Tag Archives: book

My Nano project continued. Widdershins, Chapter 2

This is raw and has not been edited. I will fix it in the fullness of time.

***
A deer steak tasted different when cooked from frozen. For a start, the center was rare, while the outside was a tad overcooked. The really strange part was no vegetables, nothing, not even canned corn. Morgan guessed the guy lived off the wilderness and yet a pure meat diet wasn’t healthy. A good job she wasn’t a vegetarian or she would have been dead out of luck.

“Thank you for the food, but what should I call you? I’m Morgan.” She offered him her hand, which he ignored like she had tried to pass him a live snake. Did he hate women?
He looked up at her with winter in his eyes. “Rowan. My mother named us for nature.” Those eyes dared her to make a snide remark.

“It suits you. There is something inflexible and yet wild about a tree name.”
“So Morgan le Fay, I can’t see you as a wicked Arthurian enchantress somehow. Parents have a lot to answer for when naming offspring.” A slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

Morgan sighed. “It could’ve been worse. Her second and third choices were Mahitibelle after early pioneer names and Amaryllis, her favorite flower.”

His shoulders started to shake a bit until he got them under as much control as he had his twitching lips. “Morgan isn’t so bad.”

Now he was talking to her, finally talking and not just about her condition. Morgan had a pressing concern. “I’m deeply grateful for everything you’ve done for me, but now I am awake, I wonder if there is a bathroom I can visit when needed?”

Rowan got up from his place by the fire to place his hands on her elevated leg. He closed his eyes, concentrating. “Yes, you can come off traction now. I’ll fix up a crutch, although it won’t help you with the bathroom, which is outside. The snow is far too deep for someone unsteady on their feet and I think you would be too weak in any case. I can carry you there and back.”

Reality slithered sideways. No-one should be able to assess a break without an x-ray machine. “How can you know for certain the bone is set?”

“I have this talent.” The winter returned to his eyes. “Now about clothes. Are you happy with a pair of my boxers and track pants? I salvaged everything you had on above the waist, aside from the sleeve of your jacket, but the rest…the fire and blood took care of them.”

Blood? A compound fracture? There was nothing to show for it on the smooth skin of her leg. He couldn’t mean her cycle as she had accepted the need for a contraceptive implant when she went into the protection program. Male bodyguards buying feminine products would have been a dead giveaway. Something was out of kilter, here. “Again, thanks. That would be very kind of you.”

Bathroom visits became a nightmare with the nasty little hut a distance from the cabin and no more than a primitive earth closet at that. What proved a bigger hardship was not having a daily shower. While Rowan cheerfully obliged by boiling water for her to wash with a bowl, there was no way she could manage the tin tub. Even stranger, he didn’t use the tub, but he never gave off the odor of unclean. Yes, he washed their clothes to hang dry in a corner of the shack, but not himself. No adult man could go long without cleaning himself if he didn’t wish to stink. Rowan did neither. Morgan began to wonder if he washed outside and yet she had never seen him take out any hot water.

Their routine shattered some weeks later when Rowan barreled into the shack near dusk, back early from a hunting trip. His face looked like thunder, but he schooled it into a ‘be nice’ expression before he approached her. “There are men sniffing around your burnt-out car. They know there’s no corpse and are coming back in the morning with dogs. These guys are not cops. You need to level with me.”

This was the end. Morgan couldn’t run. She had no transport and how far would she get hobbling into the forest? The dull pain of hopelessness coursed through her again. “They’re here to kill me. If you have somewhere to hide out, then go to it until they’re done. I want no more blood on my head.”

Rowan sat down on the edge of the bed and took her hand. “What is mine stays mine unless I say otherwise.” His eyes narrowed. “Why do they want you dead?”

What did it matter now? What did anything matter? “I saw a guy kill some people and I told the cops. That is when he had his friends murdered my family. I went into the witness protection program and he got convicted, but that wasn’t the end of it. He has people making me out to be a psycho. There are sworn testimonies from people I never met, claiming I’m a space cadet. If I don’t appear in his appeal, he will win. This is why there is a contract out on me and why you must let this happen. I have had four identities and three bodyguards blown away. I can’t live with a trail of death in my wake anymore.”

“Not acceptable.” Frost sparkled in Rowan’s eyes. “We will leave here now.”

“Get real. The dogs will track us.”

“Track you, maybe, if I were not going to carry you. Tracking me might prove more problematic.” He smiled, slow and wicked. “Finding me will be their last mistake.”
Rowan moved quickly, getting together clothes and a few essentials, which he stuffed into a backpack. He swaddled Morgan in furs to carry her in a fireman’s lift with the pack slung over his other shoulder, and then he set off into the night.

All the alarms went off in the moment he started his trek. She weighed about one hundred and fifteen pounds and yet he carried her as if she were a feather. His pace was a steady run, impossible for a normal man, and yet easy for him. Morgan didn’t fight. This was his choice, whatever he was, but she began to doubt if he were human as the hours wore on and still his pace didn’t alter, nor did he sweat, not that she could smell.

They stopped at dawn when they reached a cave next to a waterfall at the side of a hill. Morgan roused out of a doze to her new surroundings. The place gave shelter from the wind and fresh water, if little else. No normal person could hope to survive here in the depths of winter, so what was his plan?

“Rowan, it’s your turn to level with me.” She looked him in the eyes, but he wouldn’t hold her gaze.

“Leave it be. There are things better left unspoken.”

“This place will not support us.”

“Yes, it will. I’ll get a fire going, and then I must backtrack to take care of certain difficulties.”

“Those guys carry major firepower. I haven’t seen you with a gun before and nor did you pack one. You can’t take them on.”

He grinned, flashing his teeth. “I don’t share nicely.”

Once the fire was set he headed out, leaving her with a bunch of unanswered questions. She had deadfall to keep the blaze going and before he left, Rowan made a new crutch for her out of a tree branch with lashings holding together a bit that was wrapped in fur to support her weight. Alone now with her thoughts, she went over everything that had happened to her since she woke up after the accident. No normal man could have run that distance with her weight on his back. Even the iron man competitions weren’t so long or so harsh. No normal man could have fixed her leg the way he had. No normal man would hide in the woods with his looks. What, in the name of hell, was he?

Night clawed down into morning. Morgan kept the fire burning for warmth and to keep away predators. When the silvery lights of dawn streaked through the sky she heard yelps and snarls. Whatever was coming, she would meet it head on. The crutch worked well to get her out of the cave and then she saw a pile of clothes. Rowan’s clothes just left in a heap, right down to the underwear.

Men’s screams now sliced through the air until came silence. She didn’t wait long after. A large wolf ran into view, skidding to a halt in a cloud of snow when it saw her. It sat on its haunches, waiting her out. Morgan wasn’t backing down. She sat down awkwardly by the clothes.

The wolf tried growling and howling to make her move, but still she sat firm. The answer came in a shimmer of light, the impossible answer of the wolf dissolving into naked Rowan.

“You are not meant to see this,” he said, unembarrassed and not bothering to cover his private parts.

Not what she expected, thinking perhaps he was the product of some genetic experiment, one of the perfect soldier programs. Never had she considered something out of myths and legends. Her world tipped sideways. Whatever happened now was beyond her imagination. “But I have. If this means I need to die, do it quickly. I’m so tired of running.”

“The others will never let up until you are dead. This much I have learned. ”

She shivered, not just from the cold. “And you? Now I know what you are?”

Author Interview with Mansel Jones

Hi Mansel Jones, great to see you here. Please tell us all about your book and how it came into being.

12107031_192449397754906_8384012935107389264_n
Tangwstyl is a medieval romantic mystery based on historical fact. The printed book runs to 536 pages and is available from all leading bookstores and Internet outlets as a paperback and as an eBook. An audio book is planned for the new year.
From 28.10.2015 to 3.11.2015 the ebook will be on offer for £0.99/$0.99

The blurb
Tangwstyl is a story of love and murder, of loyalty and betrayal. Set in the medieval town of Kenfig in the year 1399, the story centres on a prophecy made by Merlin and the birth of a girl, named Tangwstyl. Based on historical fact, Tangwstyl tells the story of King Richard and a plot to assassinate him, of Owain Glyn Dwr and his struggle for personal and national justice, and of the medieval Church and its desire to suppress all forms of heresy. Tangwstyl also tells the story of the common men and women of Kenfig, ordinary people caught up in extraordinary events, events that would alter long held beliefs and reshape lives.

The Prophecy: From an English Chronicle – The Welsh habit of revolt against the English is an old-standing madness…and this is the reason: the Welsh, formally called Britons, were once noble crowned over the whole realm of England; but they were expelled by the Saxons and lost both the name and the kingdom. The fertile plains went to the Saxons, but the sterile and mountainous districts to the Welsh. But from the sayings of the prophet Merlin they still hope to recover their land. Hence, it is that the Welsh frequently rebel, hoping to give effect to the prophecy.
The Main Characters

Euros – Euros is a lord who returns from a pilgrimage to discover that revolution is in the air and that the common men and women of Wales are poised to take up arms against the English Crown in their fight for justice. Born of an English father and a Welsh mother Euros must reconcile his loyalty to the English Crown with his love for Anest, a woman who believes in Merlin’s prophecy and the need for revolution.

Anest – Anest is a healer. While the men and women of the castle indulge themselves to excess, Anest has to tend to the needs of the wider community. Despairing at the degree of suffering she encounters she realises that drastic action needs to be taken. When she is told of Merlin’s prophecy – that the man who fathered Tangwstyl is to be their saviour – she sets out to find that man.

King Richard. Mistrusting his friends and suspecting his enemies, Richard is on his way to Ireland to quell a rebellion. As he journeys he discovers that treason resides at the heart of his court and that soon a usurper will claim his crown.
Owain Glyn Dwr. Loyal to the Crown, yet not welcome at Richard’s court, Owain Glyn Dwr is made aware of Merlin’s prophecy. Denied justice by the Crown, should he stand by the king or should he lead the rebellion?

Biography: Mansel Jones was born in Glamorgan, Wales, home to numerous castles, folk legends and tales of King Arthur. His words have appeared in publications as diverse as Country Quest, Dragon’s Tales and the Seaside News. He has a profound knowledge of Kenfig and is the author of A History of Kenfig. His views on the medieval town have been sought by leading scholars and have featured in academic publications.
Contact details: http://jonesthebook.com/ and http://manseljones.com/

Extract From Tangwstyl – Chapter Seven of Sixty
13th March 1399 – Tangwstyl is born
“In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost, Mary gave birth to Christ, Anne gave birth to Mary, Elizabeth gave birth to John the Baptist. Mary gave birth to Our Lord Jesus Christ without shame and without sorrow. In his name and through the merits of St Mary the Virgin, his mother, and of St John the Baptist we ask you to come out, child, whether you be male or female, from your mother’s womb, without dying or causing her death. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
Anest intoned the prayer, hoping that her words would find favour with St Margaret of Antioch and that she, a patron saint of childbirth, would intercede and smooth the passage of Tirion’s labour.

The healer had already decided that if a cut were necessary then Tirion would require some form of sedation. Prepared for such an eventuality, Anest possessed a beverage called dwale, a mixture of lettuce, briony, opium, henbane, juice of hemlock and the gall from a sow, all mixed in a measure of wine. From her medicines, Anest produced this concoction, handing the phial to Madog.Then, she proceeded to wash her hands, along with the belly and the genitalia of the pregnant woman.

The preparatory stage over, it was time to assist in the birth of Tirion’s baby.
Tilting Tirion’s head forward, Madog was about to administer the dwale when the young woman’s eyes opened. She stared wildly at her clothing: “The dagger…you must ensure that Payn de la March gets the dagger…promise me…promise.”

Mystified, Anest moved to Tirion’s side. “Does the dagger belong to Payn de la March?”

Crying out in pain, Tirion was unable to answer. She gripped the straw as yet another contraction consumed her. This was swiftly followed by yet more blood loss. The intensity, and the regularity, of the bleeding proved to be far greater than anything Anest had ever seen before. This forced the healer to reconsider her options: dangerous at the start, the cut seemed impossible now; any incision and subsequent blood loss would surely drain Tirion of all life. In conclusion, Anest decided that the dwale would not be required; she would have to find another way.

Sobbing, Tirion took hold of Anest’s cloak; her fingers, white, translucent, gripping the cloth with surprising force. “The baby…will be a girl…and she is to be called Tangwstyl.”

In compliance, Anest nodded. She would carry out Tirion’s instructions. But she had so many questions: where was Tirion‘s home? Why was she trying to reach Ty Maen? And in relation to the baby: what was the father’s name? And how did she know of its sex? When Tirion subsequently spoke, Anest considered that, maybe, some of those questions remained, etched upon her face.

“The seer…he told me about the baby…believe, and you will all be saved.”

Consciousness had once again deserted Tirion leading Anest to fear that all hope might soon be lost. She was aware that action had to be taken swiftly, or the baby would not take its place in this world. But what to do? Looking at Madog, she was struck by an idea.

“Can you lift Tirion and stand above me on that straw?” Anest pointed to a series of bales, akin to a set of grain steps, arranged neatly, placed near the undercroft door.
Madog nodded vigorously: “That will be no problem. Stand clear, we will see this child born yet.”

Anest watched as Madog raised Tirion by her armpits, the stump of his left arm supporting, the strength in his right arm taking the strain. He climbed the straw steps until he found the third level. There, he sat, holding Tirion, dangling her legs over the edge, in a position where the baby’s weight would take maximum effect; Anest had come to realise that there was little more that Tirion could do; the baby would have to find its own way out of the womb.

Panting, but unable to respond to the contractions, Tirion remained cloaked in perspiration; lucent, her skin shone like glass in the moonlight.

Anest realised that she too was perspiring. She looked up at Madog, wondering: how much longer could he take the strain. But the ease upon his face told her that, in this quarter at least, she had no need of worry; the labour could go on all night if necessary and he would remain there, as solid as a rock, as secure as the Pope’s faith.
However, Tirion could not wait, and so it was with relief that Anest saw the first sign of the baby emerging: the bulge of its head pressing against Tirion’s pelvic floor. The head itself followed, moving forward with each contraction, only to slip back a little, before making more progress. Then, Anest saw that the umbilical cord had looped itself around the baby’s neck and so, carefully, she slipped her fingers under the cord and hooked it over the baby’s head. With the head now fully engaged, Anest manoeuvred the baby backwards until first one shoulder, and then the other, appeared. Two more contractions saw the delivery of Tirion’s baby and, with only a mild measure of astonishment, Anest noted that the seer had been vindicated; Tirion had indeed given birth to a girl: blue, crying, streaked in blood, Tangwstyl was born.

The birthing process over, Anest took the knife and cut the umbilical cord. Then, she washed Tangwstyl with fresh water before covering her in salt and honey, the better to dry up her humours and prevent any premature loss of moisture. Next, Anest dipped a finger into the honey, rubbing this over the baby’s mouth, both to cleanse and to encourage suckling. Finally, she swathed the baby in swaddling bands, offering support to Tangwstyl’s unformed and malleable limbs.

Taking the baby, Anest placed her in Tirion’s arms. The young mother opened her eyes, smiled and kissed Tangwstyl before lapsing into an everlasting peace.

“She needs to be shriven.” Madog climbed down from his position upon the straw. As Anest took Tangwstyl into her arms, so the steward attended to Tirion’s body, wrapping her lifeless form in the blanket, providing her with a degree of grace and dignity, showing total respect for her sacrifice. “The child needs to be baptised; I will seek a priest.”

“She should not have died.” Anest felt a sense of grief, a sense of contrition; she had failed. Yet, had not the Holy Spirit failed them also? After all, had not Anest invoked the support of St. Margaret of Antioch? “I offered up prayers,” she complained.

“Sometimes, our prayers contradict God’s wishes. And being wise to those wishes is the ultimate belief.” Stoically, Madog walked over and placed a comforting hand upon the healer’s shoulder. He smiled at the baby, who lay oblivious, content in Anest’s arms. “You should not reproach yourself. After all, you saved the child’s life.”

Anest cast her eyes down to the ground; she knew that Madog was right but, in that moment, she found Tirion’s passing hard to accept. She was reminded of her limitations, reminded that her skills could have only a finite effect.

“Who will care for the baby?” Madog patted Ci upon the head, calming the animal; he had been present at the birth, occupying a place near the undercroft door. Silent at first, Ci now appeared agitated, excited, as if knowing that he had been privy to a special event.

Considering her answer carefully, Anest found an image of Ceinlys, Meredydd and their baby presenting itself. What was it that Meredydd had said: “If at any time we can help you, you will make use of our labours?” Maybe now was the time to hold him to his word. Not that Ceinlys would be burdened by such a request. Anest had learned through her dealings with Ceinlys just how keen she was to surround herself with children: she would be overjoyed at the prospect of tending a foundling as well as her son. “I will take Tangwstyl to Ballas.” This solution sat comfortably with Anest, allowing a shaft of optimism to filter into her mind. “She will be safe there. She will be well looked after.”

“And what of Tirion’s vision?” Madog continued to soothe Ci, continued to prevent him from leaping up and so lick the child. “Is a prince’s daughter held within your arms?”

Anest smiled at the notion. “Do you believe in such prophecies, Madog?”

“I believe in what I can see, in what is real.”

“This baby is real.” Anest held Tangwstyl on high, as if to confirm that fact. Adding her voice to the discussion, the baby emitted a soft gurgle; the talk of a princess, or the talk of a commoner, there could be no sweeter sound.

“What you say is true,” Madog replied, soberly.

“Tirion’s words were real.”

“That also is without question.”

“Then who are we to disbelieve her?” Anest spoke with conviction and, she would have to admit, with no little hope, for, whatever the truth of the matter, this much was clear: Tirion believed in the seer’s prophecy, for she had been in no condition to invent such a story. If omens were required, Anest could point to the comet, seen burning in the sky earlier that night. Still, more than anything, Anest held on to her intuition: her intuition was her best friend, her greatest ally. Furthermore, her intuition told her that there was something special about Tangwstyl, it told her that the man responsible for this baby’s being held a quality, held an aura that few other men could possess. It told her that he might well be the new Arthur. And that thought sent a shiver down her spine.

A thoughtful silence ensued, the peace eventually broken by Madog’s deep growl: “If that is so, and there is a truth to Tirion’s story, then the child is in danger.”

Anest nodded in agreement. “And that is why we must keep the secret to ourselves.”
Ci’s whimpering caught Anest’s attention and, understanding his disquiet, she knelt so that he could take sight of the newborn child. This pleased the dog greatly, for he sat, mouth open, panting his approval.

“My lord, Euros, he will return from his pilgrimage shortly.” Madog stared to the east, as if anticipating his lord’s appearance; he was overdue and it could be only a matter of days before he arrived. “He is wise, learned; he will know what to do. We will share the events of this night with him.”

Anest complied with the steward’s wishes, once again nodding her agreement. Whilst comforting Tangwstyl, she glanced into the undercroft, catching sight of Tirion’s clothing and her purse, considering the fancy brooch, held within. That brooch was the link to Tangwstyl’s father. And a man who could bestow such a beautiful gift would not wish to be ignorant of such a beautiful daughter. He would learn of her being, and he would appear before them, maybe as himself, maybe in disguise. Nonetheless, Anest would be waiting and, if necessary, she would challenge him, learn of his hopes and his dreams for his child. Learn of his hopes and his dreams for his country, for all his children.

Mansel Jones

Q + A
“Where do you get your ideas from?”
“I start with the basics of the story: the theme, the time period, the location, etc. Then I develop the characters until they are in a position to suggest a storyline. Research adds more detail along with observation and my general knowledge of a subject. So, basically, it is a mixture of imagination, observation and research.”

“What was the inspiration behind Tangwstyl?”
“The initial idea to write Tangwstyl came when I was reading about Gerald of Wales and his journey through Wales in 1188. The first thought was to have Tirion steal the sacred cow. The cow features in the story, but the plot developed in a totally different direction as more characters were added, including Richard II. My portrayal of Richard II was praised in a Welsh Books Council review, probably my highest compliment to date.”

“Why are you so fascinated with Kenfig?”
“Because it is a beautiful, natural place steeped in history. I believe that local and family history are the cornerstones of history and the stories they have to tell are far more revealing and fascinating than tales of kings and queens.”

“Do you know what is going to happen at the end of a story before you sit down to write?”
“Before I start to write a story I make sure that I know the characters as well as I know my family. I write a profile of each character, which can be five or more pages long. Also, I map out every chapter in detail, so I have a good idea of where the story is going and where it will end. Of course, if fresh ideas suggest themselves during the writing process then I will use them, providing they fit the framework and the theme of the story.”

“What is your favourite period of history?”
“I am a medievalist, though I also enjoy the Victorian and Edwardian eras, and have an interest in the Second World War.”

Selected Reviews
From Amazon…For once I found that Tangwstyl portrays a true medieval village. The weather, scenery and characters, all resemble a true Welsh village at this era in time. The divergence between the Welsh and the English, as was the case during this period, is also made clear. The characters are believable, and it shows a side to King Richard that is not often seen. The plot is brilliant, and is filled with twists, as each page reveals a new piece of it. The timeline of Tangwstyl is perfect, as it stretches over only a few days. This helps the story feel more realistic and keeps the reader’s attention throughout.

From The Welsh Books Council…Mansel Jones has well imagined the details of life in the period. He obviously knows the landscape well and the evocation of this adds greatly to the book.
From The Kenfig Society…Tangwstyl is…a riveting story…moves along at a terrific pace…holds your interest from start to end and is a real page turner…offers a vivid insight into what it must have been like to live in Kenfig all that long time ago.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Mansel-Jones/e/B0044RKLZO

Interview with Steven J. Guscott author of Book of Prophecy.

Hi Steve, and Welcome. Would you like to begin by telling the readers something about yourself?
Steve
Hi, I’m Steve (Steven J. Guscott). I was born in England, spent my teens and yearly-mid twenty’s in Scotland, and I now live back in England. I’m twenty-seven and wish more than anything to own a Dragon.

My two main obsessions in life have been doing sports and reading books (now writing them). I’m a total dork/geek/nerd. I can be very serious when necessary, and I do over-think life a lot, but most of the time I’m an absolute child. I love just being silly, and am thankful that I have four nieces and a nephew that allow me to let this side out and use them as my cover.

What is/are your book/series about and what inspired you to write it?
The  Book of Prophecy

The Book of Prophecy, is my first book. It is set on a different world in a very simple society. The story follows Dragatu and his family. They own a secret book, The Book of Prophecy, and it contains the future. Dragatu is told about it by his father, but he is not meant to read it until he’s older. Dragatu cannot help himself and the story deals with the consequences of his action, what happens between him and his two brothers, and how fragile life can be when you are given incredible power.

The inspiration came at the beginning of 2010. I was thinking it would be awesome to write a story. I had no idea where to start so I forgot about the idea. A few weeks later, on a very sleep deprived night, I was thinking about a few random things and the name Dragatu came in my head. I thought it was a cool name for a character, but then fell asleep. Luckily, the next day I remember the name and started adding the world he lived in, his family and lots of ideas and themes that I like, such as choice/predestination, morality and its grey areas, fight scenes, love, nature, and philosophy.

How long did the first one take to write and how many times did you go through it before it was finally done?

*…takes deep breath in remembered pain*

Before I answer, let me tell you two things: I’m not a patient person when it comes to wanting something, and I started writing this story with only a past in academic writing under my belt.

I started from scratch. I wrote the first draft and an outline for a series of three stories in four months in 2010 (still edited it right up until publishing aug 2014). However, my writing was terrible. I edited and edited and edited, and was still really bad. However, I felt the ideas were good enough so endured my short comings and tried to learn, and slowly I did improve. I was helped by a lot of people, mainly my publisher Sammy HK Smith, and I can’t remember how many full edits it took, maybe a hundred (no joke). Since then, it has evolved into a series of six, but who knows how long it will take to write them all.

Where do your settings come from? Are they taken from real places, made up entirely, or a conglomerate of the two?

Some of the setting is inspired by my favourite book, Dune.

One strange thing that happened was I realised some of the setting had been inspired by where I lived. At the time I lived in Stirling, Scotland and they have amazing hills stretching to make up part of the Forth Valley.

A year after writing the book I looked at the hills and was like ‘Whhooooh!! That’s the hills from my book!’ This unintentional use of things around me, or in my life/past, has happened a lot and it’s always fun to spot one. Some of the setting/plot has been conscious, but those subconscious ones always make my jaw drop.

Who is your favorite character and why?

I don’t really have a favourite character from the book. It’s strange, but in my mind they are real, and I try not to be judgmental. I know that’s a weird answer but that’s how I feel. If I really, really, really, had to pick a character I liked more, I would say it was Phoenon, one of Dragatu’s brother’s. He’s very innocent at times, and that is something I always put above other qualities.

Are you an outliner or a pantzer when it comes to start a book? If the latter, do the ideas come to you in one big lump, or are they piecemeal?

It varies. I’ve been different depending on the story. With BoP the ideas were pretty much all there in the first session of writing the ideas. However, with other story’s I’ve chopped and changed things with drafts when new ideas come.

Finally, where can the book be purchased and what are your plans for the next ones?

It is currently discounted on most if not all Amazon site 99c/p

http://www.amazon.com/The-Book-Prophecy-Steven-Guscott-ebook/dp/B00MNUE4OS/ref=cm_cr_pr_pl_footer_top?ie=UTF8

The second book is finished (loose phraseology) and will be going to the publishers to be looked at very soon.

Thank you so much for having me!!
Steve (Steven J. Guscott)

My review of this wonderful book.
By Elizabeth Hull – Published on Amazon.com
Format:Kindle Edition
This story is a wonderful illustration of the power of the written word. Dragatu finds his world transformed when he and his brothers are granted enormous mystical powers not seen in ordinary men. The problem is that peace has lasted centuries and no one quite know how to behave in war so the book becomes not a mere guide but a religion which one person wants to enact exactly into the current circumstances.

Peace is not possible unless the decent qualities of behavior are maintained. How the brothers deal with the supernatural and the change in their life is thrilling. I would hope there is a sequel.

5 star review for Sword of Shadows from Reader’s Favorites!!!!

Book Review
Reviewed by Chris Fischer for Readers’ Favorite

Wow! I just finished reading Sword of Shadows, the newest book by author C.N. Lesley, and I can truly say that I was simply astounded by this work. As a lover of all things Arthurian, I was excited to read this story. Excited and a little apprehensive, as I’ve read so many other things that have pretty much crucified all I hold dear about stories of Arthur, Merlin and the Knights of the Round Table. And it is kind of an audacious notion to combine the medieval stories of Arthur with such a fantastic world. But C.N. Lesley is able to do it, and so well at that.

Sword of Shadows follows our hero, Arthur, and his brother Kai, as they are thrust into life on the Surface World. No longer warriors, and living as exiles, they soon encounter Merlin, the legendary and untrustworthy magician, and learn that Arthur must find the sword in order to save both the surface, Avalon, and everything that Arthur holds dear.

Sword of Shadows is actually the second in a series of books by author C.N. Lesley. I hadn’t read the first, Shadow Over Avalon, but I had absolutely no problem following this storyline. I would highly recommend this book to any lover of science fiction or fantasy, and to any reader who would love to see a new take on an Arthurian tale. I am excited now to go back and read the first book in this series, and certainly hope that C.N. Lesley is already working on Book Three!
Sword of shadows

https://readersfavorite.com/book-review/sword-of-shadows

On the subject of bargains and scams.

I became aware today that someone is offering a free audiobook of  ‘Shadow Over Avalon’. It isn’t me or my publisher. There are no audiobooks of my works…yet. I will be first to shout out if that happens. If this offer were genuine, which it is not, then it would be theft, pure and simple. What it will do is give you a great dose of virus for you PC. I found this out when I went to look and bear in mind I have uber protection on my PC, which kicked in and informed me of the danger. I believe it was a trojan horse. Lovely.  Please bear in mind that no one gives away something for nothing, not even me. My promos are aimed at increasing sales on the next book.  See? Truth here.

Speaking of promos, I have two currently running.  ‘Shadow Over Avalon’ is currently 99c on all platforms for the ebook. Here is one. http://amzn.to/1R5BHet

Shadow Over Avalon small

Another promo is going on in the UK at Amazon and is for the paperback version of Darkspire Reaches, so yes, the second book is coming soon.  Here s the link and the deal.

£3.75
  • RRP: £8.99
  • You Save: £5.24 (58%)
FREE Delivery in the UK on orders with at least £10 of books.
In stock.
Dispatched from and sold by Amazon.
Gift-wrap available.
£3.75
  • RRP: £8.99
  • You Save: £5.24 (58%)
FREE Delivery in the UK on orders with at least £10 of books.
In stock.
Dispatched from and sold by Amazon.
Gift-wrap available.

http://amzn.to/1F0yyHJ

Digital Cover

Please remember that unless it comes from me or from Kristell Ink/Grimbold Books it is not a genuine offer and you will certainly be either picking up all sorts of goodies you really didn’t want to acquire or even worse, you might be losing things you worked really hard to accumulate. Some of these hackers can burrow down into a person’s bank account. Whatever book you wish to buy/acquire, then get it only from a genuine platform such as Amazon, Barns and Nobel, Kobo, iTunes, or Smashwords. Google also has one, but my stuff isn’t on there.

Spooky short story on Amazon.

Forever and a Day is only available on Amazon and therefore in their Prime lending library. That means it is free to members, or it can be bought for 99c. Blurb is below. Go check out the trailer.Forever and a day

As a cancer takes root, so too do strange visions and a visitor who should not exit. Robin has a headstone in the churchyard. It says departed, but not dead. He says he has been in the hollow hills. Is this madness? The witching hour approaches with the coming of Samhain. What will it bring?