12 August 2013

The Twins Of Devonshire And The Curse Of The Widow by Dan O'Brien

This week I am hosting Dan O'Brien and his book "The Twins Of Devonshire And The Curse Of The Widow."

Below you'll find a few questions and answers from the author, an excerpt of the book, and links for more information on Dan O'Brien and his work.

All his books are only 99 cents on Amazon right now, and "The Twins Of Devonshire And The Curse Of The Widow" will be available as a free download August 13th-17th!

Plus, follow Dan O'Brien's blog at http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com/ for a chance to win a Kindle Fire!




and heroes must rise. Xeno Lobo, enigmatic and cryptic, hunts the Widow, seeking an object taken from him years before. Will he be able to stem the tide of violence and horror that sweeps the land?



A few questions for the author:


When is it time to stop calculating risk and rewards, and just go ahead and do what you know is right?Welcome to the third day of The Twins of Devonshire and the Curse of the Widow blog tour. It will run until August 17th and will feature excerpts and new author interviews each day. But first, here is the obligatory blurb about the novel to settle you into this strange world:

A plague has covered the land, a single word on the lips of the frightened masses: the Widow. Washing a wave of terror over the countryside and then disappearing like a thief in the night, the Widow holds a kingdom in the palm of her hand. The eyes of Chaos have settled on Prima Terra

This is an interesting question because without any kind of preparation, we doom ourselves to failure without understanding why. I think there is a time and a place for organizing your plans, but then the real work begins. You need to be willing to go as far as your possibly can, even push the limits of what you consider comfortable.  


If we learn from our mistakes, why are we always so afraid to make a mistake? 

I think it is the pressure from others to live up to how they perceive us. Often, we trade in self-esteem for group perception and it becomes all that matters. When we are concerned how people will judge what we have done, we want there to be as little ammo for a public humiliation as possible. 


What would you do differently if you knew nobody would judge you?

I do things even though I know I will be judged by others. To me, stepping outside of your comfort zone and challenging the static ideas about who you is at the core of really living your life. People will always let you know how they would do it, or how they think you should live your life. The reality is pretty simple: You decide. In the end, if it doesn't hurt you or others, then why not?


Here be an excerpt for your enjoyment:



The Nighen, an unnatural creature spawned of evil, consumed and murdered all along the western providence for the weeks after the emergence of Chaos. Its appetite had grown astronomically since its birth. 

The blood moon of Chaos drove it forward. 

Swollen clouds drifted lazily overhead. Bruised and disfigured skies threatened to drench the land in rain and storm, something in which the slowly-aging hills would find great comfort. The mixture of deep shadow and moonlight allowed the cloaked figure to move through the dense forest unnoticed––his hood wrapped tightly and his decadent robes drifting out behind him. 

He hummed quietly. Along his back was the outline of a sheath, the blade hidden. The moon made a kaleidoscope of images across the paths of the forest, and the man moved through them. His figure melded and conformed to the bizarre shapes. His features were hidden beneath the hood, the bitter winds that periodically slapped against his frame could not loosen the bond the cloak held over him. 

The forest around him shifted in the winds. Branches scraped against one another. The gales howled, creating sounds in the night far more morose than the ones that truly haunted the rich shrubbery. The man did not hesitate as he walked, not even when the unnatural sounds of forest silenced and the low, throaty growl of a night terror emanated from beside him. 

Amber eyes were translucent in the darkness. The lack of iris was eerie as if shifted, watching the man move past its vantage point. The creature groaned loudly and stood. Scaly claws dug deep into the already-frozen earth as it moved forward in leaps. It hit hard upon the ground, shaking the earth as it rose from a crouch. 

The man’s pace quickened now. He moved with renewed speed, head lowered. The blade upon his back protruded from his hunched frame like a sore that had grown from his spine. 

The creature moved alongside him, the crashing sounds as it charged through the forest thunderous. The man threw back the tight folds of his cloak and moved with the grace of a practiced runner. His shoulder-length hair emerged from beneath the hood, cascading off his back. 

The creature ran on all four limbs, end over end like a feral animal. Its breathing was ragged and intense. Cold air exhaled from his nostrils as it charged after the dexterous man dodging through the forest. 

He jumped over a dislodged collection of roots, and then spun past a tree that stood directly in his path as he landed. The creature just slammed its gigantic horned frame into the trees, splintering the wood and knocking them from its path. 

The forest ended abruptly. The thick mass of roots and trees disappeared from sight. The sheet of grass, stained brown, extended for a few feet until it ended in a monumental plunge to the canyons and plains below. The man skidded to a stop and threw back his cloak, drawing his blade from around his back. 

The hilt of the sword was cast in ivory––the pearly construction was crafted like a dragon’s head. Its guard was formed of the beast’s hellish wings, the spiraling, sinewy protrusions spreading symmetrically on each side. 

His brown hair was thrown across his face, hiding his cold blue eyes buried behind sleep-deprived circles. A beard carved his jaw line, his lips drawn tight in apprehension. The winds tore at his frame, the fold of his cloak whipping like tendrils in the cold gales. 

The creature emerged from the forest and rolled to a stop, rising on its hunches and glaring at the man. It opened its maw, licking at exposed, rotten teeth. Black, soulless eyes were obscured in the darkness. It tilted its head and made a thin sound, like a bird chirping. 

“Man flesh,” spoke the creature. 

The words were guttural and strangled. 

The man looked at the creature, its shoulders rising far above him. Grayish skin covered its entire body juxtaposed with black, spiked scales. Its arms were long like an ape. Claws were sharpened into half the length of the sword the man wielded. 

“Not much for conversation, are you?” the warrior spoke breathlessly. 

“Kill. Eat. Man flesh,” growled the creature once again. The creature took a few steps forward. 

The warrior turned his blade out and it glistened in the half light of the moon. The flash captured the soulless sockets of the creature. His feet parted slightly, rooting him as he prepared to lunge. In one motion, he leapt forward. The point of his blade sung through the air as he did so. 

The creature roared. Swinging one of its massive claws across the front of its frame, it tried to catch the man mid-flight as he descended. The man shifted in mid-air, his body tightening and then rolling to the ground. His blade was tucked tight with his body and as he landed; he lunged forward. Catching the creature across its mammoth legs, the creature howled in pain as it reached down to block the strike. 

It glowered at the man as he returned to his stance. His blade was held across his chest at an angle, eyes set firmly at the throat of the beast. They circled each other, the beast snarling and sputtering as its green puss oozed from the wound and covered its leg. 

It burned the earth beneath them. 

The creature roared––its mouth agape, saliva glistening as it strung from fang to fang. Its stale breath was like a fog from its mouth. The man moved forward again, the blade slamming into the flank of the creature. Blood splattered across his cloak and the stricken ground. 

He turned as he remained crouched beneath the haunches of the beast and drove his blade through its chin. The creature groaned as the crack of the splintered skull echoed in the hills. Sliding down as the man pulled his blade free, it was no more. The creature’s face was a macabre death mask. 

The warrior stood over his prey. 

The lifeless eyes of the beast were listless, departed. He raised his blade and decapitated the creature in one smooth movement. Reaching down, he grasped his prize: the head of the Nighen.







Bio: A psychologist, author, editor, philosopher, martial artist, and skeptic, he has published several novels and currently has many in print, including: The End of the World Playlist, Bitten, The Journey, The Ocean and the Hourglass, The Path of the Fallen, The Portent, and Cerulean Dreams. Follow him on Twitter (@AuthorDanOBrien) or visit his blog http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com. He recently started a consultation business. You can find more information about it here: http://www.amalgamconsulting.com/.




All of his books are only 99 cents on Kindle right now!


Download The Twins of Devonshire and the Curse of the Widow for free on Kindle from 8/13 until 8/17!


Would you like to win a Kindle Fire?

Visit http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com/ and follow the blog for a chance to win a Kindle Fire!

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05 August 2013

The Journey with Dan O'Brien

This week I am hosting Dan O'Brien and his book "The Journey."

Below you'll find a few questions and answers from the author, an excerpt of the book, and links for more information on Dan O'Brien and his work.

All his books are only 99 cents on Amazon right now, and "The Journey" is available as a free download until August 9th!

Plus, follow Dan O'Brien's blog at http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com/ for a chance to win a Kindle Fire!


Welcome to the fourth day of The Journey blog tour. It will run until August 9th and will feature excerpts and new author interviews each day. But first, here is the obligatory blurb about the novel to settle you into this strange world:

The Frozen Man. The Translucent Man. The Burning Man. The Wicker Man. The guide known only as the Crossroads, together these are the signposts and totems of the world that the being called the Lonely inhabits. Seeking out the meaning of his journey, the Lonely is a being consumed by philosophical inquiry and adventure. Filled with exotic places and age-old questions, the Journey is a book that seeks to merge the fantastical and real. Join the Lonely as he seeks out answers to his own existence and perhaps the meaning for us all. 



A few questions for the author:


Have you been the kind of friend you want as a friend? 

Absolutely. I am a friendly person who will always help out. I make time for others and I have tendency to go out of my way to make sure things go smoothly. Also, I watch a lot of Doctor Who.


Which is worse, when a good friend moves away, or losing touch with a good friend who lives right near you? 

I think losing touch with a good friend who lives close because you run the risk of seeing them and having nothing to say. Or worse yet, you engage in that awkward, bland conversation that both sides know is lip service. A very sad state of affairs indeed. 


What are you most grateful for? 

My family and the group of close friends who I have maintained for most of my life. I am always surprised to meet new people who fit into the slowly shrinking circle of close confidants, but it is always welcome.



Here be an excerpt for your enjoyment:


IV
The Northern Chamber


The cold winds assailed the Lonely, yet he continued on despite the bitter touch of nature. As he was beginning to feel that he could travel no more, he came upon something he had not expected: the city of the North. The place known as the Northern Chamber, the house of those devoted to the ideals of the North. Upon entering this place, he felt the cold wash away and the storms stop. And as he turned back to see the trail by which he had come, he saw the veil of snow and wind through which he had ventured remained just outside of the city. 

It was suspended as if frozen in time. People passed by him as if he were not there at all. Their features were pale and cold, as though they were not human at all. The city possessed no sheen, no shine, just a cold, desolate existence in which each man walked as if it were an interminable death march.

The Lonely approached the first building which harbored an open door and entered. A feeling of nothingness washed over him as the dim interior of the room absorbed him. He approached the counter. What resided behind it was a machine––a machine resembling a man. Cold, calculating eyes bore into the Lonely’s flesh from behind its chiseled, soulless features. Its movements were restricted and linear as it placed its arms on the counter and cocked its head to the Lonely.

“You are waste,” the machine called.

“What are you?” the Lonely queried, bewildered by the machine-man.

“I am perfection, the pinnacle of man.”

“You are a machine.”

“Better to be logical as a machine than random and undisciplined as an animal,” returned the machine. Cocking its head back once again, it watched the Lonely with a cold gaze.

The Lonely turned away and looked around the room. All of the patrons resembled the machines, their features identical––and all men. “Where are the women?”

“Women possess the flaw of emotion, their ways unstable and unpredictable. We have found no use for them here in the North. We care only of the perfection of oneself, the attainment of the goals of the individual.”

The Lonely shook his head, confused by the blatant, cold mentality of the machine-thing. “Life cannot be lived as thus. You must seek the middle way. A life without emotion and bonding is one lived in complete darkness. Even logic can understand that.”

“The unpredictability of emotion makes it unusable in the equation of success and profit. Emotion clouds judgment, which leads to disaster and chaos. The North does not allow such things. We thrive on consistency, usefulness.”

“I have come seeking answers. The Crossroads said that answers could be found here in the North––a piece of the puzzle for which I search.”

“The Frozen Man is the wisest among us. His logic is dizzying.”

“Where can I find this Frozen Man?”

“He is at the farthest reaches of the tundra. We were too flawed for his science.”




Bio: A psychologist, author, editor, philosopher, martial artist, and skeptic, he has published several novels and currently has many in print, including: The End of the World Playlist, Bitten, The Journey, The Ocean and the Hourglass, The Path of the Fallen, The Portent, and Cerulean Dreams. Follow him on Twitter (@AuthorDanOBrien) or visit his blog http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com. He recently started a consultation business. You can find more information about it here: http://www.amalgamconsulting.com/.


Follow Me On Twitter 


All of his books are only 99 cents on Kindle right now!


Download The Journey for free on Kindle from 8/5 until 8/9!


Would you like to win a Kindle Fire?

 Visit http:/ /thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com/ and follow the blog for a chance to win a Kindle Fire!


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29 July 2013

The End Of The World Playlist by Dan O'Brien

This week I am hosting Dan O'Brien to discuss his book "The End Of The World Playlist."

Below you'll find a few questions and answers from the author, an excerpt of the book, and links for more information on Dan O'Brien and his work.

Leave a comment for a chance to win a copy of "The End Of The World Playlist."

Follow his blog at http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com/ for a chance to win a Kindle Fire!




Welcome to the fifth day of the The End of the World Playlist blog tour. It will run until August 1st and will feature excerpts and new author interviews each day. But first, here is the obligatory blurb about the novel to settle you into this dystopian world:

The world as we knew it had ended. Deep in the mountains of the west coast, six men survived. In the town of River’s Bend, these six friends continued on with their lives as zombies inherited the Earth. As they navigated the world that had been left behind, the soundtrack of life played on.



A few questions for the author:


When it’s all said and done, will you have said more than you’ve done? 

I would like to think I will have done everything I said I would do. But who can know such things? I aspire to deliver on every promise that I have made to myself.


What is the one thing you’d most like to change about the world? 

The way people talk to each other and the level with which we think about things critically. I think that we too often denigrate another because we have not thought much about the content of their lives. I believe books offer an opportunity to create dialogues where they might not have otherwise been.


If happiness was the national currency, what kind of work would make you rich? 

Writing, editing, and publishing. It sounds cliché to say that I do what I love, but that is the truth. I am a very rich man indeed.



Here be an excerpt for your enjoyment:


Track 5
I Am the Walrus


The sound of the engine was overwhelming, and the discussion was far from tame. Instead, it had reached a fevered pitch that bordered on accusatory. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? You think that Avenged Sevenfold has no business being on a playlist for killing zombies. Are you mental, man? Have you completely lost your marbles?” argued Will.

“Your question is: What belongs on an end-of-the-world playlist, correct? In the event of a zombie apocalypse, what would I want to be listening to?”

“Correct.”

“So you agree that the choices would be purely subjective?”

“Of course.”

“Then what exactly is the point of getting all hot and bothered because I think your little band sucks balls. I’m sorry I’m not fawning over it.”

Will threw up his hands in irritation. “What does the brilliant music critic, Kenny of Bumfuck Nowhere, believe belongs on such an auspicious playlist as one that may be the last one you listen to?”

Kenny watched the road out of the corner of his eye. 

“Anything by She Wants Revenge.”

“But you don’t want any Depeche Mode?”

“Fuck Depeche Mode, they don’t sound anything like She Wants Revenge, man.”

“You have got to be the dumbest motherfucker ever if you think that there are no similarities between their music. A fucking deaf-mute could tell the similarity.”

“So your argument is: someone who couldn’t hear the music––and couldn’t convey their opinion about said music that they couldn’t listen to––could do a better job of figuring out what good music is than I could?”

“Precisely.”

Kenny shook his head. 

“And you call me dumb.”

“Not just dumb, bordering on retarded, I swear to fucking God. Your rationale is equivalent to the guy who really believes there is a difference between hamburgers from different fucking fast food places. A Big Mac is the same anywhere, same fucking shit, different fucking day, and different fucking half-a-tard wrapping it up in crunchy paper for you.”

“I am not saying that there aren’t similarities, but I would certainly not compare them in terms of musicality.”

“Musicality? Are you a musical prodigy now? You are about as much an artist as I am a lawn gnome.”</ div>

Kenny laughed heartily. “Did I hurt the little artist’s feelings? Should we talk about those wonderfully dumb graffiti murals you plaster all over our corner of hell?”

“Fuck you. Don’t switch the subject. What makes you such a discriminatory judge of music that you can decide for everybody what constitutes good music and bad music. I don’t mock your shitty taste in music.”

“That is because I don’t have shitty taste in music.”

“What the fuck ever, man.”

“You don’t like what I got to say, then feel free to shut your fucking trap.”

“Fuck that. What about Radiohead? You wouldn’t want to have some Radiohead or Marley? You gonna sit there and look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want some Marley?”

“I am going to do exactly that. Fucking snore-fest, man. Give me ridiculous beats or give me death.”

Will turned and looked out the window. “Ridiculous. This ain’t over yet, man. We are coming back to this. You wait and see.”

Kenny laughed and shook the wheel, jarring the Bronco one way and then the other. “I’ll be waiting, poopy pants.” 

*

The interior of the van was not a verbal ruckus. Brandon drove. Allen sat in the passenger seat, his automatic rifle across his lap. 

Dan and Jesse remained in the back. The older brother sat on the medical bed that would serve as a medic station if necessary; Jesse had been a medical resident before all of the madness went down. 

It was a useful skill now. 

“Usual run, gentlemen,” called Dan.

“Doesn’t feel usual, boss,” replied Allen.

Jesse looked at his brother. 

“All feelings aside, grab what we have to and get out of there. No fucking around, no messing with the deadheads. In and out.”

Allen nodded grimly and Brandon stared coldly from the driver’s seat. “You want me to do what we talked about? Re-situate our dead guests?” asked Allen.

“You head to the Sports Authority. Brandon, you take an eagle locale with the .50 cal and keep an eye on things,” replied Dan.

“Right, boss,” called Brandon from the driver’s seat.

“Me and Jess will hit the library while tweedle dee and tweedle dumb hit Wal-Mart to pick up the Big Box shit.”

“And deadheads?” queried Allen.

“Try to keep the noise to a minimum and add bolts to those that are previously bolted. Kill any that have gotten loose.”

“Right, boss.”

The stereo was low and the music somber. 

“Are we expecting trouble?” 

Turning and looking at Jesse, Dan’s face was grim.

“Always.”




Bio: A psychologist, author, editor, philosopher, martial artist, and skeptic, he has published several novels and currently has many in print, including: The End of the World Playlist, Bitten</ i>, The Journey, The Ocean and the Hourglass, The Path of the Fallen, The Portent, and Cerulean Dreams. Follow him on Twitter (@AuthorDanOBrien) or visit his blog http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com. He recently started a consultation business. You can find more information about it here: http://www.amalgamconsulting.com/.


Follow Me On Twitter



Would you like to win a copy of The End of the World Playlist?

All you have to do is comment on a post during the tour. Two randomly drawn commenters will be awarded either a physical or digital copy of The End of the World Playlist.

 Visit http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com/ and follow the blog for a chance to win a Kindle Fire!


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