Monday, March 31, 2014

Something Under the Sea is Drooling - cover REVEAL!

I am very pleased and honored to present the newly re-designed cover for my short, Something Under the Sea is Drooling, as created by the excellent M.S. Corley!

 
 
If you'd like to see what lies behind this glorious cover, feel free to pick up a copy on Amazon.com - only $.99 cents!
 
As I stated in my last blog, I'll be blogging about the process of getting to this wonderful cover over the next couple of weeks - you'll be surprised to see the journey; I have little doubt!

Friday, March 21, 2014

A new cover for Something Under the Sea is Drooling...

Despite getting some very positive responses and a 4 Star Review from my new short, Something Under the Sea is Drooling (for which I am most honored and thankful), I feel that it is not selling as well as it should. So, following the sage advice that I've found everywhere from Joe Konrath's blog to kboards (wonderful resources for indy publishers, BTW), I have attempted to re-tool my blurb. Sadly, however, I received very little response on both my blog and on my kboards post. Which, leads me to believe that perhaps my blurb is fine.

So I've taken on the arduous task of getting a new cover. Arduous is perhaps the incorrect term. I am enjoying the experience, now that I have finally been blessed with a wonderful artist with whom to work. However, getting to this point was another story altogether. Perhaps one day I will blog about that "adventure" in a future post (it all depends on the comments...feel free to post). Regardless, I would like to share some of my experiences that I am currently having with my new cover artist, the esteemed M. S. Corley.

First of all, I discovered M. S. Corley via his deviantart profile. A note to self-pubbers everywhere: deviantart is a tremedous resource for artists! If you do nothing else today, go to this site, create an account (it is free) and begin looking around. When you find art you like, or art that inspires you, or art that is the perfect style for your next project (or what have you), add it to your Favorites. This is a very simple process and you can even create folders within your Favorites so you can orgainze these pieces of art. I have one for "Children's Books", one for "Scary Stuff", "Sci-Fi", and so forth, based on the types of books I like to write.

Some of the initial pieces of Mr. Corley that caught my eye were:


Holy Light, Art Copyright © M. S. Corley
 


The Smell of Evil, Art Copyright © M. S. Corley
 
 
 
Blighted Druid, Art Copyright © M. S. Corley


 Easter Portrait, Art Copyright © M. S. Corley


Hellboy vs. Kreigaffe, Art Copyright © M. S. Corley

Tsathoggua, Art Copyright © M. S. Corley
 
 
 
Brother Death, Art Copyright © M. S. Corley
 
Turtle Card, Art Copyright © M. S. Corley
 

These were by no means the only pieces that caught my eye - M.S. Corely has a profile chock-full if amazing work! Yet, here we have an individual with a tremendous grasp of a wild range of varied styles, a SOLID grasp of all elements of Graphic Design, a killer eye, hand, and design sense AND it appears from his art and his profile that he is a Christian who also is into Hellboy, Lovecraft, and D&D.
 
I was stunned....
 
There are not many of us, after all. :)
 
So, I emailed him, using a link from his blog. And this is where it gets interesting.
 
I've dealt with artists in the past and I know that they are busy, eccentric folks. I love them for that, actually - it's one of the things that makes them so interesting to work with--however, they generally reply back to emails that reference giving them money....
 
So after I'd not heard back from him after a couple of days, I sent a second email. Then, I waited for a couple more days and I still had heard nothing. So, I went to his deviantart profile. You see, another neat thing about deviantart is you can Watch artists in whom you are interested. You get a notification whenever they post new art. It just so happened that M. S. Corley had recently posted some new stuff, which excited me - he was out there - on the Net! I had only to connect with him.
 
So, instead of email, I used deviantart's messaging function, which is called Notes. I dropped M. S. a note and he replied almost immediately! We discovered that he'd never received my initial emails, and was very interested in my project. One thing led to another, and now he's working on a brand new cover for Something Under the Sea is Drooling! I'm super excited about it and I will be blogging over the next few days and showing you the process as we head towards a striking new cover! I hope you will enjoy the series and I hope this blog post has been helpful.
 
The takeaway: be determined and don't give up! Try several different ways to contact someone (but remember - Don't be Pushy)! Be nice, but be persistent!
 
Until next time, please feel free to share this blog post and if you'd like, drop $0.99 on Something Under the Sea is Drooling - if you like romping, wild sci-fantasy filled with Elder Gods, angels, steampunked orcas, and undersea battles--you won't be sorry!

Monday, February 24, 2014

My first 4 Star Review & Re-tooling my Blurb

I am terribly pleased and honored by Seth Swanson, who has delivered to me my first 4 Star Review for Something Under the Sea is Drooling, my rolicking and fun-filled homage to Clavin and Hobbes. I am so humbled and honored...

Despite this wonderful review, I feel that my sales are lagging and to that fact, I am undertaking an effort to re-tool my book description, which is often referred to as a "Blurb". I would love some imput from those who follow this blog. Please let me know from your perspective (as a reader. as writer, or as both) which Blurb you prefer:

Current Blurb:
Halvin "Hal" Ferguson spent his childhood day-dreaming, but even in his wildest imaginings, he never thought he would find himself thrust onto the ragged edge of reality.

Hal's fantastic and unrestrained imagination placed him at the head of a motley but mighty band of beings known as the Mindknaves who tirelessly battle against the forces from Beyond.

But now, the Mindknaves are all but gone. They cannot help him. Cthulhu made sure of that.

Cthulhu - a rancorous and insanely-powerful psyche-shredding force from Beyond has captured Hal's Mom and Dad. Hal knows Cthulhu's plan. The monstrous being of ancient evil plans to force Hal to give up the source of his power - his imagos - and Hal knows that Cthulhu will do anything to get it.

So why is Hal, accompanied by his ever-faithful friend and guardian, the talisman-toy lion Cobbs, diving straight into the reality-warping citadel-city of R'lyeth--straight for Cthulhu's home?

Because Hal knows something that Cthulhu doesn't...or at least he hopes he does.


Revised Blurb:
Mom and Dad are missing. Cthulhu has them, holding them hostage. The insanely powerful Elder God wants the very source of my power—my imagos—and it will do anything to get it.

Even if it means slowly and painfully devouring my parents.

The Mindknaves—all my friends and fellow warriors are gone, destroyed by the war that Cthulhu started. If I’d have only known this was what the psyche-shredding being from Beyond was planning all this time. If only… It doesn’t matter now. All that matters is getting Mom and Dad back from Mr. Tentacle Face.

Now it’s left to me and my talisman-toy, the golden lion Cobbs to do the job. Cobbs and I can do it. I know we can. We HAVE to.

Or die trying.

My name is Halvin. I make things happen—with my mind. Always have. Now, it’s time to kick the keister of an Elder God.

All aboard for a one-way ticket to hell…or rather, R'lyeth.
Which do you like best? Why? Please post in a comment below; I would be honored by your feedback. I look forward to hearing from you.

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Halvin & Cobbs Vs. Cthulhu!

I am most honored and pleased to announce that my first short has been released on Amazon Kindle Direct. The details are below:
 
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00ICXCSP2
 

Halvin an' Cobbs vs. Cthulhu!

Halvin "Hal" Ferguson spent his childhood day-dreaming, but even in his wildest imaginings, he never thought he would find himself thrust onto the ragged edge of reality.

Hal's fantastic and unrestrained imagination placed him at the head of a motley but mighty band of beings known as the Mindknaves who tirelessly battle against the forces from Beyond.

But now, the Mindknaves are all but gone. They cannot help him. Cthulhu made sure of that.

Cthulhu - a rancorous and insanely-powerful psyche-shredding force from Beyond has captured Hal's Mom and Dad. Hal knows Cthulhu's plan. The monstrous being of ancient evil plans to force Hal to give up the source of his power - his imagos - and Hal knows that Cthulhu will do anything to get it.

So why is Hal, accompanied by his ever-faithful friend and guardian, the talisman-toy lion Cobbs, diving straight into the reality-warping citadel-city of R'lyeth--straight for Cthulhu's home?

Because Hal knows something that Cthulhu doesn't...or at least he hopes he does.

Something Under the Sea is Drooling is on sale now.

You would honor me with a review; thank you.

Friday, August 23, 2013

Trying something for fun

I was lurking (as often I do) on KBoards (which is an excellent site, if you do not already frequent it--I highly recommend doing so) today and I noticed the following post:

http://www.kboards.com/index.php/topic,160418.0.html

As I am a fan of Joe Konrath's blog (in fact, he is a primary reason why I am seeking to self-publish), I read the post and was most amused. While I can completely understand the reasoning of many on KBoards and their words regarding the degradation of self-publishing via something like this, it seemed to me to be nothing more than a bit of fun.

If nothing else, one could consider it an exercise in the "process of self-publishing".

I will give this a try.

Immediately, and idea sprung to my mind. I am not much of an artist, but I've created the following cover and will pursue the idea to its conclusion. Here, I will update my status. I've spent approximately four hours on the entire process so far -- creating suitable replicas of Mike Mignola's tentacles were a hearty challenge for my definitely Photoshop-challenged self.


Something Under the Sea is Drooling
(c) 2013 Ken Naga

Something Under the Sea is Drooling (Thumbnail)
(c) 2013 Ken Naga
What are your thoughts? I would be honored by your opinions. Also, what do you think of Joe Konrath's idea? What are your thoughts about his little challenge? I would be most eager to hear your thoughts and opinions.

Until next time, I am feverishly writing...


Friday, August 9, 2013

"Young Lash" Art

"Young Lash" Art by Gerald Lee
Copyright (c) 2013 Ken Naga
I am most excited that the artwork for the "young Lash" has arrived (or almost so). This is not the hi-res version of the art, but the excellent artist, Gerald Lee, whom I contacted has sent me a "look-ahead" before I get the final version. He has even been kind enough to give me different options for the eyes. I must say, I cannot decide. What do you think?

I love having art to work from when I am writing a character. The small details that I find hidden within the artwork help me so much to flesh out the character and make him (or her) more real, more dynamic, and more alive. I have heard that some writers do this as well - I would love to hear from other writers if they use art in this way, or simply work from the images that appear in their mind's eye.

In fact, I have been considering a blog post about this very topic; breaking down my process for using art in this way. I wonder if this would be interesting to anyone out there reading this blog? Please feel free to leave a comment - it would honor me to begin to talk to you and to hear your thoughts and opinions.

This is Lash as a young man (~19 years old), before the action in Upstart begins. For me, in order to truly know a character, one has to know from whence they came. I need to know the character's past, his history and know what challenges he's already overcome in order to simply arrive at the point at which our story begins. Lash is relatively homeless at this point in his life, living on the streets barely surviving. If it were not for his wise friend Sen-Sen, he likely would be dead.

It is this friendship that later evolves into a crisis that turns Lash's entire world upside down.

I would be honored by your thoughts and comments.

Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Writing Excercise: Playing with Character

As I work on developing the story as a whole, it is imparitive that I get to know the characters. Many authors can do this organically, as they compose the story itself. Many cannot. Regardless, I find that if I explore my characters as part of my daily writing excercises, it helps me to delve deeper into the world, whle at the same time, discovering things about the world that I am crafting aroud them.

What follows was one such excercise. This will very likely never show up in one of the actual Lash Logs, but it was fun to write and it helped me determine how I felt about Lash. In this case, I learned that I found Lash's disregard for the lives of the G.P.F. Agents very distasteful and so I've resolved to NOT have his character progress in that direction - or at least not for sometime or some major story-related reason.

As you read, consider taking your characters, as an excercise, into unfamiliar territory. Would you do this? Do you think this would be profitable? Why or why not?

I would be honored by your responses.
---

A cold barrel jammed into my eye socket, jarring me from sleep—it was not the best way to wake up.

“Get up, you stinkin’ scab! GET. UP.” The last two words were punctuated by a steel-toed boot playing hopscotch on my ribs. Broken asphalt—my bed—dug into my back. It was weird, sleeping under the skeletons of the ruined overpasses of two once-great but now ancient interstates: 565 and 559. It was like lying on the picked-clean bones of commerce and prosperity.

Another kick, this one followed by a harsh curse.

Like most sane people, I really don’t like being awoken. I’m really not partial to being awoken by a gun barrel in my eye and a boot in the ribs. I’d have to say I kinda hate it, actually. I hate it almost as much as I hate cursing. It’s just so very…unimaginative and unnecessary.

“Get a thesaurus, you clod.” I growled.

The GPF—Government Protection Force—agent cocked his masked and goggled head like a confused mutt. “Huh?”

My rage boiled out of me like a molten gout of pure inferno, and I blasted the guy thirty feet straight up into the air. He didn’t even have time to pull the trigger or even make a sound before he slammed into the underside of the overpass. My power makes no noise, but I’m pretty sure that the tree-trunk pillar of blazing energy caught a few eyes, though. The panicked screams began erupting around me like popcorn:

“What in the-?”

“Max? What happened to Max?”

“Help! Oh God, somebody help us!”

“We’ve got a CODE  BLACK on our hands! I repeat: CODE BLACK! We have a rogue Super here! Send backup!”

I rolled to my feet, taking in the scene. Standard issue GPF Team: five guys, only one with any semblance of training or experience. I knew if I did not take him out first, I was done for…I’ve handled GPF teams before and, unlike most, lived to tell the tale. These guys had already called for backup, though; I didn’t know if I could handle an entire Squad on my own. They’d be here soon. I glanced at the cloud-clotted skies; it was still early, and that might work to my favor.

I prayed the bulk of the GPF’ers were still sipping their morning joe and pulling on their fancy black body armor while they chatted about last night’s GALnet comedies—or whatever the heck these guys did in the morning.

“Stand DOWN! I repeat, Stand DOWN!” One of the GPF agents—the shortest of the bunch—had his rifle trained on me. There was only a little jiggle in the pitch-black death hole at the end of the weapon, so I figured that this guy had at least fired one before. Most of the GPF’ers were little more than gangbangers, thieves, or thugs that’d been conscripted. Times were really tough, and ironically, sometimes not even crime paid. Unless you worked for the corrupt government, I guess.

I raised my hands, adding a little jiggle of my own to them. “Oh…oh…ok! I…I give up! P…please don’t hurt me! It was an accident! I don’t know what happened…”

The broken pavement grated underfoot as the Lead GPF Agent took a cautious step closer. The black tactical mask undulated where his jaw should have been. I assumed he was keying his mouth-mic. “Everyone. Fan out into a DELTA pattern, keyed on me. Subject is surrendering.”

I grinned, chuckling. I pantomimed the GPF logo: ubiquitous in presence and insidious in nature. “We’re the GPF and we’re here to help!” I tried my best to layer in as much ironic displeasure as possible.

“Excuse me?” The Lead Agent asked. His voice was laced: half confusion, half fear.

Raw, directed hatred blasted from my hands and slammed into the Lead Agent like a Mac truck.

Bones popped and crackled like sticks on a fire, and the Agent’s scream squalled into the radios of his team. I caught sight of one of them as he jerked in response—his leader’s death cries likely piercing his eardrums. I knew what was coming next and broke into a dead run for some cover; luckily there were plenty of old wrecks, rusted barrels, and the general flotsam of a civilization in decay scattered nearby.

Chips of pavement, stone, and asphalt began flying like a caustic cloud as the sounds of rifle-fire exploded all around me. I tried to blink the stinging dust from my eyes while I tried desperately to avoid an even more stinging slug of lead. They had the high ground, and I was a proverbial fish in a proverbial barrel. I was trapped, and they had reinforcements coming in—this was really shaping up to be a bad morning.

Everything around me was as slick as snot; it had rained most of the night, and it was still very early. What little wan sunlight that might soon elect to bathe Huntsvegas for the day had not yet risen. I hit a patch of slime, or barf, or who knows what, and my slick-bottomed, worn-out boots did little to provide traction. I went down in a tumble, my ankle twisting. Pain gleefully ripped a jagged path into my calf from the base of my foot, and I stifled a scream.

Ricochets resounded from the metal and concrete maze around me like a chaotic symphony. Beneath those sounds of impatient, hungry death, I could make out the panicked screams of the remaining members of the GPF team. I knew I had to keep them off-balance so I could make a run for it…my only hope was their impatience, their panic, their fear.

I channeled my own fear, mixing it with the hot red swirls of anger and frustration and tossing in a dash of guilt for the two men I’d already ended this morning. I popped up from my hidey-hole and directed four quick blasts in random directions. I didn’t even see what they hit—if, in fact, they hit anything—and then ran-hobbled towards the interstate on-ramp. I ducked and dodged amid ragged weeds and rusted wrecks that had been there for what looked like eons.

Every step made me want to scream bloody murder. It felt like someone was jabbing a serrated ice pick into my leg just below the calf. A bullet zinged off a burnt-out husk of a jeep beside me. I whipped around and flung my arms in two massive arcs, peppering the entire area before me with blasts forged from my raw will and anger. I heard a cry from what sounded like a woman, and then saw one of the GPF Agents topple over the interstate railing. I spun and was able to gain a few steps before hearing the sickening crunch.

I kept running.

The top of the on-ramp loomed before me: stark, open and almost devoid of cover. Sweat dripped in my eyes, and my breath came in ever-slowing pulls. I prayed that I had enough juice left. I mentally wrapped a protective shield of raw emotion over my back, envisioning a picture of a turtle I’d seen in one of Vox’s books. Bullets pinged off my shielded back, and I shuddered with each blow, keenly felt but thankfully harmless. I briefly entertained the thought that I just might make it out of this mess.

That was when the hovercraft showed up.

Titanic guns blazed on the craft’s starboard side, and the road in front of me was gnawed to smoking craters and hunks of molten slag. Spotlights pierced the pre-dawn light and crisscrossed one another, pinpointing my location.

A sky god’s voice pierced the gloom and fog. It was clam and patient, like it had all the time in the world. Like it controlled all the pieces of the puzzle—and knew it. “STOP. SURRENDER. NOW. YOU ARE IN VIOLATION OF THE MANDATORY RELOCATION ACT. YOU ARE AN UNREGISTERED SUPER. WE HAVE BEEN AUTHORIZED TO USE DEADLY FORCE.”

I glanced around, blowing out my breath in a sigh. While there was some cover around—not much, mind you, but some—none of it was going to do me any good against those massive lead-throwing monstrosities. I guess in retrospect, this was not the best spot for a hide-out; a place with some handy escape routes might have been better. Oh well, what did I expect anyway? This whole superhero thing was still pretty new to me. I ran my hands through my grey, spiky hair and slowly, raised them over my head.
“I surrender.”
---
Copyright (c) 2013 Ken Naga