Psst! Hey friend,

Just a reminder that phone cameras are dumb and always make my forehead look like a fivehead.

Also, MERRY CHRISTMAS! And Happy Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Festivus, etc...

Oh, and Life Day. Can’t forget the Wookiees.

7 days left until THE LIST 2016 contest comes to an end. Bought your copy of Dax Harrison yet? Good. Convinced all your friends and family to buy it too? That’d be swell.

Whatever the outcome, let’s hope the new year brings a swift publishing date for Dax and his pals.

Cheers!
Tony V.

It’s alliiiiiiiivvvvveeee! 

More accurately, it’s desiiigggnnnnedddd! A huge congratulations and thank you goes out to Maria Laguna-Valenzuela for putting her energy behind this project and coming up with such a mega cover.  I, for one, like the book so much more now! (Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always been a fan, but now it’s got a certain je ne sais quoi about it, you know?) Maria was inspired to help me create even more meaning behind this story, and I’m honoured to be partnering with her in this way. Thank you, Maria.

From my last update you already know how blown away I was by all the submissions and support I received, and that hasn’t changed. Still blown away, still happier than a pig in... ahem. Thank you to all who helped make this happen. 

You can’t see me, but I’m dancing right now. Exactly like this guy.

.

Just over 20 days left to my first goal of 250 pre-orders, and because of all you folks, I’m only SIXTEEN units away! Pretty unbelievable. Thank you for reading and continuing to believe in this project.

Donna

PS. In case you missed it, the dandelion on the cover depicts Vole and Bay, Vole being the yellow petals and Bay the fluffy flower. Vole is giving up his last 25 years of life depicted by the falling petals, and the fluffy seeds are Bay’s wishes getting fulfilled. These seeds travel and can land wherever the sun sets, or in this case, on one of Bay’s wish list of places. 

Hello Friends & Readers 

Many of you have already purchased my book, taking it one step closer to getting published on Inkshares. Thank you. I’m working hard to deliver something worthwhile of your support.

And as many of you already know, we’re competing in the Launch Pad Manuscript Competition, which ends tomorrow (Friday) at noon PST. The top 3 projects get published. We’re sitting at #4, only a few orders shy of the coveted spot.

For those who have not yet pre-ordered the book—I ain’t mad ‘atcha! I’ve only had time to pre-order a few books myself, but after receiving such generous support, I know I must pay it forward.

For now, I’d like to offer you a short excerpt from The Loving Wrath of Eldon Quint. If you like it, please share with your peers.

Much love to all,

Chase

https://www.inkshares.com/books/the-loving-wrath-of-eldon-quint

Excerpt: 

The mortician’s office sat adjacent to the Hazelwood Cemetery grounds. It was the warmest day all month; nearly all the snow had melted and the sodden whiff of decaying leaves soaked the air. The mortician was a short, bulky creature with a shaggy vandyke and a fraudulently soft-spoken manner. It seemed we had interrupted a late lunch, but he was not vexed. He ushered us into his shop and began with a tour of the display coffins. He was an eager salesman and at every turn pushed for a more expensive item. Eldon was unimpressed and settled on a modestly priced but handsome wooden casket. He made the mistake of calling it a “casket” not a coffin to which the mortician started quoting Hawthorne. But I recognized the language and called him out. “You are quoting, sir,” I said.

He looked quite astonished. I thought he might get angry and prepared for the response but instead he demurred. “Excuse my dumbfounded visage, but it is not oft I meet one of your shade in possession of an education.”

“Get used to it,” I said.

He did not smile and turned dryly to Eldon. “As you will likely be storing the deceased for up to three month, I assume you will require a Bateson?”

“What’s that?” asked Eldon.

“A popular device of proven efficacy that promotes peace of mind for the bereaved.”

“Would you be so kind as to untangle your language?”

“I mount an iron bell inside the lid of the coffin, just above the allegedly deceased’s head. The bell is connected to a cord that is placed in the hand—”

“A bell?”

“Should this be a case of premature expiration, the faintest tremor would sound the alarm.”

Eldon laughed in astonishment. “Sir, my son has surpassed even Duke Wellington in his time above ground. No such device will be necessary.”

“Then you believe him to be sufficiently deceased?”

“He’s frozen solid.”

“Understood. Still—might I suggest leaving the body with a crowbar? Just to be safe. I have one available for a reasonable sum.”

We left the mortician and headed across the road to the cemetery. Eldon stopped to talk to the director and he informed us that the earliest burial would be at least two months away. Sometimes the ground didn’t thaw until April, this being one hell of a winter already. Eldon seemed to expect such a response and took it in stride.

Under the sun and the dripping icicles I took charge of Ian while Eldon ventured on down the hill toward his wife’s grave. The cemetery spanned some eighty acres, but it was relatively new and much of the land was still pasture. Eldon was not sure of the location of the grave but thought he would have no trouble finding it. I watched him wander a bit without success. After a thorough search of the grounds, he went back to the office. When he emerged ten minutes later he looked like the starch was taken right out of him. I left Ian and Walter to amuse themselves with a mud puddle and went to speak with him. But he was too incensed to make words. He simply shook his head in a daze. “She’s not here,” he barked.

“Who’s not here?”

“My wife.”

“What do you mean?”

“They have no record.”

“Record of what?”

“Of what? Of her being buried here.”

“There must be some mix up. Perhaps they’ve misspelled her name.”

“She died last August. She was buried the same month. But the director just informed me that not one single soul was laid to rest here in August, or September for that matter, because of problems with the groundwater and the old sewage lines.”

“Could it have been that they meant to bury her here and then had to change locations and you simply didn’t receive notice?”

“I received a telegram from the marshal of this county informing me that my wife had been buried here, at this place, in August of 1882. I received a bill for her headstone and ecclesiastical fee. Overall I spent near four hundred dollars.”

“Then we must go see this marshal,” I said. Then I touched his arm, so he’d know that he wasn’t alone. We were in it together. Some white folks passed by, staring at us. I kept my hand right where it was.

Hey everybody!

As of today, KILL CREEK has 161 pre-orders!  With 40 days left, there’s still time to reach the first goal of 250.  Thank you to everyone who has supported this book.  It means a lot.  Getting KILL CREEK out into the world is a dream that finally feels close to a reality, and I couldn’t do it without you.

Also, KILL CREEK has been selected as the December pick by the Thriller Night Syndicate on Inkshares!  It’s always incredibly encouraging and humbling to be acknowledged by readers and fellow writers, especially those who don’t feel the constant daily guilt of my Facebook posts.

But there’s another deadline coming up soon.  This Friday, in fact.  Out of all of the finalists in the Launch Pad Manuscript Competition, Inkshares will guarantee publishing to the Top 3 with the most unique pre-orders.  Right now, KILL CREEK is #7.  With a big surge in the next couple days, it could make the Top 3.  So if you’ve already ordered your copy, I could use your help spreading the word.  And if you haven’t pre-ordered yet, please take a read through the first 50 pages and consider clicking that pre-order button.  

I keep calling this a horror novel, and it is.  But it’s not just a piece of gratuitous genre fiction.  It’s so much more to me.  This is a story set in Kansas, where I grew up.  Part of it takes place in Lawrence, where I attended the University of Kansas.  And the backstory of one of the protagonists, Sam, includes an actual haunted house in my hometown.  It was called Old Parker...

The stories about this house were probably made up, but that didn’t stop us from going out there late at night and daring each other to spend five minutes alone in the pitch-black root cellar, standing on the very dirt that (supposedly) covered the grave of Mrs. Parker.  We wanted to believe these stories.  Because it meant something extraordinary had happened here.  It meant there was a power (albeit a dark power) greater than us at work in this place.  It meant we had a legend in our own backyard.

This is the actual exit to Kill Creek Road:

After much deliberation, I have decided on a launch date for the pre-order campaign for The Walls are Closing In. To provide a nice buffer after the holidays before gouging everyone’s wallets, the pre-order campaign will commence on the 13th of January - also known as Friday, the 13th. Hopefully not too ominous.

http://33.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m742mhxoxf1rvqh1lo1_250.gif

Well, nothing much new on the "Wings of the Pirate" front.  I finished another polish on the manuscript and am waiting for the final chapter-head illustrations from my Artist pal Al Bringas.  He has done a fantastic job with them all and I can’t wait to show you all when the book comes out next year. 

If you’re up for reading a bit more of my non-Western stuff, I put up another novel project of mine "Africa Tusk" which I have completed the first draft on.  It deals with the fight against elephant poachers in Africa and the possibility of using drones...

Have a wonderful Holiday Season, I will be updating you more in 2017!

Cheers!!

Eric H. Heisner

Writer, Actor & Filmmaker @ www.leandogproductions.com