Wednesday, July 19, 2017

Interview

Hey everyone!

I got interviewed by Fiona McVie for her blog. If you want to take a gander at it, you can find it here:

https://authorsinterviews.wordpress.com/2017/07/19/here-is-my-interview-with-chris-walters/

It was super fun!

For the record, in the process of thinking on my feet, I forgot to mention an author whose work I would like others to discover. Daccari Buchelli has a site of his own, at http://www.fantasybooks411.com check out this fantastic author's work.

And just as a reminder:


Monday, July 17, 2017

Being a story-teller

I have been a storyteller all of my life. I love it. I was thinking this week about how our culture has changed. Authors bitch all the time about how, "No one reads anymore". To be candid, I sometimes bitch about that myself. But, it isn't true. People read, but their habits, patience, and acceptance of new ideas have changed. Everyone and their sister read the Harry Potter books. It wasn't just the few of us book nerds who were able to buy 450 million books which JK Rowling has written. But, what do we find if we look at her story in particular?

JK Rowling suffered for a long time in the same rut many authors find themselves in today. Her stories were not accepted, until they were. What is that magical spark which changed her from languishing in her writing to being a successful author? I guess if I could tell you that, I would already have sold a lot more books. She is a brilliant writer. But, even she struggled when she got away from the Harry Potter universe. She had good sales because her name was on the cover, but not the kind of sales she was used to. Is this because she can only write about wizarding kids?  I don't think so. It is because we, as readers, tend to gravitate to stories which have tickled our brains before. We like characters we know, places we know. This is why Fan Fiction is one of the most popular forms of writing these days.

So, what does this all mean for me? Why am I writing about this? It is basically to let you all know that I am still writing. For most authors, a 7 month span between books is simply not a big deal. But I can write a novel in about 6 weeks, and after a year where I put 4 books and 2 short stories on Amazon, I have this year put nothing out there. I am considering other mediums, other venues for the stories I tell. I will still write novels, because that is what I do. But, I have tried my hand in a pilot script this year (hopefully I will have more to tell you on that soon); I have been toying with comic books to get some of the stories out there; I have played with the idea of different forms of publishing. 2017 seems to be my year of exploring connection with readers and fans of the characters. So, tell me, which would you rather see? New stories, in new universes, with new characters? Or would you rather see new mediums which flesh out the characters you already know? What would tickle that part of your brain and bring you enjoyment?


Sunday, June 25, 2017

Age of Mystics free on Kindle!

Another freebie, you ask? I answer, "Yes, indeed!" For those who have never read it, start your journey in the Saga of Mystics with Book One: Age of Mystics. It is a contemporary fantasy, post-apocalyptic dystopia! You may say to yourself, "Hey, that sounds just like reality." If so, it is different, because people have powers! Monday through Friday, 6/26-30, download the ebook free at:


Tuesday, May 23, 2017

Book review - Tapasya by David Gilchrist

I suggested this book at Christmas, when I bought it. It looked intriguing, but life got in the way, and I have only just finished it. I give it a solid 5 stars.

World-building must be the most difficult part of being a fantasy writer. To take a blank page, and through a narrative, paint a picture which allows the reader to “see” the world in which a story takes place is amazing. In Tapasya, David Gilchrist shows mastery at world-building. I found it intriguing and delightful to read this story. The tale opens and each page illuminates more of the fabric of this mysterious place and its people. His descriptions gave me detail which allowed me to immerse myself in this story. I could not ask for more from a book. Independent Authors with a good narrative style are difficult to find. David Gilchrist is certainly a treasure in this regard. If you are looking for a fantasy tale to keep you intrigued, and wondering what comes next, get a copy of Tapasya today. You will not be disappointed! 



Sunday, May 7, 2017

A little teaser for the upcoming book 4 of the Saga of Mystics

Just thought I would drop a little teaser for the upcoming book four of the Saga of Mystics (Currently titled "Blood of Mystics"). I hope you enjoy:


Kyle stood in the cold, spring air looking directly into eyes he had seen before. It was not only that he recognized the gray, lifeless orbs of any of Jack’s puppets. It was that the face surrounding the eyes was so familiar. It filled him with grief, and more than a little dread. Here he was, once again, ready to face a lifeless adversary, when the real enemy hid in some cavern or wood playing out the game like these dead people were simply pawns. It always struck Kyle how sad these situations were, but never more than when he knew the person he faced. This body was the hollow shell of someone he had known a long time ago, someone he had seen every day at one point in his life. But now, the bloodless skin and gray eyes darted from one side to another furtively. This was not the man he knew. It was merely a meat puppet acting as a sentry on the road south.
            With a sigh of resignation, Kyle willed the light curtain, which surrounded him and kept the rest of the world from seeing him, to fall away. The searching gray eyes instantly stopped, focusing on the man who appeared before him. The dead body stared and let out a cool, dry whisper, “Kyle Ward.”

            Kyle nodded, “Hello, Jack. I just wanted you to know we were back. Get yourself ready, the council will come calling.”

Friday, May 5, 2017

Update

After an early part of the year working on scripts (still working, but need to get back to the real job as a novelist), I am back to work on upcoming novels. I have 6 outlines done and have begun 4 works-in-progress from those. What can you expect? You can expect a couple more books this year, at the very least including the 4th novel in the Saga of Mystics (working title "Blood of Mystics"), a second Kelvin Novel (working title "Kelvin Half Elven"), a new post-apocalyptic series, and few one-offs which are connected to some of my other work.

I envy people who have covers already prepared for their Works-in-progress. I am not that organized. I usually get covers just before the book is released. I need to get better at that because I hear a lot of folks won't read posts like this without a picture. I still want to write something which utilizes Tarot. I don't know anything about the practice, but I love the iconography. I had originally planned to use Tarot cards on the cover of all Mystics novels, but the lack of any use in the story made that problematic.



I want to thank everyone for the kind words and support I have received and the genuine interest in seeing the next step in the Saga of Mystics. I have no plans currently for other Mystics Short Stories, but those may come up if an idea doesn't make it in the final draft of Blood of Mystics.

So, that is my update! I hope you are all having a great Spring. Let me know if you have any questions about the narrative in either current series, and I will answer what I can without spoiling it all. My readers are the best, and I am grateful for all of you!

Tuesday, April 11, 2017

Whose story is this anyway?

For reasons I am not going in to I was wondering who people thought was the main character of the Saga of Mystics. It is, of course, like asking who the main character is in Game of Thrones or The Walking Dead. But, still, help me out! Who do you think is the driving narrative character behind the story. (for instance in The Walking Dead, there are many people who believe it is Rick Grimes' story, while many others believe it is the narrative of Carl Grimes, about his father). Which character drives this narrative?


Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Buy any of my works on Kindle for 99cents!

I have set the price of the e-book versions of all of my works to $0.99. My work on scripts is taking up most of my time right now, but I wanted to try and gain some new readers. So, Tell your friends! amazon.com/author/cwalters to find any of them.


Monday, January 30, 2017

A few changes in plans

After conversations with other authors and friends, I am in the process of attempting to work with producers to develop the Saga of Mystics as a television series. For the moment, this will put my other works on the back-burner while I write the pilot episode and prepare the content for potential small screen distribution. I will continue to update everyone, as I receive news on the process. But, keep your fingers crossed for this development, and if you have a favorite show which you think Age of Mystics reminds you of, please send me a message or post a comment to let me know. I want to contact producers, show-runners and writers about their experience to make sure I am following the right procedures. Thanks!


Sunday, January 1, 2017

Shadow House - Chapter One

I am posting the first chapter of the YA paranormal I am currently writing. It will be my 5th novel, and will be out later this year. It is titled "Shadow House", and I would give you the description but I have not yet written it. Feedback is always appreciated.

(disclaimer: since the book isn't finished, names, places, relationships and plot points could all change)

1
            The cold chill which crept across her skin told Margaret she was not alone. For some reason, this particular visitor did not want to be seen. It happened from time to time. She knew from asking some of them that it took some effort to be seen, and sometimes her visitors just didn’t have the energy for it. More often than not, though, there was some reason they didn’t want to be seen.
            “You can come out,” she stated to the empty space around her, “no one here wants to harm you.”
            She received no reply, so she leaned back into the high backed office chair behind her dad’s desk. A deputy leaned into the doorway.
            “Did you say something, Meg?” he asked her.
            “Just talking to myself,” she answered, and he stepped back out of sight.
            She immediately knew what he was thinking. It was what they all thought. She was strange. She talked to herself. She thought she saw things that weren’t there. But Margaret Cooper knew they were incorrect. She was a medium.
            Medium is such an odd word for what she was. She had always liked the term spiritist, but no one seemed to know what that meant. The term medium seemed designed to remind her of how ordinary she was. The first person who had ever asked her if she was a medium, she had replied that she was “extra-medium” but they hadn’t understood the pun. Margaret was an average pre-teen girl from a small Colorado mountain town. She had always seen spirits, but she firmly believed that all kids see them until the adults slowly convince you to conform and stop seeing the world around you. You aren’t really growing up in this world until you stop believing in Santa Claus, and you stop seeing ghosts. So, most kids just stop. She couldn’t say how they were able to do it. Ever since the accident, the spirits seemed to seek her out.
Two years before, in the summer, she and her grandfather had been in a car accident. It was bad. They had been taking a trip up to the reservoir to fish, and an elk had run in front of them. Margaret never remembered anything about the crash, but she woke up two weeks later at the hospital to hear that the car had gone off the road and that her grandfather had died. From that point on, she couldn’t have avoided the spirits even if she had wanted to. They sought her out.
“Yeah I will talk to her about it,” she heard her dad’s voice outside the office. The response was from the desk sergeant, it was low and she couldn’t hear it. But she could easily hear the frustration in her dad’s voice when he shot back, “I said I would talk to her about it, Mike. What more do you want?”
Dan Cooper walked into his office. Margaret always loved the way her dad looked in his uniform, all pressed and clean. He was the Sherriff of their small county, and all of the people here worked for him. He had been elected three times now, but had been the youngest Sherriff in Colorado when he had first taken office. Two years ago, just before her accident, they had taken over the city police here in Cripple Creek also. The people of the town, and the people of the county, thought they were better served by having only one law enforcement agency in town. Her dad led them all.
“Have you been in the men’s bathroom, sweet pea?” he asked her as he walked toward the desk, some reports in his hands taking most of his attention.
She got up from his chair and walked around the desk to lean against some shelves. “Why would I go into the men’s bathroom?” she queried.
Her dad looked up at her over his reports, and she knew what he was going to say, “Answering a question with a question is an indicator one is trying to hide something.”
His stare burrowing into her, she knew she had to answer in a manner he wanted it framed. “No,” she answered, “I have not been in the men’s bathroom. In fact, I have never been in the men’s bathroom.”
His curt nod told her that he not only believed her, but that it was what he had expected. “Why did you think I had been in the men’s bathroom?” she wondered.
“I didn’t,” he said without looking up, “Deputy Mike thought you might have been. The soap dispenser is on the fritz again. He says it only happens when you are here.”
She was always getting blamed for the soap dispenser running, the paper towel dispenser shooting out too much paper, or the automatic doors opening constantly without anyone standing in front of them.
“Maybe it was ghosts,” she replied sheepishly.
Her dad put his reports down and looked up at her again. He had little patience for the direction this conversation was going. “Meg. We have spoken about this before. You spoke about it to Dr. Fellows. Ghosts aren’t real. You know that.”
“I know,” she quickly acquiesced, “I was making a joke.”
Margaret had no interest in returning to the psychologist in Colorado Springs which her dad had forced her to meet with after the accident. The man smelled of cheese, and she couldn’t stand watching the spirits which hovered around him while he tried to convince her they didn’t exist. Eventually, she had verbally given in, just to keep from seeing him again. In public, and to her dad, she had to keep up the fa├žade that there were no such things as ghosts. In her own mind, she knew the opposite to be true.
“Well, pumpkin, Dad’s got a lot of work to do before he can head home. Do you want to wait for me, or walk up to the house?”
Dan Cooper almost never used a person’s given name. Everyone was “buddy”, or “brother”, or in her case, “Pumpkin”, “Peanut”, or “Sweet Pea.” The exceptions were when he wanted people to know he was being serious, as when he had just called her Meg.
“Speaking about oneself in the third person is a key indicator that one does not wish to hurt his daughter’s feelings when one sends her out of his office,” she smiled.
A large grin spread across her dad’s face. “You know; it takes a special kind of mind to be that funny right before one gets grounded.”
Margaret giggled, “Okay, Daddy. I will walk home.”
“You have your phone on you, right?” he asked.
“Of course,” she answered, “I am a teen girl.”
“It wasn’t a knock, kiddo. I just want you to call me when you get home. It should take about ten minutes.”
Margaret nodded, “I love you, Daddy.”
His eyes twinkled when he looked at her, “I love you too, peanut. Ten minutes.”
Margaret headed out the door of the office, giving Deputy Mike a glare, as she headed to the front. He just shook his head like he knew what she had done.
“Bye, Deputy Kinch!” she called out to the woman behind the reception desk.
“Bye, Meg,” the young woman called back, “see you around.”
Margaret walked out the automatic doors and turned up the street. A boy her age was leaning against the wall. He had slicked back hair, a white t-shirt, and rolled up jeans, just like he did every day.
“Can you stop with the doors, the soap dispensers and the paper towels? You are going to get me in even more trouble?” She begged him.
He laughed a devilish giggle, “Did it get under that buttwad’s skin again? That guy is such a little weasel.”
“Deputy Mike is my dad’s senior deputy. I don’t need him constantly giving me the stink eye, so cut it out,” she ordered. “Why can’t you take my dad’s work seriously? He deserves some respect.”
“I do respect your dad’s work, Meg.” Suddenly he was very somber, “I respect your dad. I just think everyone in this town needs to lighten up a little.”
Slick had been one of the first spirits she had encountered once she had come out of the hospital. Unlike all of the others, he aged along with her, always seeming to be about her age. His fashion sense told her he had maybe lived in the fifties, but he didn’t like to talk about himself so it was hard to tell. He had been around eleven when she had first seem him, the same age she was. Now he was around thirteen. It was so unusual, in her experience, for ghosts to age. But, she chalked it up to not knowing that much about them, and let it go.
During this conversation, she had turned toward the wall. It was important that the people of the town not see her seemingly talking to herself. The kids at school already thought her crazy. But, she had only ten minutes to get home, so she turned back toward the west to head there. What she saw next changed her trajectory.
Two Sherriff’s cars sped by and screeched into the parking lot she had just left. Deputies Campbell and Devereaux rushed into the office. Something was amiss. Margaret was supposed to go home, but something about this drew her in. She turned back around and began towards the station again.
“Meg,” Slick called to her, “Your dad wants you to get home.”
She heard the worry in his voice, before she even saw the apparitions. Small shadows danced about the two deputy’s cars. They weren’t like other apparitions. There was malice in their being.
“Please, Margaret,” Slick pleaded, using her given name, “Let it go. This isn’t for you.”

Margaret ignored him and headed back to her father’s work.

Tuesday, December 13, 2016

Christmas Recommendation - Tapasya by David Gilchrist

"Broken and close to death, Wist staggers into the walled city on Tapasya and collapses at the feet of a statue commemorating his likeness."

So begins the tale of the amnesiac Wist, and his return to his land and attempts to recover the memories which will help him save it. Compelling and different, with action and suspense, David Gilchrist constructs a world rich in intrigue. 

This Christmas, travel to Tapasya through his words and the mental imagery they provide. You will not be sorry. Available on Amazon Kindle for $2.99 or in paperback for $12.50.

#ChristmasRecommendation #KindleChristmas #fantasybgs

Get it here!

Tapasya (The Redemption of Wist Book 1) by [Gilchrist, David]

Interview

Hey everyone! I got interviewed by Fiona McVie for her blog. If you want to take a gander at it, you can find it here: https://authorsin...