
"Where have I heard that name before?" Balgruuf muttered, glancing down at the floor and scratching his chin thoughtfully again as he tried to recall the memory. "Kylie... Kylie..."<br />
"Um..."<br />
"Ahh, now I remember!" Balgruuf exclaimed, raising his head. "The bard, Mikael! It seems you've met him, from what I saw when he came to me wanting charges brought up against you. Black eye, swollen lip..."<br />
"I can explain that..." Kylie quickly started to say, and then stopped as Balgruuf waved his hand and chuckled.<br />
"No need. Carlotta down at the marketplace has already told me the <em>full</em> tale in your defense. And the young woman, Ysolda, added that you had also helped <em>her</em> as well. It seems you've been making an impression among some of my people already. Now, come with me, Kylie," Balgruuf instructed, getting to his feet. "Perhaps you can do <em>me</em> a service by assisting my court wizard. He's been looking into a matter regarding these rumors of dragons."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Kylie followed him into the adjacent room, where a man in blue robes was hovering over a desk covered with books and scrolls.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Farengar, I think I've found someone to help you with your little dragon project," Balgruuf announced. "Go ahead and fill her in with the details."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5xmfzXVXTU6gy2kXvyoO6rp_xmi83t_Dh_R9SIji9bZ0-wYmGprhYxNki9btPRm7Ik285Hk0rmUTZABMmv0eB8veysbaFq2S5O4BfSYsDEQE5eraDdhlsTpqLrxO5YOzIKV4Qwdv_JkI/s1600/farengar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5xmfzXVXTU6gy2kXvyoO6rp_xmi83t_Dh_R9SIji9bZ0-wYmGprhYxNki9btPRm7Ik285Hk0rmUTZABMmv0eB8veysbaFq2S5O4BfSYsDEQE5eraDdhlsTpqLrxO5YOzIKV4Qwdv_JkI/s400/farengar.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I <em>knew</em> I shouldn't have eaten that broccoli and cheese last night.<br />
Hopefully no one comes in here. At least, not until the air clears."<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"So the Jarl thinks you can help me," Farengar said. "Perhaps you can. You see, when I first heard about the dragons..."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Oh gods, Kylie thought, groaning inwardly. He's going to drone on for hours, just like Varik does back home!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"The short version," Kylie quickly interrupted. Faregar gave her a perturbed look, but nodded.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"I need you to go to Bleak Falls Barrow and retrieve a stone tablet that's rumored to be interred somewhere inside... probably in the main chamber," he said.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"What's it look like?" Kylie asked. A smile crept to the corners of Farengar's mouth.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"It's a tablet. Made of stone," he replied smugly.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Smartass," Kylie grumbled.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Do this for me, and you'll be rewarded, Kylie," Balgruuf promised. "This is a priority now, so don't delay."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"You know, if you've got the aptitude, I have spells and incantations which may be of use to you," Farengar offered.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Do I <em>look</em> like a mage to you?" Kylie asked, and then sighed. "Fine. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to learn something new and expand my horizons a bit."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Excellent! Well, there are several schools of magic, and all of them have..."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Short version," Kylie quipped.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Farengar grumbled but pulled out a small collection of books, suggesting several that may be of use. When he mentioned the school of Conjuration had spells within it that could call upon creatures to aid her, it made Kylie think of another girl she knew named Camila (spelled with one 'l' instead of two), back on Tal'Avern. Unlike the sister of the general store owner in Riverwood, however, the Camila she knew on Tal'Avern was a mage - a unique one, at that. She was the first mage in a thousand years to walk the path of the Summoner.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
In the end, Kylie purchased two books. One contained a beginning Alteration spell: Oakflesh. The other was a Conjuration spell: Soul Trap, which Farengar said was useful if she ever thought of delving into the field of Enchanting. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Thinking she was as prepared as she was ever going to be, Kylie closed her eyes, thinking of the Standing Stones. One of those stones had had a depiction of a Mage on it, and if she was going to fiddle with magic, Kylie figured it might be useful. But when she opened her eyes, she was still standing in the room, with Farengar and Balgruuf both giving her quizzical looks.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"What the hell?" Kylie muttered. "I should have zapped to the Standing Stones near Riverwood!"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"The travel ability which I assume you're referring to doesn't work indoors," Farengar stated. "In fact, I had written an interesting paper on that recently..."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"No time, gotta go!" Kylie called out as she hurried out of the room. "Priorities and all, you know!"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
As soon as she stepped outside the palace, Kylie made another attempt, and in a flash she was by the trio of Standing Stones. She walked up to the Mage stone, pressed her hand against it, and felt a wave of evergy ripple through her, just like when she had touched the Thief stone before.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Confident that whatever the stones did, it was beneficial, Kylie zapped to Riverwood, rather than walk. She went through the village and across the bridge on the other side, then began making her way up a small dirt path that wound its way up the mountain, taking down a lone wolf along the way.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
In short order, a tower rose up in the distance before her. As she got closer, Kylie noticed a figure leaning against a tree, while another one appeared from within the tower and crossed the small bridge just outside of it.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"They must be lookouts," Kylie muttered, crouching down. "Easy enough to sneak by them."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
She was almost out of earshot when she overheard part of their conversation.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"... don't see why we need to wait. Look, there aren't even any guards down there. We could raid the village and be back before dark," the man leaning against the tree was saying.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"You mean just the three of us, while the others are all up at the ruins? Are you crazy? If anyone from the village saw us coming, they'd run to Whiterun and we'd have this place swarming with guards within a matter of hours."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Then we'll just have to make sure that we don't leave anyone left alive to go for help, won't we?" the man suggested darkly.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
All thoughts of sneaking past undetected vanished from Kylie as her blood began to burn. They weren't thieves. They were bandits.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Bandits had come into her village when she was twelve. Kylie's father had told her to hide in the woodpile behind their small house when the raid began. When she had crawled out afterwards, nothing remained of the village. The bandits had looted and burned everything, and killed everyone in the village as well... including her entire family. In the smoking ruins of the village that day, another fire had been lit - one inside Kylie. A fire that burned to see that justice was done.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The bandit leaning against the tree barely had time to push himself away from it before Kylie ended his life. The second bandit shouted a warning and was pulling an arrow from the quiver on her back when Kylie buried both of her blades into the archer's chest. Hearing the commotion, the third bandit came down from the tower, and though he was wearing heavy armor, it did little to protect him from Kylie's vengeful wrath.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
She was death to anyone who crossed her path. The fire grew hotter within her as Kylie made her way up to Bleak Falls Barrow, where three more bandits added to her kill count outside the entrance. Throwing open the doors, she stepped inside and stalked purposely through the room, cutting down another two bandits mercilessly before heading down a set of stone steps.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGWUKEnx5K_ToA2S03Y8yZwKS9PGPWc1qEnwjTbW-7KcqpDBe2Ya4momEYyc1eVX7oJ0sK3vqfCD9x-IX0Ldt6SZVWWOO2uKWhRZMcIsgatCb148Eu1QApwiJlJrNxedojYvhFMyaZnhU/s1600/bandit2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGWUKEnx5K_ToA2S03Y8yZwKS9PGPWc1qEnwjTbW-7KcqpDBe2Ya4momEYyc1eVX7oJ0sK3vqfCD9x-IX0Ldt6SZVWWOO2uKWhRZMcIsgatCb148Eu1QApwiJlJrNxedojYvhFMyaZnhU/s400/bandit2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"This is your idea of a romantic first date?"<br />
"What? We've got a nice fire, I brought some wine..."<br />
"The floor is littered with dead rats! You're <em>so</em> not getting to second base."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Kylie's blades slashed out again when she came upon yet another bandit who was standing in a room, looking at a locked gate before him. As his body crumpled to the ground, Kylie glanced at the locked gate, and then down to the lever that was on the floor by her feet.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
None of the bandits she had killed had the golden claw on them, which meant whoever <em>did</em> have it was further below, somewhere past that locked gate. With another few moments of looking around, Kylie caught sight of three stone pillars on the left side of the room, along with two symbols which were set into the wall above the gate. The third clue to the puzzle had fallen off the wall, but Kylie could still see the depiction. It was a simple puzzle.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Idiot," Kylie said, kicking the lifeless form by the lever as she walked over to the trio of stones. Turning them to the proper positions, she went back and pulled the lever. Once the gate opened, she continued on down a circular wooden staircase, deeper into the barrow.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Is someone there?" a voice called out as Kylie approached an area that was filled with cobwebs. Cobwebs meant spiders... and from what she'd seen during her escape from Helgen, the spiders on this world were not something one could merely step on and be done with it. A bit of extra protection couldn't hurt, Kylie thought, and pulled out the book that contained the Oakflesh spell from her pouch. Opening it, she gasped as a surge of power flowed into her, while the book crumbled in her hands.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"If learning spells is that easy, I might have to learn a few more!" Kylie exclaimed before slashing through the mass of sticky cobwebs in the doorway that were keeping her from continuing on.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"You! Over here! Cut me down!" a dark elf exclaimed from the far end of the room, struggling to free himself from the cobwebs he was trapped in as he caught sight of Kylie.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
As she began making her way over to him, a shadow fell over her. Kylie leapt back as the largest spider she had ever seen before dropped down from where it had been hiding. She retreated back through the doorway, where the spider couldn't follow because of its immense size.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Where are you going? Help!" the dark elf screamed frantically. Kylie ignored him as she sheathed her weapons.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Okay, how do I cast this spell?" Kylie mumbled, bringing her hands up. Instantly, a light blue glow appeared in each of her hands. "Whoa! That's awesome!" she exclaimed.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Clenching both of her hands into fists, she felt the magical power swell up in each of them, and then unclenched one. The spell went off, and a thin aura of shimmering magical light surrounded her entire body. She repeated it with her other hand, and then attempted to cast it yet again, but nothing happened. She had drained her magical energy reserves.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Don't leave me!" the dark elf cried out desperately as Kylie made her way back up the passage toward the circular wooden staircase. When she was almost there, she sat down on the floor, too weary to move, and not really caring at the moment if the spider finished off the elf.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
After waiting for an hour, Kylie ventured back down, where the spider was clicking its mandibles excitedly. Kylie brought her hands up and cast the Oakflesh spell upon herself until her magical reserves were gone again, moved back up the passage until she felt safe enough to rest for another hour, and repeated the process until she felt as though she were halfway to mastering the Alteration school of magic.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Remembering why she'd come there in the first place, the fire blazed up once again within Kylie. She stepped back into the room to face the gigantic spider, and slashed out repeatedly with her swords until the elephant-sized arachnid fell to the ground and lay unmoving.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"You certainly took your sweet time! That thing could have had me for lunch while you were off fixing your make-up! Now get me down from here!" the dark elf repeated insistently.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1msaCYDfdDg_roEptwIngMRaErfmhXgemwKjG4jsVDRIHXdIcJ-2mekN3wXY0xGiDmGzHUBxxgvLZwW3oOhwR3VP7Q18_uVb-Fd97oGDXHG9C7inHNdSFx8YwlyS_Nf4PFFY7eS_4yAY/s1600/arvel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1msaCYDfdDg_roEptwIngMRaErfmhXgemwKjG4jsVDRIHXdIcJ-2mekN3wXY0xGiDmGzHUBxxgvLZwW3oOhwR3VP7Q18_uVb-Fd97oGDXHG9C7inHNdSFx8YwlyS_Nf4PFFY7eS_4yAY/s400/arvel.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Hurry, cut me loose! I have to go to the bathroom!<br />
I had Baco Tell for lunch and it's going right through me!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"You're the one who stole the golden claw from the general store in Riverwood," Kylie growled venomously. It was a statement, not a question.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Yes, yes, I have the claw! And I know how it works!" the dark elf replied. "Cut me down and I'll share the treasure with you!" </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Kylie brought her swords down, one on each side of the dark elf, cutting him free. He dropped to the ground, sighing with relief. After a moment, he stood up and chuckled.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"You fool! As if I'd share the treasure with..."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
He never noticed the hatred burning in Kylie's eyes. He was a bandit, nothing more. That was all she needed to know. It didn't matter that she was on another world. She was still a Shadow Walker.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Kylie thrust both of her swords all the way to their hilts into his chest. As the dark elf's eyes widened in shock and he sucked in one last, gasping breath, Kylie pressed her body up against his and placed her mouth next to his ear.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Justice has been served."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Pushing him back, Kylie yanked her blades viciously out of the dark elf's body. He was dead before he struck the floor.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
After wiping her blades clean, Kylie sheathed them and then searched the dark elf's body. Finding the golden claw, she slipped it into one of her pouches. Seeing the other spell book she'd purchased from Farengar in the pouch, Kylie brought it out and opened it, relishing the feeling of power that surged into her as the book's knowledge burned into her mind, while the book itself crumbled away.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"I should have tried this Soul Trap spell on you," she said, glancing down at the dark elf's body.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
As if in response, a black and purple light appeared in both of her hands, surprising her momentarily. Curiously, she clenched her fists, felt the magical power gather in her hands, and flung one of them out like she was throwing the energy at the body.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Despite the dark elf already being dead, a faint purple aura appeared around his body. Kylie released her other hand, and the effect was not only repeated, she felt a little more knowledgeable in the Conjuration school of magic.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
She spent the better part of the day practicing. At first, she could only cast the spell a few times before needing to rest for an hour, but at one point, her understanding gave her added insight and she was able to cast it repeatedly before needing to rest. Given enough time and patience, Kylie knew she could master Conjuration and cast any spell within the school once she'd learned it.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Alright, if this thing leads to some kind of treasure in here, I might as well explore a bit further," Kylie decided after awhile, pulling the claw out of her pouch for a moment to take a look at it.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
She delved deeper into the barrow, discovering that it was an ancient burial tomb - one where not all of those who had been laid to rest were content to <em>remain</em> at rest. It took her only moments to realize that the undead weren't like those on her world. These were faster, able to move as easily as they had in life. Some even had magical abilities. Still, they proved to be little more than a nuisance, as were the few traps she came across along the way. Eventually, Kylie entered a rectangular room with a large circular bronze door at the far end.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Oh look, another puzzle," Kylie muttered, seeing the carvings set into the door. Pulling out the claw, she turned it over and found the door puzzle's solution on the back. Within moments, she had turned the carvings on the door to match what was depicted on the back of the claw, inserted it into the holes in the center of the door, and gave it a twist.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
As the door unlocked, Kylie pulled the claw back out and slipped it back into her pouch. She <em>had</em> promised to return the claw to the owner of the general store in Riverwood, after all. The door rolled sideways, revealing a large, long cavern behind it.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Kylie made her way to the far end, where a single stone sarcophagus rested on a platform. A curved wall etched with markings that Kylie guessed were some form of ancient writing stood behind it. However, it was the large chest next to the sarcophagus that Kylie was interested in.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Opening it up, Kylie was disappointed to find only a few items of any value inside it. Some were magical however, which made her think of Farengar having mentioned something about Enchanting. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Kylie grabbed the items she was interested in, closed the chest, then paused and cocked her head slightly, hearing a faint, almost undetectable sound - almost like chanting, except there were no words. Turning around, she took a step toward the wall with the strange writing on it. As she did, the sound grew a bit louder.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Weird," Kylie said, and cautiously stepped closer to the wall.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Suddenly, several of the symbols flared brightly, and a blinding light shot out from the wall, striking her in the forehead. She cried out in alarm as the symbols seemed to sear into her mind, and then with a booming crash, the lid of the sarcophagus flew up as the occupant within awoke and crawled out, hefting a giant two-handed sword as it did.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The undead was considerably stronger than the others Kylie had encountered, but within minutes she had put it down for good. Sheathing her weapons, Kylie saw almost immediately what it had been guarding: A large tablet. Made of stone.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"<em>This</em> is what Farengar wanted me to get?" she asked in disbelief, looking it over with a critical eye. "It looks like a map that's probably nothing more than the locations of all the best taverns in Skyrim!"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Shaking her head, Kylie pulled the magical pouch from her belt. Loosening the drawstring, she opened it up. The pouch expanded until it was the size of a large travel bag, which she slipped the stone tablet into before pulling the drawstring closed. The sack shrunk back down to the size of a pouch, which she tied back to her belt before heading up a set of nearby stairs and through a short passageway. To her relief, the passageway led back outside to a small ledge on the side of the mountain.<br />
Out in the open once more, Kylie didn't hesitate for a second as she called upon her travel ability, zapped to Riverwood, and headed for the general store.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"You're back!" the owner exclaimed when Kylie stepped through the door. "Did you find my claw?"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Yeah, it's right here," Kylie replied, taking it out of her pouch and handing it over to him.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrfseNaSRegWRVl-QTDYTUqN2NY8u3YbMrYE35LwiF1wqYNaxMW-yWw_txhAvqzlxEX5MFyQoKapTsN79Yct8YLHiSEo-ZeZkvJHJW7U20VG3glTj5CRSpcz-mF1CEEQBVERp8Ue_sgBQ/s1600/golden_claw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrfseNaSRegWRVl-QTDYTUqN2NY8u3YbMrYE35LwiF1wqYNaxMW-yWw_txhAvqzlxEX5MFyQoKapTsN79Yct8YLHiSEo-ZeZkvJHJW7U20VG3glTj5CRSpcz-mF1CEEQBVERp8Ue_sgBQ/s400/golden_claw.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Everyone thinks I don't know why this thing is so special.<br />
Joke's on them, because I've known for awhile:<br />
It's a back-scratcher! Duh!" </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Thank you! I'll... I'll never forget this!" the store owner said and handed Kylie a small pouch filled with gold. Kylie smiled and nodded before heading back to the front door. As she opened it and stepped outside, she glanced over her shoulder and saw the store owner grab the claw and use it to scratch the middle of his back, a blissful expression etched on his face.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Kylie zapped to the front gates of the palace next and stepping inside, headed over to the room where she'd met Farengar. He was speaking excitedly to a woman who was leaned over his desk, skimming through a book as Kylie walked in.<br />
Despite wearing a hood, along with leather armor that looked identical to hers, Kylie recognized the woman easily enough. It was the innkeeper from Riverwood. Catching sight of Kylie, the woman cut off Farengar during what was probably about to be a long-winded, boring explanation.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"You have a visitor," she said quietly.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Hmm? Ahh, it's the woman who was going into Bleak Falls Barrow!" Farengar exclaimed. "You didn't die, it seems."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Bite me," Kylie replied, handing him the stone tablet. "Here's the rock you wanted. And if my reward is a long, boring story about how it was made, why it was in there, and what an amazing paperweight it's going to make for your research papers..."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Farengar!" Irileth called out insistently, rushing into the room. "A dragon was sighted near the western watchtower! The Jarl needs to speak to you immediately." She flicked a quick glance at Kylie. "You should come too," she added.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"A dragon, how exciting!" Farengar exclaimed as he headed for the doorway.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Yeah, real exciting," Kylie muttered under her breath as she followed the other two up a nearby set of stairs to where Balgruuf was waiting.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
After hearing about the dragon sighting from a guard who had been stationed at the tower, Irileth went to gather some men, while Farengar returned to his room, leaving Kylie and Balgruuf alone.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"You have more experience with dragons than anyone else here, Kylie. I'd like you to go to the watchtower with Irileth. If that dragon shows up, I'm sure they're going to need your help," Balgruuf said. "But I haven't forgotten the aid you've given us already in retrieving that..."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Paperweight?" she offered. Balgruuf chuckled.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"It seems like little more than that to me, too," he admitted. "Farengar believes it to contain vital information about the dragons, though. In any case, for your help, I've instructed my steward, Proventus, to allow you to purchase property within the city. If you're so inclined."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"A house? Here?" Kylie asked, bewildered. The thought that she might be stuck on this world had crossed her mind before, and she'd considered doing such a thing... but she knew that Skyrim could never be her home. She didn't belong on this world. Deep down, she wanted to return to where she <em>did</em> belong - Tal'Avern.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh73lGD8jrudOAb23Db6tC-at3wAaqNvPZSVtruGLI0nVkhUKSWWye2tjE5YWyqhW30tyTtjdqgoR5aRBmFdieGArptal2mvYFyWiWautHUbY6TV8vAS2gkP7sEFk4yJO41UUUgP5AUrrY/s1600/breezehome.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh73lGD8jrudOAb23Db6tC-at3wAaqNvPZSVtruGLI0nVkhUKSWWye2tjE5YWyqhW30tyTtjdqgoR5aRBmFdieGArptal2mvYFyWiWautHUbY6TV8vAS2gkP7sEFk4yJO41UUUgP5AUrrY/s400/breezehome.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Pros:</em><br />
Cheapest house on the market<br />
<em>Cons:</em><br />
No electricity, running water, bathroom, washer or dryer,<br />
refrigerator, microwave, television, dvd player, computer,<br />
radio, Playstation, Xbox, cable, cell service, or Netflix.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"I know you miss your own home," Balgruuf said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "And I believe you'll find a way back there. But you have a home here as well now, Kylie. You've earned it, as far as I'm concerned. Talk to Proventus, and he can make the arrangements. Get yourself some rest, and then meet Irileth at the watchtower tomorrow."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"I... thank you," Kylie replied, not knowing what else to say.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
She went down the steps in a daze. Why would she want to buy a house in Skyrim? But then the answer dawned upon her. Having her own home meant her own bed, not a rented room. It meant a place she could return to whenever she needed to take a break. It meant a place where she could store things safely. And though it was hard to admit, if she <em>couldn't</em> find a way back to her world, at least she would have a place of her own on this one.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<em>And if you meet anyone you're attracted to, you can go there to...</em></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Shut up," Kylie muttered. Her inner voice didn't finish the sentence, albeit reluctantly.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Reaching the bottom of the steps, Kylie decided that it probably <em>was</em> a good idea to have her own place. Seeing the Jarl's steward, she walked over to him and purchased the house that was for sale next to the Blacksmith's shop near the front gates of the city, along with all of the furnishings. No sense in having a house without decoration, she thought.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Taking the key Proventus held out to her, Kylie left the palace and headed back through town, stopping outside the front door to the house... <em>her</em> house.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Breezehome," Kylie said, looking down at the small inscription on the key. "Gods, I hope that doesn't mean the place is drafty."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Unlocking the door, Kylie stepped inside and was pleasantly surprised with what she saw. Though it was a small house, it was comfortable. A fire pit burned in the middle of the room, while a long table rested behind it near the right wall, which had been piled with food as a welcoming gift. Behind the stairs, the single room to the left held an alchemy table, several ingredients and books, and a large storage chest.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Heading up the stairs, on the left was a small loft room, and down a short hallway to the right, the doors opened up into a fairly large room with a dresser on either side of a double bed. Another storage chest sat against the left wall, and just to the right of the door was a small circular table with several chairs. Sitting on the rightmost dresser next to a bottle of wine was a large, delicious looking sweet roll, which Kylie immediately gobbled down.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Now I don't have to worry about anyone stealing my sweet roll!" Kylie laughed.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Opening the storage chest, Kylie removed the gems she had 'liberated' from the Argonian near the shipwreck the day before. She had planned to make use of them, but other things seemed to keep coming up, pushing those plans back.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Tomorrow," Kylie insisted. "Tomorrow, I'll go help fight that dragon, and then..." She paused and glanced down at herself. "And then get some better armor and weapons."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Kylie unbuckled her armor and took it off piece by piece, unstrapped her swords and leaned them up against one of the dressers near the bed, then crawled into the double bed and pulled the thick fur blankets up around her.<br />
<em>There's enough room in the bed for...</em><br />
"Shut up," Kylie muttered. Her inner voice grew silent, once more leaving the suggestion unfinished.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It had been another day filled with several things that had been familiar enough reminders of Tal'Avern to cause the homesick ache within her to return. But there were other things that were new experiences for Kylie as well, which helped to dull that ache. Slipping her arms out from under the blankets, she took a look around the bedroom.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
She had a place to call her own. It was something new, something she'd never had before. Looking down at her hands, Kylie called one of the spells she had learned to mind, and a light blue glow surrounded them. Balling her hands up, Kylie felt the power gather in them. When she released the spell, a shimmering layer of magical protection surrounded her. That was something new for her as well.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The dull ache disappeared, understanding that she needed to focus on something else: the new things that she'd found on this world which she'd never had before on hers.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Magic and a home," Kylie murmured softly, a small smile touching the corners of her lips as she drifted off to sleep.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
* * *</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<br />
Tips in Chapter Three:<br />
<em>1.) Alteration to 50 - a bit time consuming, but well worth it, as at 50 you can have 2 points in the tree's Magic Resistance perk - that's +20% MR on top of any other racial bonus you may have, depending on what race you initially choose. Also at 50, you can put a point in Adept Alteration, which will be <strong>extremely</strong> helpful in the next chapter (does that technically count as another hint?) ;)</em><br />
<em>2.) Conjuration to MAX (if you so desire and have the patience) - Soul Trap works on dead bodies, and can be done basically anywhere. Initially a bit slow, but once you put a perk point in Apprentice Conjuration (25), it cuts the magicka cost in half.</em><br />
<em>3.) Buying Breezehome - Yeah, it's small and doesn't offer much, but it's worth getting for several reasons. First, sleeping there for any length of time (even if it's just an hour!) grants you the Well Rested bonus for 8 hours (game hours, not real time), which gives you an additional +10% skill speed increase if you have either the Thief, Mage, or Warrior stone active, bringing those affected skill increases up to 30%. Secondly, you have 2 chests for storing things like crafting materials or items that you craft and want to enhance with enchantments before selling. Lastly, location. It's right next to Warmaiden's, which makes it perfect if you've got things to buy or sell there but are carrying so much that they weigh you down. Having to walk all the way up to the Skyforge to sell stuff just sucks, and if you're overburdened, fast travel isn't available.</em><br />
<em> </em><br />
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12989918707512918674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7485035040785690692.post-90686934273040862472016-10-04T15:31:00.000-07:002016-10-10T23:48:58.165-07:00A Skyrim Story - Chapter Two<div style="text-align: justify;">
When we last left Kylie, she'd accepted the fact that she had been taken away from her world and dropped onto an entirely different world, in a land called Skyrim. Without knowing how she'd gotten there or how to get back, she'd decided to make the best of it. She practiced her Sneaking abilities during her escape from Helgen, made a few friends in the small village of Riverwood, (one of them, Faendal, wasn't exactly the brightest star in the sky, and gave her some basic training in Archery which - with some 'trading' - she was able to get for free) and even crafted herself some leather armor so she wouldn't be mistaken for either a Stormcloak or an Imperial soldier. After promising the general store's owner she would get back a golden claw which had been stolen from him, Kylie had gone over to the inn, paid for a night's lodging, and ended her first day in Skyrim.<br />
<br />
Now, for the disclaimer: Same as Chapter One. Pics are taken from UESP under creative commons license, and captions are <em>not</em> actual gameplay dialogue. They're just there for laughs, because I have a warped sense of humor and have fun coming up with silly captions! Also, in case I didn't mention, many of the tips that are given are assuming you have Hearthfire and Dragonborn expansions. With that being said, time for chapter 2!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Chapter Two</h4>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
<em>Show Me the Money!!</em></h4>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
</h4>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Kylie awoke to the smell of food drifting into her room from under the door. For a moment, the feel of the straw bed made her think she was back in the Thieves' Den, and everything that had happened over the past several years had all been a dream. But when she opened her eyes and saw the small room, reality came crashing back down around her.</div>
<div align="justify">
She hadn't awoken in the barracks room of the hidden Thieves' Den in the Province's capital city of Silvergate. She wasn't even in the Province. Hell, she wasn't on <em>Tal'Avern</em>, for that matter. Sighing, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and grudgingly got up.</div>
<div align="justify">
Opening the door, she took a quick look around the main room of the inn. It was empty, save for a burly man wearing an apron who was standing behind the bar to her left. She grabbed a quick bite to eat, and then headed for the front door to the inn.</div>
<div align="justify">
Kylie had barely stepped outside when she caught sight of a woman a short distance away who waved and began walking toward her from the nearby mill that stood behind the blacksmith's shop.</div>
<div align="justify">
If she wants me to give a letter to some guy she's been fawning over, Kylie thought, I swear I'm going to...</div>
<div align="justify">
"You must be the friend Ralof told me about," the woman said as she approached.</div>
<div align="justify">
"Friend?" Kylie asked hesitantly. He couldn't possibly have forgotten what she'd done during their escape from Helgen!</div>
<div align="justify">
"He said a friend who wasn't from around here helped him escape Helgen yesterday. I'm his sister..."</div>
<div align="justify">
"Gerdur," Kylie guessed, recalling Ralof having mentioned he had a sister, to which the woman nodded.</div>
<div align="justify">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKZL1powRjQ_Ib2lvnFcemAsv7ub2MyZKg0B2g4Wxwxn8Wqi8-PYBtdy6k30sopWcXjYGU3kVQlo4R8WfALiDJdAT9Yp0yFuzHBZzjXjXW53SHGBRflExtWgweg5RGNa1MNP9e4nu_Dg4/s1600/gerdur.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKZL1powRjQ_Ib2lvnFcemAsv7ub2MyZKg0B2g4Wxwxn8Wqi8-PYBtdy6k30sopWcXjYGU3kVQlo4R8WfALiDJdAT9Yp0yFuzHBZzjXjXW53SHGBRflExtWgweg5RGNa1MNP9e4nu_Dg4/s400/gerdur.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Brother! What are you doing here?"<br />
"Hiding from the Imperials."<br />
"But... you're wearing the same thing every other Stormcloak does!"<br />
"I would have changed, but none of your dresses fit me anymore." </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
"Thank you for helping my brother," Gerdur said gratefully, and then reached into one of her pockets and pulled out a key. "Here, take the key to my house. Stay as long as you like, and if there's anything you need, just let me know."<br />
<div align="justify">
"Um... thanks," Kylie said, unsure how else to respond. No one in the Province was so trusting toward strangers that they would just hand over the key to their house like that! For all of their similarities, her world and this one certainly had their differences.</div>
<div align="justify">
"It's the one right over there," Gerdur said, pointing toward a nearby house. "There is something else you could do for me," she added, lowering her voice and taking a quick glance around as she did.</div>
<div align="justify">
Uh huh, Kylie thought. Here it comes...</div>
<div align="justify">
"The Jarl needs to know that there's a dragon about. Riverwood is defenseless! If you'll let him know, I'd be grateful."</div>
<div align="justify">
Kylie started to object, then clamped her mouth shut and nodded. Whoever this Jarl was, he was obviously an important person. And important people were usually generous with their rewards.</div>
<div align="justify">
Gerdur gave her directions to the nearby town of Whiterun, where the Jarl's palace was located, before turning around and heading back to the mill.</div>
<div align="justify">
"Well, if this Jarl lives there, Whiterun must be a decent sized town. Which means it's got at least more than a general store," Kylie murmured, thinking back to the day before. The road she had come down had a stream running alongside it, and there had been one place in particular where she'd seen salmon jumping out of the water as they tried to swim upstream. She recalled another place where she'd seen what looked like some kind of stone ruins poking out of the water near those standing stones.</div>
<div align="justify">
Flicking a quick glance down at the key in her hand, Kylie made her way over to Gerdur's house, and unlocked the door. After a quick look around, she caught sight of several braids of garlic hanging from one of the rafters.</div>
<div align="justify">
"Salmon roe, garlic..."</div>
<div align="justify">
A smile spread across Kylie's face. If those ruins she'd seen were a home for the one other ingredient she would need, her money problems would soon be gone.</div>
<div align="justify">
Taking the garlic, she stuffed it into an empty pouch that hung from the belt around her waist and went back outside.</div>
<div align="justify">
Within a matter of minutes, she came across the section of the stream where the water spilled down a short way. Sure enough, the salmon were still trying unsuccessfully to make their way up.</div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPPKWXlVGlVLRQXAE7aZJI7eZ2FEz1Edy5PkLrecDDiNtdbGkSMDkSezG_oduPDRtXcG6dchksPUQ3ZsGcssbxMP9ZasTz-GL8GMbTczu-wOdnYW6eV6xBe64a6dyFO-sT0VLvhko-TDk/s1600/salmon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPPKWXlVGlVLRQXAE7aZJI7eZ2FEz1Edy5PkLrecDDiNtdbGkSMDkSezG_oduPDRtXcG6dchksPUQ3ZsGcssbxMP9ZasTz-GL8GMbTczu-wOdnYW6eV6xBe64a6dyFO-sT0VLvhko-TDk/s400/salmon.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fish eggs, fish eggs... roly-poly fish eggs...<br />
The Leaping Salmon is like playing Pokémon, just with better graphics.<br />
Gotta catch 'em all, gotta catch 'em all!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
Kylie jumped into the stream and waded over to where the salmon were at. After almost a half hour of snatching, grabbing, and cursing, she managed to obtain almost a dozen salmon eggs.</div>
<div align="justify">
She climbed out of the stream, followed the road back to the standing stones, and then made her way down the rocks to where a hunter had set up a small camp with a tent and bonfire. Seeing the ruins she had spotted the day before a short distance away, she didn't bother to stay and talk to the hunter, who seemed friendly enough, and instead waded back into the water and swam over to where the top pillars of the ruins were poking out of the water.</div>
<div align="justify">
Taking a deep breath, she dove under the water. Within seconds she caught sight of what she had been hoping would be there all along: clusters of small barnacles along the stone. She gathered up almost a dozen of them, and then once more made her way back to the standing stones and down the road to Riverwood. </div>
<div align="justify">
As she entered the village, she saw Sven come step out of a nearby house. He gave her the same glare he had the night before in the inn, waved his hand at her in a dismissive motion as if she were an annoying fly, and with a flick of his hair he headed toward the inn.</div>
<div align="justify">
Kylie bit back the insult that was on the tip of her tongue and glanced at the door he had come out of. She'd seen him lock it, but that wasn't a problem. She <em>had</em> been a thief at one time, after all.</div>
<div align="justify">
In moments she was crouched by the door, studying the lock as she reached down into the top of her armor and pulled out the lockpick she had hidden there. In seconds, she heard the satisfying, almost inaudible click as she picked the lock and slipped quickly inside.</div>
<div align="justify">
She could have taken anything, but seeing nearly a dozen garlic cloves (some were hanging from the rafters and the others were on the table underneath, sitting on a plate), she ignored everything else and slipped them into her pouch.</div>
<div align="justify">
Her next stop was Faendal's house, where she found a few more braids of garlic to add to her growing collection.</div>
<div align="justify">
With enough of the three ingredients she needed, she headed for the inn, where she'd seen the last thing she needed: an alchemy table.</div>
<div align="justify">
Kylie opened the door to the inn and was met by the sound of a lute playing, while Sven's voice was raised in song. Unable to resist the temptation any longer, Kylie walked over to him.</div>
<div align="justify">
"Do everyone a favor and shut up, Sven," she said. "You sound like a banshee wailing."</div>
<div align="justify">
"How dare you compare my exquisite voice to that!" Sven exclaimed. "A banshee's wail could kill a person!"</div>
<div align="justify">
"So could your singing," Kylie smirked.</div>
<div align="justify">
Without waiting for him to respond, she made her way to the other side of the inn to the alchemy station, and then changing her mind, went behind the bar instead and grabbed the garlic she saw hanging from the rafters.</div>
<div align="justify">
She was on a mission. She had enough ingredients to make almost a dozen potions (assuming they wouldn't blow up in her face, as her inner voice had considered might be a possible result on this world), but Kylie wanted to solve her money problems in one shot.</div>
<div align="justify">
"Time to head to Whiterun," Kylie muttered. "There's bound to be plenty of places to get more garlic, and I need to go there to talk to that Jarl person, anyway."</div>
<div align="justify">
Leaving the inn, Kylie turned right and began following the road. Glancing up at Bleak Falls Barrow in the distance as she crossed the bridge reminded her that she'd promised to head up there, find the thieves who had stolen the claw from the general store, and get it back for the shop owner. She made a mental note to do that as soon as she came back from Whiterun.</div>
<div align="justify">
The road twisted and turned, gradually sloping down the further she traveled, continuing to follow the stream. Kylie saw several places along the way where the water cascaded over the rocks, creating small waterfalls that were teeming with leaping salmon. She didn't let the opportunity go to waste, and within a matter of hours she had a pouch full of salmon eggs.</div>
<div align="justify">
When she saw Whiterun finally appear in the distance, Kylie knew immediately it was no tiny village by the high stone wall that surrounded it. Seeing the wall caused a wave of homesickness to pass through her, as it reminded her of Silvergate - the capital city of the Province, back on her world.</div>
<div align="justify">
Upon reaching the outskirts, Kylie paused for a moment beside a carriage.</div>
<div align="justify">
"Do you need a ride somewhere?" the driver asked.</div>
<div align="justify">
"Home," Kylie replied longingly as another wave of homesickness passed through her.</div>
<div align="justify">
"I can take you to any of the holds here in Skyrim," the carriage driver offered. "Windhelm, Riften, Markarth, Solitude, Dawnstar..."</div>
<div align="justify">
"Thanks, but I don't think just hopping on a carriage will get me home," Kylie said, sighing heavily.</div>
<div align="justify">
"Well, if you change your mind, I'll be here!" the driver called out as she continued on up the road to the city.</div>
<div align="justify">
As she approached the city gates, a guard stepped away from his post and held up his hand.</div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRlChFBTyw1fL3nVQVkaT5pQWtkHNVietHj4vEvPOy8h12f8w_ebquULZm_yI6-9_pq-oVWS2kkpjHkHIccxZPw939adJwIEbgaSpooKLuiD80q93p31G3bKqDaZCLbxBgODgX2YAqNFE/s1600/whiterun_guard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRlChFBTyw1fL3nVQVkaT5pQWtkHNVietHj4vEvPOy8h12f8w_ebquULZm_yI6-9_pq-oVWS2kkpjHkHIccxZPw939adJwIEbgaSpooKLuiD80q93p31G3bKqDaZCLbxBgODgX2YAqNFE/s400/whiterun_guard.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I tell people I used to be an adventurer, but then I took an arrow in the knee.<br />
That's not really true, though. I used to be a knight - until I saw<br />
a rabbit that scared me so much, I soiled my armor...<br />
Twice."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
"City's closed with the dragon about," he stated.</div>
<div align="justify">
"Fine, I'll just go back to Riverwood and tell everyone there that I couldn't let the Jarl know they were worried the dragon might attack the village because you wouldn't let me into the city to talk to him," Kylie said. The guard shifted nervously from one foot to the other.</div>
<div align="justify">
"Riverwood's in danger, too? You'd better go on in," the guard decided and unlocked the gate for her. "You'll find the Jarl..."</div>
<div align="justify">
"In the big palace overlooking the city," Kylie finished for him. "I'm not stupid."</div>
<div align="justify">
The first thing Kylie noticed when she entered the city was a woman wearing a blacksmith's apron and a man in heavy armor standing outside a blacksmith's store.</div>
<div align="justify">
"We must have more swords for the Imperial Legion," the man insisted.</div>
<div align="justify">
"I can't fill an order that large!" the woman replied.</div>
<div align="justify">
"Just keep moving, Kylie," she muttered to herself and quickly walked past the two, continuing up the street toward the city's small business district. Several stalls were set up, with people calling out their wares - everything from jewelry to fresh produce. A shop on the right had a sign which read <em>Arcadia's Cauldron</em>. Perfect, Kylie thought, a touch of a smile appearing on her face.</div>
<div align="justify">
As soon as she stepped inside and walked up to the counter, the woman standing behind it looked her over with a critical eye.</div>
<div align="justify">
"You look rather pale... I have a potion for that," she suggested.</div>
<div align="justify">
"I'm fine," Kylie replied. "I just came in to see if you knew where I could get a certain ingredient I need for a potion."</div>
<div align="justify">
"Ahh, so you're an alchemist!" the woman replied. "I'm Arcadia. This is my shop."</div>
<div align="justify">
"I kind of figured that," Kylie said wryly. "I'm not really much of an alchemist, though I do know how to make one particular potion. But one of the things I need to make it isn't exactly easy to come by... I need barnacles."</div>
<div align="justify">
"Have you been to Dawnstar?" Arcadia inquired. "There's an old shipwreck just northeast of the town that's practically covered with them. <em>Hela's Folly</em>, I believe the ship was called."</div>
<div align="justify">
"Thanks for the tip, I'll check it out!" Kylie replied before heading back outside, recalling the carriage driver outside the city had mentioned that same town.</div>
<div align="justify">
"Fresh produce!" a woman behind one of the stalls in the marketplace called out as Kylie shut the door behind her and made her way through the marketplace. While she wasn't interested in getting anything to eat, the strings of garlic cloves hanging on the stall <em>did</em> interest her, as they were one of the other needed ingredients for the potion that Kylie suspected was going to be quite profitable.</div>
<div align="justify">
"How much for the... what's wrong?" Kylie asked, the question coming out before it registered in her brain.</div>
<div align="justify">
"I've gotten proposals from half the men in this city," the woman replied with a sigh. "Mikael is the worst of them, though. He's a bard who sings at the inn right over there."</div>
<div align="justify">
</div>
<div align="justify">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNrq1y0OUAsYl7jB8clv6hm-HmiaKBN4u1zf3Gai5GfISwk4c8Acq2ne5v14bmedTC7SovIRpJ3lrdHUo4TgTH7TKN0WVOR_yzBko21MXq7qgfoiFuHUM124O2sUHv8vm-gV_9ax0zUs4/s1600/carlotta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNrq1y0OUAsYl7jB8clv6hm-HmiaKBN4u1zf3Gai5GfISwk4c8Acq2ne5v14bmedTC7SovIRpJ3lrdHUo4TgTH7TKN0WVOR_yzBko21MXq7qgfoiFuHUM124O2sUHv8vm-gV_9ax0zUs4/s400/carlotta.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Yes, I know there's a song with lyrics that suggest boys seem to like a girl<br />
who gets undressed before the second date. The men in this city<br />
certainly do. I'm getting asked out left and right!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div align="justify">
</div>
<div align="justify">
</div>
<div align="justify">
"Gods, what is it with bards in this world?" Kylie asked, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "Look, I'll talk to him, if you'll let me have any garlic cloves at no cost whenever you have them in stock."</div>
<div align="justify">
"If you think you can get that braggart to leave me alone, that's more than a fair deal! I'm Carlotta, by the way. And you are...?"</div>
<div align="justify">
"Kylie. Is he there right now?"</div>
<div align="justify">
"I don't think he ever leaves," Carlotta grumbled.</div>
<div align="justify">
With a curt nod, Kylie started toward the inn, and then paused as she noticed another woman in a blue dress wandering slowly around from one stall to the next. If it weren't for the way she was dressed, Kylie would have thought she was a thief casing each of the stalls, except for the fact that she was being too obvious.</div>
<div align="justify">
"If you're planning on stealing from any of these stalls, be more subtle about it," Kylie muttered quietly as the woman began to walk past her.</div>
<div align="justify">
"Why would I...? Oh no, I'm not a thief!" the woman exclaimed. "I'm only trying to learn some of their tricks! I want to have my own business some day. I even thought about buying the Bannered Mare from the current owner, but she won't even speak to me. I think the only way she'll talk to me is if I have something to impress her with, like a mammoth's tusk."</div>
<div align="justify">
"The Bannered Mare?"</div>
<div align="justify">
"Yes, the inn just behind us," the woman replied.</div>
<div align="justify">
"The owner sounds like a stuck up snob," Kylie commented. "If I find one, it's yours."</div>
<div align="justify">
As she headed over to the nearby inn, Kylie wondered why she kept getting off track and offering to help people instead of focusing on her own goals. She was supposed to be concentrating on making money, and helping people was taking time away from that!</div>
<div align="justify">
No, it's not, she realized. As profitable as the potions that she had in mind were, she had a limited number of the required ingredients. The potions could potentially net her plenty of gold, but she had to be able to <em>make</em> them. By helping others and making friends (with the exception of Sven... but he was an ass, so stealing the garlic from his house didn't count!), she was making it easier to reach her own goals.</div>
<div align="justify">
Opening the door to the inn, she caught sight of Mikael strumming his lute and going through some kind of warm-up routine immediately upon entering, and made her way over to him.</div>
<div align="justify">
"You must be Mikael," she stated. "Carlotta wants you to leave her alone."</div>
<div align="justify">
"She put you up to this, didn't she?" Mikael asked with a chuckle. "Sorry, but she's mine - even if she doesn't know it yet!"</div>
<div align="justify">
"How did I know you were going to say something like that," Kylie replied, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Fine, then let me put it this way: if you <em>don't</em> leave her alone, your face and my fist are going to get very well acquainted."</div>
<div align="justify">
"I don't have to take that from you!" Mikael exclaimed.</div>
<div align="justify">
Kylie gave him time to put his lute down on the floor, and then connected with a hard right hook.</div>
<div align="justify">
"Fight! Fight!" someone called out, seeing the two begin exchanging punches.</div>
<div align="justify">
Mikael got a few lucky hits in, but he was no match for Kylie, and within a matter of minutes he fell to one knee and held up a hand in defeat.<br />
"Okay, enough!" he begged.</div>
<div align="justify">
"Now, are you going to leave Carlotta alone, or do I need to kick your ass some more?" Kylie growled, keeping her fists up.</div>
<div align="justify">
"I'll... I'll leave her alone," Mikael promised.</div>
<div align="justify">
"You'd better," Kylie replied, letting the threat hang in the air for a moment longer before heading over to the bar. Noticing the large curved bone 'trophy' sitting on top of a shelf behind the bar, she walked casually around the bar, pretending to be browsing the items on the shelves, and then crouched down. The moment she was out of everyone's line of sight, she snatched the mammoth's tusk from the top of the shelf, as well as the garlic cloves hanging from the rafters, and then headed back outside.</div>
<div align="justify">
Seeing the woman in the blue dress still in the marketplace, Kylie walked up to her and held out the tusk.</div>
<div align="justify">
"You found one! This should turn that old goat's head!" the woman exclaimed. "Oh, forgive me, I never introduced myself before. My name is Ysolda. Thank you so much!"</div>
<div align="justify">
"You're welcome," Kylie replied, and then walked over to Carlotta's stall. "Mikael won't be bothering you again, Carlotta. He'll probably have a black eye and a swollen lip for a good week to remind him to leave you alone, too."</div>
<div align="justify">
"I wish I could have been there to see that!" Carlotta exclaimed, laughing with relief. "Please, take as much garlic as you'd like!" Kylie smiled and grabbed what she had hanging from the stall.</div>
<div align="justify">
"Arcadia's shop and the general store seem to be the only two places in the city that I can sell potions at. I don't suppose there's anywhere else in the city that will buy them, is there?" she inquired.</div>
<div align="justify">
"No, but everyone restocks their wares and such every two days. If you have potions to sell, you <em>could</em> take the carriage to Windhelm. There are two stalls right by the alchemy shop that I know buy almost anything, and of course the alchemy shop itself would certainly buy any potions you want to sell," Carlotta replied. "There's also a used goods shop on the other side of the city that will buy them, now that I think of it."</div>
<div align="justify">
"Really? Thanks for the tip!" Kylie replied and with a wave, began heading for the city gates. She still needed to speak to the Jarl, but her money issues had been put on hold long enough. She had plenty of salmon roe and garlic. Now to get the last item she needed - and thanks to Arcadia's advice, she knew just where to go.</div>
<div align="justify">
She made her way back to the carriage just outside the city, told the driver she wanted to go to Dawnstar, and hopped in the back, handing him the coin for the trip.</div>
<div align="justify">
The days went by quickly, and soon she was standing outside a small village far to the north where the weather was chilly, with a light snow falling. As she reached the outskirts of the city, she stopped and turned around, realizing she hadn't asked the driver to wait for her. But the carriage was nowhere in sight.</div>
<div align="justify">
"Oh, wonderful," Kylie grumbled. Sighing, she turned back toward the town. She'd figure out what to do later. After she found the shipwreck.</div>
<div align="justify">
Skirting the outer edge of the town, she kept on a northeasterly direction, stopping when she reached a point where the land gave way to the cold waters of the sea. The water was tolerable, and more importantly, it was fairly shallow where she began to swim. Within a matter of minutes, she saw the rotting timbers of a shipwreck appear in the distance that she hoped was the one Arcadia had mentioned.</div>
<div align="justify">
Sure enough, when she reached it she saw the faded nameplate which read <em>Hela's Folly</em>. She set to work right away, and with a deep breath, plunged under the water.</div>
<div align="justify">
</div>
<div align="justify">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2xrCh-MAK-cgBdRChVX4Xa_uH3d1Hl4xTht2YWpHgNWmVbUTbTNtS64Ut0S5t5mw6I5g1Z83X0TcCOuaj38fr_4wuMBTageBcxYr9v112u9hfdF94d5XJ8120QLwNOv1V2GDyb4NoXbI/s1600/shipwreck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2xrCh-MAK-cgBdRChVX4Xa_uH3d1Hl4xTht2YWpHgNWmVbUTbTNtS64Ut0S5t5mw6I5g1Z83X0TcCOuaj38fr_4wuMBTageBcxYr9v112u9hfdF94d5XJ8120QLwNOv1V2GDyb4NoXbI/s400/shipwreck.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"It's not my fault! One of the passengers was sitting on the bow of the ship<br />
having her portrait drawn while wearing nothing but a necklace!<br />
And it was cold out!<br />
Do you have <em>any idea</em> how distracting that was??"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div align="justify">
</div>
<div align="justify">
</div>
<div align="justify">
Arcadia wasn't kidding. Kylie had to surface several times for air, but when she had gathered every barnacle clinging to the ship's remains, she had well over thirty of them in her pouch.</div>
<div align="justify">
She climbed out of the water, cold and shivering... and silently thankful that the pouches she had were magical in nature, not only allowing her to carry far more than the small bags appeared to be able to hold, but just as importantly - they were waterproof.</div>
<div align="justify">
Seeing a fire burning nearby, Kylie walked over to it, slowing down when she saw a lizard-like creature with a human shape asleep on a small mat a few yards away, which made Kylie even more wary, as there were similar creatures on Tal'Avern called Slaath. They weren't known for being overly friendly, which kept Kylie on guard.</div>
<div align="justify">
As she warmed up by the fire, Kylie took a quick look around, and seeing several valuable gemstones sitting on top of a barrel, along with several more resting a small crate near the creature's head, Kylie relieved the Argonian of the gems and slipped them into her pouch. She knew they would sell for a good price, but Kylie had no intention of selling them. She already had other plans for the precious gemstones.</div>
<div align="justify">
"Now, how do I get back to Whiterun from here?" she muttered. With a flash, she was gone. The next thing she knew, she was standing just inside the gates of the city, near the blacksmith's shop.</div>
<div align="justify">
"I'll be damned!" she exclaimed, a mix of shock, amazement... and excitement rushing through her body. She still had her shadow walking ability, and didn't even need to be standing in any shadows to use it!</div>
<div align="justify">
She ran down the street to Arcadia's shop, nearly crashing into several people along the way in her excitement. Throwing open the door, she hurried over to the counter.</div>
<div align="justify">
"Can I use your alchemy table?" she asked breathlessly.</div>
<div align="justify">
"Of course," Arcadia replied.</div>
<div align="justify">
Going over to the table, Kylie took out one of each of the ingredients she needed: salmon roe, garlic, and a Nordic barnacle. Now came the moment of truth.</div>
<div align="justify">
"Please don't blow up in my face, please don't blow up in my face," Kylie pleaded as the potion churned, bubbled... and then turned a deep red color as the three ingredients mixed into a potion that would sell for a nice amount of gold.</div>
<div align="justify">
With the knowledge that the ingredients mixed properly, Kylie set about making as many as she could, making small adjustments as she went along which made the potions increasingly more powerful - and profitable.</div>
<div align="justify">
When she was done, Kylie thanked Arcadia for letting her use the alchemy table and stepped outside.</div>
<div align="justify">
"Now all I need to do is take the carriage..." With a flash she disappeared. A moment later, she was standing near the carriage outside of Whiterun. "Gods, that's awesome! I'm starting to like it here!" she exclaimed.</div>
<div align="justify">
"Where would you like to go?" the driver asked.</div>
<div align="justify">
"Windhelm," Kylie answered, handing him the coin he wanted for the trip as she sat down in the back.</div>
<div align="justify">
When the carriage rolled to a stop outside Windhelm, Kylie didn't even care if he left. She was flying among the clouds with the knowledge that she could travel anywhere in Skyrim that she'd already discovered.</div>
<div align="justify">
She spent the next several days in Windhelm. She would sell as many potions at the Alchemy shop, the two stalls just outside of it, and the used goods store on the other side of the city as the merchants could afford. Kylie even sold a few for a bit less than they were worth, because the merchants didn't have enough gold to cover the full amount. Then she would wait around for a few days. When they'd restocked their wares (and replenished their gold) she'd make another round of sales.</div>
<div align="justify">
By the time Kylie had sold the last potion she had made, her money problems were at an end. And if she needed money later on, Kylie not only knew right where to go to get the ingredients to make more, but she could travel to those locations instantly.</div>
<div align="justify">
In the blink of an eye she was back in Whiterun. She made her way to the Bannered Mare, paid for a night's lodging, and went up to the room she'd rented on the second floor. Closing the door, Kylie fell down onto the double bed and sprawled out, feeling giddy. After a moment, she sat up and untied one of the pouches from her hip.<br />
"Show me the money!" she exclaimed happily, loosening the drawstring and tipping the pouch sideways. And the gold began to fall.</div>
<div align="justify">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
* * *</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Tips in Chapter Two:<br />
<em>1) Ingredients for a profitable potion: Salmon Roe + Garlic + Nordic Barnacle</em><br />
<em>2) Gathering ingredients: Salmon Roe from stream; garlic from houses, inns, and stalls; great spot for barnacles at Hela's Folly. The ruins a short way from the standing stones I believe has 11, and there's also another 10 or so under the bridge up at Dragon's Reach which Kylie didn't grab, since she didn't go up there... yet. Maybe when she wakes up ;)</em><br />
<em>3) Selling potions - 4 spots in Windhelm!</em><br />
<em>4) Ysolda's request - easy way to get her that tusk!</em><br />
<em>5) Swiping gems near Hela's Folly - hold onto them for Smithing! Those DO respawn, by the way ;)</em><br />
<em> </em><br />
<em> </em> </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12989918707512918674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7485035040785690692.post-54324451279387522582016-09-20T02:48:00.000-07:002016-10-12T14:28:13.852-07:00A Skyrim Story - Chapter One<div style="text-align: justify;">
When my kids got out of school for the summer, I knew I wouldn't get much writing done until they went back. So, since I was kind of on a 'summer break' myself, I flipped on the PS3 about halfway through and dusted off one of my favorite games, <em>Skyrim</em>.<br />
<br />
I spent about a month fiddling with different aspects of the game, restarted multiple times with different characters... to the point that everyone in the house (my three teenage kids, my wife, myself... hell, even the dog and 2 cats!) can now do the <em>entire</em> intro word for word. Though I'll admit, some of those restarts were merely to see the expressions on their faces when they heard for the hundredth or so time:</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOLXDWwT7pcfYAFe4bKzQJGcuBjyWTrfQI-8qWsJ5-Clu4KmqNvldyITKuMsbOAkZiDv9WUm6OTd155yITOZZfOu1ZDhG5yW35y_co1NgYew4iXXBX7QWXmjfBursFH0ylUN7Y-FlvRzw/s1600/ulfric.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOLXDWwT7pcfYAFe4bKzQJGcuBjyWTrfQI-8qWsJ5-Clu4KmqNvldyITKuMsbOAkZiDv9WUm6OTd155yITOZZfOu1ZDhG5yW35y_co1NgYew4iXXBX7QWXmjfBursFH0ylUN7Y-FlvRzw/s400/ulfric.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"What the... what was that?"<br />
"It's nothing. One of the guards in the<br />
tower is constipated, that's all. Carry on."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I'm not going to repeat the whole intro because you get the idea. Oh, but I will say that the captions under the pics are <strong>NOT</strong> actual gameplay dialogue... that's just my warped sense of humor hard at work, and the pics help break up the writing a bit. Plus, it's fun to come up with crazy, humorous captions! Just thought I'd better make that clear! ;)</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I watched a lot of YouTube videos as well, looking for tips and such, since I hadn't played the game in quite some time and was a bit rusty. And of course, part of the reason I started playing it again is because the re-mastered version of <em>Skyrim</em> is coming out soon for PS4 and Xbox One. I'm sure when it comes out I'll go buy it and start again. Ahh, the excitement within the wife and kids must be overwhelming... *grin*</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm..."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
A lot of those vids were either old tips that no longer worked due to patches making them obsolete (who remembers the old smithing 1000 iron daggers!?), or were things that I stay away from - like the invisible Khajiit chest trick in Dawnstar.<br />
<br />
Now, as I <em>am</em> a writer, I figured, why not do more than just list the tips for <em>Skyrim</em> that I wanted to share? Why not make it fun? Since my job is to entertain readers, I thought I'd share the tips by doing a bit of storytelling to bring them to you.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
We'll be following along with Kylie, one of the characters from my fantasy series. Go ahead, smirk if you want, but having kickass female characters in leading roles is kind of my thing in all of my books, so most of the characters I create when I play <em>Skyrim</em> tend to be female. Not always, but most of the time.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil_JPm93j71FcfgQe4BxzZphBbaNR5r7jkv26Y-GT8Mi82AS13ykkPvMnmk_Ebs7AgIE29f6V3U7zXqg6ChOHHc2rVF52V2Bp2MRTijMoGngq3qGHF7S_P4sDo6htioFc4zCWjK1N3ymo/s1600/girls_of_fantasy_n_pnr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil_JPm93j71FcfgQe4BxzZphBbaNR5r7jkv26Y-GT8Mi82AS13ykkPvMnmk_Ebs7AgIE29f6V3U7zXqg6ChOHHc2rVF52V2Bp2MRTijMoGngq3qGHF7S_P4sDo6htioFc4zCWjK1N3ymo/s400/girls_of_fantasy_n_pnr.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of the kickass women from my books. From left to right:<br />
Jenna, Kylie, Celeste, and Kaly</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
As one of my favorite characters from my fantasy series happens to be Kylie Destaine (though I love all these girls!), I thought it would be fun to pull Kylie out of Tal'Avern, drop her into Skyrim, and have her sort of 'live through' the tips I wanted to share. And before any of you ask, the answer is yes... under the hood, Kylie is a redhead with green eyes. Feel free to check out my official website (link is up top on the right) if you have no idea why I said that or are just curious - the answer is there, along with lots of other stuff.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
With that being said, enough of an intro! Chapter One! </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Chapter One</span></h4>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>Welcome to Skyrim</em></span></h4>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"We probably shouldn't stick around in case he comes back," Ralof suggested. "My sister, Gerdur, runs the mill in Riverwood. I'm sure she'd help you out. It's probably best if we..."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Kylie was already sprinting down the dirt path and was out of earshot before he had finished his sentence. She'd never been one to tag along with others, and wasn't about to start now! Besides, she was still coming to grips with suddenly finding herself in an unfamiliar world. Plus, she didn't want to give Ralof a chance to recall some of the things after the dragon had attacked, just as the headsman was preparing to remove Kylie's head from her shoulders.<br />
Reaching a stony road, Kylie stopped for a moment to catch her breath and placed a hand on her stomach as an ominous feeling that she was reliving a horrible nightmare sent a cold chill through her body.<br />
There were dragons on her world. They hadn't been seen in over a thousand years, but then they'd come back. Kylie remembered the cold feeling that had gone through her the first time she'd seen one. It had felt as if her blood had turned to ice. She'd barely escaped with her life then, too.<br />
While dragons were not new to her, it seemed that something similar was happening on this world. Ralof had said that dragons hadn't been seen in so long that they'd become nothing more than children's stories and legends, after all.<br />
Kylie forced herself to calm down and collect her thoughts. First, what the hell had happened? She'd been having an ale and playing Elemental Dice, and then suddenly, everything vanished and she was practically naked! Her armor was gone, her weapons... all she was wearing was a dirty ragged shirt and pants, and she was sitting on a cart going down an unfamiliar road, with three men who she didn't know sitting in the cart with her! One of them had been gagged, and all of them - including her - had their hands bound. <br />
She'd quickly discovered that none of the abilities she had been granted on her world worked on this one. If they had, she could have shadow walked away from the whole situation.<br />
"No, I couldn't have," Kylie corrected herself, cursing under her breath. She'd been a Shadow Walker on her world - a human who was, in the most basic terms (though she and the others like her hated being referred to by it), an assassin who could travel through the shadows. But in order to do so, a Shadow Walker needed to be able to picture the destination in their mind.<br />
She knew nothing about this world, other than the fact that when she had asked, one of the men in the cart had looked at her as if she were crazy, but said it was called Tamriel, and that she was in the land known as Skyrim, the home of the Nords.<br />
None of that information helped her. She didn't know any of the landmarks or any places of interest that she could have focused on. And even if she did, Kylie had the sinking feeling that her shadow abilities had either been stripped away from her or were unable to be used on this world. She would have to adapt and get used to not having them to rely on.<br />
"Oh gods, I'm going to have to walk everywhere!" she groaned.<br />
The cart had stopped in a small town, where they had been told to get out. Then the list of names had started being called out, and the horrific realization had struck Kylie. She was about to be executed along with the others, even though no one knew who she was!<br />
And then, by a stroke of luck, just as her turn came and she was forced to get down on her knees with her head resting on the chopping block, watching as the headsman raised his axe... a dragon had landed on top of a nearby tower and attacked.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfoaJA2waYLJl02kwqTMtmkbDwH4uuKObH-5N53IgRLbHCsCYkAHPOw4btiv2xGs7EoMmNN54d4mXXLeu1mbxmJbwUoqKDmMV5rOqDkRbj3_SMFEGXJ2uoNTFcT0VePoz4hZkNVlxHrdM/s1600/aulduin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfoaJA2waYLJl02kwqTMtmkbDwH4uuKObH-5N53IgRLbHCsCYkAHPOw4btiv2xGs7EoMmNN54d4mXXLeu1mbxmJbwUoqKDmMV5rOqDkRbj3_SMFEGXJ2uoNTFcT0VePoz4hZkNVlxHrdM/s400/aulduin.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Look out! The customer has assumed her ultimate form!"<br />
"Quick, get some Chicken Nuggets!"<br />
"But we don't serve them at 10:30 in the morning!"<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
During the chaos that ensued, while the Imperial soldiers had their attention on the dragon, Kylie had bolted into another tower nearby, jumped out a window, and run through a good portion of what was left of the town before ducking into the keep. Ralof had been following close behind her and cut the ropes binding her hands.<br />
Ropes. They'd all had their hands bound by ropes! It was such a crude thing to use! On her world, she would have had iron shackles placed around her wrists. And then a slight smile touched Kylie's lips. She glanced down at her chest as she remembered that one of the first things Jenna had taught her when they were both members of the Thieves' Den was to always keep a lockpick hidden where no man <em>ever</em> thought to check. Maybe that's why they use ropes instead of iron shackles on this world, Kylie thought, and returned to going over what had happened in her mind.<br />
A few moments after Ralof had freed her hands, they had heard the sound of voices coming toward them from another hallway.<br />
"It's the Imperials!" Ralof had hissed, and quickly ducked off to the side of a closed iron gate, with Kylie hiding on the other side across from him. When the gate dropped open, Kylie and Ralof had jumped out from where they were hiding and attacked.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
She'd helped Ralof fight off the Imperial Officer and soldier who came through the gate, and thinking that maybe the Officer had a key to the locked door on the other side of the room, Kylie had searched her body. Sure enough, she found a key, which she'd quickly taken before her Stormcloak 'rescuer' noticed.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
He'd been rather whiney after the fight was over, constantly looking at the locked door and asking if she'd found a key to unlock it. The multiple sneak attacks Kylie had done to him with the daggers she'd taken from the two Imperials before finally unlocking the door probably didn't help his mood, but it was a great way for her to practice her Sneaking! She probably could have done it as long as she'd wanted to, but one could only listen to the same question being asked over and over for so long.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
They'd made it out of Helgen shortly after that without too much trouble, emerging back out into the open and completely free, just as the dragon who had unintentionally saved them from becoming several inches shorter flew past overhead, disappearing from sight a few moments later behind a distant mountain that looked like it had some kind of ruins on it. At that point, Kylie had taken off at a fast run, leaving Ralof talking to himself about his sister and her mill.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Alright, done reminiscing," Kylie muttered. It hadn't helped much. She knew that she wasn't on Tal'Avern anymore. Who had taken her from there, and for what purpose, was a complete mystery. Without knowing who had done it or even <em>how</em> it had been done, she had no way to get back to Tal'Avern. But why her? Why bring <em>her</em> here?<br />
Kylie sighed heavily. For whatever reason, she was on another world, in a land called Skyrim, where there was some kind of civil war going on. As if that weren't enough, on top of everything else, a dragon had returned, when none had been seen in like a thousand years.<br />
And if there was one dragon, Kylie thought nervously, there was bound to be more, if anything like what had happened on her world was beginning on this one. <br />
Noticing a trio of stones, Kylie hopped down from the rocks and went over to the standing stones. After studying each of them for a moment, she pressed her hand against the one with a depiction of a thief on it. At one time, that had been her profession, after all. She was no warrior, and she was certainly no mage. As she did, Kylie felt a surge of power go into her.<br />
"I'll take that as a good sign," she said, nodding in satisfaction. "I need all the positivity I can get."<br />
She had no idea where she was, but until she found some way to get back to her own world, Kylie grudgingly gave in to the fact that she was stuck in this one. But maybe she was looking at it the wrong way. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. She had a unique opportunity in front of her, after all. She could change professions, do things she'd never had a chance to do, and expand her skills.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2r97jaJc0VOL18QL-ocz5FaGh-5-hp3qfvNxo0CEiYbIAgGgzCJ322AJks80-u_SnEwH7S0Bh4IzmXvaFqEufomj2caE6kFfK_V39BVbF7UobSoMiYmcZZdK4C2QHHh5N5BwJVyhWvxg/s1600/guardian_stones.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2r97jaJc0VOL18QL-ocz5FaGh-5-hp3qfvNxo0CEiYbIAgGgzCJ322AJks80-u_SnEwH7S0Bh4IzmXvaFqEufomj2caE6kFfK_V39BVbF7UobSoMiYmcZZdK4C2QHHh5N5BwJVyhWvxg/s400/guardian_stones.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Thief, a Mage, and a Warrior walked into a bar...<br />
Whoever the fourth one was, ducked. Probably why it's not there. ;)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"First things first though," she muttered, taking a quick look at the various plants and flowers that dotted the side the of the road around her. "I need money."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
As a Shadow Walker, one of the things she'd had to rely on (on more than one occasion) were healing potions, so she knew a bit about alchemy - enough at least to know that a few easily obtained ingredients could make potions and poisons that would sell for more than enough to make it easy to do whatever she wanted. That <em>could</em> backfire, her inner voice cautioned. The ingredients which mixed into a healing potion on Tal'Avern might blow up in her face on Tamriel!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Seeing the small village in the distance, Kylie starting making her way toward it, but then paused when she came across a crude, boarded path on the right. Curious, she stepped off the road and made her way up the small hill.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Kylie had no idea who the man standing outside what appeared to be the entrance to a small mine was. But when he came at her with a sword in one hand and a shield held in the other, she wasn't really concerned with who he was.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Maybe he thinks I'm one of those Imperial soldiers, Kylie thought as he rushed at her, shouting some cheesy line about how she would be so much easier to rob when she was dead. Well, she <em>was</em> wearing some of the gear she'd 'acquired' during her escape from that town. It was better than walking around in those thin, dirty clothes she'd found herself wearing when she'd initially appeared on the cart, though. What had the name of that town been? Holgen? Halga?<br />
"Helgen," she muttered, hoping to shut up the curious voice in her head that continued to wonder where she was and how she got there long enough to take care of the immediate threat that had started swinging his sword at her.<br />
The man was nothing more than a thug, a bandit... something like that. It didn't matter, regardless. He was trying to kill her, and Kylie had no intention of letting that happen.<br />
She'd picked up a few other choice items during her escape as well, after all. Like the swords she gripped, one in each hand. Daggers had their place - they were great for sneak attacks, but swords had a better reach and could do more damage when stealth attacks weren't an option. Besides, she'd always preferred to use a sword in each hand.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The fight was short. For all his threats, the bandit went down easily. Kylie stood there for a minute, chewing her lower lip and looking at the broken sign near the entrance which read <em>'Embershard Mine' </em>as she considered whether or not to check it out.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Nah, I'll save it for another day," Kylie decided, ignoring the inner voice in her head that was attempting to persuade her to go into the mine. She could learn the Smithing skill and become a master blacksmith on this world!<br />
It <em>was</em> a tempting suggestion, Kylie had to admit. Blacksmithing was certainly a lucrative profession on her world, after all. It stood to reason that it was no different on this one. Probably even more so, what with the civil war that was apparently going on in Skyrim.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
With a shake of her head, Kylie set the idea aside... at least for now. She had a feeling there would be a reason why she didn't take advantage of the ore that was certainly inside the mine right away - even if it didn't seem apparent at that particular moment.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
She headed back in the direction of the nearby village, taking down a trio of wolves along the way. Their pelts would be useful in crafting some decent leather armor. With what she was wearing at the moment, she looked like a damn Imperial soldier, and that was the <em>last</em> impression she wanted to give - especially since there were certainly Stormcloak supporters in the village. Ralof was a Stormcloak, and he did say his sister ran the mill, after all. At any rate, Kylie knew she needed to rectify her appearance problem, and quickly.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Upon entering the small village, Kylie was approached almost immediately by a man who called himself Sven. He mentioned an elf named Faendal that worked at the nearby mill, and that the two of them both had a thing for a certain girl in the village named Camilla, who helped her brother at the general goods store.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
After boasting that he was the better man, so Camilla couldn't <em>possibly</em> be interested in the elf, a nervous look crossed Sven's face for a moment. Quickly regaining his composure, he gave Kylie a fake letter he'd written and asked her to give it to Camilla, but to say that it was from Faendal. Before Kylie could object, Sven flicked his hair, stuck his nose up in the air as if he was certain that Kylie wanted him, just like every other woman in the village, and walked away.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsWMbd26zb84_lT2tatHN0eI55OjZYshuYRh-hUcxA3FD7eoNRS04DVRABtGDulBwigFm9HXgVshLatYxEPSCHTlsCQu-ihJVtqMqa3Yo6Jf6bDmkOa48fiB5tlu3j9QAMjVRXczQ1xvY/s1600/sven.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsWMbd26zb84_lT2tatHN0eI55OjZYshuYRh-hUcxA3FD7eoNRS04DVRABtGDulBwigFm9HXgVshLatYxEPSCHTlsCQu-ihJVtqMqa3Yo6Jf6bDmkOa48fiB5tlu3j9QAMjVRXczQ1xvY/s400/sven.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Every woman in this village wants me!"<br />
"Yeah, because a grown man who still lives with his<br />
mother in a one room house is <em>such</em> a turn-on, Sven!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
If there was one thing Kylie hated, it was men like Sven. She took a single step toward him and stopped, resisting the temptation to call him back over, bury her swords in his chest, and whisper "Justice has been served" into his ear as his dying breath gasped out. That had been the Shadow Walker way, and on this world she didn't have the shadow realm in her corner. So she would do the next best thing.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
Since she had to get rid of the things she'd collected during her escape and knew the general goods store would certainly buy them, Kylie made her way over to the store, deciding to take care of two birds with one arrow.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
When she stepped inside, Kylie didn't bother to ask about the theft that had taken place there recently, which the shopkeeper and a young woman who she guessed was Camila were arguing about. Kylie unloaded her gear, getting a meager amount of coin for all of it, but not worrying too much about that. She would be swimming in gold soon enough, after all.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Are you Camilla?" she asked, glancing at the girl, who gave her a surprised look.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Why, yes I am."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Here," Kylie said, holding out the fake letter to Camilla. "Some jackass named Sven wanted me to give you this letter he wrote, but say it was from Faendal."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
As Camilla opened up the letter and began to read, one hand flew up to her mouth and her eyes grew wide.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Sven wanted me to think Faendal wrote this?" she asked Kylie in disbelief when she had finished reading the letter. "I don't... I... thank you for telling me the truth. Would you let Faendal know about this? I'm sure he'll want to thank you as well for standing up for him."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Oh, I wasn't standing up for Faendal," Kylie replied easily with a casual shrug. "I've never even met him. But Sven is a stuck up asshat who thinks he's the gods' gift to women. I got the distinct impression that he expects every woman to swoon over him and do anything he wants. What better way to deflate his ego than to do the exact opposite of what he asked me to do and tell you the truth instead of lie? If I do see him though, I'll let the elf know that you've chosen his dagger over Sven's... so to speak."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Camilla blushed furiously, focused her attention on the floor, and then walked quickly across the small room to a nearby table and sat down as Kylie opened the door and headed back outside.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The day was already starting to wane by then, and Kylie was still walking around looking like an Imperial soldier. She needed to change that, and then concentrate on getting some serious cash in her pouch and maybe even think about finding a permanent place to live, in case there wasn't any way for her to return to Tal'Avern. Better to not get her hopes up and be pleasantly surprised rather than expect to get home and end up being disappointed, she thought.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
After talking to Faendal, who gratefully befriended her for helping him, Kylie set about her tasks. The first thing was to ask Faendal if he would trade some things with her. He would have given her everything he had, but after a quick look at what he was carrying, the only thing she asked for was the key to his house, which he was more than happy to give to her.<br />
"Don't get the wrong idea," Kylie warned him, seeing the hopeful light in the elf's eyes, which quickly faded away. When he nodded in disappointed understanding and pointed in the direction of his house, Kylie took her leave and headed off in that direction. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
As soon as she entered, Kylie saw that her guess of Faendal doing some occasional hunting had been correct as she caught sight of a few Sabre Cat pelts on a shelf to her left. Along with the wolf pelts she already had, it would be more than enough to make herself some decent leather armor.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
After grabbing the armor and weapons that were sitting on a nearby table to sell (except the Hunting Bow, which she decided to keep for herself), and going through a few chests the elf had in the house, Kylie headed back to the mill and gave the key back to Faendal.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Could you show me a few tricks with the bow?" Kylie asked, thinking that being good with a bow might come in handy.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Certainly! I'll show you what I know... for a small price," Faendal replied happily, and began instructing her with some basic Archery tips. With each trick however, Kylie's gold supply went down. And she didn't have much to begin with.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Um... could I trade a few more things with you?" Kylie asked hesitantly when she realized she had given Faendal almost all of her gold.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"What would you like?"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Well, I could use that," Kylie answered, pointing to the bulging coin pouch on his belt where he'd put all of the gold she had given to him so far. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Gods, if he's stupid enough to fall for it, she thought...</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
As Faendal handed it to her, Kylie did her best to keep a straight face. Apparently he <em>was</em> that stupid.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtWYbiuwoaPIENbhalmUw_hGdS-j50hWM8XlZMSgKoDwpwspp-PS-bxmtNFbmLDjinL-Y8tO974S2aEh-00XirUooH7nrHh-b52FdHTJq5MS07QqQSod1rQBUZTr9cYzPImndOAbzRHQY/s1600/faendal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtWYbiuwoaPIENbhalmUw_hGdS-j50hWM8XlZMSgKoDwpwspp-PS-bxmtNFbmLDjinL-Y8tO974S2aEh-00XirUooH7nrHh-b52FdHTJq5MS07QqQSod1rQBUZTr9cYzPImndOAbzRHQY/s400/faendal.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"People say that I must be related to Patrick Star.<br />
I think that's a made-up name, because it sounds fishy."<br />
<br />
*BA-DA-BAAA!*<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
Faendal's knowledge in Archery was limited, and Kylie knew that there was only so much he could teach her. But with a bit of patience, she could learn every trick he had to teach and not pay a single gold for it. Perhaps the gods would wise up to Faendal's ignorance at some point and enlighten him enough so that he wouldn't 'trade' back the gold that people gave to him for his Archery tips, but such was not the case right now!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
After telling him that she had some things to do and he didn't need to follow her around, Kylie headed over to the blacksmith. With the pelts she had, Kylie used the blacksmith's tanning rack and nearby forge to craft some Leather Armor, Boots, and Bracers, sighing with relief when she put it on. Her newly crafted armor was not only a little bit more protective, it looked better.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
She had enough leather left over to craft a helm as well, but she decided not to. After all, cuteness over protection, she'd heard someone say once!</div>
<div style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
By the time she was done, it had grown dark. Since the blacksmith had stopped working for the day, Kylie walked across the street, seeing the glow of candlelight from the windows of the general store. Despite how late it was, the door was unlocked. Apparently, the owner couldn't sleep, having been robbed of whatever it was that Kylie had heard him and his sister arguing about the first time she had gone in.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
Feeling a twang of guilt as he gave her a bit of gold for the Imperial gear she had previously been wearing, Kylie asked him what had been stolen.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
"An ornament, in the shape of a claw. Pure gold," the shopkeeper replied dejectedly. Her conscious getting the better of her, Kylie sighed.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
"I could try and get it back for you," she offered. "Do you know where they went?"</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
The shopkeeper instantly perked up, while Camilla stood up from the table and insisted on showing Kylie where the thieves had gone, despite her brother's objections.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
Kylie followed her outside and past the nearby inn to a bridge at the far end of the village, where Camila pointed to some arched stone ruins in the distance that Kylie recognized as the same ones she had seen the dragon fly over before she'd lost sight of it.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
"They went up there, to Bleak Falls Barrow," Camilla said. "I saw one of the thieves point up to it and tell the others that was where they needed to go, now that they had the claw, but I don't know what he meant by that." </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
Kylie nodded. After promising to head up there, find the thieves, and get the claw back, she turned around and headed back to the inn they had passed by. Her eyes were getting heavy, and nothing sounded better at that moment than a good night's sleep.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
When she walked in, Kylie caught sight of Sven out of the corner of her eye but pretended not to notice the baleful look he gave her. Apparently, he'd heard about the letter incident, she thought.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"What was I thinking? I mean, he still lives with his mother,<br />
his singing really isn't that great, and... is he wearing a <em>dress</em>?!?!"</td></tr>
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"Serves you right," Kylie muttered under her breath, refusing to meet his glare as she walked over to the bar where the innkeeper was and paid for a night's lodging.</div>
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Shutting the door to the room she was shown to, Kylie went over to the bed and fell down onto it gratefully, not even bothering to take off her newly crafted armor.</div>
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She'd been yanked away from her world and brought to one she doubted even Varik had heard of, where she'd come within a breath of having her head chopped off. She had survived a dragon's attack, and fought her way through Imperials, giant spiders, and bandits. She improved her Sneaking abilities along the way, met a few new people, and even learned some things about Archery which, thanks to choosing not to lie for Sven and then some 'trading' with Faendal, she didn't have to pay for. She'd crafted some decent looking leather armor that didn't make her look like an Imperial soldier or one of those Stormcloak rebels, and had even offered to get back some kind of golden claw that had been stolen from the owner of the Riverwood general store. All on her first day.</div>
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Turning onto her side, Kylie closed her eyes and let out a long sigh.</div>
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"Welcome to Skyrim," she mumbled.</div>
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Within a matter of minutes, Kylie had fallen into an exhausted sleep. </div>
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Tips in Chapter One:<br />
<em>1) Using Ralof (as high as you have patience for) to up your Sneaking. I usually stop at 40, enough to get the 3x sneak dmg with bows, but 50 nets 15x dmg with Daggers, for you assassins ;)</em><br />
<em>2) Holding off on mining (for now). Believe me, there's a reason!!!</em><br />
<em>3) Using Faendal (up to 50) to up your Archery and not paying a single gold for it</em><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12989918707512918674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7485035040785690692.post-17103780458520174622016-08-26T06:18:00.002-07:002017-05-21T03:24:43.637-07:00Less of the Same<div style="text-align: justify;">
There's been a trend lately with the movie industry doing reboots. And every time I hear about another reboot, my initial reaction is always the same. Rolling the eyes, uttering a disgusted sigh, shaking my head, and then usually saying something like: "Seriously?"</div>
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I get it. A movie had a huge following years ago, so why not remake it? There are things available now (like CGI) that weren't around back in the 80's and early 90's. Fans of the old will see it to make a comparison between the two, and the new generations likely haven't seen the original so there's a new group of moviegoers who will watch the 'new and improved' version.</div>
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What makes me shake my head and utter those disgusted sighs is the fact that reboots take away what made the original movies good to begin with: they were ORIGINAL. And changing up a few things doesn't warrant calling it a 'new take on the original.'</div>
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<i>Ghostbusters</i> was a great movie in it's day. It's a classic. It had a great cast, the storyline was awesome... Then along comes the reboot - only this time with an all-female cast. Insert sigh of disgust. Not for the all-female cast, but because it was a <b>REBOOT</b>. Look, all of my books have strong female characters in leading roles (it's kind of my thing), so I'm the <i>last</i> person who would complain about that fact of the movie. No, it was the fact that it wasn't a new movie, it was the same old movie with a few slight changes.</div>
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That's one example. There are obviously others. <i>Annie</i> got rebooted. <i>Carrie</i> has been rebooted... 4? 5 times? I've lost count on that one. <i>The Shining</i> got rebooted. <i>Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles</i> - rebooted. I've heard rumors that <i>The Lost Boys</i> is getting rebooted with an all-female cast (are they gonna call it <i>The Lost Girls</i>?).</div>
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<i>It</i> is getting a reboot. I saw pics of Pennywise's costume, and if it weren't for the fact that it's a reboot, the costume alone is terrible. The whole idea behind the original was that Tim Curry's costume was meant to make him look bright and happy and fun for the kids. Do you seriously think the dark and evil looking costume in the reboot would have a kid laughing? Hell no! They'd run screaming for the hills!</div>
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So why all the disgust for reboots? Because I'm a writer, I suppose. There's no such thing as a 'reboot' or 'remake' in my line of work. That's called plagiarism in my field. And to be honest, that's what frustrates and irritates me when I hear about all of these movies getting reboots. There are literally <i>millions upon millions</i> of stories out there. They aren't all blockbusters, but then neither is every movie. Still, the fact remains that there is seriously no reason the movie industry should <i>ever</i> take away what makes a movie great and lessen it with a reboot when there are so many stories out there that could be made into movies.</div>
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Anyway, the whole pics of the new It costume kind of got under my skin and brought a whole circus (pun intended) of thoughts on the movie industry and their reboots, so I thought I'd blog about it. And for those who are wondering, of course I think my fantasy series or paranormal romance trilogy (UPDATE EDIT: Or my latest Urban Fantasy release) would make blockbuster movies. <i>Definitely</i> the Urban Fantasy! Dani is a kick-ass superhero who redefines the traditional superhero mold!</div>
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Come on, every author thinks that about their books! 😉<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12989918707512918674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7485035040785690692.post-27329009448799136172016-05-31T06:28:00.000-07:002016-05-31T06:28:21.043-07:00Reach For Your Stars<div style="text-align: justify;">
There's a well-known phrase which says nothing worth doing is ever easy. There's another that says no risk, no reward. And I'll even throw in one from the first book in my Paranormal Romance trilogy, <em>The Exiled</em>: When you doubt in yourself, you create the one barrier that is impossible to overcome. The only thing that can stop you from reaching your goals is yourself.</div>
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Throw those all together, and you have the basis for pretty much anything you want to accomplish. Maybe it's rising up in a company, for example. Or maybe it's taking a dream vacation. It could be something like getting a college degree.</div>
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The point is, we all have things that are important to us, things that we want to accomplish. Think about it for a minute. Not goals that someone else wants you to do, but things <em>you</em> want to do for yourself. Now look at those phrases again.</div>
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Whether it's getting that promotion at work, taking that dream vacation, getting that college degree, or some other personal goal, it's something which is important to <em>you</em>. It may seem like a lofty goal, but nothing worth doing is ever easy. It will take hard work, dedication, and not giving up on yourself. Working longer hours. Saving as much as you can for a period of time. Studying on the weekend rather than going out to the club.</div>
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Those goals can be daunting. Will working harder pay off, or will it go unnoticed? What if something comes up and everything that was saved needs to go for that instead? Will you forget everything you studied when the test is given? Perhaps... but no risk, no reward.</div>
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No matter what goals you set for yourself, no matter what dreams you want to work for, there are always two initial options. Think of it like buying a scratch ticket. My father always used to say "You can't lose if you don't play!" While that is true, you can't <em>win</em> if you don't play, either. So you can buy that scratch ticket with the understanding that you may win or you may lose. Or you can back down and choose not to take your chances.</div>
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Taking that second option is the 'safe' route. Not putting in those extra hours. Telling yourself you'll never be able to save enough for that vacation so why bother trying? Thinking that class is your worst subject and you'll probably fail the test anyways so you might as well go out and have fun during the weekend and not bother studying for it.</div>
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What happens though, is that afterward, in the back of your mind, you'll always wonder what <em>might</em> have happened. <em>Could</em> those extra hours have been noticed and helped you get that promotion instead of someone else? <em>Could</em> you have saved that money up and taken that dream vacation? <em>Could</em> you have aced that test if you had studied all weekend? They're questions that will never be answered because the chance - the risk - was never taken.</div>
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Think again on those goals you have for yourself. They're worth doing, worth striving for. They won't be easy to reach, but nothing worth doing ever is. They may seem impossible, but no risk... no reward. Don't let those unknowns stop you from trying.</div>
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And the next time you look in a mirror, think about the goals you want to accomplish. What you'll see isn't just your reflection. What you will see is the <em>one</em> person who can stop you from reaching those goals. When you doubt in yourself, you create the one barrier that is impossible to overcome.</div>
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No dreams are impossible to achieve. They're like your own stars up in the sky. The first step is easy: Just reach up.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12989918707512918674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7485035040785690692.post-19973479632358683382016-05-02T03:25:00.000-07:002016-05-02T03:57:55.934-07:00Words, Pages, and Prices<div style="text-align: justify;">
Very recently there was a discussion posted on one of the Author groups I'm a member of. An author had posed a question, saying the book she was currently working on was finished, that it had clocked in at 160k words, and asked if she should split the book - making it 2 books instead of 1.</div>
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This group of authors is very supportive to each other. We freely ask for advice and opinions among each other, inquire about any successful promoting tools and tactics, share reviews that we've received... the list goes on. And there are always several of us who chime in with answers to those inquiries that are as varied as the genres each of us writes in, give our congrats on those reviews, etc.</div>
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Many suggested she split the book into 2, saying 160k was too long. Some said leave it. Some took the middle road and said depending on the genre, it could go either way (fantasy books tend to be longer, for example.) </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHmEg3EWaEdT0IsEM5YmKEBJHr5ppyjZFQt33T9Z_P_zCTIDWDbodB-gXEdkQwJn9WgmerJGGEEeV8GDJZcQg5sOnS1AlMCplWe5brRed8mYc1nmpa4jzkUCVQRxZof4FIiE2Fg8vQISs/s1600/wordcount.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHmEg3EWaEdT0IsEM5YmKEBJHr5ppyjZFQt33T9Z_P_zCTIDWDbodB-gXEdkQwJn9WgmerJGGEEeV8GDJZcQg5sOnS1AlMCplWe5brRed8mYc1nmpa4jzkUCVQRxZof4FIiE2Fg8vQISs/s320/wordcount.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I was one who suggested keeping it as one book, reason being that word count should never, NEVER dictate a story... ANY story. I went on to say that it doesn't matter if a story takes 50k words to tell or 200k, that the focus <em>must</em> remain on the story itself.</div>
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Now, the 'experts' may disagree. I use that term very loosely, because I think a lot of the time when those people are saying a story should remain around 70-80k, or that anything over 100k is 'too long'... they're focused on the wrong thing. They're focused on word count, on a statistic that tells them books in the range of X number of words sell more copies. But a good story isn't defined by word count. A good story is defined <em>by the story itself</em>.</div>
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The problem with letting word count define a story is if we aim for a certain length, we're already not giving that story our best. We're not giving <em>readers</em> our best. If it ends at 60k (after editing) and the target was aimed for 70k... 10,000 words of 'fluff' which do nothing to add to the story and can often take away from it would have to get added to hit that mark. If it ends at 80k (again, after editing) pieces of the story would have to get cut out in order to hit that mark - once again, taking away from the story.</div>
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A story is done when it's done. The <em>story</em> defines the word count, not the other way around. To do anything else is not giving either readers or the story what they deserve: the very best. That's my personal opinion from an author's point of view. Others will disagree, and that's perfectly fine. We are all entitled to our opinions on the subject, after all.</div>
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Another subject that was discussed was from a reader's view. Yes, I'm an author, but I'm just as much a reader. In order to continue to improve at my job, reading is a requirement, one which I love to do. I doubt there is a single author who <em>doesn't</em> love to read.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-2Nc-F1LQ5mI3gHCfhwISyeh92vuiAV85R1s-AXZByfHav6WnjCw5iw_Ss98H5Se0ce6h4YCjXfaIjDA1NtPInqkhJo94Bcd3scPWHXiNRcTJp0k191RuFy3CdQRyx7WgfUXW8ABSRlU/s1600/booklength.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-2Nc-F1LQ5mI3gHCfhwISyeh92vuiAV85R1s-AXZByfHav6WnjCw5iw_Ss98H5Se0ce6h4YCjXfaIjDA1NtPInqkhJo94Bcd3scPWHXiNRcTJp0k191RuFy3CdQRyx7WgfUXW8ABSRlU/s320/booklength.jpg" width="289" /></a></div>
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The issue was the number of pages in a book, which is basically word count, but readers don't count words, they count pages. Someone had mentioned that they don't read anything over 300 pages, which was just that person's personal preference when choosing what to read.</div>
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Here again, the focus is not on the story, but on its length. How many books have been written that are 350, 400, even 500 pages long? Limiting oneself to books of a certain length comes with the possibility that there is a book out there that could very well be a reader's all-time favorite book - but it's never realized because the book exceeds that page length, and thus that enjoyment is never discovered. One of my favorite books is <em>It</em>, by Stephen King, which my wife will most likely frown at me for because... well, clowns. She does <em>not</em> like clowns.</div>
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Word count for that particular book: 444,414. Number of pages: 1,138.</div>
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Granted, that's Stephen King, an established (<em>very</em> well established) writer, but the point remains that had I limited myself to page length, I never would have read <em>It</em>, let alone read the book about a dozen times more over the years. Again, this is just my personal opinion and others will disagree, but from a reader's viewpoint, the length of a book doesn't matter. It's the story within those pages that does.</div>
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Lastly, I'm going to hit a subject that, quite frankly, bothers and frustrates me. It has for some time, and I feel that it's time someone put themselves out in the open, even knowing that the flak and the bullets will likely start flying for talking about it. Regardless, I shall do so because it needs to be talked about: Pricing.</div>
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Before digital books came about, we only had paperbacks and hardcovers. Trade paperbacks could be picked up for anywhere from $4.99 to $7.99, hardcover books were pricier. That hasn't changed. When digital books came about and indie authors first came onto the field, opening up a plethora of books for readers to enjoy, it wasn't long before a pricing battle began, with the argument coming about that digital books shouldn't be priced the same as paperbacks because there were no printing costs involved. Fair enough, I can certainly agree with that, and I <em>do</em> agree with that.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9_YlcCA2QQ4Jj3_gYozGNXQljL-t-HCw1ViZCTKO3EDQXMeQy0gRkyDP5UnRmbi5kP2Hs2a2i3lVV9gPT0gkge3Zj75cIC_8D3KDYTWpGjFLHKqYoG_3Z5h3QzS_PrCIR1MLcE2Bq0qI/s1600/money.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9_YlcCA2QQ4Jj3_gYozGNXQljL-t-HCw1ViZCTKO3EDQXMeQy0gRkyDP5UnRmbi5kP2Hs2a2i3lVV9gPT0gkge3Zj75cIC_8D3KDYTWpGjFLHKqYoG_3Z5h3QzS_PrCIR1MLcE2Bq0qI/s320/money.jpg" width="320" /></a>The problem however, is that this thinking has gone far beyond that initial fair argument to the point that people want something for next to nothing. It's inflated to saying that digital books are overpriced and either shouldn't cost more than $0.99 or they should be free. Why? Because they're digital? Indie authors put just as many hours, pour just as much blood, sweat, and tears into their books as any other author. The fact that those books are available digitally doesn't take any of that away.</div>
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I'm not saying digital editions should be priced the same as a paperback, because that printing cost <em>is</em> taken out. But saying that digital books shouldn't cost more than $0.99 or should be available for free is essentially saying that all of the countless hours, the numerous headaches and frustrations, and all of the blood, sweat, and tears that we pour into our work is worthless. And to be perfectly blunt, it's saying <em>we're</em> worthless.</div>
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What bothers and frustrates me is that people will run to Starbucks to get their daily overpriced latte without batting an eye. They'll hand over the cost of theater tickets and pay the inflated prices of popcorn and snacks. They'll purchase tickets for concerts, ball games, waterparks... the list goes on. All of those things are bought and then consumed, watched, or done within a matter of minutes or a few hours, while reading a digital book can take days or sometimes weeks, since rarely do any of us have time to sit down and read a book from cover to cover. That's days/weeks of entertaining, of bringing readers to new worlds, introducing them to countless characters and firing their imaginations in endless ways. And here's the real blow: the pricing argument that digital books shouldn't cost more than $0.99, when you take a brutally honest look at it, is saying an indie author's hard work - those hundreds of hours, the headaches and frustrations, of pouring everything they can into their books... is worth less than a cup of coffee from Starbucks.</div>
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Those tickets get thrown in the trash. Those lattes and coffees don't care if they're enjoyed. But authors <em>do</em> care. We write our stories because we <em>want</em> to entertain others. We <em>want</em> to fire readers' imaginations. That's our job<em>.</em> We put in those long hours, we give our blood and sweat and tears for readers in order to be as good as we can be at our job without hesitation - because our readers deserve our very best. For us, our readers are worth everything that we go through in order to entertain them.</div>
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Everyone wants to be appreciated at their jobs, no matter what those jobs are. Sure, with any job the occasional mistake happens. And for the most part, every worker does better at their job when the work they do is appreciated. Usually that appreciation is shown with promotions, raises, even simple 'Nice Going!' paper awards.</div>
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Authors are no different. We make the occasional mistake, be it a typo or a missed punctuation. Personally, I'm an extreme perfectionist when it comes to my writing, to the point of it probably being considered obsessive because I want my work to be as close to perfect as possible. It's an impossible goal, as nothing is perfect, but I reach for it nonetheless - because my readers are worth striving for perfection. I'm not joking when I confess to uploading an update to one of my books about a year ago to fix a single typo I came across from one of the first books I wrote that Word's grammar checker hadn't caught - a single word which said <em>truck</em> instead of <em>trunk.</em> Yes, I actually uploaded an update that fixed a typo - a single letter changed in the entire 87k novel. If that's not the definition of obsessive perfectionism, I don't know what is.</div>
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We don't get promotions. Our job title begins as 'author' and no matter how many books we write, it remains 'author'. We don't get raises. If a book is priced at $3.99, it doesn't automatically go up with the 100th sale of that book, and unless we change it ourselves (which when we do, it's usually <em>dropping</em> the price, not raising it), it remains constant. The appreciation we get comes in the form of reviews that readers occasionally leave. Sometimes they're good, sometimes not. That's the nature of the job... we can't please everyone, and we don't expect to. But we look forward to those reviews nonetheless. I'm sure most authors will agree that they wish more readers posted honest, thoughtful reviews of their books. Sometimes the appreciation comes from emails that readers take the time to send us, and from the comments they leave on our Author pages. All of those things can turn our worse day around in a heartbeat.</div>
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Anyways, back to getting the flak attack and hail of bullets about the whole pricing thing. Look, I'm not saying digital books should be overpriced. $2.99-$4.99 per book is a fair price, perhaps a bit cheaper if it's less than novel length (50k words). Short stories that are like 10 pages long - yeah, those I agree <em>should</em> fall under that $0.99 price. Bundled packs are out there too, which put 2 or more books into a single digital set, with a lot of those basically at a 'Buy 2 Get One Free' price.</div>
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But that argument that digital books are 'overpriced' and should be $0.99 or free has made many authors put their hard work at that price point. Mostly because they feel they <em>have to</em> price it there in order to hope to have any chance whatsoever to get noticed. While the initial argument began as a fair observation about cheaper prices due to digital books not having printing costs, it's become a 'get something for nothing or next to nothing.' Fair price used to be $3.99-$4.99, then it dropped to $2.99, then $1.99. Now it's gotten to $0.99.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdasQepvx6i778sBUcOQ5Du0FduDGN1iFAPExlNQowuoTMV1JRDqoZoH4Nfq73EK1VGdNiizDgxam3Azm6mnopZnxnv39KodvM3uKtYkGp6l0J0ypYjRAGQCoRcttcAf91NomVBwdKWxk/s1600/depressed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdasQepvx6i778sBUcOQ5Du0FduDGN1iFAPExlNQowuoTMV1JRDqoZoH4Nfq73EK1VGdNiizDgxam3Azm6mnopZnxnv39KodvM3uKtYkGp6l0J0ypYjRAGQCoRcttcAf91NomVBwdKWxk/s320/depressed.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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So here's the hard truth. For a book that's priced at $2.99 on Amazon, the author receives a bit over $2 (70% royalty). Anything priced less than that (even dropping a single penny to $2.98) and the royalty amount an author receives from a sale is cut in half, to 35%. So that whole 'digital books shouldn't cost more than $0.99' argument means that an author who's poured hundreds of hours of labor into a book that they set at that price gets about $0.35 per sale.</div>
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So what, right? Well, in a nutshell, it means that when an author prices a book at $0.99, they have to sell 7 copies for every 1 copy if they were to price it fairly at $2.99. And that's not factoring in all of the extra expenses that come with the job - like cover design, editors, and running ads to let people know that work is out there. The writing part is easy, compared to trying to promote ourselves and our work. When you look at <em>any</em> other job, I seriously doubt a single person would want to be told they have to do 7 times the work in order to make their hourly wage or salaried pay that they have now.</div>
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Authors give up far more than I think people realize, but we do it willingly because our readers mean that much to us. And yet, for all of our hard work, for all of our efforts to give nothing but our best to our readers, the argument that digital books are overpriced and shouldn't cost more than $0.99 coldly reminds us that despite doing everything we can to give readers their next favorite stories, we're less important than a cup of coffee from Starbucks.</div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/author/scottborgman">www.amazon.com/author/scottborgman</a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12989918707512918674noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7485035040785690692.post-14036382179804930692016-04-13T02:30:00.000-07:002016-04-13T02:32:57.459-07:00The Dawn is Coming... Mistral Dawn!! <div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<br />
I love getting the opportunity to help out fellow authors. So when Mistral Dawn asked if anyone would like to help her get word out about her upcoming release, I jumped at the chance. I love this girl (in a purely plutonic way). She is <em>always</em> willing to help out other authors, and she's an awesome writer herself! So it is my great pleasure to help her plug her upcoming release. Take it away, Mistral!!</div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: white;">Hey<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>Everyone!!! :-)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></o:p></span></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: white;">Guess what? It's finally here!! <i>Rainbow Dreams</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>is now available for<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>preorder<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>from the following merchants:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: black; font-size: 24pt;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Rainbow-Dreams-Petri-Dish-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B01E1INIQE/" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Amazon</span></a></span></b><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/rainbow-dreams/id1101890767?mt=11" target="_blank"><b><span style="font-size: 24pt;"><span style="color: blue;">iTunes</span></span></b></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/628561" target="_blank"><b><span style="font-size: 24pt;"><span style="color: blue;">Smashwords</span></span></b></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/rainbow-dreams-2" target="_blank"><b><span style="font-size: 24pt;"><span style="color: blue;">Kobo</span></span></b></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></o:p></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: white;">What's it about? I'm glad you asked! Here's the blurb:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoeg9nh7zwqtIzXsIEIOyNVBV2NMgKuMErxzMSVRh1eWrD8vTx3WazZnoOIw_0RKWdcb8_L9p-LSCoiqDieVJzm1Fcm14qprCRWW3oGqrYBEI4XRpv2WNLNEVo-z1_b4dIn766bu8gE5I/s1600/Rainbow+Dreams+Fullsize.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoeg9nh7zwqtIzXsIEIOyNVBV2NMgKuMErxzMSVRh1eWrD8vTx3WazZnoOIw_0RKWdcb8_L9p-LSCoiqDieVJzm1Fcm14qprCRWW3oGqrYBEI4XRpv2WNLNEVo-z1_b4dIn766bu8gE5I/s320/Rainbow+Dreams+Fullsize.jpg" style="cursor: move;" unselectable="on" width="204" /></a><i><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: white;">Have you ever had a terrible secret you didn't want anyone to
know? Petri does and it may get her killed. Life is hard on Upworld, especially
for the residents of Under City, and it's even harder for those who don't fit
in. Petri has alway been different and now those differences may cost her life.
Her one hope is to leave the only home she's ever known while evading the mob
that's calling for her blood. But Petri has never been outside of her sector of
Under City, never mind off the planet. And the laws of Upworld forbid people
like her from leaving. Will Petri overcome the odds and make good her escape?
Maybe...with a little help from her friends.</span></span></i></div>
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</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: white;">Sound interesting? Good! And get a load of that
cover!!! It's courtesy of the<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>FANTABULOUS</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>Julie Nicholls!! If you'd like
to see more of her incredible work, check out her website here:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></o:p></span><br />
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<div align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: black; font-size: 18pt;"><a href="http://julienicholls.com/artwork-for-sale/book-covers/" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Artwork by JulieNicholls</span></a></span></b><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: white;">I also want to let you all know about an Amazon Giveaway I'm
running for<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Captivated By The
Winter King</i>. It's free to enter! <i>Rainbow Dreams</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>won't be released until April 19th, so
in the meantime you can get your sexy romance fix with some dreamy Fae! ;-)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><a href="https://giveaway.amazon.com/p/0cc82daabfd441c5" target="_blank"><b><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><span style="color: blue;">Enter Amazon Giveaway</span></span></b></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"></span> </div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: white;">Okay, okay, I know, enough stalling. If you're as excited as
I am about this story, I know you're all ready for a peek:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></o:p></span><br />
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<b><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><u><span style="color: white;">Rainbow Dreams Chapter One Excerpt</span></u></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p><span style="color: white; font-size: small;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: white;">Lightning bolts of fire and ice shot up and down Petri's spine as
she moved over the human man on the bed. Her short, slender body bowed with the
sensations that washed over her. His lust was like a fountain of cold water on
a hot day, and she was parched. It had been too long; she needed this.
Desperately.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: white;">Looking down at him as she slid her body onto his straining cock,
she smiled. This client had wanted to be blindfolded; he said he enjoyed the
mystery. There was more mystery in Petri than most humans would know what to do
with, so that was fine with her. With him blindfolded, she didn't need to be
careful to keep her own eyes shut. This was going to be a good feed, and there
was no way she could have kept her eyes from glowing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: white;">The man moaned in pleasure. Being fed upon felt as good for humans
as feeding did for Petri. None of her clients knew she sipped from their
energy, their life<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>force,<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>when she fucked them. All they knew
was that she was one hell of a talented dolly. A win-win for all involved.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: white;">This client was a regular; Petri had shown him many times how good
it could be with her. Some of her regulars came to crave her, almost like the
dream dust that was sold in the club below. They were guaranteed repeat
business, and she always made sure to show them a good time. After all, that
was her job.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: white;">The energy of the man's lust filled Petri as she glided up and
down on top of him. She shivered. It was renewing, rejuvenating. She couldn't
get enough. A few grains of dust remained on his upper lip as evidence of his
earlier indulgence in some of the chemical delights that were available at
Abracadabra.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: white;">It was clear her client was high long before Petri started
feeding. Before she blindfolded him, she had noted the man's dilated pupils and
the flush of pleasure on his face. She had no doubt the management of Abracadabra
would go to great lengths to make sure he received the maximum enjoyment
possible during his visit. There was a reason it was the hottest nightclub in
this part of Under City.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: white;">The club specialized in hedonism in all its forms. Drugs of every
description, games, gambling, and other, darker pleasures could be found within
its walls. House dollies, little more than sex slaves, waited to fulfill the
customers' every desire. Freelance dollies, like Petri, rented space to ply
their trade as well. The house allowed it because the dollies offered the
club's clientele more variety and were motivated to attract business. Once a
patron had satisfied their lust, they often wandered downstairs in search of
other entertainments.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: white;">Leaning down, Petri pressed her cat-like mouth to her client's
lips in a sizzling kiss. Their tongues tangled as he responded, and she
undulated her hips against his, faster and faster. The drugs he had consumed
tainted his energy, giving Petri a pleasant buzz. She never took dust herself since
it interfered with her ability to control her power, but she enjoyed the effect
when one of her johns indulged. As their sex intensified, Petri drank deeper,
swallowing down the man's whimpers and sighs of ecstasy as she swallowed his
desire.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: white;">Lost in the haze of feeding for the first time in days, Petri
didn't realize it at first when the man suddenly went still underneath her. His
penis remained stiff and eager inside her, and she continued to ride it,
draining his energy. It was only when the cold, clamminess of his skin
penetrated the pleasurable trance she often sank into when feeding that she
realized that she had gone too far. Her heart skipped a beat.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: white;">Swinging her leg over him, she clambered off his body and knelt
beside him on the bed. She grabbed his shoulder, shaking him, but there was no
response. He was as still and cold as death.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: white;">Petri's breath froze in her chest as she tried to suppress her
rising panic. She slapped him, hard, across his face, trying to provoke a
response. There was nothing. Leaning down, she put her ear against his chest,
listening for something, anything. Any sign that a spark of life remained in
the man. She wasn't sure, but she thought she might have heard a faint
fluttering within.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: white;">Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and put her hands on his
chest, fingers splayed. She had never done this before, but her instincts said
it might work. The process of drawing energy from others had come automatically
when she reached physical maturity. It was as natural as breathing to her. But
reversing the flow of energy… That was something else altogether. She forced
herself to focus; all she could do was try.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: white;">Reaching down into the well of energy within her, Petri tried to
snag a wisp of it. It was like trying to catch fog. Gritting her teeth, she
concentrated and managed to grab a small piece of the mist and tease it up, out
of herself and back into the man. It flowed at a slow trickle, but it did flow.
The man took a deep breath and Petri slumped in relief.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: white;">Before she could stop him, or even turn away, the man reached up
and snatched the blindfold from his face. When he saw her glowing eyes, he
shrieked, "Mgeni!"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: white;">Petri swore. She knew she didn't have much time. Sitting up, she
sucker-punched her client hard in his stomach. The man folded over, clutching
his gut, just like she knew he would. As her former client coughed and wheezed,
Petri scrambled into her tight, red mini-dress and stiletto pumps and clambered
out the window. She couldn't risk trying to make it through the crowded club
below; she needed to be gone before the man recovered enough to sound the
alarm.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p><span style="color: white; font-size: small;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white;">
</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: white;">Whoo! I guess she's in some trouble! Want
to find out what happens next? Reserve your copy today so you'll get it
without delay on the 19th! ;-) Thank you all for stopping by today and
for your interest in my first foray into the sci-fi genre!! Have an
awesome rest of the week!</span></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: white;"></span></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="color: white;"></span></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 13.5pt;"></span> </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12989918707512918674noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7485035040785690692.post-2849226605156849292016-04-08T22:28:00.000-07:002016-04-08T22:28:06.109-07:00The BORGman Collective<div style="text-align: justify;">
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This won't be a long blog, so I hope you'll take the few minutes to read it. I try to do what I can to help support other authors, causes, charities, local area fundraisers... just to name a few. On April 30, 2016, I'll be taking part in Walk MS: Marshfield. And I would like to ask for your support.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipxpFgdMS74LD9iIZ-xUDhcXDIz-syhqzMZW8yehNObqa7cgnoExXDCMPs5Jycybk6h-4uWPLHfvDvNpUrWndh13GPRdRcpZtoyD2g5WA_s5Wp95CE3b5JLMaD538EPINADcK8qn9zXjI/s1600/walk_ms.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipxpFgdMS74LD9iIZ-xUDhcXDIz-syhqzMZW8yehNObqa7cgnoExXDCMPs5Jycybk6h-4uWPLHfvDvNpUrWndh13GPRdRcpZtoyD2g5WA_s5Wp95CE3b5JLMaD538EPINADcK8qn9zXjI/s320/walk_ms.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Having been diagnosed with MS myself late last year, this is something that I am doing - not only because it's a for a good cause, but because I know personally how it has affected both myself and those closest to me. There is no cure for MS. Much of the disease is not even understood because of how randomly it effects those of us who have it. How random? Anywhere from a few months to ten years or more between 'fits' as we call them.</div>
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It's a waiting game, more or less. You wake up every morning and go about your day as you always do, but in the back of your mind, there's the thought: Is today the day another fit is going to strike?</div>
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I found out I had MS rather brutally. What started with tingling in my fingers one day, which I initially assumed had been because I had simply slept weird, spread to my palms within a day. A few days later, my left leg went dead. I literally had to drag it around. Walking was nearly impossible. It lasted for almost a month before the fit ended and I could walk normally again. For now.</div>
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You see, there are several different forms of MS that have been discovered. Mine happens to be Progressive Relapsing MS. The simple explanation for PRMS is that it gets progressively worse with each recurring fit. Which means the next time it hits, it will likely be as bad or worse than the last fit. Each fit leaves a permanent scar on the brain, kind of like a sick, demented <em>'I was here'</em> tag. The MRI that I had done revealed that it had not been the first fit for me - it had been the seventh. </div>
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So I'm taking part in Walk MS: Marshfield while I can, because the next time it hits, I may not get the use of my leg back, or worse. No one - not even my specialist, who has studied and devoted the last twenty years of his life to studying the disease and trying to understand it - knows what will happen.</div>
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MS is like lightning during a thunderstorm. Others like me who have MS know the lightning will strike, but none of us know when, or what will be affected. That's what makes it such a difficult disease, not only for us but for our loved ones. </div>
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My wife, Nyki, has formed a team of us who will be walking on April 30, 2016 in Marshfield, WI. As I'm a Star Trek geek, I came up with our team name, <em>The BORGman Collective </em>(I thought it was rather clever!)</div>
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We would like to raise funds for the National MS Society, which is what this walk is for. Any donation you make goes directly to them.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX9IdMhT4g1raE7FWIasJE7NvqjgNREsXR3pdqUpkV58oEua1EXG89b2WwUeqQPg7ANKMRupgkfepx16gl-bLyQ65-iFUAdHY2ipY-zoNSsWqQKxy66grQ0LeEf4EW3-DemIaE1sK4wpM/s1600/family1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX9IdMhT4g1raE7FWIasJE7NvqjgNREsXR3pdqUpkV58oEua1EXG89b2WwUeqQPg7ANKMRupgkfepx16gl-bLyQ65-iFUAdHY2ipY-zoNSsWqQKxy66grQ0LeEf4EW3-DemIaE1sK4wpM/s1600/family1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From left to right:<br />
DeAnna, Michael, Jhessica, Scott, and Nyki Borgman</td></tr>
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Here is the link, which will take you to the team page:</div>
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<a href="http://main.nationalmssociety.org/site/TR/Walk/WIGWalkEvents?team_id=483086&pg=team&fr_id=27380">http://main.nationalmssociety.org/site/TR/Walk/WIGWalkEvents?team_id=483086&pg=team&fr_id=27380</a></div>
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I hope you will make a donation, no matter what amount, and help spread the word. Bloggers: please reblog. Tweeters: please blast the Twitterverse. Facebookers: please click that share button.</div>
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As an author, my job is to bring out the emotions of my readers. I hope I have succeeded in that endeavor with this blog. Thank you everyone.<br />
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All My Best,<br />
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Scott A. Borgman</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12989918707512918674noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7485035040785690692.post-85363147619716370102016-02-28T23:48:00.001-08:002016-02-29T00:30:17.328-08:00What Once was Gold<div style="text-align: justify;">
I don't blog often. When I do, it's because I have something important to say. What I want to talk about today is something that, quite frankly, has been under my skin for a few months now, and I'm not going to bite my fingers any longer. It needs to be said. I know others have already talked about it themselves, because they feel the same way I do about the subject: Titles.</div>
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These used to be gold. If an author had an 'Award Winning' or 'Best Selling' title, it meant something special. Those were coveted titles, things that really made an author stand out. They were titles that every author dreamed of having, but not everyone succeeded in obtaining.</div>
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Now those titles have dulled. Why? Because authors (some, not all) have lessened them. What once was gold has become copper. It used to be a milestone to be able to add such titles to a bio. They were an immense achievement, something worthy of recognition. They've gone from gemstones to colored glass.</div>
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How did such things become commonplace? Simple. Instead of earning those titles, authors created their own contests for best looking covers, best fantasy, romance, and sci-fi books, etc. Such contests were nothing more than he/she-who-has-the-most-friends-wins contests. And when they 'won', they slapped that Award Winning title to their name.<br />
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They put their books up for free, and the instant that book hit #1 in the free store (not too difficult of a thing to do, since everyone loves getting something for free) they added that Best Selling title to their name.<br />
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Or they called themselves a business and after selling a single book they put the Best Selling title to their names. Why not, right? After all, they're <em>obviously</em> the best selling author - in their business of one. Cue the Darth Vader voice: "The sarcasm is strong with this one."</div>
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In doing so, such authors have lessened the worth of those coveted titles. It's a shady loophole cloaked in deceit that they willingly abuse, just so they can increase their book sales and put themselves on a pedestal - one that they build themselves.</div>
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In short, it's a piss-poor tactic that quite honestly, I find repulsive. It's a dishonest ploy that readers are the unknowing victims of, because those titles <em>do</em> draw attention. Readers are our customers, and whether they like our work or not, whether they leave us glowing reviews or not, they are to be met with nothing less than the utmost respect and held in the highest regards - not conned by using titles that were never truly earned. Because what happens afterwards is that those titles are no longer glorified as something great or worthy of seeking out like they were before.</div>
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Not every author does this. There <em>are</em> those out there who want such titles but refuse to stoop to those levels just to obtain them. Personally, I am among that (sadly, it seems an ever-shrinking) group. Believe me, I would love nothing more than to add those titles to my own bio. Those are milestones that I am striving to reach, not only for myself but as something that my family can be proud of me for achieving. But those are titles that I must <em>earn.</em> </div>
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That's what upsets me about the whole thing. I see those titles as they were always meant to be - achievements that are sought after by many, but obtained by few. They're titles that are earned through contests that are recognized by thousands, like the Reader's Favorite Award Contest that is held every year. Sure, there's an entry fee. Official contests always have one, because the awards one can receive can't be made in a few minutes on the computer or purchased in a store; they can only be obtained through the contest itself.</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAgxtGp2HWuxcjoannB852_A-UGmyZAhysqeGafFWvpMUEqc4kjvu3zpDlSK3ylDSb87U8lwxGY-HDBAJde1pXAsq1CfHfRKwLXc4g4WL9r89-M9EWqj7YYxfcORJgFYVWYDjix_vXbSg/s1600/ckdawn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAgxtGp2HWuxcjoannB852_A-UGmyZAhysqeGafFWvpMUEqc4kjvu3zpDlSK3ylDSb87U8lwxGY-HDBAJde1pXAsq1CfHfRKwLXc4g4WL9r89-M9EWqj7YYxfcORJgFYVWYDjix_vXbSg/s400/ckdawn.jpg" width="250" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cover image used with permission from CK Dawn</td></tr>
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CK Dawn (<a href="http://www.ckdawn.com/">www.ckdawn.com</a>) is an author who, while I don't know personally, I am acquainted with through an author group we are both members of. I'm mentioning her and plugging her website because <em>Cloak of Shadows </em>won such an award.</div>
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The 'Award Winning' title she now carries wasn't obtained through some most-friends-wins popularity contest just so she could slap that title onto her name... CK <em>earned</em> it. And though I've never met her, I'm damn proud of her for that achievement. She's one of the authors who didn't give herself a copper title - she earned the golden one.</div>
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Flashy covers and well-written blurbs aside, those awards and titles are coveted by authors <em>because</em> they're golden. Readers are drawn to them <em>because</em> they've been earned. Readers don't want or deserve cubic zirconia. They want and deserve gold. The award says it all: CK Dawn is a golden author.</div>
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And honestly, it goes beyond just these titles. When I was growing up, like many kids, I played sports. Teams worked hard and did their best, because they all wanted that first place trophy. There was no 'participation' trophies to be handed out. Either you won or you lost. The winning team got the trophy. The losing teams went home with nothing. Was it harsh and cruel that those losing teams did their best and didn't get anything for their efforts? No. What it <em>did</em> was instill the desire to work harder, practice more, reach higher... to strive for improvement in order to obtain that which was so highly sought after.</div>
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But then what happened is those kids who never earned a trophy grew up and had kids of their own. Some of them remembered never winning any kind of trophy and decided that wasn't fair. So they raised a fuss because they didn't want their kids to go through the same thing. When enough of them made enough noise, along came 'participation' trophies.<br />
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I bet those parents feel real good about themselves now that it doesn't matter if their kid is good or not, they'll get something regardless. Congratulations, you've lessened the worth of such achievements. It no longer matters how well a kid plays. They don't have to try as hard, practice as much, or stretch any further than they feel like stretching, because they know that they're going to get a trophy regardless now. What once was gold has become copper.</div>
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Some time ago, I submitted one of my books, <em>Province of a Thief, </em>to Reader's Favorite for a review. It was given the Reader's Favorite 5-Star Review award. When I received it, I was ecstatic - because that is the <em>only</em> way one can obtain the silver seal that now adorns that book's cover. And yet, my bio does not contain the Award Winning title. That award was an achievement, and I'm proud of that achievement... but that award is not to the height that I feel honestly warrants being able to add that coveted Award Winning title to my name.</div>
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Am I losing out on book sales because I don't have any such title attached to my bio? Perhaps. But some things are more important than book sales. Like honesty. Integrity. Respect. You can't buy those things, no matter how much money you have or what shady tactics you use in order to give yourself those titles. When 'Award Winning' and 'Best Selling' adorn my bio and my books, they will be there because I covet those titles for what they were always meant to represent.<br />
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What others choose to lessen and obtain as copper, I will earn and achieve as gold.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12989918707512918674noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7485035040785690692.post-46465557095002134072016-01-09T07:39:00.001-08:002016-01-09T08:06:05.940-08:00Judging A Book By Its Cover<div style="text-align: justify;">
Let's not beat around the bush. We do it. When we walk through a bookstore or are browsing for something to read on Amazon, we're looking for something specific: a book with a kick-ass looking cover, because that's what attracts us and calls out to us to check out the description and maybe flip through the first few pages or read the book sample. That's what the cover is meant to do, after all - make us pause for a moment and investigate further.</div>
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Herein lies something that we've unconsciously programmed ourselves to do throughout the years: we've taught ourselves to quite literally, judge a book by its cover. In response, cover artists have had to push themselves to almost superhuman capabilities, because if they can't deliver a kick-ass looking cover, the author's book won't get noticed, it won't even have a chance to sell, and both will face an almost uphill vertical climb: the author trying to get his/her book noticed, and the cover artist struggling to find work.</div>
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How did this all begin? I'll take a guess and say that somewhere along the line, someone created a cover that completely blew other book covers out of the water. I imagine it was like the scene from Dumb and Dumber: in a room full of black tuxedos, in walks Jim Carrey wearing an orange tuxedo. Among everyone in the room, in a sea of black was a splash of orange, which stood out.</div>
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Today, that room of black tuxedos no longer exists. Instead, it's a room of vibrant colors that stretch from one end of the color spectrum to the other. What once stood out in a sea of black no longer does - because there <em>is</em> no sea of black.</div>
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We've gotten so used to seeing those amazing covers, that we've come to expect it. As the artists and the technology becomes even more mind-blowing, our expectations for them have increased to the point of looking for something that goes <em>beyond</em> superhuman and risen higher, to the point of expecting them to be almost god-like.</div>
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I'll admit that I put cover designers and book artists on high pedestals. I am awed every day by the covers I see designed when something new comes out, and I have the utmost respect for those people for the amount of talent they have. I have zero talent in the drawing department myself, which is part of the reason why I have such a great respect for artists. Seriously, if you ask me to draw a person, what you'll get is a stick figure with a big round head. That's the limit of my artistic ability in the drawing department.</div>
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There are other artists that are just as amazing with digital drawing and painting too, it's not limited to physical paint and canvas. But our expectations have become so high now that we basically <em>require</em> every book to have a god-like cover in order for us to stop. If not, we pass it by and move on, never bothering to even read what the book is about.</div>
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And here is where the real tragedy that this line of insanely high expectations has gone to now: we judge books by their covers, not by the story within. There are some absolutely <em>amazing</em> stories out there that are only discovered by a small handful of people. Why? Because the author is just starting out, or couldn't afford to pay for a professional artist to design that god-like cover that <em>might</em> increase the chance a book will be read by a few handfuls more.</div>
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In a sea of color now, its a crap shoot. And for those just starting out or on such a tight budget that they can't afford to pay for advertising, which like anything else is really the only way to reach masses of potential readers... even with a god-like cover, it's difficult at best to get noticed - no matter how good of a storyteller you are.</div>
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So what is the point of all of this? Why go over any of this? To illustrate, let me provide a few images. I'll use my first fantasy book as the example, as it's gone through several cover changes from when I first published it to what it looks like today:</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifPa005G_D5DXsIn8A09IP18M9PrQDolokVB2qvnpdoDAd7YC8zaZWYgvuTuD6GsV3fy8I-JYWGN9sBFoatlGqw1QoGa6pfgZm4Atalh4ip-boyMkm0tWpm79L5FZn-IN-wU3hUDSaWyM/s1600/provincetitle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifPa005G_D5DXsIn8A09IP18M9PrQDolokVB2qvnpdoDAd7YC8zaZWYgvuTuD6GsV3fy8I-JYWGN9sBFoatlGqw1QoGa6pfgZm4Atalh4ip-boyMkm0tWpm79L5FZn-IN-wU3hUDSaWyM/s200/provincetitle.jpg" width="154" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Original cover<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB6vmZoAWRdOmR1mMuuW_eS5Er-dAQeQwwgzm5v4MXIOSJjhFn2-_qhtesxeFsn37kCYeGX-zoFS49n6jIAUYCiUY_UEzt2SZL9n90KpI1j39Sx_EEGfeykkCpKsW03U2MdBxZ5_muRwg/s1600/provincecover2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB6vmZoAWRdOmR1mMuuW_eS5Er-dAQeQwwgzm5v4MXIOSJjhFn2-_qhtesxeFsn37kCYeGX-zoFS49n6jIAUYCiUY_UEzt2SZL9n90KpI1j39Sx_EEGfeykkCpKsW03U2MdBxZ5_muRwg/s200/provincecover2.jpg" width="148" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First redone cover</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnu2MoDGOaTVU4KF_-WKDE3J07_cV6uI5kwubaiKIvays77O0_6tNvPuVkOfDhFIevVMHKj528F4D6tZ_RsrC8gveALmiGO1oGKZ73bkRhS8PuBHIP8ZtkDwgBiwiUr1G3qQhxIzCXWBQ/s1600/newprovincecover1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnu2MoDGOaTVU4KF_-WKDE3J07_cV6uI5kwubaiKIvays77O0_6tNvPuVkOfDhFIevVMHKj528F4D6tZ_RsrC8gveALmiGO1oGKZ73bkRhS8PuBHIP8ZtkDwgBiwiUr1G3qQhxIzCXWBQ/s200/newprovincecover1.jpg" width="125" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Second redone cover (artwork by Mat Sadler)</td></tr>
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Looking back, I see that first cover and I think "oh my God, that was <em>horrible</em>!" And then I look at the second one and think "well, that was better than the first one, at least." The last one I still love to look at. It's gorgeous. The artist who created that has more talent in the tip of his pinky finger than I have in my entire body.</div>
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I had submitted the book to Reader's Favorite last year for a review, and when it came back, I admit there were some tears, because the reviewer gave it a glowing 5* review, and I was given - along with the review - a sticker that I could add to the cover image to show it, which I did. This is the cover today:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPt6Wi99vTz8dDwt12-9JOGdvEI7BKtUqsyXrSjPMdMmXrdvKnuqUBaPg7YZizibX6n4eZGoVFnz0HnJ7Dh3GqStDRDLy8b1sjKdwj4SCzD2swEgWxcaX91hj4nH73ebJdPekpsWmp7pM/s1600/Province_awardcover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPt6Wi99vTz8dDwt12-9JOGdvEI7BKtUqsyXrSjPMdMmXrdvKnuqUBaPg7YZizibX6n4eZGoVFnz0HnJ7Dh3GqStDRDLy8b1sjKdwj4SCzD2swEgWxcaX91hj4nH73ebJdPekpsWmp7pM/s320/Province_awardcover.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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Why show that off? To brag that <em>Province of a Thief</em> received a 5* review award? To get you to say "Holy shit, that <em>is</em> awesome!" and open up a new window to pull the book up on Amazon and discover that it's gotten almost a dozen more 5* reviews from readers on top of that?</div>
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No. It's to make my point. You see, except for some edits that I've put the book through to fix a few typos and make some minor changes (because I'm overly critical of myself and I strive for perfection, even knowing it's an impossible task but I shoot for it anyway), from that first book cover to the current one - the story has not changed.</div>
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When I first started writing as a career, I couldn't afford to hire a cover artist. So I designed the cover myself, using (you probably guessed it already) Word. Yes, I know... go ahead and shake your head in disbelief, it's alright. I was a newborn to the whole published author scene then. It took time to learn there was more to this thing than just writing.</div>
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Obviously that first cover needed to be changed. My sales (or rather, lack of) clearly showed that, so I spent a bit of money and found a stock photo that I liked, and along came cover #2. The title font and how it was displayed wasn't exactly a good choice, but it was a better image than the first. Still not good enough, however. Luckily tax season came around and with a bit of my return I looked for someone to redesign the cover again. I was lucky enough to come across Mat, who designed the cover at an affordable price and made it look like that first cover was done by someone with no drawing ability whatsoe... oh wait - it was, haha.</div>
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But through those redesigns, the story within didn't change. And that is the main point of all of this. <em>The covers didn't change the story.</em> Had I kept that first cover, I would still be waiting to get an actual sale from the book.</div>
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Covers need to be attractive. Everyone will agree with this. But they do not change the story within. When we're looking for something to read, we're not reading the book descriptions. We're looking at the cover image. And if it doesn't leap out at us, we're moving on to find one that does. That's the problem. We've become <em><strong><u>too</u> <u>reliant</u></strong></em> on the cover images. We've let them dictate our choices, and don't even bother to take a few minutes... <em>a few minutes...</em> to see what a book is about.</div>
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Not every author can afford to hire a cover artist or book designer. It's a simple fact. So they do their best to design their own covers using GIMP, Photoshop, (I use GIMP myself to create my Twitter images... that at least I have a greater ability in doing) or some other program to create book covers themselves. And then they cross their fingers and hope their skills are good enough that the cover will catch enough eyes and they'll make enough pocket change to be able to afford a professional artist/cover designer for their next book, or to redesign that one.</div>
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We've become a society that judges based on what we see. So let me end this with one final book image and a quote from one of the books in my Exiled trilogy, because they drive home my point:</div>
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<strong><em>"It is not what you see on the outside, but what lies on the inside that matters."</em></strong></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12989918707512918674noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7485035040785690692.post-89307831415515655172016-01-07T06:59:00.001-08:002016-01-07T06:59:45.988-08:00Starting off 2016 with a BANG!<div style="text-align: justify;">
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I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season that was filled with good food, time spend with friends and family, and memorable moments. I know I did!</div>
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With the holidays over and the new year having arrived, I'm starting things off with a bang. I'm getting back to my current work in progress, the 4th and final book in my Tal'Avern Chronicles. But besides that, I've got two things to announce.</div>
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First, my Facebook Author Page hit 500 likes the other day, which is an amazing milestone for me, as I still kind of consider myself in my infant years as an author, having only been doing this for going on 5 years now.</div>
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I wanted to show my appreciation, so I am holding a Giveaway. If you haven't had a chance to read my work, I write in two genres: Fantasy (geared toward the YA crowd but definitely books that adults will (and have!) enjoyed, and Paranormal Romance, which lean more to the adult crowd due to some strong language and steamy romance scenes that are mixed in with the action, suspense, and all that good stuff :)</div>
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Rather than repeat what I've posted on my Author Page, I'll simply provide the link to the page, so you can read the nuts and bolts of the giveaway (prizes, rules, etc): </div>
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<a href="http://www.facebook.com/saborgman">www.facebook.com/saborgman</a> </div>
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That's one announcement. The second one is in regards to my latest release, <em>The Exiled Trilogy: Collector's Edition</em>, which bundles all three books in the trilogy together into a single volume to bring you the complete story. So here's the exciting part: the individual books of the trilogy are $2.99 each, while the Collector's Edition is normally priced at $5.99. Basically, it's priced as a buy two get the third one free type of thing. HOWEVER...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggmTqHA-jInCZ0tmDWU9FfdB4h0B775xv53fYyJaos5OssdsnLbcTsb7mss_RgxHok04oiYOxYPIKUjeEG4o0Gzh14puwDDCDzUIs2aHVN5r_twsY_EgG1m-o9jpLGYsSAjHOSMSgb7IQ/s1600/pnr3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggmTqHA-jInCZ0tmDWU9FfdB4h0B775xv53fYyJaos5OssdsnLbcTsb7mss_RgxHok04oiYOxYPIKUjeEG4o0Gzh14puwDDCDzUIs2aHVN5r_twsY_EgG1m-o9jpLGYsSAjHOSMSgb7IQ/s400/pnr3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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From Jan. 8 - 14, the Collector's Edition (digital only) is going to be on a special promotion.... for $2.99.</div>
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So in essence, it's a <em><strong>buy one get two free</strong></em> deal. You'll be able to pick up the ENTIRE TRILOGY in it's Collector's Edition for the price that a single book in the trilogy normally costs.</div>
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I know, crazy right? Well like I said, I wanted to start the year off with a bang. :) Here's the link to the book's Amazon page: </div>
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The promo is scheduled to begin at 12 PST on the 8th for US readers. UKers, you'll be able to snag the CE a bit before then, of course.</div>
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In the meantime, while waiting for the promo to begin, feel free to check out some of the reviews from the individual books and perhaps read through some of the samples from the books (I <em>love</em> that Look Inside feature!!)</div>
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So head over to my Author Page, give it a 'like', and check out the giveaway post. If you agree with the rules (make sure to read them!) and want a chance to win, pop in a comment. I jokingly suggested excited people to comment with 'omg omg omg omg me me me me!' rather than just a simple 'me' in the comments. Several people actually have posted 'omg omg me me me' comments, hahaha. I got a good laugh out of it, so thank you for the enthusiasm :)</div>
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And don't forget, Jan 8 - 14, The Collector's Edition will be at a special promo price of $2.99, so when it starts, snag your digital copy!</div>
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I would like to add as well, not just for my books but any author's books, if you enjoy the story that you read, please take a few minutes to leave a review on the book's Amazon page. Reviews are the lifeblood of digital books, and every author is grateful for each and every review their books get, including me.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12989918707512918674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7485035040785690692.post-74209683185249088742016-01-03T20:42:00.001-08:002016-01-03T20:42:36.715-08:00December Donation Drive<div style="text-align: justify;">
Back at the beginning of December, when I released The Exiled Trilogy: Collector's Edition, I had made a promise. I feel very strongly about giving back, and about doing what I can to help make our world a better place. With the amount of negativity that surrounds us every day, I think doing such things is becoming more and more critical.</div>
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I'm no multi-billionaire that owns 5 houses, 8 cars, a yacht, a plane... I honestly don't really have anything one would probably consider 'extravagant.' And yet, the 1% flaunt their wealth and spend it on getting more and more shit to make themselves look like they're better than everyone else. Because they have money, they have to show it off. I'm sure there are a few people that pop in your head right away that fit the mold.</div>
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Now, not all of them do this. Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt are two people I will mention who donate their time and quite a bit of their money to <em>a</em> <em>lot</em> of different charities and organizations. I personally look up to them both, not just because they're two of my favorite actors, but for everything they do to help make our world a little bit brighter for others.</div>
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As for me, I'm more than willing to give what I can when I am able to help make other's lives better, even if it's something small that will help put a smile on a face, or help to bring joy to their lives - if only for a little while. Because that's what life is about. Not what we can get, but what we can give, what we can do for each other.</div>
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I had made a promise that through the month of December, for every sale of my new release on Amazon, I would donate half of the profits to a charitable institution, along with at least half of the profits I would receive from pages read from all of my books through Kindle Unlimited.</div>
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While there were few sales of the Collector's Edition, and the pages read didn't amount to a significant amount (it <em>was</em> the holiday season after all, which certainly played a role in the low numbers) I gave my word - and I keep my word.</div>
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I took the liberty of snapping a few photos showing the sales and pages read:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3HU6X925wJEga-OSyMQ7M_5cdPOzIkcsyfXjQQb2xrVrNKv3gzIbur_oleyAxrwQKrb01WlEeGoVxg0ljaC7WWRB61qF9tI5HSKstwKQlMq6v175-4BBgWUxwpTa0iDCPa9H1VQZtQlc/s1600/20160103_215335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3HU6X925wJEga-OSyMQ7M_5cdPOzIkcsyfXjQQb2xrVrNKv3gzIbur_oleyAxrwQKrb01WlEeGoVxg0ljaC7WWRB61qF9tI5HSKstwKQlMq6v175-4BBgWUxwpTa0iDCPa9H1VQZtQlc/s400/20160103_215335.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHZJBdJ3po7a4yKdhyUmp0pKcSXFbd-6RmdzKGlh0luT2pKEi7EwTKwJEIWlqtglFSQ2gD0BsNW_CHThKGfMZ2LfElNL01cWIQGku5Dxk2H7_8aVsJud0bTZVBoRN9UHK5EoUcSfO9efc/s1600/20160103_215349.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHZJBdJ3po7a4yKdhyUmp0pKcSXFbd-6RmdzKGlh0luT2pKEi7EwTKwJEIWlqtglFSQ2gD0BsNW_CHThKGfMZ2LfElNL01cWIQGku5Dxk2H7_8aVsJud0bTZVBoRN9UHK5EoUcSfO9efc/s400/20160103_215349.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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And then as promised, I went and made the donation. It wasn't much, but every little bit helps to make wishes come true.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDzymNkmx6asbKQzHyKOkYdZ-cD0YqgYbddCf4cjK8bsrrfSrtl-NdBiaXqVHfZW0_EGA0-AzZPh7fUpBnmqRcl-uGmEP0L-hv5SfxfXmehcKr_EFCGwjBvn5CTc_jKs0lEX0ydTafXtw/s1600/20160103_211148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDzymNkmx6asbKQzHyKOkYdZ-cD0YqgYbddCf4cjK8bsrrfSrtl-NdBiaXqVHfZW0_EGA0-AzZPh7fUpBnmqRcl-uGmEP0L-hv5SfxfXmehcKr_EFCGwjBvn5CTc_jKs0lEX0ydTafXtw/s400/20160103_211148.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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To those who made a purchase and those who upped that page count by reading any of my books through Kindle Unlimited, thank you. While I may have made the decision to donate half of my profits, <em>you</em> are the ones who deserve the praise, because <em>you</em> made it possible. The amount doesn't matter. Yes, I wish the donation would have been higher, but what matters is that the donation will go to helping grant wishes and putting smiles on the faces of children fighting against life threatening illnesses.</div>
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So for that, you have my deepest gratitude and thanks. It truly means a lot to me to have been able to make the donation with your help.</div>
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All My Best,</div>
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Scott A. Borgman</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12989918707512918674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7485035040785690692.post-69631467699025956962016-01-02T23:35:00.000-08:002016-01-02T23:35:34.503-08:00Fighting Writer's Block<div style="text-align: justify;">
I've had a few different jobs over the years, from my first job working at a movie theater when I was 16, to working in Collections for a year before I went to college, to working in the grocery industry for about twenty years after college. Though each of those jobs differed, they all had something in common - there was always that <em>one</em> employee... You know, the one who seemed to be ungodly slow, or somehow found a way to screw up even the simplest of tasks that I would end up having to either correct or completely redo.</div>
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I'm sure we've all got at least one story of a co-worker (either past or present) who comes to mind at the idea that we could talk about. Of course, in those situations, something can be done about them with some means of disciplinary action.</div>
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At least with those other jobs, there was a small sense of satisfaction when the problem was dealt with. Either said worker was disciplined, their work improved, or in some cases, they quit or were fired. And then there's my current job - the last job I hope I'll ever have. The one that, unlike my previous jobs, means so much more to me than being 'just another job'.</div>
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It's not handing out tickets, or calling people over past due bills, or stocking shelves. It's writing stories with the sole purpose of delighting and entertaining others. The hours are long, and the work is hard... harder than I ever imagined it would be when I dreamed of being a writer when I was little... but I love it nonetheless.</div>
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However, the job came with a catch: another employee. One who couldn't be disciplined. Who couldn't be fired. Who couldn't be persuaded to quit. One who would just come in whenever he wanted to, stay for however long he felt like it, and whose only purpose during his shifts was to annoy, harass, and keep me from getting a thing done.</div>
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I knew about him, even when I was little. We've all heard of him. He goes by the name of Writer's Block, 'WB' for short... or some other nickname that authors refer to him as, usually proceeded by an F-bomb or some other colorful word.</div>
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WB's most prolific 'skill' is coming to work when we least expect him to. How he's able to sneak in undetected, authors have no idea. We just look up and see him standing there. This is typically followed by "Oh, shit..." or some other colorful phrase.</div>
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He's also varied in his skillsets, which allows him to be the most annoying co-worker possible. For some of us, he can completely block our creative flow. For others, he'll change that flow in ways that when we finish a chapter, a scene, or even a few paragraphs, it just doesn't work for us. It doesn't flow the way we want it to... it doesn't <em>feel</em> right. And while we struggle to fix it, he sits back and laughs as he marvels at himself for how well he does his duties.</div>
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He's frustrating. Annoying. Hell, he's an complete ass. But we're not entirely powerless against him. We have our own weapons to fight him with. After all, if you can't beat him... turn the tables and piss him off instead. Give him a taste of his own medicine, fellow authors!</div>
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The first and probably one of the most used tactics is to simply save your work, get up, and walk away. Perhaps pour yourself a drink. You could sit down and read a book, watch a movie, or my personal favorite - turn on a game and blow shit up for awhile. I prefer games with explosions in them, or FPS shooters, something where you can see your target and think "There he is... <em>take that</em>!" *Headshot against another player (if playing in a multiplayer game) or explosion following which brings a sense of morbid satisfaction*.</div>
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Then there's the Rocky tactic. *queue <em>Eye of the Tiger</em> music* Keep fighting, don't back down... eventually WB wears down and Rocky... er, you the author, will come out on top and knock out WB for the count. Granted, he'll come back for a rematch someday, but the immediate victory shall be yours. Wave your Championship belt in his face and go back to working on your next great novel. </div>
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Another tactic is the Evasive Maneuvers. If he's annoying a particular scene, leave it behind and move on to another scene - come back to it later. This one's easier for some than others. I can't use this particular tactic myself, since my writing style is specific: write from beginning to end, no deviations or detours. So personally, I'm left with the Rocky and the Blow Shit Up tactics, though I do like to mix it up and throw in the Read A Book and Watch A Movie variations just to keep him guessing.</div>
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So the next time WB clocks in for a shift, if you've been frustrated to no end with this part-timer who comes with the job and won't ever quit or get fired, remember: he may be an annoying ass, but that doesn't mean you have to sit down and take his abuse, hoping he'll get bored and leave quickly. WB doesn't usually work like that. He's a troll. Don't Feed the troll.</div>
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Blow Shit Up, Read A Book, Watch A Movie, Be Rocky, and use Evasive Maneuvers. He may be able to defend against some of them... but chances are, one or more of those tactics will work.</div>
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Write on, fellow authors!</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12989918707512918674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7485035040785690692.post-21088778600831744632015-12-22T17:40:00.000-08:002015-12-22T17:40:42.323-08:00Reasons for Writing<div style="text-align: justify;">
Being an author, I have my reasons for doing what I do. Some authors write for monetary reasons, others write just as a side hobby, and others do it simply because they love to write, to create new worlds and compelling characters for readers to enjoy. There are certainly others, each one tailored to the individual author.</div>
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For me, there are several reasons why I write. The first is simply because it was what I was meant to do. I know this. I've known it ever since I was little and first began writing stories. Back then, those stories were short (never more than a few chapters) because I'd have an idea and start writing, and after a few hours I'd write something that would spark a new idea. I'd latch onto that and start a new story based around that idea.</div>
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I discovered early on that writing came naturally to me. When we're little, I think that often we're given the knowledge of what we're meant to do, but at that age, we don't always recognize it as such. Some of us follow the paths we were destined to walk. Others don't, for one reason or another.</div>
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I was one of those who didn't - at first. I chose to direct my own thread, and it wasn't noticed for about twenty years. But I've found out that Fate is a fickle lady, and when we pull our own thread in a way that screws up her tapestry, she can be an outright bitch.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn_onquXYMcglZOlLRImdlscCGNBrJqIDFTJmXUZNKVBeBfzmkYkSLrU3BdPKeaqyvK7E4n6nN1gWZR0Gk2lE_yYEOWOnkKKse3RQ_2Uz2tphJq8ofNOEGHr-SIjhl8rCBO5FXUDk9H3E/s1600/Cami_tattoo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn_onquXYMcglZOlLRImdlscCGNBrJqIDFTJmXUZNKVBeBfzmkYkSLrU3BdPKeaqyvK7E4n6nN1gWZR0Gk2lE_yYEOWOnkKKse3RQ_2Uz2tphJq8ofNOEGHr-SIjhl8rCBO5FXUDk9H3E/s200/Cami_tattoo.jpg" width="153" /></a></div>
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She used tragedy to put my thread back where it was meant to go. A few years later, I made an attempt to move my thread elsewhere again when I stopped writing to take a construction job that took me out of state. What I got as a response from Fate for me having the audacity to touch my thread a second time was a car accident that left me with a fractured rib and eight weeks of almost unbearable pain as I recovered. And still, I didn't learn. I took a job at a pallet building company within walking distance of my house. Decent pay, no fuel costs... great, right? Apparently, Fate didn't agree because I narrowly missed having my hand crushed by the machine several times.</div>
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I'd already had a pretty good idea where my thread was supposed to go by then, and yet despite her previous warnings, I tried a <em>fourth</em> time to veer from what I was meant to do. The unnerving part is that I started getting a constant tingling in my fingers and hands almost right after I'd made the decision, and the very day I was planning to drive to one of the bigger towns nearby and grab an application for a grocery store (I figured with my previous twenty years of experience in the business, I could get a job easily) my left leg went out. It was nothing but dead weight that I had to drag along for almost a month before it relented. I regained the use of it, along with being diagnosed with MS as well. Thanks for that particular one, Fate. I really appreciate it. *sarcasm* </div>
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Now, some may call these incidents purely coincidence, and others may see them as signs. Personally, I've learned my lesson. I'm not about to tempt Fate again. I think at this point, she's pissed enough at me for daring to touch my thread on four separate occasions and mess up her tapestry. I know now that she does <em>not</em> like anyone except her playing with those threads. I won't go for a fifth attempt, especially not living here in Wisconsin. The next time she might not give me any more warnings and just have a deer run out in front of the car or something and cut my thread completely.</div>
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But it's not just Fate's sick ways of reminding me that I was given a gift for a reason and that I damn well better use it. I truly love what I do. Despite the long hours, the frustrations, the headaches, and having to deal with the part time co-worker who clocks in whenever he wants and spends his shifts harassing me (damn you, Writer's Block!), there are other reasons why I do what I do.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuJen9EBbP0AoZ1yLo5QCk8V-MAvPnxv2Sve8FiJ5lRZyXfpynoYS1HtYdefaPK4bHZQlLEZFkqEzlyLc0XWWH6kcgeDY3iuwA_e7QICX5FLzZv8qkdQzLtUouT9emHUAsCFX85WAnnzs/s1600/family_photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuJen9EBbP0AoZ1yLo5QCk8V-MAvPnxv2Sve8FiJ5lRZyXfpynoYS1HtYdefaPK4bHZQlLEZFkqEzlyLc0XWWH6kcgeDY3iuwA_e7QICX5FLzZv8qkdQzLtUouT9emHUAsCFX85WAnnzs/s320/family_photo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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It's wanting my wife and our kids to be proud of me for doing something significant and meaningful. Something that's more than simply stocking shelves in a grocery store, which is what I did for nearly twenty years. Sure, I rose up to a lead position in a few different departments, I was an Asst. Manager in one other, and I had even gotten a Manager spot in still another department over the years.</div>
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I'm not putting down any other jobs, they're <em>all</em> meaningful and serve a purpose. Honestly, I guess I just want my wife and kids to be proud of me for doing something that for me is more significant and meaningful compared to what I used to do. When I think of the difference between the two, of what my wife and kids used to say when someone asked them what I did for a living versus what I do now, this is what I think of:</div>
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"My husband/dad works in a grocery store stocking shelves and building displays."</div>
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"My husband/dad is an author."</div>
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Anyone can stock shelves. Hell, that was one of the first jobs I had twenty-four years ago, back when I was 16. I suppose that was one of the things that bothered me. It was just a job. I was good at it, but that's all it ever was - a job. I needed something more than to have what I do be more to me than just a job that almost anyone can walk in off the street and do. Being an author fills that need, because it's <em>not</em> something just anyone can do. Sure, we all had to do book reports and essays in school, but we were never assigned to write a 70,000+ word novel.</div>
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It's not an easy job, by any means. It's one of the most difficult things I've ever done, in fact. But it's also the most rewarding, because it focuses outwards. Its <em>sole purpose</em> is to delight and entertain others, and for me, that fills another need. A need to touch other's lives in a way that's more personal than just stocking shelves and working my ass off for little more than minimum wage.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMliMpsv_ZKKr7rFcoeya3e_o_RrZz8-JZPTs0wXFcVoHn0Lwm-ijXjkyizShRnnOYB9QSA8X1kwh2ITZBxWdyW83ifgTuT5ZgFj0PcaD0QPpIPt_5avz__Or3PgjAb447RQ5BaPrvAx0/s1600/fantasy2_twtr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMliMpsv_ZKKr7rFcoeya3e_o_RrZz8-JZPTs0wXFcVoHn0Lwm-ijXjkyizShRnnOYB9QSA8X1kwh2ITZBxWdyW83ifgTuT5ZgFj0PcaD0QPpIPt_5avz__Or3PgjAb447RQ5BaPrvAx0/s400/fantasy2_twtr.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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When readers enjoy my books and leave amazing reviews, when they take the time to email me, whether it's to tell me what they loved, who their favorite characters were, how they literally cheered when a character they despised met his or her end, or even just to say hello and connect with me, it can turn around even my worst day in an instant. Those moments make <em>everything</em> - from the writing, the frustrations and headaches, the editing and promoting... and yes, even having that jerk WB clocking in at random times worth <strong>every single minute</strong> to me.</div>
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Another reason is because it's my legacy to my wife and kids, which is why I choose to write under my own name and not use a pen name for my Fantasy books, which are geared more towards the YA crowd but even adults have enjoyed, or my Paranormal Romance novels, which are for more mature audiences due to some strong language and steamy (not explicit) romance scenes mixed in with the action of the story.</div>
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Perhaps one day, when my time is up and I'm gone from this world, when my kids have children of their own, they'll have my books on a shelf in their own homes. Maybe they'll show their own children those books and say: "This is what my father/your grandpa did for a living. He was a writer." And perhaps my kids will watch those little eyes grow wide as their children look at those books, and it will spark something within <em>them</em> to read, perhaps even discover that they've been given a gift for writing themselves.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikGDIA_LjE0Wxeju2XiLq6M_ebRQRoj_3pH6Uqo_SBHgwLwpwlbCmux6IGnVO5IsAnazLtRFXqjecUcduprRwY-b4B8fOVAzncrbzhTHv4w4mEDaEds9EmRyhUtIkPSGdM1k8eoHmtai0/s1600/pnr1_twtr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikGDIA_LjE0Wxeju2XiLq6M_ebRQRoj_3pH6Uqo_SBHgwLwpwlbCmux6IGnVO5IsAnazLtRFXqjecUcduprRwY-b4B8fOVAzncrbzhTHv4w4mEDaEds9EmRyhUtIkPSGdM1k8eoHmtai0/s400/pnr1_twtr.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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So what are my reasons for writing? Why do I do what I do? Because I was given a gift that was meant to be used, not set aside. Fate has reminded me of that on several occasions. Because as hard as this job is, it's also the most rewarding job for me, since it focuses outwards to others with the sole purpose of stirring their emotions. Because I want my wife and kids to be proud of me, to puff out their chests with pride when they tell others that their husband/dad is an author. And finally, because I want to leave a legacy for my kids with the books I've already written, and the ones that I have yet to write - books with my name on them. Books that one day I hope that they'll be proud to show to their own children when they tell them who I was, what I did, and why it meant so much to me. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12989918707512918674noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7485035040785690692.post-23830045862597600212015-12-08T02:25:00.001-08:002015-12-09T05:42:13.460-08:00Make Wishes Come True<div style="text-align: justify;">
With the holiday fast approaching, while we're all scrambling to put up decorations, preparing for parties with co-workers and friends, and getting ready to take trips to spend the holidays with family, there are others out there - children, who are fighting against life threatening illnesses.</div>
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The organization I've chosen to donate to this year was founded with these children in mind, to help make their wishes come true. In so doing, they're helping these children feel better, both physically and emotionally. Wishes come in all shapes and sizes, just like the children who make them.</div>
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Life isn't about what we can get, but what we can give. Our lives are not defined by what we have, they're defined by what we do. I've taken part in <a href="http://www.extra-life.org/">www.extra-life.org</a> to raise money for the Children's Miracle Network, helped raise money for a new library facility near me, and donated books to two different libraries. Now, for this holiday season, with your help we can make wishes come true for children. That's what the holidays are meant to be about, after all.</div>
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My latest release bundles all three books in my Exiled trilogy together into a single Collector's Edition. In a way, it's very fitting that it's being released for the holiday season.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLkzLjGDvcjQF5GE3yJd5XElFiC4zUiT9ZzqsxmFsvyIzwS3_HcQUs-agNfMUJT3mwUDuiRsCtwrGDugvImAYJxy7b0aDgok4Is1mWvZAKPJojqFsPznlQJaZmpz1hR6Dh42k5TUu8MPk/s1600/BC_a_ExiledTrilogy2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLkzLjGDvcjQF5GE3yJd5XElFiC4zUiT9ZzqsxmFsvyIzwS3_HcQUs-agNfMUJT3mwUDuiRsCtwrGDugvImAYJxy7b0aDgok4Is1mWvZAKPJojqFsPznlQJaZmpz1hR6Dh42k5TUu8MPk/s320/BC_a_ExiledTrilogy2.jpg" width="192" /></a></div>
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Here is the book description:</div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>The complete story</strong></span>:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><em>The Exiled<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">David doesn’t believe in the devil or angels. But when he’s
hunted by one and protected by the other, the veil is lifted, and David
discovers that his beliefs don’t matter. He holds the key to Lucifer’s prison –
and Lucifer will stop at nothing to get it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><em>The Exiled: Continuation<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">The story continues as the impossible is made possible, and Lucifer
begins a new game of deception. When 22-year-old Kaly becomes his target, her
normal life is shattered beyond belief. The veil lifts once more as Kaly
discovers who she really is, and that some horrors and nightmares are real.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><em>The Exiled: Infinity<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">The veil is torn away and nothing is held back as the ultimate
battle for survival begins. Kaly faces off with Lucifer, which begins a journey
that will test her beyond anything she’s ever imagined. While the angels fight
to defend Heaven and the old gods battle for Olympus, humanity faces the
Apocalypse. Every story needs an ending… and this one will last until Infinity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span></o:p><br /></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><em>The Exiled Trilogy is a Paranormal Romance that weaves
an action-packed tale of honor, duty, deception, betrayal, desire, and love...
while taking a hard, emotional look at humanity. It was meant to be written.
Destined to be told. Even fiction has truth within it.</em></span></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span></em> </div>
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**Due to some language and sexual content (not explicit), it may not be suitable for anyone 17 and under**</div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><em></em></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmhjnuh25kEt-AVx4NvgjyJmaiBtKeXas6rQfRsASg0RVfc8tWD0ca34wrQ3YUEbbQGd8qk-yLRwLu2OR-BSoAQmQBdspoMhIqkEhK5cJBLzxWUDEzyRWIPb1Xoh1xk74TyTBR2J5yEYs/s1600/wishes_twtr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmhjnuh25kEt-AVx4NvgjyJmaiBtKeXas6rQfRsASg0RVfc8tWD0ca34wrQ3YUEbbQGd8qk-yLRwLu2OR-BSoAQmQBdspoMhIqkEhK5cJBLzxWUDEzyRWIPb1Xoh1xk74TyTBR2J5yEYs/s400/wishes_twtr.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">During the month of December, for every paperback copy of #TET that is bought directly from CreateSpace, the company that prints the book, $4 will be donated, and for every sale of it from Amazon (digital version included) $2 will be donated.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">For Kindle Unlimited members, <u><strong><em>all</em></strong></u> of my books are available for you to read for free - the Tal'Avern Chronicles (YA Epic Fantasy) and the Exiled trilogy (Paranormal Romance - both in their individual books and bundled in the CE). As Amazon now pays authors whose books are in the program on a 'per page read' basis, you too can help make wishes come true... simply by reading my books. At least 50% of the profits I receive from pages read in December I will be donating. In all honesty, I'd love to bump that even higher, so the more books of mine that Kindle Unlimited members read, the higher I can raise that percentage. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">If you need a gift for someone or even just want one for yourself, please consider picking up a copy of #TET. If you're a Kindle Unlimited member - read, read, read!! You'll be doing <em><strong>so</strong></em> much more than just giving a gift or reading books. You'll be helping to make wishes come true for children battling against their illnesses. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">You can help by spreading the word as well. Please, share this on your blogs. Post it on your Facebook. Tweet about it. Tell your friends and neighbors.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">And if you choose to make a purchase or read with Kindle Unlimited, <em>please</em> come back here afterwards and post a comment on this particular blog entry and let us all know - because while I will be making the donation in the end, <em>you</em> are the ones who should get the recognition.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">For your convenience, here are the links which will take you directly to the book's Amazon and CreateSpace pages:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Amazon: <a href="http://hyperurl.co/c6ltbq">http://hyperurl.co/c6ltbq</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">CreateSpace: <a href="http://hyperurl.co/h4gqdg">http://hyperurl.co/h4gqdg</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">And for you Kindle Unlimited members, here is the link to my Author Page on Amazon:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/author/scottborgman">http://www.amazon.com/author/scottborgman</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Thank you everyone. May you all have a joyous holiday season. Now, let's get to work! We have smiles to put on the faces of children, and wishes to help grant!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">All My Best,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Scott A. Borgman</span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12989918707512918674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7485035040785690692.post-32473033918704127412015-11-30T20:11:00.000-08:002015-11-30T20:11:30.453-08:00Teaser Video For #TET For the past week and a half I've been working... well, let's just say a LOT of hours every day. I put my current novel, the final book in the Tal'Avern Chronicles series, on hold for a bit to work on a very special side project. <br />
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While I've been picking away at this project for quite some time actually, the last week and a half was one of those 'focus on nothing else' type things so I could get it done and out before Christmas. And I'm pleased to announce that the long hours were well worth it, as I'm in the final stages now... which means that unless some catastrophic event occurs, it will be done and available on time as I had hoped.<br />
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With that in mind, I give you a teaser of what's in store for this holiday season.<br />
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A Paranormal Romance story.</div>
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Meant to be written. Destined to be told.</div>
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From beginning to end.</div>
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<strong>#TET is coming.</strong></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12989918707512918674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7485035040785690692.post-27492996229926539492015-11-17T20:32:00.000-08:002015-11-17T20:32:25.157-08:00Blood Master by Kirsten Campbell<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxNjOdVVg7tH5lh5hkfSMMOvkXiJ6lprhg5r7WodUt9AX2IYNKzNNJMNmxy4-IbyYwrSeI9zt0VGAjKiTU6lLEuXaw1YTNolAfD2pI7z16S7x2TBnlONeYpAxprt44EWBQmk8IYRXzyyc/s1600/BLOOD+MASTER+BANNER.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxNjOdVVg7tH5lh5hkfSMMOvkXiJ6lprhg5r7WodUt9AX2IYNKzNNJMNmxy4-IbyYwrSeI9zt0VGAjKiTU6lLEuXaw1YTNolAfD2pI7z16S7x2TBnlONeYpAxprt44EWBQmk8IYRXzyyc/s400/BLOOD+MASTER+BANNER.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;">Blood Master</span></b><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif";"> (</span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;">Book 1 of The G.O.D.s
Series)</span></b><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;">By Kirsten Campbell</span></b><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;">Genre: Urban Paranormal Fantasy</span></b><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;">Blood Master Link on Amazon: </span></b><a href="http://amzn.to/1nzFYet"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #1155cc; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;">http://amzn.to/1nzFYet</span></b></a><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><em><strong>The Story</strong></em></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-highlight: white;">2052: Two-thirds of the human population have been killed by the Great
War, the Clover Virus and the Death Plague. Only one man survived the Death
Plague, an albino man named Griffin Storm. He’s the only albino in existence.
No one knows what happened to the other albinos, but most believe the rumors
that they were eliminated by the Guild Faction’s deadly experiments. </span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif";"><o:p><span style="color: black;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-highlight: white;">Griffin is hiding out in Underground Atlanta. He has special abilities.
He can manipulate crystal and glass. He uses these abilities for good, raiding
warehouses and old buildings for food and medical supplies to give to the
abandoned children that live in the Underground. While on a raid he meets
Tassta Vinetti. She’s a resident of the legendary Brotherhood Fortress. Griffin
is taken to the Brotherhood and chaos ensues as Tassta, her twin brother Penn and
her Uncle Lerin Sanctobous keep their new visitor and his untold powers secret.
They can not disclose that the only albino in existence is now at their
fortress or they could all be in great danger. </span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-highlight: white;">Fact is the Guild is hunting Griffin. He is the only survivor of their
deadly experiments and his survival will have dynamic consequences. The Guild
believes Griffin will transform into a G.O.D., a Genetically-enhanced Omni
Dimensional being. If he transforms, he will have inter-dimensional doors
within his body, doors that lead to heaven and hell. Griffin will become a
Blood Master and he’ll be able to control the demons from the Dimension of
Blood. </span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-highlight: white;">Will Griffin save the children of the Underground from their tragic
life? Will he transform into a G.O.D. and become the Blood Master? Only time
will tell… </span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<em><span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;"><strong>My Review of Blood Master</strong></span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Blood Master is set in a post-apocalyptic world in our near
future after 2/3<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">rd</span></sup> of the population has been killed. This idea has
been done before in movies such as I am Legend, The Postman, and Waterworld, as
well as in video games such as Fallout and The Last of Us, with each having
their own take on what the world is like after some kind of devastating event
takes place. Until now, such movies and video games were my only experience
with such an idea. In those movies and games, the visuals are given to us, but they
don’t always impart the emotional depth of a book – at least, not to the same
level that a book can.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Blood Master was my first book foray into the genre, and I
was not disappointed. Between the book’s description and other readers’
reviews, there’s no need for me to repeat any of the storyline, or what has
already been said by others for the most part.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I will say that the descriptions were virtually flawless,
giving me a clear picture of everything as I read. The amount of detail and the
way things were described made me feel that although I’ve never been to
Atlanta, were I to visit I’m quite certain that I would feel as if I had been
there before, having read this book.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">The characters were well-developed, each with their own
personalities. Penn was a favorite character for me simply because he brought a
lightness to a devastated world, and the main character Griffin was as well
because of his need to help the children. Among other things (which I don’t want
to mention and give away spoilers), that humor and compassion being shown in
such a setting is what sets Blood Master apart and makes it shine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">While the story did feel a little slow in the beginning,
this is perfectly understandable as it provides the needed background for the
rest of the book. In fact, as the story progresses one is grateful that the
author took the time in the beginning to give that background, as it adds a
depth to the story that movies and games set in the same type of world simply
don’t do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">The other thing I will add is that after reading the author’s
bio, it’s clear that there is an emotional depth beyond what the story tells,
and that the author incorporated part of herself into it. Authors often times
do this, and while it isn’t always apparent to a reader when an author places
something personal to him/her within the story, it makes Blood Master shine
even brighter.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">This is a book well worth the read, and I highly
recommend it.</span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;"><em><strong>About Kirsten Campbell</strong></em></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg0Nu1XrBBu_41JVkNksvQ0Pp2Frb-YdDoVpFVBDjidbkEFOSsecXenzkks9vXKp-fsv8xcmzjcExN-pehyjRljXzaaUCuAfahfelXPX01fH6vP5buWoQ0ML29p_pexOvukER3G8gCT2o/s1600/Author+Kirsten+Campbell+2015+pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg0Nu1XrBBu_41JVkNksvQ0Pp2Frb-YdDoVpFVBDjidbkEFOSsecXenzkks9vXKp-fsv8xcmzjcExN-pehyjRljXzaaUCuAfahfelXPX01fH6vP5buWoQ0ML29p_pexOvukER3G8gCT2o/s320/Author+Kirsten+Campbell+2015+pic.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;">Kirsten Campbell is the author of several
short stories and poems that have been published in Bewildering Stories, The
Pittsburgh Quarterly Online, Ascent Magazine, The Fairfield Review, Poets-Artists
& Madmen, Interracial Voice, Beauty Talk, The CoffeehousePress Journal, The
Write Gallery, Sagazine Online, COBRA, and several other magazines. </span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif";"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;">Her novel, Blood Master – Book 1 of The
G.O.D.s Series is an Urban Paranormal Fantasy novel that is currently available
on Amazon.com in Adult and Young Adult version. Blood Master hit the Amazon Top
100 List. The second book of The G.O.D.s Series, Blood Rage, will be out by the
end of this year. She is also the author of Darkness Calls, a book of Paranormal
Short Stories. Her websites are www.kcampbell-gods.com, which is the site for
all things Blood Master, and her Author’s Website,
www.kirstencampbellbooks.com.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;">She has two chapbooks that were published;
one by Ladybug Press (Poetry from the Covert Bourgeoisie), and the other by
Puddinghouse Publications (The Abandoning Kind). She is also the author of
Perfect Chaos, a book of poetry that is currently on Amazon.</span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Website: </span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><a href="http://www.kcampbell-gods.com/"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;">http://www.kcampbell-gods.com/</span></b></a><a href="http://www.kcampbell-gods.com/"></a></span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"> & </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Facebook: </span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/GODsSeries"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "cambria" , "serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;">https://www.facebook.com/GODsSeries</span></b></a></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12989918707512918674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7485035040785690692.post-22630876451805352132015-10-15T05:39:00.001-07:002015-10-15T05:39:55.469-07:00To See Once More Through Innocent Eyes<div style="text-align: justify;">
This coming Sunday will mark the hardest day of the entire year for myself and my family. On that day five years ago, our lives were forever changed when the youngest member of our family passed away.</div>
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I've spoken before about Cameron, but never really talked about who he was. To most people, he's nothing more than a name that until now, you've never heard. But Cami was, in the most honest way I can say, my greatest teacher.</div>
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Like most people, I took things for granted. Mostly the little things, like how on a clear night you can just gaze up at the stars and truly appreciate the beauty of them. Or the simple sight of seeing a butterfly flutter past on a warm afternoon.</div>
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In grade school and junior high, I loved to read and discovered I had a natural talent and a love for writing. But I didn't realize then I had been given that gift for a reason. As I grew older, it was set aside and forgotten, left unused and gathering dust.</div>
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There's the old saying that goes 'when one door closes, another opens.' Sometimes I guess the door that closes has to slam in your face and break your heart before that other door opens. It certainly did for me.</div>
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I heard more than a few people during Cami's wake attempt to offer me comfort by saying 'he's in a better place' and 'God needed another angel.' I understand people tried to help by saying those things, but in all honesty, those words only made the grief deepen and for a time, turn to hate. What better place? What better place could there <em>possibly</em> be for a three year old boy than with his mother who he loved and adored more than anything in the world?</div>
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I know Cami loved us all, that was the type of person he was, but he and his mother had a special bond that was stronger than anything imaginable, and it was severed, suddenly and unexpectedly. There was no better place for him than right beside her, watching Thomas the Tank Engine or snuggling up with her on the couch. And the other one, that 'God needed another angel' saying... that only makes God sound selfish, putting his needs above anyone else.</div>
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So I grieved. I was angry. Yes, I even hated. And when I'd suffered through every emotion possible... that other door opened. It was opened by a three year old boy who through his loss, not only opened my eyes to what was truly important in life, he reminded me that I'd been given a gift, one that I was meant to use. A gift that could not just entertain others, but one that I could use to pass on lessons that needed to be taught. Lessons that it took losing a piece of my heart for me to learn myself.</div>
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<em>That</em> is what the Exiled trilogy is about. Underneath the simple covers, past the strong language and the few steamy scenes (it is a paranormal romance trilogy, after all), there's a deeper meaning. Lessons within the story. Lessons that took loss for me to find, but was meant to pass on.</div>
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The trilogy wasn't truly done until I had overhauled it several months ago. Perhaps it's just coincidence, or fate, or maybe it was something more - because this year Oct 18th happens to fall on a Sunday. I don't know what to call it. The trilogy has angels within it, after all, among other things. But it's not just a story. It wasn't written just to entertain, but to teach. To pass on lessons. It was written for a <em>purpose</em>.</div>
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People still tell me from time to time that Cami is an angel in Heaven now. If that's the case, then Heaven is right here, because I see him every day in the way our family dog, Jaena, greets my wife at the door, and how she clings to her just like Cami did. I see him in Jaena at night too, when she snuggles up to my wife just like Cami used to. I see him every time a butterfly flutters by, because it makes me think of a part in the first book of the trilogy where humans are compared to butterflies - that the energy within us that most people like to think of as their soul is wrapped around by our bodies like a shell, and when we die, that energy becomes something more beautiful, like a butterfly emerging from its own cocoon. I see Cami in every small act of kindness one person gives to another.</div>
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And I see him in what I do. This isn't just a hobby for me, like some people think. What made Cami my greatest teacher was his innocence, his unconditional love toward others - because his light hadn't been darkened by the greed, the lies, the negativity that the media constantly reports on, and the selfishness that blankets our world today. He radiated outwards, not inwards. And as long as I'm writing, as long as I refuse to give up this job that focuses out to others like he did, Cami is alive in me, too.</div>
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In honor of my teacher, who through his loss showed me what is truly important in life, this Sunday on Oct. 18th, I'm running a promotion and marking all three books in the trilogy down from their regular $2.99 price to $0.99 each. Life is about what we can do for others, and I want to do this for all of you.</div>
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The books are <em>The Exiled</em>, <em>The Exiled: Continuation</em>, and <em>The Exiled: Infinity</em>. Below are the links for the first book, and the other two can be gotten to from there.</div>
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US - <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00L9NO5U8">http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00L9NO5U8</a> (In Memory of Cami Promo begins at 12am PST)</div>
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UK - <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00L9NO5U8">http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00L9NO5U8</a> (In Memory of Cami Promo begins at 12am GMT)</div>
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"<em><strong>To learn what's truly important in life, all one needs to do is look in the eyes of a small child - one who still looks upon the world with innocent eyes - who has not learned about lies, hatred, and selfishness, but knows only the emotion of love. It is they who are the real teachers. They are the ones we should strive to learn from, and be more like. If we could learn to see once more through innocent eyes, imagine how beautiful our world would become</strong></em>."</div>
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--- <strong><em>Scott A. Borgman</em></strong></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12989918707512918674noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7485035040785690692.post-75979831340958527572015-10-02T16:59:00.000-07:002015-10-29T09:50:10.161-07:00A Deeper MeaningOne of the things that every author hopes for is that readers enjoy the stories they write. This is no different for me. I love following along with the characters in Tal'Avern, writing down their experiences, their struggles - both physical and emotional, and I hope that readers not only enjoy the story as it continues throughout the books, but that they really come to love the characters.<br />
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But while the Chronicles are written purely to entertain, the Exiled trilogy rides on a different track. Besides being in a different genre (18<complete id="goog_2113302675">+ </complete>Paranormal Romance rather than YA Epic Fantasy), the trilogy was written for a purpose... not just to entertain, but with a far deeper, more real meaning within the pages of the story throughout all three books.<br />
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So while I certainly hope that the Chronicles entertain, it's been my hope from the moment I started writing the Exiled trilogy 3 years ago that along with an interesting story, the deeper meaning within those books would be seen and felt. That was the purpose, and the reason they were written.<br />
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Recently, I received two reviews from the first book in the trilogy, which is simply titled <em>The Exiled</em>, which I wanted to share - not to brag about the 5 star rating they both gave the book, but because both readers sought to relay what the book was about. That may seem like an easy task, but it's far more difficult to write a review when you're trying not to give away any spoilers.<br />
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<span class="a-letter-space"></span>***** <a class="a-size-base a-link-normal review-title a-color-base a-text-bold" href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/customer-reviews/R217B5MLF3AG0B/ref=cm_cr_pr_rvw_ttl?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B00L9NO5U8">Reeling and left in awe</a><br />
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<span class="a-size-base a-color-secondary review-byline"><span class="a-color-secondary">By </span><span class="a-letter-space"></span><a class="a-size-base a-link-normal author" href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/pdp/profile/A33QSO9REE1E7J/ref=cm_cr_pr_pdp?ie=UTF8">K. Meador</a></span><span class="a-declarative" data-action="cr-popup" data-cr-popup="{"width":"340","title":"Help","url":"/gp/help/customer/display.html/ref=cm_cr_dp_bdg_help?ie=UTF8&nodeId=14279681&pop-up=1#tr","height":"340"}"></span><span class="a-letter-space"></span><span class="a-size-base a-color-secondary review-date"> on September 27, 2015</span></div>
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<a class="a-size-mini a-link-normal a-color-secondary" href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Exiled-Trilogy-Book-ebook/product-reviews/B00L9NO5U8/ref=cm_cr_pr_rvw_fmt?ie=UTF8&formatType=current_format">Format: Kindle Edition</a><i class="a-icon a-icon-text-separator"></i><span class="a-declarative" data-action="reviews:show-avp" data-reviews:show-avp="{"allowLinkDefault":"1"}"> <a class="a-link-normal" data-reftag="cm_cr_pr_rvw_rvwer" href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Exiled-Trilogy-Book-ebook/product-reviews/B00L9NO5U8/ref=cm_cr_pr_rvw_rvwer?ie=UTF8&reviewerType=avp_only_reviews"><span class="a-size-mini a-color-state a-text-bold">Verified Purchase</span></a></span></div>
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<span class="a-size-base review-text">I almost cried when this book was over and then I remembered it was only book one in a trilogy. I am looking forward to the next two books. The cover first caught my eyes with the black background and piercing green eyes, which are a representation within the story. Then the words: Hunted by one side. Sworn to be protected by the other. Truly, I was looking forward to the battle ahead just at the mention of those words.<br /><br />The beginning of this story was very gripping. It made me catch my breath and wonder what was going to happen next. And with a twist I wasn’t expecting, it kept my attention and I didn’t want to stop reading. Curse us for the need to eat, sleep and work that prevented me from reading this book all the way through in one setting.<br /><br />The rest of the story followed with action turning pages. You have characters that you loved and loved to hate others. I struggle to find the words to describe this book without giving away spoilers. There is an emotional depth to this story that touched me and left me having “wow” moments.<br /><br />I highly recommend this book and will leave you with a quote from it:<br /><br />“Nothing else matters except the one thing that is before you, the one goal that you’re reaching for. When you doubt in yourself, you create the one barrier that is impossible to overcome. The only thing that can stop you from reaching your goals is yourself David.”<br /><br />(If there is only one book that you read this year, make it this one. Yes, it is THAT good.)</span></div>
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<span class="a-size-base review-text">***** <span class="a-letter-space"></span><a class="a-size-base a-link-normal review-title a-color-base a-text-bold" href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/customer-reviews/R3QKYMAKXQ9386/ref=cm_cr_pr_rvw_ttl?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B00L9NO5U8">This book is beautifully crafted, brilliantly written</a></span><div class="a-row">
<span class="a-size-base review-text"><span class="a-size-base a-color-secondary review-byline"><span class="a-color-secondary">By </span><span class="a-letter-space"></span><a class="a-size-base a-link-normal author" href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/pdp/profile/ABDY3GY9FNNRO/ref=cm_cr_pr_pdp?ie=UTF8">Barbara Chioffi</a></span><span class="a-declarative" data-action="cr-popup" data-cr-popup="{"width":"340","title":"Help","url":"/gp/help/customer/display.html/ref=cm_cr_dp_bdg_help?ie=UTF8&nodeId=14279681&pop-up=1#tr","height":"340"}"></span><span class="a-letter-space"></span><span class="a-size-base a-color-secondary review-date"> on October 2, 2015</span></span></div>
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<span class="a-size-base review-text">I finished The Exiled by Scott Borgman this morning and I have been thinking of what I wanted to say. There are literally pages where I underlined every word, so many, that flipping through them is a sea of orange.<br /><br />This book is beautifully crafted, brilliantly written, and contains so much thought that I can hardly find words to express my feelings properly. The eternal struggle between good and evil is portrayed with more understanding than you would expect from an author Mr. Borgman's age. His hope for humanity shines throughout the story and I found myself crying at the end, which rarely happens. I remember my son asking me when he was only five years old, "Mama, if Satan asked God to forgive him, would he?" The only other comment I will make is to say read this book for yourself to experience the journey into the soul of man. It is worth every minute of your time, if not more.<br /><br />Outstanding, Mr. Borgman. The Exiled is one of my top books read in quite a while, and I am excited because there are two more books in this trilogy that I look forward to reading.<br /><br /> If I could give it a higher rating, I would, but I do give it the highest that I can. 5 stars.</span></div>
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If you'd like to check out The Exiled, here are the links for both the US and UK:</div>
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US: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00L9NO5U8/">http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00L9NO5U8/</a></div>
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UK: <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00L9NO5U8/">http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00L9NO5U8/</a></div>
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Thank you for your support, everyone. I truly appreciate it.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12989918707512918674noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7485035040785690692.post-10530191632853075432015-09-17T17:53:00.000-07:002015-09-17T17:53:05.663-07:00The Power of WordsForewarning before you read any further, I'm going to bitch. And swear. Because I need to get this off my chest - not only for me, but because I'm sure there are more than a few who can relate to what I'm going to say, who know exactly how I feel.<br />
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My day started out pretty good today. I'd had a terrible Writer's Block issue for several days, and early this morning around 2am I was FINALLY able to break through it. By that time, I was getting tired, so I got a little bit written in my latest WIP, which will be the 4th book in my Tal'Avern Chronicles series (epic fantasy), before calling it a night, thinking to start fresh in the morning.<br />
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When I woke up, I was ready to go. I was excited to get back to work. Let me repeat that. I was <em>excited</em> to get back to work. And then my day was completely shot within a matter of minutes - by a single phone call.<br />
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It's hard enough trying to fight through the stigmatisms that Indie author often face. We've been referred to as '2nd' or '3rd rate' writers at times. Why? Because we choose to be Indie authors? Because we choose to have the freedom to write what we want, when we want, <em>how</em> we want, instead of conforming to traditional ways, instead of giving up that freedom (and our rights to our work) if we were to sign a contract?<br />
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I'm not going to sugarcoat it. I fucking hate those terms: 2nd and 3rd rate writers. They're degrading, insulting, and completely lacking in any human decency whatsoever. And they've been flung at Indie authors on more than one occasion.<br />
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My guess is it's because of our very nature - we write what we want, which offers readers more than what traditional publishers tell them they want. That's just my opinion. But as long as I'm bitching, I'll say that Indies have opened up new doors for readers, who now have a limitless range of works because of us. Personally, I think maybe the traditional publishers feel a bit like we've taken that power of God out of their hands and given it to the readers, where it belongs. The trads can't dictate what readers have available to them now by what they choose to publish, which has less to do with reader desires and more to do with what really matters to the trads: fucking money.<br />
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Now readers have been given that freedom of choice through Indies, something that wasn't possible before we came along, if you think about it. At least, from my point of view. That's how I see it. And while I digress from that phone call which fucked up my day, this needs to be said as well.<br />
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As Indie writers, we write for the sheer love of writing and because we want to entertain readers. Sure, we all dream of being able to make a career out of it. But realistically, we know that by choosing to be ourselves, to have that freedom to write whatever we want, whenever we want, and however we want, it may very likely chain us down and keep us from that dream. <br />
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It's not because we're 2nd and 3rd rate writers. It's that there are Indies who write a book just to check it off their Bucket List, who read it through once and hit that publish button because the excitement of being able to call themselves a published author overshadows the greater need to edit, edit again, and edit a third time... who think that their first draft was 'good enough.' No first draft is <em>ever</em> good enough. Even the greats will say so.<br />
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There are ones who toss together a cover they made using clip art that looks like a 6th grader created it, once again, with the words 'good enough!'<br />
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Those are the ones the trads point at and say 'Look! Poorly edited, weak looking cover, typos all over the place... this is what you get with Indies!' Picking out the bad apples and lumping every Indie in with them. It's like a constant smear campaign that we're fighting against.<br />
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But there <em>are</em> those of us out there who are never satisfied with our work - we're the Indies who have no Bucket List book. That's our debut book, and other books <em>will</em> follow. There's no 'one and done' with us. We're in it for the long haul. We edit our books three, four, five times, and each time we find something that could be written a <em>little</em> bit different, improve a scene a <em>little</em> bit more by adding a few lines here, taking a few sentences out there... until we reach a point where we grudgingly accept the fact that while <em>we</em> will never be satisfied, <em>readers</em> will enjoy the book we've written.<br />
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We pour our hearts and souls, our blood, sweat, and tears into every book. From the writing to the editing, to designing a cover (either done ourselves if we have that artistic ability as well or working with a designer if we don't) that we hope will help catch a reader's eye and arouse their curiosity about the book, and the promoting once it's published, the hours accumulate quickly.<br />
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Throughout those hours, which can reach into the thousands, we've sacrificed more than anyone will ever know for the single reason that we want to give readers our very best. For us, 'good enough' means 'sit your ass back down and go over it again!' That phrase does not exist for us, because with our readers foremost in our thoughts, there is no such thing as 'good enough.' There is only 'make it better.'<br />
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Certainly, we hope our books will receive rave reviews and rise high on the lists, which will get them noticed more, that's a given in this business. Everyone wants to see their books hit a #1 spot. Not everyone gets that coveted spot. That's the nature of the beast.<br />
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As Indies, we have to work harder, put in more hours, and sacrifice more because we're fighting against those stigmatisms which have been set upon us. We don't fight back against those childish name calling tactics by slinging mud, though. We're better than that. We fight back by doing what we do best: giving readers the best damn stories out there, many of which blow some of these traditionally published 'best sellers' right out of the fucking water.<br />
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And yet, despite all of our hard work and all of our efforts... despite all of the sacrifices we willingly impose on ourselves so that we can entertain readers, we're not machines. We're like everyone else, and we need support. We need our friends and relatives, our husbands and wives, our parents and our children to support us. We don't always get that support.<br />
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As a writer, I know damn well what kind of power words have. That's my forte, after all - writing in such a way that the story forms a picture in the minds of my readers and brings out their emotions. That's the power words have.<br />
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How many hours have I worked over the past three years between writing, editing, and promoting the 6 books I have out right now, and now working on writing the seventh? Around ten thousand hours, to be honest. Yeah, work that out on a calculator. 10 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year, for 3 years. And I'm not even joking. Some of those days were longer. Some shorter. But on average, it's accurate.<br />
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This morning, I was ready to get back to writing, to keep the story going, to see what happened to the characters next. And then my cell phone rang.<br />
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In two minutes, that excitement was completely destroyed. That desire to see what happened next in the story... gone. My day started out looking great. In two minutes, it went to shit when I was told in a blunt, almost disgusted way: 'you need to be working.' As if I've been sitting around with my thumb up my ass for the last three years.<br />
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'Working' wasn't being referred to as working on my next book, or in reference to any of the previous six that I've had published. Those thousands of hours spent apparently don't constitute as 'working.' Those three, four, and five times editing each book because I'm so fucking critical of myself that I expect nothing but my very best for my readers doesn't constitute as 'working.' Because I'm not in a factory, or flipping burgers, or working at some other 'traditional' job, I'm not 'working.'<br />
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What pisses me off about this whole thing is that I <em>have</em> been working. I've been working my ass off. For me? No. For my readers. I don't give two shits that my job isn't 'traditional.' If I wasn't meant to be a writer, I would never have been given the gift to begin with.<br />
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Anyone who thinks that it's easy to just pop out a book has never tried to do it. I mean something more than a 5,000 word short story. I'm talking about an actual <em>book</em>, a novel: 50,000 words minimum qualifies as a novel. Believe me, it's not easy by any means. In fact, it's the hardest fucking job I've ever had. I write epic fantasy, which pushes that number up to 100,000 words minimum. And that's just the writing part of it. That's not even considering the editing, the cover design, the promoting. Tack on countless hours to those things too, and one begins to get a bit better picture that there's far more to being an Indie than just writing a book.<br />
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I'm not out there fast talking someone into buying a car that I know they can't afford, but that I'll talk them into buying anyway just so I can get the commission for the sale, knowing damn well they'll probably get it repo'd in six months because they can't make the payments.<br />
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I'm not sitting in Congress looking at the minimum wage, knowing that the cost of living has skyrocketed to the point that a person has to hold two full time jobs just to make ends meet, and instead of insisting the minimum wage be increased to help out the masses, voting to give myself a raise instead.<br />
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I'm sure as hell not working at a job that I swore an oath to do then turned around and refused to do when the law changed, claiming it went against my beliefs while not even allowing those under me to do <em>their</em> jobs... and getting paid for not doing my fucking job instead of being impeached out of it on the spot no less.<br />
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I'm working at a selfless job that is focused on others, not myself. It may not be bringing in 'the big bucks', but it's more satisfying than any other job I have <em>ever</em> had before <em>because</em> it's focused on others and not on me. I'm writing because I love to write and because I want to bring others enjoyment. There's nothing more satisfying than knowing my readers enjoy walking alongside the characters I've written about.<br />
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Ten thousand hours in three years. <em>Ten thousand</em>. But someone said I need to be working. Even without saying it, the message was clear: That's not a job. Even unspoken words have power. That power turned my day to shit in two minutes.<br />
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But you know what? I won't go down that easily. My day may have sunk down for a few hours, and I may have questioned, my resolve may have wavered... but writing this, getting this off my chest... I'm climbing back out of that fucking hole. I may have been knocked down into it, but I am far from out of this fight. I was given this gift of writing for a reason, and I'll be damned if I'm going to give it up. This gift has given both myself and my readers experiences that no factory job, no burger-flipping job, no car selling job... no other job <em>period</em> can give.<br />
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Readers and I have stood beside angels and old gods. We've fought both against and alongside Lucifer. We've become close friends with thieves, Shadow Walkers, mages, and elves. We've cheered for them, cried with them, felt fear alongside them. We've seen things and done things that can only be done within the pages of a book. I won't give that up, because if I do then I'll be disappointing my readers by not writing any more. That is a line I wont allow myself to cross. My readers are worth fighting for. I won't disappoint them.<br />
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I know the kind of power words can have. Spoken or written, they can have a profound impact. They can be positive or negative. They can lift us up and they can break our hearts. They can bring a smile, or bring tears to our eyes. They can make us laugh or make us weep. They can instill hope, fear, joy, and rage. Words have a power unlike any other.<br />
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A few words today claiming that what I do wasn't 'working' struck deep. It hurt. Words can bring pain too, and those stung like a thousand tiny knives piercing my heart. For a while, they made me feel like I hadn't done anything worthwhile in the last three years.<br />
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And then I went to my Amazon page. I looked at the reviews that I've gotten from some readers. One reader in particular, who had gone through the three books in the Chronicles and then moved on to the Exiled trilogy had posted reviews for each book. I read the first line of the latest review she had posted from the last book in the Exiled trilogy: 'I have become a big fan of Scott Borgman's writing.'<br />
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Words can lift us out from the darkest depths and give us the strength to carry on despite the opposition, too. Those ten thousand hours have <em>not</em> been wasted. I may not have millions of fans, but there <em>are</em> people out there who truly enjoy my books, and that's why I write. For other's enjoyment.<br />
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Five words brought me down earlier. Now, I have five words in response: <em>I have work to do</em>.<br />
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Scott's Amazon page: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/author/scottborgman">www.amazon.com/author/scottborgman</a><br />
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Twitter: <a href="http://www.twitter.com/scottborgman">www.twitter.com/scottborgman</a><br />
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Facebook: <a href="http://www.facebook.com/saborgman">www.facebook.com/saborgman</a><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12989918707512918674noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7485035040785690692.post-9155019043017353152015-08-17T22:48:00.000-07:002015-08-18T00:17:43.130-07:00A Family in NeedAnyone who has visited my blog knows I'm not much of a blogger. I tend to blog only when I feel very strongly about something. So let me get right to the point. I want to ask you for your help.<br />
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Karli Rush has recently suffered one of the hardest things that life can throw at us. She has lost her husband. Her children have lost their father. This particular story strikes me very close to my heart because I know exactly what she's going through right now. I'd gone down a similar road almost 5 years ago with the loss of my youngest son. Because of my own personal experience, my heart is literally crying for her and her family right now. The link at the end of this blog will detail her story and situation.<br />
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Anyone who has ever gone through something like this knows what I'm talking about. I don't need to detail any of the emotions, nor speak about the literal waterfalls of tears that I know from experience, Karli has already shed - or the countless others that have yet to fall. I've shed more than a few tears already after hearing about what's happened, and I don't doubt I will shed many more in the coming days for her and her children.<br />
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Five dollars. That is what I'm asking for Karli. Five dollars from you, donated to the giveforward fundraiser that has been set up for her.<br />
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Five dollars in itself may seem like a drop in the pond, a tiny ripple that makes no difference. But add another drop. And another. And another. Add a thousand drops, two thousand, five thousand.<br />
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A single drop may cause merely a ripple, but enough drops in the pond can cause a flood. It's a combined effort. Each little drop adds up. It's giving up very little, nothing so much that it will truly be missed, in exchange for helping out a complete stranger. <br />
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I don't know Karli. I've never met her. But she's a person who has lost someone close to her suddenly, unexpectedly. Like the rest of us, she's a human being, which makes her family to each and every one of us. And family helps each other out when they're in need.<br />
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Below, you'll find the link to the giveforward fundraiser for Karli. I'm asking you to please go to the link, click on the DONATE button, and in the box, donate five dollars (the minimum amount)... more if you are able to, but at least the five dollar minimum.<br />
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Five dollars CAN make a difference, if enough drops go into that pond. The goal for Karli is $5000. I think we can do much better than that, if we all work together as a family and each donate even the minimum amount.<br />
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Life isn't about what you can get, but what you can give. It's about holding each other up through the worst of times and being a single drop of water in the pond that adds with others to create that flood. Five dollars will not be missed by any of us, but together we can help Karli, and take away some of the monetary worry that she's facing while she tries to come to grips with her loss.<br />
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To Karli, if you ever read this, I am so sorry for your loss. I hope that in some small way, I have been able to help, and that others will add their own drop to the pond as I have done.<br />
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Tearfully,<br />
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Scott A. Borgman<br />
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<a href="https://www.giveforward.com/fundraiser/htt9/karli-rush-family-in-need">https://www.giveforward.com/fundraiser/htt9/karli-rush-family-in-need</a><br />
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