Author Spotlight - Nick Wilford's "Black & White" Trilogy

Today I am delighted to announce the upcoming release of the second book in Nick Wilford’s ‘Black & White’ trilogy. 'Corruption' will be available February 11, 2019. I reviewed the first tale here, and now I’m happy to announce that book #1 has a new cover and is now available as permafree.

Blurb: Wellesbury Noon and Ezmerelda Dontible have found themselves in a position where they can make their native land somewhere that lives up to its name: Harmonia. However, they’re setting their sights further afield for their number one task: eradicating the disease that has plagued the neighbouring country of Loretania for generations and allowed the privileged Harmonians to live in a sterile environment.

After dispatching a team of scientists to Loretania, armed with cratefuls of an antidote and vaccine and headed up by their friend, Dr George Tindleson, Welles, Ez, and Welles’s brother Mal – who grew up in that benighted nation – start to worry when they hear nothing back, despite what they had agreed. Commandeering a fishing boat to follow the science team over the sea, they soon find that, while the disease may be on the way out, a new kind of infection has set in – the corruption they thought they had stamped out in Harmonia.

Can they get to the root of the problem and eradicate it before even more damage is done to an innocent people?

*** Warning – this book contains themes that some sensitive readers may find upsetting. ***
Pre-order links: Amazon US / Amazon UK / Smashwords / Barnes & Noble / Kobo  

Add it on Goodreads

Black & White (Black & White #1)

Cover Design: Germancreative

Blurb: What is the price paid for the creation of a perfect society?

In Whitopolis, a gleamingly white city of the future where illness has been eradicated, shock waves run through the populace when a bedraggled, dirt-stricken boy materialises in the main street. Led by government propaganda, most citizens shun him as a demon, except for Wellesbury Noon – a high school student the same age as the boy.

Upon befriending the boy, Wellesbury feels a connection that he can’t explain – as well as discovering that his new friend comes from a land that is stricken by disease and only has two weeks to live. Why do he and a girl named Ezmerelda Dontible appear to be the only ones who want to help?

As they dig deeper, everything they know is turned on its head – and a race to save one boy becomes a struggle to redeem humanity.
Buy links: Amazon US / Amazon UK / Smashwords / Barnes & Noble / Kobo / iBooks

Add it on Goodreads

~

Have you read any good books lately?

PS My apologies to Nick Wilford as I made a mistake and didn't post yesterday as planned.

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Review of "After Terra: Year 200" by Daniel Coldspring

Sometimes taking a chance for our heart’s desire brings us more than we bargained for. Matthew Garrison is about to learn that in the most unexpected ways.

“After Terra: Year 200” is a wild adventure across the reaches of space. But it’s also much, much more. Unlike so many of today’s movies in which characterization takes a back seat to phony CGI nonsense, Daniel Coldspring’s story focuses on character.

And this book has characters aplenty. I’d introduce you, but I think it’s best you meet them for yourself. When you do, say ‘hello’ to Matthew, Jessie, and the gang for me. Now I need to go buy the sequel.

You can get your copy here at Amazon in either e-book format or paperback. I hope that you do and tell me what you think.

Great Synopsis in Mr. Coldspring's Own Words

What are you reading these days?

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Please Welcome Author Nick Wilford with Excellent Writing Insight

Hi Darla! Thanks for helping out with my blog tour today. I’d like to engage your readers in a discussion if I may.

Darla: Splendid, Nick! Thank you for guest posting. I really enjoyed "Black and White" and am delighted to host you.

Why is it important to include some romance in non-romance books?

I’m the last person to count myself as a romance writer, and it’s not a genre I had read a lot of before I started writing books. But I have met some really excellent fellow authors who write romance, and seem to do something different with it. There are always new things to do in every genre; it’s all in the hands of the author. And it’s interesting when genres mix and mingle. When beginning to write Black & White, I didn’t set out to include the element of romance. It was something that arose naturally, and it did serve the plot. I don’t think anything should be included in a book just for the sake of it.

The world of my novel is quite grim on the face of it. Not because there are bad things happening – crime as we would see it has been eradicated, people have been conditioned out of it, and of course that’s a good thing. But the society is very sterile. Not just for the fact that there is no dirt or illness – things are hyper-ordered and regimented, with people eating meals and working out at set times. It’s as if the human touch has been lost. Marriages never seem to be particularly affectionate, and people also don’t extend that much love to their kids (only one is allowed per family). My two young leads, Wellesbury and Ezmerelda, both have friend groups that are characterised by quite a mean, cutting sense of humour. So the idea of romance blossoming between them was something that really helped offset this and offered some light relief. It wasn’t immediately obvious – as I said earlier, it wasn’t planned from the start. But right away I was intrigued by the dynamic between them. It was clear that Ezmerelda is smarter than Wellesbury – and smarter than her whole peer group, in fact, which irks them. But her intentions are always good, so hopefully it doesn’t irk the reader. She’s also the practical, level-headed one, where Welles is wide-eyed and optimistic. She’s great at taking his ideas and fleshing them out into a concrete plan, and she’ll also give him a pep talk whenever he gets discouraged.

So initially, this was more a case of two like-minded souls finding each other than something that was written in the stars to be a great romance. But then, I find the appearance of “insta-love” in books quite bothersome. At least give them a chance to get to know each other first. With Welles and Ez, their feelings developed after they had been through quite a lot of stuff together – some very adverse circumstances – and they started to realise that it really was them against the world. Hopefully this will make the reader root for them to succeed even more, especially when it looks they might not get the chance to be together.

All in all, I think a splash of romance is a great addition to any story. It can help round out your characters and draw the reader in. But just like our real-world affairs of the heart, don’t try and force anything. In fact, just get on with the main plot and if things develop organically – well, then it was meant to be. This will make for a much more satisfactory experience for the reader.

What are your thoughts on including romance in non-romance genres?

Title: Black & White

Author: Nick Wilford

Genre: YA dystopian Series #: 1 of 3

Release date: 18th September 2017

Publisher: Superstar Peanut Publishing

Blurb:

What is the price paid for the creation of a perfect society?

In Whitopolis, a gleamingly white city of the future where illness has been eradicated, shock waves run through the populace when a bedraggled, dirt-stricken boy materialises in the main street. Led by government propaganda, most citizens shun him as a demon, except for Wellesbury Noon – a high school student the same age as the boy.

Upon befriending the boy, Wellesbury feels a connection that he can’t explain – as well as discovering that his new friend comes from a land that is stricken by disease and only has two weeks to live. Why do he and a girl named Ezmerelda Dontible appear to be the only ones who want to help?

As they dig deeper, everything they know is turned on its head – and a race to save one boy becomes a struggle to redeem humanity.

Purchase Links:

Amazon US / Amazon UK / Smashwords / Barnes & Noble / Kobo / iBooks

Add it on Goodreads

Meet the author:

Nick Wilford is a writer and stay-at-home dad. Once a journalist, he now makes use of those early morning times when the house is quiet to explore the realms of fiction, with a little freelance editing and formatting thrown in. When not working he can usually be found spending time with his family or cleaning something. He has four short stories published in Writer’s Muse magazine. Nick is also the editor of Overcoming Adversity: An Anthology for Andrew. Visit him at his blog or connect with him on Twitter, Goodreads, Facebook, or Amazon.

Enter the giveaway for a chance to win a copy of my collection A Change of Mind and Other Stories or a $10 giftcard! a Rafflecopter giveaway

Thirty Years? Where Has the Time Gone?

I just learned the movie “Spaceballs” came out three decades ago. That doesn’t seem possible. I missed seeing it until well after the theatrical release and wish some local cinema would screen it today.

In lieu of that I may have to pop in the DVD tonight. The only Mel Brooks movie I like better would have to be “Young Frankenstein” for the horror theme and incredible cast.

But it doesn’t feature John Candy. I still miss him. What a mensch with an incredible gift for making audiences smile and laugh.

Do you have a favorite John Candy role? If you're not a fan, please don't tell me. ~grin~ Just say you can't pick a favorite .

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Warming My Sci Fi Heart

My partner earned a lot of points the other night. I wanted to watch a movie but nothing came to mind. Enter a moment of evil genius.

“How about Mystery Science Theater riffing ‘Manos, the Hands of Fate’?”

“But you never watch MST3K,” said I.

“Maybe I should start.”

Yeah. Cool. But start with possibly the worst movie the Mystery Science Theater 3000 crew ever riff-tracked? It warmed my heart.

DVD Set Includes Mini Movie Poster Featuring
Robots Tom Servo and Crow

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Michael and the Fantastical Flying Feline

Today’s ficlet is a complete bit of silliness. I found inspiration from a great set of parameters that Mahlee Ashwynne has proposed for a story challenge on Romance Divas. If you’ve never checked RD out, it’s a fun place where writers (professional and aspiring) nurture, challenge, and educate one another.

It’s a great challenge, Mahlee! I hope someone can take up the gauntlet soon. In the meantime, while currently out of the running to be challenged, I couldn’t resist playing with her interesting criteria, which I’ll paraphrase here:

Your characters are in a heated argument at a cat show over a hairless sphinx. Why, when, and where are left up to the author. Who wins the argument and how? Included items: a swimming pool, pistachio ice cream in a cone, gold glitter, and a tattoo of Tutankhamen.

Michael and the Fantastical Flying Feline

“It’s not an alien,” Simon insisted, peering at the hairless animal from the distant side aisle. “It’s a cat, Michael, just like all the others at the show, if uglier.”

“I know what it’s supposed to be. I also know that so-called cat is no purebred sphinx.”

“Fine, Michael,” Simon conceded, throwing up his hands. “It’s not a cat. Now can we move on to the refreshment stands? I’m starting to get hungry.”

“I can’t! I need to watch it.”

“You what? I don’t appreciate this petty, childish game. It’s not like you.”

“That’s because I’m not playing, Simon. I think that creature is up to something. Someone needs to keep an eye out. And if you think I’m dumb, what can I say that anyone else will believe?”

“I don’t think you’re dumb, just exasperating.” Simon groaned. “For the sake of argument, let’s say the beast is not just an innocent mammal. What would an alien be doing here? And what has you so convinced?”

“I believe the ambassador that disappeared last night is likely already dead at the hands of the Zerellian Consortium. One of the member worlds is populated by sentient beings that look like that ‘cat’. When they fly, they shed this,” Michael murmured, showing gold glitter on his palm. “I swiped this off its table.”

“Now it’s a fantastical flying feline?”

Ignoring the interruption, Michael continued, “This glittery stuff is what I saw sprinkled around the swimming pool yesterday before police arrived. It looks like the exact same material they found when Senator Bracken disappeared a year ago. One minute, he was at a party talking to the host. The next, the host turned away and Bracken was gone. From eyewitness accounts, police sketch artists ended up with the spitting image for that wrinkled freak. I saw it all on a vid-file last week.”

“You watch too much of that true-crime crap. And anyway, why would the alien still be here? Why not fly away for good? It makes no sense.”

“It does if the job isn’t done. Ambassador Strom took up the anti-Zerellian cause from Bracken but he’s not the only one here that agrees. You happen to be another. Look, I know you think I’m silly.”

“Well, tell me something more. Give me proof that I’m in danger.”

“I don’t have proof or we wouldn’t be standing here.”

“Calm down, Michael. Tell me what else you saw by the pool. You didn’t see a flying cat, I take it.”

“Well, I did think it odd that the pistachio ice cream cone Ambassador Strom had been eating ended up shattered all over the concrete.”

“He probably threw unwanted leftovers toward a trashcan and missed. There, one mystery solved. Stranger would be that cat having a tattoo of Tutankhamen on its backside.”

“Very funny. I think Strom dropped the food while being dragged into the sky. Never mind. I know that look,” Michael sighed. “Forget I said anything.”

At that moment, Simon laid a hand on Michael’s shoulder. The dark eyes flashed in such a way that Michael tracked his gaze to where the subtle gesture indicated.

“Isn’t that the interstellar police? They’re coming right this way,” Simon muttered.

“Simon! Down!”

Not waiting for Simon to comply, Michael felled the older man with a martial arts maneuver. He would apologize later, after they walked away from this adventure.

Twinkling gold showered upon the pair as reptilian wings folded over the back of the airborne homunculus. Where the limbs came from was anyone’s guess. Michael didn’t try. Oversized paws opened into clawed hands as the dreadful little monster dove repeatedly upon the fallen businessman and his horrified lover. Michael shielded Simon as best he could, too focused upon fighting off attack to hear the shots fired over his head.

Michael remained on his knees, half leaning over Simon, whom he’d kept pressed to the floor. The failed assassin flapped one leathery wing, black foam forming on the bifurcated lip as bulbous eyes glazed over. Despite his anticipation, Michael felt utterly discombobulated after the endorphin rush.

“What just happened?”

“I think you officially became my hero.”

-

Michael and the Fantastical Flying Feline

Today’s ficlet is a complete bit of silliness. I found inspiration from a great set of parameters that Mahlee Ashwynne has proposed for a story challenge on Romance Divas. If you’ve never checked RD out, it’s a fun place where writers (professional and aspiring) nurture, challenge, and educate one another.

It’s a great challenge, Mahlee! I hope someone can take up the gauntlet soon. In the meantime, while currently out of the running to participate for points, I couldn’t resist playing with her interesting criteria, which I’ll paraphrase here:

Your characters are in a heated argument at a cat show over a hairless sphinx. Why, when, and where are left up to the author. Who wins the argument and how? Included items: a swimming pool, pistachio ice cream in a cone, gold glitter, and a tattoo of Tutankhamun.

Michael and the Fantastical Flying Feline

“It’s not an alien,” Simon insisted, peering at the hairless animal from the distant side aisle. “It’s a cat, Michael, just like all the others at the show, if uglier.”

“I know what it’s supposed to be. I also know that so-called cat is no purebred sphinx.”

“Fine, Michael,” Simon conceded, throwing up his hands. “It’s not a cat. Now can we move on to the refreshment stands? I’m starting to get hungry.”

“I can’t! I need to watch it.”

“You what? I don’t appreciate this petty, childish game. It’s not like you.”

“That’s because I’m not playing, Simon. I think that creature is up to something. Someone needs to keep an eye out. And if you think I’m dumb, what can I say that anyone else will believe?”

“I don’t think you’re dumb, just exasperating.” Simon groaned. “For the sake of argument, let’s say the beast is not just an innocent mammal. What would an alien be doing here? And what has you so convinced?”

“I believe the ambassador that disappeared last night is likely already dead at the hands of the Zerellian Consortium. One of the member worlds is populated by sentient beings that look like that ‘cat’. When they fly, they shed this,” Michael murmured, showing gold glitter on his palm. “I swiped this off its table.”

“Now it’s a fantastical flying feline?”

Ignoring the interruption, Michael continued, “This glittery stuff is what I saw sprinkled around the swimming pool yesterday before police arrived. It looks like the exact same material they found when Senator Bracken disappeared a year ago. One minute, he was at a party talking to the host. The next, the host turned away and Bracken was gone. From eyewitness accounts, police sketch artists ended up with the spitting image for that wrinkled freak. I saw it all on a vid-file last week.”

“You watch too much of that true-crime crap. And anyway, why would the alien still be here? Why not fly away for good? It makes no sense.”

“It does if the job isn’t done. Ambassador Strom took up the anti-Zerellian cause from Bracken but he’s not the only one here that agrees. You happen to be another. Look, I know you think I’m silly.”

“Well, tell me something more. Give me proof that I’m in danger.”

“I don’t have proof or we wouldn’t be standing here.”

“Calm down, Michael. Tell me what else you saw by the pool. You didn’t see a flying cat, I take it.”

“Well, I did think it odd that the pistachio ice cream cone Ambassador Strom had been eating ended up shattered all over the concrete.”

“He probably threw unwanted leftovers toward a trashcan and missed. There, one mystery solved. Stranger would be that cat having a tattoo of Tutankhamun on its backside.”

“Very funny. I think Strom dropped the food while being dragged into the sky. Never mind. I know that look,” Michael sighed. “Forget I said anything.”

At that moment, Simon laid a hand on Michael’s shoulder. The dark eyes flashed in such a way that Michael tracked his gaze to where the subtle gesture indicated.

“Isn’t that the interstellar police? They’re coming right this way,” Simon muttered.

“Simon! Down!”

Not waiting for Simon to comply, Michael felled the older man with a martial arts maneuver. He would apologize later, after they walked away from this adventure.

Twinkling gold showered upon the pair as reptilian wings folded over the back of the airborne homunculus. Where the limbs came from was anyone’s guess. Michael didn’t try. Oversized paws opened into clawed hands as the dreadful little monster dove repeatedly upon the fallen businessman and his horrified lover. Michael shielded Simon as best he could, too focused upon fighting off attack to hear the shots fired over his head.

Michael remained on his knees, half leaning over Simon, whom he’d kept pressed to the floor. The failed assassin flapped one leathery wing, black foam forming on the bifurcated lip as bulbous eyes glazed over. Despite his anticipation, Michael felt utterly discombobulated after the endorphin rush.

“What just happened?”

“I think you officially became my hero.”

I'm published!

Granted, my e-book is freely available for downloads, but it was given away prior and therefore, I feel, unethical for me to attempt selling. And it's for a good cause, to promote traffic on Mel Keegan's wiki site, The GLBT Bookshelf! The man kindly put together my humble story with a beautiful cover by Jade. If you're interested in great, gay oriented fiction, come on over for some great titles! Please stop by and support our various artists:

Free Gay Reads

Below you'll find an excerpt. First, I need to rectify an error. I neglected to credit any of the wonderful folks who aid and inspire my writing. Special thanks to Dilo Keith, A. Catherine Noon, Nikki Memmott, Evilynne, and Myladymystere! You've all improved my writing (any and all shortcomings are mine alone). For anyone not listed, please forgive my need for brevity!

Now, meet Michael Blanc, Corporate Stress Reliever by trade and optimist by choice. He knows all too well that life can throw rotten fruit in your face. In 2186, Michael makes the most of just desserts. Employed as confidante and lover to those that make up the whipped cream topping on that big apple pie, New York, New York, Michael has survived the whipping and now nibbles a nice, big slice of the pie.

Excerpt from "Memoirs of a Corporate Stress Reliever":

“Michael,” Javier crooned. “You look magnifico.”

“I feel magnificent, thanks to you.”

The fact that he used my first name indicates his pride more than anything else he could have said. We both know my relationship with Mr. X is like securing a pension. I don’t plan on ever being exclusively his and that suits me just fine.

I soon reach the car, a classy current model. The firm keeps nothing junky and replaces anything outmoded. That edict extends to people. Today, confident and titillated, I don’t allow the knowledge to bother me in the slightest.

My surety fades as time passes and I am alone in my office to rattle about the space. He’s a busy man whose schedule can change in a heartbeat yet I never failed to get a courtesy call before this. Not from him, understandably, the word filters down to some undersecretary charged with my notification.

I keep telling myself this lapse has nothing of import attached. The unprecedented consideration was never forthcoming in any other organization, let alone from the CEO!

Forcing myself, I eat my lunchtime salad. Gloves and jacket come off for this, then are put right back on when I finish. Half the food tossed, the usually tasty staple held no taste for me. I remain too aware of the clock and Javier’s obviously wasted effort on my appearance, not to mention my waste to the company’s bottom line.

I’m standing in front of the full length mirror primping again when I hear his code unlock the door. Thank the shadow faeries! I couldn’t schedule anyone else in his stead without permission and zero productivity is a black mark no matter what the cause.

Flanking him are two identical young women. Girls, really, they offend me with their presence. How dare he sully my space so? And I can say nothing, essentially owned by way of my contract.

He ushers the dull creatures inside. Eyes bleary, he gropes one unsteadily. She shows no response, obviously doped for smuggling. It makes me sick.

“I brought you a souvenir. There’s one for each of us!”

Bile rising, I swallow my fury and revulsion. Mentally I seek some excuse, a way out, knowing none exists.

“You should see your face. I’m sorry. Bad joke,” he scolds himself. Then he yells at the closed door, “Smith! Take your trash away!”

Turning back to me, he grins lopsidedly. Is he drunk? If I didn’t know better, I’d say he smells like grain alcohol. A decade since prohibition, defunct drinking establishments have all turned into oxygen and juice bars.

The other man makes two attempts with his own code before entering. His nose and cheeks are beet red.

“See? Michael’s not amused. That was mean,” Smith slurs.

He genuinely respects me. I’d been a sympathetic ear over several bad deals and one rotten divorce. I’ll try to forget this procurement of the twins he hauls out of sight. He winks at us behind their skinny backs.

I secure the entrance against additional intrusion. When I turn back, the master of my domain has quietly sprawled in a doze on the couch. Now what?

Remembering my training, I put on his favorite instrumental and take a seat close by. The music has always helped him relax and he sleeps safe and well. This resolution ends my distress if leaving me bored. I try to think of boredom as extravagance instead of what it is. I dislike inactivity. In any case, I have the visit on record.

Allowing my mind to drift, I slip into a waking dream state to halt the encroaching restlessness. My comportment calm, I preserve a rigid posture of ready servitude.

A shift beside me calls back my awareness. Bloodshot eyes regard me. They are not unkind, almost apologetic.

I hope this whets your appetite. A steamier snippet is up on my Sand Castles blog. Happy reading!