RISEN Blog Tour 2017 from WoW

Special thanks to Crystal J. Otto over at Bring on Lemons & WoW (Women on Writing) for organizing yet another wonderful blog tour for my latest release, RISEN, from WiDo Publishing.

Another huge thanks for everyone willing to participate, and especially to those offering professional reads and reviews of RISEN.

Below are the blog stops for the hop. I'll be cross-posting each day and stopping in, so take a look at some of the topics, then drop by and join us.

Monday September 4th (today) @ WOW! Women on Writing

Interview & Giveaway

http://muffin.wow-womenonwriting.com/

Tuesday, September 5th @ Choices with Madeline Sharples

Eric Trant writes today's guest post at Choice "Is a Career in the Arts (writing) Realistic?". Readers can find out more about Trant and his latest book RISEN.

http://madelinesharples.com/

Wednesday, September 6th @ Mari McCarthy’s Create Write Now

"Say YES: Why Taking Chances is Imperative" is today's topic at Mari McCarthy's Create Write Now. Hear from author Eric Trant as he examines this important topic and shares more about his latest novel RISEN.

http://www.createwritenow.com/journal-writing-blog/

Thursday, September 7th @ Writer’s Pay it Forward

Eric Trant pens today's guest post at Writer's Pay It Forward. Today's post is titled: "Breaking In vs. Breaking Out: The Writer's Career Arc". Readers and Writers alike won't want to miss this opportunity to hear from Trant as well as finding out more about his latest novel RISEN.

https://writerspayitforward.com/

Friday, September 8th @ BookWorm

Hear from Anjanette Potter of BookWorm as she reviews Eric Trant's latest novel RISEN- this historical supernatural work of fiction is sure to please readers!

https://bookworm66.wordpress.com/

Friday, September 8th @ Lisa Haselton

Lisa Haselton interviews Eric Trant about his latest novel RISEN. You'll want to learn more about this supernatural tale of fiction as well as the mastermind behind the dynamic writing.

http://lisahaseltonsreviewsandinterviews.blogspot.com/

Friday, September 8th @ Hott Books

"Life Gets Better: An Angel Dad Reports Five Years Later" is today's post title at Hott Books. This touching true life tale is told by guest blogger Eric Trant as part of his WOW! Women on Writing book blog tour of his latest thriller RISEN.

http://www.hottbooks.com/

Monday, September 11th @ Tara Forst at Digging with the Worms

Crunchy Wisconsin Mama and Entrepreneur Tara Forst reviews RISEN by Eric Trant. Don't miss this review and giveaway of Trant's latest thriller!

http://diggingwiththeworms.blogspot.com/

Tuesday, September 12th @ Bring on Lemons with Tess Fallier

Tess Fallier is today's guest blogger with a review and her thoughts on Eric Trant's RISEN. Don't miss this blog stop!

http://bringonlemons.blogspot.com/Tess
http://bringonlemons.blogspot.com/Cathy

Wednesday, September 13th @ Book Santa Fe with Crystal Otto

Reader and book blogger Crystal Otto reviews Eric Trant's RISEN and shares her thoughts with readers at Book Santa Fe.

http://www.booksantafe.info/

Thursday, September 14th @ Memoir Writer’s Journey

Eric Trant visits Memoir Writer's Journey and shares his thoughts with readers of Kathleen Pooler's engaging blog. Today's post title is: "Setting: Its Role in Storytelling". Don't miss this chance to hear from the talented Eric Trant and find out more about his latest book RISEN.

https://krpooler.com/

Friday, September 15th @ Building Bookshelves
Eric Trant interviews the 5 Ws at Building Bookshelves, promoting his new supernatural, historical thriller RISEN.

http://blogs.republicanherald.com/bookshelves/

Friday, September 29th @ Coming Down the Mountain

Eric Trant is today's guest author at Karen Jones Gowen's blog Coming Down the Mountain. Read Eric's guest post titled "Luck: Its Role in Success" and find out more about his latest thriller RISEN.

http://karenjonesgowen.blogspot.com/2017/09/what-part-does-luck-play-in-success.html

Wednesday, October 18 @ Shannon Muir

Don't miss today's author interview at the blog of Author Shannon Muir. Shannon will be interviewing Eric Trant about his latest thriller RISEN.

http://www.shannon-muir.com

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Eric W. Trant is a published author of several short stories and the novels WINK, STEPS and RISEN from WiDo Publishing, out now! See more of Eric's work here: Publications, or order directly from Amazon, or wherever books are sold.

** BE A SUPER-HERO! BE AN ORGAN DONOR! **

Haunted by visions of a demonic angel and sold into servitude by his father, young Alberto battles to survive the horrors of a nineteenth century Sicilian sulfur mine. Suffering merciless brutality, Alberto must save not only himself but his deformed older brother, both pawns in their father's mad plan to overthrow a group of wealthy landowners.Bound by a death-debt to his hunchback master, Alberto discovers a door the miners call Porta dell'Inferno, the Door to Hell, deep within the sulfur mines. When he learns the demon-angel of his dreams stalks the caverns beyond the door, Alberto realizes a strange fate has lured him and his brother to the gates leading to the underworld.Now Alberto must face the creature from his visions and rise to become the man his father demands him to be, or remain forever trapped in a hellish world where none escape.

Wink Interview

Interview for Wink by Summer Ross: Click for interview. Summer is the one who turned me on to WiDo Publishing, and she edited Wink. Much thanks to her, and to WiDo Publishing for making Wink happen!

Buy Here on Amazon!

- Eric

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Eric W. Trant is a published author of several short stories and the novel Out of the Great Black Nothing. He is currently working on his second full-length novel WINK with WiDo Publishing, coming May 7, 2013! See more of Eric's work here: Publications, or order directly from Amazon, or wherever books are sold.

** BE A SUPER-HERO! BE AN ORGAN DONOR! **

U is for Underwear

I believe every good novel should mention underwear at least once. Why, you ask, to which I answer, Because I like saying and writing the word underwear.

For instance, when people ask me, Are you Eric? I often answer, I hope so. I'm wearing his underwear.

It's just a fun word, like onomatopoeia, which I also used below. Matt, if you're listening, there's your O-word in use.

Excerpt from my debut novel Out of the Great Black Nothing, for the April A-Z Challenge.

I will post excerpts from various writings daily.

And yes, that's a run-on. Find a way to deal.

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Percy laughed and waved Martha onto the rooftop and pointed to his neck. She paused, but smiled and climbed on the roof anyway. She wore her pajamas, shorts with a tank top, barefoot, all pink with ponytails, and she would be shy getting on the roof in her underwear, especially with an audience of legal professionals at the end of the driveway, but she as always was Percy's trooper and confidant and reliable partner in everything this side of criminal. She padded across the tin and leaned down to her husband and helped him unsnap and twist off the space helmet. He hadn't pressurized the suit tonight, and the helmet lifted off without its normal hiss-woof. Fresh air kissed the wet part of Percy's sweaty forehead.

---

LEAVE YOUR MARK! Put an X in the comments, if you have nothing more to say.

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Eric W. Trant is a published author of several short stories and the novel Out of the Great Black Nothing. He is currently represented by Debrin Case at Open Heart Publishing. See more of Eric's work here: Publications

T is for Talking Old Mutt

Excerpt from my current WiP, Rash & Scarson, unedited from my ongoing first draft, so don't read it with too hard of an eye. This is the book I'm writing with my kids. Old Tom is an acronym for Talking Old Mutt.

April A-Z Challenge.

I will post excerpts from various writings daily.

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They were a hodge-podge crew to be sure. Tom, short for Talking Old Mutt, was a scruffy sort of dog with wiry fur the color of dirty socks. He walked upright, like a man, though from time to time he hopped and looked very much like a trick-dog from the circus. His heritage was Egyptian and African, and even though he was as tough as the walnut cane he carried, his left hind leg was a crippling reminder of the hyena he killed in his youth. With his keen sense of direction, Tom was the straight-forward choice for first mate and ship's pilot.

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Eric W. Trant is a published author of several short stories and the novel Out of the Great Black Nothing. He is currently represented by Debrin Case at Open Heart Publishing. See more of Eric's work here: Publications

R-S are for Rash & Scarson

Excerpt from my current WiP, Rash & Scarson, unedited from my ongoing first draft, so don't read it with too hard of an eye. This is the book I'm writing with my kids. They love the scene below. Lulu is a Golden Retriever, and they are on a desert, jungle beach.

Lulu is their favorite, and they have made me promise not to kill her. So she lives.

Oh, and PS, the head-skipping is intentional. I am writing this from a dual-POV between the two twins. I know -- it violates Da Rules, to which I respond, But this is how the story wants to be written.

April A-Z Challenge.

I will post excerpts from various writings daily.

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They waded ashore, with Lulu leaping ahead of them. For a moment, when they emerged from the water, they both looked down at their feet. Sand caked their toes and the soles of their feet. "Forgot our stupid shoes," Scarson said.

"Don't need them on the boat. Speaking of which, how did we get here?"

"I don't know. I followed you. All I did was tell you where the land was. You're like Lulu with the ball. I throw, you fetch." Scarson picked up some dry sand and threw it toward the jungle. "There, fetch girl, go get it, Rash! Good puppy!"

"Shut up," Rash said. "I'm serious. Where are Momma and Daddy?"

"On the boat. Thataway."

"I know. But I mean... what just happened? How did we get here? All I did was swim deep, like Daddy said, a few feet under, and when we came up for air, we were here."

"Whatever," Scarson said. "You think too much. One day your thinker is gonna crack wide open, and all your beans are gonna spill out, and I'll make me some bean soup. Yum-yum! Maybe it's in your stupid book, bean-head." Scarson thumped the book in Rash's hand. She had completely forgotten she had it. "I'm going to get some bananas. I don't know about you, but I feel like I haven't eaten in three days. And I'm dying of thirst. Are you thirsty? I wonder if there's water here. Maybe we'll have to drink coconuts and stuff."

"But what about Momma and Daddy?"

"What about them? Dad threw us off the boat, remember. We don't even have lifejackets."

Scarson put his back to her and pushed his way into the jungle. It was like opening set after set of swinging doors as he pushed through leaves the size of elephant ears. The foliage swung open, allowed him passage, and swept closed behind him. After a few dozen steps, he could no longer see farther than his arms could reach.

"Rash?" he said. He listened. Rash didn't answer. "Rash? Where are you? Here, girl, here Rash. I got a ball for you to fetch!"

Something moved through the bushes behind him, grunting, close to the ground, and Lulu's snout appeared, covered in sand. Her entire lower half was caked. "There you are," he said. "Let's get us some bananas."

Lulu froze. Her ears perked, and Scarson heard a high-pitched howl to his left. It drew out like a siren, high and steady, and ended with a dozen quick chirps. Suddenly a dozen others answered, and amid the shrieks and chattering, a storm of sticks and bananas rained down through the trees onto him. His feet turned and carried him back the way he had come as fast as they could, with his hands slapping wildly at the leaves.

He fell out of the forest, and to Rash, who had found a log and sat with the book in her lap, it looked as if the jungle had vomited him onto the sand. He fell face-first, rolled, and then lay there pointing toward the trees. "Did you hear that?" he said.

"Yeah," she said. "Sounded like a bunch of monkeys. Are you afraid of monkeys?"

"I'm afraid of those monkeys. Forget the bananas. The monkeys can have them. I'm gonna see if there are some coconuts around here somewhere. On the beach. I ain't going back in there, not ever." Scarson stood, brushed himself, and set off along the shoreline, looking always to the jungle and keeping it at a healthy distance.

---

Eric W. Trant is a published author of several short stories and the novel Out of the Great Black Nothing. He is currently represented by Debrin Case at Open Heart Publishing. See more of Eric's work here: Publications

P is for Percy Freebottom

Excerpt from my debut novel Out of the Great Black Nothing, for the April A-Z Challenge.

I will post excerpts from various writings daily.

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William Percival "Percy" Freebottom lay on his rooftop, a tin roof same as the barn, same as the shed, same as all the other rooftops he could see from here, except the tin roof on the house was flat between the raised ridges rather than pringle-shaped like the others. Percy wedged himself into the flat part of the tin roof and looked up at the stars spinning and tried to feel the motion of the Earth beneath him. He sensed the pull of the moon and his blood flowed and ebbed as if with the tide.

Percy couldn't see the moon, not directly, since tonight was a new moon, but he could feel it, and he could see where it blacked out the stars like an eye-patch constellation. "There you are," he said to the moon. He held his hand out and pinched the darkness between his thumb and forefinger. The thick fingers of his gloves pressed together, inaudible through the reinforced glass of his helmet. Like the moon, he sensed more than felt or heard his fingers come together.

Percy adjusted his position and maneuvered onto his side. The hip reinforcement along the back of the spacesuit irritated the lower part of his spine if he pressed his body against it too long. He relieved the pressure by turning slightly onto his right shoulder, enough that the suit was off-center, but he could still see skyward if he cocked his head to the left. He crossed his legs and lay half-corkscrewed and tried to concentrate on the missing moon.

---

LEAVE YOUR MARK! Put an X in the comments, if you have nothing more to say.

---

Eric W. Trant is a published author of several short stories and the novel Out of the Great Black Nothing. He is currently represented by Debrin Case at Open Heart Publishing. See more of Eric's work here: Publications

L is for Love Scene

Excerpt from my debut novel Out of the Great Black Nothing, for the April A-Z Challenge.

I will post excerpts from various writings daily.

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There was a sense of movement and a shutter of vision through his eyes, a peripheral glance, an almost-image of stars and universe and magnificent suns, and then Percy saw his wife dancing naked in a thunderous rain. A flock of yellow birds flew undeterred by the rain, oblivious in their flapping as they dove and swept through the sheets of water. Martha turned and sunk her feet in the mud and raised her arms, and when she saw Percy she said, "There you are."

"Here I am," Percy said.

Martha threw herself into Percy the same as she had earlier in the evening, and in her dream state they fell to the ground in the mud and the rain, trembling with the thunder as it shook the ground beneath them.

"Why do we wear clothes?" Martha asked. She pulled herself on top of Percy and looked down at him, silhouetted by the thunderclouds behind her. Rain fell on Percy's thighs and Martha's back. Yellow birds flew impossibly straight as they zipped in and out of the dark clouds.

"We don't need to wear clothes," Percy said. "Not out here, anyway. Only back there, where it makes sense. We're always naked when we go into The Great Black Nothing. You know that."

"I know," Martha said. "But it only matters when you show up. I never notice until you are here. Then it seems to matter."

"Because of this?" Percy said.

Martha answered by rotating her hips. "Yes," she said. "Because of this."

---

LEAVE YOUR MARK! Put an X in the comments, if you have nothing more to say.

---

Eric W. Trant is a published author of several short stories and the novel Out of the Great Black Nothing. He is currently represented by Debrin Case at Open Heart Publishing. See more of Eric's work here: Publications

J is for Jugs

Excerpt from my debut novel Out of the Great Black Nothing, for the April A-Z Challenge.

I will post excerpts from various writings daily.

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Darnell swung the baton and clapped Jugs on the shoulder. Jugs ignored the strike and bent down and folded Darnell over that same shoulder into a fireman's carry and marched him back through the ditch to the black Dodge Charger. The car idled with its headlights yellow and gleaming against a deer crossing sign and the woods pitch black and buzzing with insects and frogs on either side of the road.

"You're getting the salt," Jugs said.

Darnell screamed and slapped Jugs' thighs with the baton. He lost his hat and Jugs turned, picked it up, opened the rear door of the Charger and threw it inside. "Daddy will kill you!" Darnell screamed.

"Mr. La Roux don't care about you none, Mr. Darnell," Jugs said. "You a freak, and you getting the salt."

Jugs ripped away the baton and threw it in the backseat next to the hat, and with practiced hands he bound Darnell's wrists behind his back with two zip-ties. Jugs bound another tie on Darnell's elbows and cinched it tight. Darnell's shoulders popped and the man began to sob and continue singing the anthem.

"Our flag's unfurled to every breeze from dawn to setting sun."

"You gonna shut up if I have to cut your throat," Jugs said.

Cut it and leave him in the woods, the voice said inside his head.

"You shut up, too. He's getting the salt and that's that."

Pussy, the voice said.

---

LEAVE YOUR MARK! Put an X in the comments, if you have nothing more to say.

---

Eric W. Trant is a published author of several short stories and the novel Out of the Great Black Nothing. He is currently represented by Debrin Case at Open Heart Publishing. See more of Eric's work here: Publications

H is for Harsh Reality

Harsh Reality is the name of a spaceship in my current WIP, working title Rash and Scarson. I am writing a book with my children, with them helping with character creation and alpha proofing.

Lulu and Old Tom are dogs. Rash and Scarson are twin humans.

I will post excerpts from various writings daily.

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While Captain stayed atop with his crew, Rash and Scarson and Lulu followed Old Tom down into the bowels of the ship. He hobbled in front of them, leaning on his walnut cane, favoring his left hind leg, which bent outward, and was knotted below the knee. "Her name's Harsh Reality," Old Tom said, meaning the ship. "We named her that because she was a good awakening for us when we left Earth. Nothing like the harsh reality of a mass extinction, now is there!"

"Extinction?" said Rash.

"He means the dinosaurs, genius," Scarson said. "Remember the meteor?"

Old Tom turned and stabbed his cane at Scarson's shins, striking one of them with such force that he almost fell. "Don't you be a-geniusing me, laddie!" Old Tom said. "Genius, you lickspittle mooncalf, is listening when someone be a-speaking to you! Now let me tell you about extinction."

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LEAVE YOUR MARK! Put an X in the comments, if you have nothing more to say.

---

Eric W. Trant is a published author of several short stories and the novel Out of the Great Black Nothing. He is currently represented by Debrin Case at Open Heart Publishing. See more of Eric's work here: Publications

G is for Gee

Excerpt from my short story Melvin Gee's Short Trip to Hell, for the April A-Z Challenge.

I will post excerpts from various writings daily.

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"I'm Melvin Gee," Melvin said, holding out his hand, which a few moments ago had been little more than a fleshy sack of shattered bones, crushed along with the rest of his body beneath a mangled Ford F150. "I'm not sure I'm in the right place, but heck, I just followed one of the lights."

"One of the lights? That's unusual." The angel looked at Melvin's offered handshake. Then she checked a clipboard in her left hand, tapped it with a feathery pen in her right hand, nodded, and looked back up at Melvin. "Melvin Michael Gee?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Hmm," the angel said. "Looks right. Whatever, let's go. We have to get you signed in with the big guy."

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LEAVE YOUR MARK! Put an X in the comments, if you have nothing more to say.

---

Eric W. Trant is a published author of several short stories and the novel Out of the Great Black Nothing. He is currently represented by Debrin Case at Open Heart Publishing. See more of Eric's work here: Publications

F is for Familiars

Excerpt from my debut novel Out of the Great Black Nothing, for the April A-Z Challenge.

I will post excerpts from various writings daily.

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Anna Marie Freebottom sat on her back porch looking at the trees as her cats around her moved in silent feline stealth. The night consumed their footsteps but echoed their cries, some of them mewing, others purring, two of them fighting and hissing near the back shed.

Anna Marie stroked the cat lying next to her and it craned its head and offered its lower jaw, near the scent glands. Anna Marie indulged the cat for a few heartbeats, and then shooed it away from her. She twisted one of the wooden bracelets dangling from her wrists and the world around her turned darker.

Anna Marie stood and stepped into the growing darkness and twisted the bracelets on the other wrist. The world grew black until nothing was left but the sounds around her of crisp leaves shaking and the cats scuffling at her feet. The hissing stopped near the shed and a waft of air passed near Anna's calves, signaling one cat's retreat and another's victory.

"Be calm, my Ri, my dears," Anna Marie said. "Shh. Let me listen."

---

LEAVE YOUR MARK! Put an X in the comments, if you have nothing more to say.

---

Eric W. Trant is a published author of several short stories and the novel Out of the Great Black Nothing. He is currently represented by Debrin Case at Open Heart Publishing. See more of Eric's work here: Publications

E is for Eternity

Excerpt from my short story Melvin Gee's Short Trip to Hell, for the April A-Z Challenge.

I will post excerpts from various writings daily.

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Halfway up the mountain, Melvin finally asked his question about the trail. "That path down there healed up after you walked through it. You were like following some line I couldn't see, and someone erased it behind you. Why is that?"

"Oh, that," said the angel. She looked down at Melvin from her higher perch on the staircase, then back up to the gate. "We have a path that leads to the gate. If you don't follow it, you fall off, and, well, you don't come back. But don't worry, little fella, I know the way. I've done this for an eternity."

The angel resumed climbing and said under her breath, "Ten eternities."

---

LEAVE YOUR MARK! Put an X in the comments, if you have nothing more to say.

---

Eric W. Trant is a published author of several short stories and the novel Out of the Great Black Nothing. He is currently represented by Debrin Case at Open Heart Publishing. See more of Eric's work here: Publications

D is for Darnell

Excerpt from my debut novel Out of the Great Black Nothing, for the April A-Z Challenge.

I will post excerpts from various writings daily.

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Darnell heard that last part and looked up from his baton and adjusted his black hat. Now that he had finished the Air Force anthem, Darnell began singing the Marine anthem, monotone and off-pitch with that blank look in his eyes he always seemed to have. "From the halls of Montezuma, to the shores of Tripoli."

"Shut up, Darnell," Jugs said.

"We will fight our country's battles in the air, on land, and sea."

Jugs pressed the brake and checked the rear-view mirror. No traffic appeared in the dark road behind him, nor did any appear in the road ahead of him.

"First to fight for right and freedom and to keep our honor clean!"

The Dodge Charger slowed and Jugs edged it off the road, into the grass of the shoulderless blacktop. The car angled sideways with the slant of the ditch. When the wheels stopped, Darnell became suddenly animated and with one smooth motion unlocked and opened the door and rolled into the ditch. He came to his feet and put the whistle to his mouth and blew, jabbed the baton skyward, and high-stepped through the waist-high grass lining the rural ditch.

Darnell screamed the Marine Anthem into the woods. "WE ARE PROUD TO CLAIM THE TITLE OF UNITED STATES MARINE!"

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LEAVE YOUR MARK! Put an X in the comments, if you have nothing more to say.

---

Eric W. Trant is a published author of several short stories and the novel Out of the Great Black Nothing. He is currently represented by Debrin Case at Open Heart Publishing. See more of Eric's work here: Publications

C is for Claire

Excerpt from my debut novel Out of the Great Black Nothing, for the April A-Z Challenge.

I will post excerpts from various writings daily.

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For an hour, Claire tried to put her fouled mood behind her. If she looked in her rearview mirror, she might see everything laying in the middle of the freeway, getting splattered by the passing vehicles, ground into the mid-summer pavement just as casually as the brains of an albino squirrel she might as well be chasing. Eight years of college were being crushed beneath steel-belted radials. Her two years in the Air Force were a fluttering plastic bag, wrapped around an axle and melting in the freeway heat. Eight years at the Pentagon were being ground into a fine dust and sprayed on the passing cars.

None of it mattered.

---

LEAVE YOUR MARK! Put an X in the comments, if you have nothing more to say.

---

Eric W. Trant is a published author of several short stories and the novel Out of the Great Black Nothing. He is currently represented by Debrin Case at Open Heart Publishing. See more of Eric's work here: Publications

B is for Billy Ray & the Babe

Excerpt from my debut novel Out of the Great Black Nothing, for the April A-Z Challenge.

I will post excerpts from various writings daily.

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Billy Ray wadded up the painting tape and threw it basketball-style over the top of the BMW, into the corner trashcan. He turned and walked down the hallway toward the front office. He ran his fingers over the NASCAR hood hanging on the wall, a dented Dale Earnhardt #3 hood of questionable authenticity, and when he rounded the corner he saw Lopez behind the counter.

The woman who owned the BMW was standing on the other side of the counter, and she looked out-of-place, with her nice shirt and tight ponytail. Billy Ray couldn't tell what she was wearing below the waist, and he wasn't sure it mattered. He could stare at the top half of her until his eyes burned out.

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LEAVE YOUR MARK! Put an X in the comments, if you have nothing more to say.

---

Eric W. Trant is a published author of several short stories and the novel Out of the Great Black Nothing. He is currently represented by Debrin Case at Open Heart Publishing. See more of Eric's work here: Publications

A is for Anna Marie

Excerpt from my debut novel Out of the Great Black Nothing, for the April A-Z Challenge.

I will post excerpts from various writings daily.

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What did you do to me? Percy said to Anna Marie. He thought the words and she heard them, even as they both fed on their living mother.

I gave you life, Anna Marie thought back to him.

I had life. I had happiness. I was fine living in the moon's shadow.

You were alone, Anna Marie said.

And what does that matter, being alone? I am Gamjen the Watcher. All I need are the stars.

You'll forget about all that.

Forget about the stars? Never.

I mean you'll forget about who you are. That's part of it. You are Percy Freebottom, now. You forget everything when you come down. You remember it now, but soon you'll un-learn it all, and learn to speak like they do, with their mouths and faces.

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LEAVE YOUR MARK! Put an X in the comments, if you have nothing more to say.

---

Eric W. Trant is a published author of several short stories and the novel Out of the Great Black Nothing. He is currently represented by Debrin Case at Open Heart Publishing. See more of Eric's work here: Publications

Rainy Night Blog Fest

Rainy Night Blogfest for Christine over at The Writer's Hole

From my unpublished novella, Dark Woods. Henry is about 10 years old.

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The rain began late that night, a quiet shower dripping from the treetops. No lightning or thunder interrupted the steady patter of droplets against the leaves and Henry's blue tarp. The rain fell straight down in the stagnant air. Water sizzled in the fire and on the burning summer ground, hard and hot as pavement.

Henry huddled beneath the tarp with the dogs on either side of him. He sat cross-legged and used the Army shovel to hack a deeper water trench around his sleeping area. Despite its calm nature, the rain was actually a downpour, and puddles accumulated around Henry and filled up his fire pit.

Henry wished he'd brought some fire wood under his tarp. He wished he'd set up a fire pit closer to the tarp, or better yet, beneath the tarp. But the tarp barely covered him and the dogs. He wished he had a larger tarp. He wished he had a flashlight that worked, or even a lantern he could light.

He wished he had matches to light the lantern.

Satisfied with the water trench around him and the dogs, Henry watched the fire die down and the fire pit fill with water. Two charred crawfish shells floated to the edge of the fire pit and crept toward the trees atop a flowing puddle of gray ash. The ping-sizzle of the raindrops died off into a muddy slap, taking with it the last remaining light. Darkness wrapped around Henry so thick he could barely tell his eyes were open.

***

Henry couldn't see much, but he could hear. The rain ebbed and flowed, and after a while began to let up, and that's when he heard the squealing. The dogs had perked their ears long moments before, hearing the things only dogs can hear, and Whiskey raised his head and issued a few warning growls, but the rain had masked the sounds Henry now could hear.

Henry heard a raucous screech followed by a few deep thumps that he could feel in the ground below him. The screams of pain, heavy grunts of anger. Nothing in the darkness moved, and Henry could barely see to the edge of his camp.

Henry wrapped his hands around the .30-30 rifle, flicking the safety on and off as he waited to see if it would come nearer.

Whiskey stood and shook his coat, splattering Henry's cheek and arm with flicks of mud. The dog growled deep in his chest. Henry saw the spiked outline of the dog's rustled hair standing on end along his spine, his tail low but not between his legs, just out of the way, his flanks wound tight and ready to spring. Scotch stood and wagged his tail and barked once and then licked the splatter marks off Henry's cheek.

The rain drizzled through the treetops in an unsteady buzz. Henry heard clumping footsteps that became wet and sloshy as they grew nearer to Henry's camp. They were hooves, he could tell from the clopping sound they made against the roots, and large, more than one set of hooves, two or three maybe, overlapping as they navigated the dark woods. He felt the hooves pound against the forest floor. Sharp cries of pain issued forth from the underbrush, something crashing through the briars and thorns and cracking limbs beneath its feet.

---

- Eric

Death Scene Blogfest

For Tessa, a death scene:

Mandy screamed, "Stop it!" to the brothers and their hecklers. For some reason, Mandy threw her book at Luke and Lionel, but she missed and hit Hector in the thigh. Hector kept chanting without looking up at Mandy.

Lionel hit Luke in a steady cadence of fleshy smacks. Smack. Smack. Lionel's boots kicked over desks as he fought for footing, forcing Hector and the other boys to step back, out of the way as they chanted, "Fight! Fight!"

Constance and Locos stuck their heads into the room, and behind them a throng of other kids formed from the emptiness of the hallway, coalesced by the chanting. Ms. Kennedy, Mandy saw, was behind the crowd, standing like a shocked student and not at all like a teacher.

There was blood on Luke's face and Lionel's fist. The smacks sounded wetter as the boys huffed and grunted on the floor.

Mandy turned to the teacher behind her. "Mr. Beaks!"

He didn't look up. Mr. Beaks's mouth moved as he read to himself. He licked his lips. The top of his scalp looked wet.

Suddenly the screaming stopped and Mandy turned back to the fight. Huffing, Luke stood and leaned on the front of Hector's desk for balance. Luke's face was torn from cheek to lip, and his eye already looked swollen. His nose was either bleeding or bloody from the other cuts on his face. Breathing hard, Luke hunched above his brother dripping blood on Hector's desk.

Lionel lay on his back, having let Luke out of the headlock, looking up at his older brother. Though he hadn't been hit, Lionel's face was a deep bruised purple. He was crying. "I'm sorry," Lionel said.

Then Luke lifted Hector's desk by the front. Pencils and a notebook slid off as Luke raised the desk above his head. Luke yelled, "You fucker!" and dropped the desk onto Lionel, hammering the metal leg of the desk through Lionel's sternum like a two-inch spike.

- Eric

(PS: This is based on an actual fight between me and my little brother. He beat the hell out of me. So I threw a stereo on his head and then hit him with the top drawer of my dresser.)

Blogfest: Dream Sequence

For Amalia's Dream Sequence Blogfest

This is from one of those books I felt I had to write. I don't know if it is at all publishable. It's more of a fictography than a fiction.

Note the passive tone and the abundance of was constructs and the bland tone. The whole book is dreary like that.

The name Evander means Good Man. This entire passage is a dream and is snipped for brevity.


Evander's Forge

---

Evander James Genesee assumed his position on the smooth-worn log. All the bark had been peeled from the log, all the knots dulled. Evander preferred the left-side of the log, where he'd managed to wear in a depressed seating area, and because for some reason, he preferred to be to God's right, rather than to God's left.

"Hello, Evander," said Sage. She was naked, but somehow not naked in a sexual manner. The angel was beautiful in the way a naked baby was beautiful, naked in the way an animal was naked, with long, flowing, wild blonde hair, and firm, well-used muscles toning her body.

"Hello, Sage," Evander said. "I still can't see his eyes."

"Nor will you," Sage replied. "Not yet."

In front of Evander hovered a massive blue face, mask-like and endless, merging its chin with the ground, and its forehead with the clouds. Evander's log sat on grass-covered earth twenty-one steps away from the face. Behind the face lay an open field of waist-high grass, and above the grass hung a blue sky with scattered high clouds. The face's mouth hovered several stories above the ground and spanned a hundred feet in width. The mouth seemed to be in a slight smirk, much like the Mona Lisa, and sometimes Evander wondered if da Vinci had seen the same blue God. He wondered if da Vinci had met Sage.

"So, um, did you see that guy tonight?" Evander looked over at Sage. She stood to Evander's right, facing the blue God.

"Yes," said Sage. "I sent him to you."

"God didn't send the guy?"

"I do God's will, Evander. As do you."

"Well, I'm ready to come home, Sage. I'm tired. I can't do this thing anymore. I want to come home."


***

Critique Rollup: What you might learn from my critique

Here are some dos and don'ts plucked straight from a recent critique of my latest piece.

First off, THANK YOU to those friends who helped critique Gladiator.

Andrew Rosenberg
Donna Hole
Crimey
Tara
Ashley Ladd
Raquel Byrnes
Christine H
Tessa
Carol Anne Carr

And of course my WONDERFUL READER Lanai D!

(I hope I didn't miss someone)

Now, on to what I learned from it, and what you might be able to learn from me.

It is okay to be critiqued

---

This was my first critique. Yes, you read that right. I have NEVER been critiqued. I let people read my finished pieces, and I've had beta readers who helped me set the working piece afloat in the right direction, but I have never had a group of writers look at my work and shred it.

And it wasn't as bad as I thought. I assumed -- wrongly -- that I might receive silly and meaningless suggestions, or would open myself up to personal attacks. I was afraid of the critique.

It wasn't that bad. Brutal, yes. Enlightening, sure. Can I make everyone happy? Hell no. But I can take away some good information from each critic, and can use that information to improve not only this piece, but my future pieces as well.

Lesson Learned: Don't be afraid to ask for a critique.


Introduce the MAIN CHARACTER!

---

I introduced a secondary character in my first chapter. I have to change that. You MUST introduce the primary character, the Main Character, the big MC, first.

Then you can introduce the supporting roles.

Lesson Learned: MC comes first.


Story Hooks

---

Nobody got my hooks. One reader did. Sort of. But overall, I was far too vague.

"What is your point? Where are you going with this?" was a common question. I need to be specific and precise and determinant.

Lesson Learned: Give the reader a direction.


Conflict

---

My piece was ripped in turn by each critic for a single lacking element: Conflict.

The first scene was interesting, but it did not introduce the plot or the main character or the main character's story question or the story's primary plot element.

Lesson learned: Unless this is lit-fic, which is allowed to ramble, and which usually sits unread in hardback on your built-in bookshelf, you'd better introduce some conflict.

Addendum: Nobody mentioned it, but the conflict must be BIG, preferably life-or-death.


Action

---

One of my personal quotes is this: Yell ACTION! not BACKSTORY!

And yet, despite my advice-to-self, I am guilty of beginning my story with lackluster action.

Folks, description is backstory and slow reading. Don't forget that. Work it into the action, or at least set the action in motion before you slow it down to look around.

Lesson Learned: Start with a smidge of action. Then introduce the setting. Propel the story forward first, and mold setting around the action.


Run-ons and fragments

---

I use run-ons not only on my blog, but as a habit inside my fiction. I like the feel of a run-on sentence, but most critics highlighted that I may have been over-using it.

I also got a few red marks for my sentence fragments. I think I am using them too often and need to back off and use proper construct.

Lesson Learned: Minimize stylistic elements, and if you use them, use them properly.


Voice and Tone

---

Now on this I got good marks. This is huge, because the other stuff I can fix and modify to hit a wider percentage of readers (you'll never get 100% consensus), but voice and tone are something intuitive that cannot be learned.

Mostly, nobody mentioned V&T, so I had to read what they were not saying, and assume it was not an issue. When I queried, the response confirmed that V&T were not an issue.

Lesson Learned: Pay attention to what your critics do not say. These may be your strong points.


Setting and Character

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Overwhelmingly the response was that I did a good job putting the reader into the setting and bringing the characters to life.

That's a good thing, too, because combined with V&T, getting your setting and characters to pop into life is one of the deeper elements of writing.

Lesson Learned: Everyone notices setting and character.


Readership

---

You can never make everyone happy.

Lesson Learned: So don't even try.


- Eric