Showing posts with label spooky. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spooky. Show all posts

Tuesday, 23 October 2012

Spooktacular Giveaway Hop: 24-31 October

Welcome to my stop on the Spooktacular giveaway hop,
hosted by
I Am A Reader, Not a Writer & The Diary of a Bookworm!



So, to get into the mood of pumpkins, witches, ghosties and things that go bump in the night, I'm giving away 3 ebook copies of each of my books that has a spooky element or is set on Halloween.

To enter, simply do your stuff on the Rafflecopter!
Afterwards, click on the linky to hop to over 400 blogs offering fantastic giveaways!
Have fun and happy spookiness! :) woo-hoo!




The trio of ebooks you can win are:

Kiwi and the Living Nightmare

Book 3 in the Kiwi Series, but can be read as a standalone book

Amy, James and Kiwi embark on their spookiest adventure yet - on Halloween. What begins with an eerie dream about a three-legged cat will take the budding detectives on a quest to find an old house in the middle of the woods, meeting some familiar characters and some perky squirrels along the way. Little do they know that there awaits an angry, restless ghost that will do anything to stop them leaving.  

Day of the Living Pizza

Detective Smarts of Crazy Name Town has a problem. Doctor Boring and his receptionist have been bumped off, and the only clues at the scene are some olives, tomatoes, mushrooms and sprinkles of oregano. With the town folk dropping like flies and strange figures stumbling down the streets, Officer Dewdrop has an idea.

Day of the Pesky Shadow

After his previous oregano-sprinkled adventure, Detective Smarts is still finding it hard to look at a pizza, never mind eat one. But there is a new mindboggler to solve - who is the mysterious, dark figure causing the townsfolk's legs to go wibbly wobbly? Smarts and sidekick Dewdrop are hot on the trail.

To enter, click on the Rafflecopter and be sure to answer the mandatory question as a comment on my blog...

Spooky!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Wednesday, 28 December 2011

Words with... Paul Kater

Before we begin this interview, we have to announce that it has been commandeered by one of Paul Kater's own creations... Hilda the wicked witch... she zoomed in on her broomstick, scowled at me and, well, what could I do? I had to give in or be turned into a frog, so here goes...
 
 
 
What is your day job or are you lucky enough to write for a living?

I'm a witch. Hilda the wicked witch, as some call me, but I am just a witch with a mind of her own. You know, like WITCH – Witch In Total Control of Herself. Although my scribe may argue about the control part, but since he's not here...

What books have you written so far?

None, except my book of shadows, but that's just for me. My scribe has been busy making all kinds of notes of the things I had to endure thanks to him, and he prides himself on it too! At this moment there are 7 books of my adventures out on Smashwords.com and also on Amazon.com. If that means anything to you. My scribe would, of course, also tell you about 3 ‘steampunk’ books, whatever that is, but they are not about me, so they are not important.

What works in progress do you have?

Oh, you wouldn't believe! There is one book in the making, which should be available next month, where I and my man, William, have to face yet another dragon. Scribe calls it ‘final editing’, which really means he was sloppy when writing it. And then there is a start with yet another adventure which takes us to a faraway place, to a woman I was in school with. She has a divinity complex, but mum is the word on that for now.

How long did it take you to write your book/s?

My scribe started writing down my adventures halfway 2009, he says. And up until now he wrote the 7 I mentioned. Well, almost 8, I'll grant him that. But it seems he is slacking a bit.

Do you write linear, or jump back and forth? Do you plan or write by the seat of your pants?

What I sit on is none of your business and, since you are a woman too, you should know what it is. Oh, wait, you mean something else. No, my scribe is not the jumpy kind, and that is good. He'd make the cats nervous. He starts at the beginning and stops at the end, and trust me, there are plenty of surprises in store for him between these two places!

Why does your scribe write?

Because he doesn't have a life and I do. He, of course, claims that it is to relieve his creativity, but, honestly, who'd believe that?

How long has your scribe been writing?

He seems to be at that since long. Since high school or so. But that was not serious. That was not about me.

Where and when does he write? ­ Does he have set times?

My scribe is terrible with that. He writes where he can, when he can because, get this:
"I never know when a good idea comes along, and then I have to write it down immediately."

Which character from your books do you like most / are most like?

I am most like me, of course. I love myself the way I am, and I also love my wizard. I do believe that my scribe thinks he is a bit like my wizard, but that can't be of course. Scribes have flying pens, not flying brooms.

What/who inspired him to write and still inspires you?

He never told me, and he never mentioned anything like that. I know he's been reading as much as he can all of his life, all kinds of books, and that gave him the idea to give writing a try.

What do you think is the ideal recipe for a good novel or story?

Stories like mine! Drag the reader in by the eyeballs and don't let go until they're through with the book. A bit of fun, a bit of serious, and not dragging things out too long. Keep the person reading interested, wanting to see what's around the corner. That could, of course, be a big troll, but there's always a risk.

Have you ever felt your character is based on someone from real life?

Felt like that? No. But my scribe insists that he had his inspiration for me from one of his dearest friends, who lives near Seattle in the United States, in that crazy world of yours. He goes so far as to call her "dear" and "love". He knows her for over 15 years, which gives her an unfair advantage over me.

Fave things: animal? food? drink? film? colour? band? song?

Animal: cat (I'm a witch).
-- A woman after my own heart!! Vix
Food: anything natural.
Drink: coffee, tea and wine with water in it.
Film: I'll let you know when my scribe explained what that is.
Colour: purple. Is there any other colour?
Band: there was a quaint group of troubadours in the village last month. Do they count?
Song: the wytches' chant of course.

You’re walking in the forest and you bump into an alien librarian from Mars. He wants five book recommendations from you…

Scribe's turn:
The series from A Song of Ice and Fire
, by George R.R. Martin
The Hilda the Wicked Witch series, by Paul Kater
http://static.ak.fbcdn.net/images/blank.gif
Tshai, the mad planet, by Jack Vance
Soulless, by Gail Carriger
Leviathan, by Scott Westerfeld

Who is your favourite character from any book and why?

I'd say my best friend, Baba Yaga. I really cannot understand why my scribe says "Paul Atreides from the Dune series. He arrived on the planet of Arrakis not knowing anything, facing many dangers and enemies, and overcame them all by becoming one of the planet's original inhabitants. It reminds me so much of my favourite movie, Avatar, where a disabled marine, Jake Sully, does the same thing."

Who is your hero / heroine?

Do I really have to answer that? Because I would say William, my wizard, but I have to say my scribe.

Which book do you wish you had written?

One where my scribe has to go through all of the crappedy crap he puts me through.

Which three authors would you like to take to the pub?

Scribe's turn:
George R.R. Martin, Terry Pratchett and Ursula leGuin.

Are you published or self-published? What is your experience?

My scribe does it all by himself. And he growls and mutters, and changes and rewrites, and uploads and downloads, and is not happy and does it again until he is happy. I think he likes it.

How do you find the marketing experience? Any advice for other writers?

I think he is still looking for a good way to do that stuff. And for that he hangs around other writers a lot. Instead of spending time with my adventures, I might add.

Does your scribe have a blog? What does he blog about?

Blob? Oh wait, he explained that. He does. He writes about a lot of stuff. Paper books, electronic books, ideas he has about stories and writing, about the publishing world and so on.

What other hobbies does your scribe have?

He goes to the gym and he plays music on a few things, such as piano, accordion, a guitar, a flute and an Irish hand drum. My scribe also likes to read, but most of the time those are books he did not write himself.

What would you like to achieve in the next five years?

Scribe's turn:
I'd like to write more Hilda books, and also put out some books in other genres that I like to write, like steampunk and Sci-Fi. The next book of Hilda is the first one that will be for sale (the others are free) and I would like to see that I can cut down on my regular job hours from that, so I can dedicate more time to my writing.
---I know the feeling! I second that!


If you won the Lotto or a major publishing contract, what would you do with that dosh?

Scribe's turn:
I would definitely cut down on job hours, and try to make the plan of moving to the Seattle area come true a bit sooner than I envision happening now. Writing would then become my main activity.

Complete one of these stories in 100 words or less…

In the deep and darkest reaches of the dank forest... runs a little brook. Its water is crystal clear, and has never been seen by a human eye. Fairies fly around, protecting the area, making certain that this part of the woods is forever safe.

What question do you wish I’d asked and, of course, what is the answer?

Do your fans love you? And the answer is YES!!

Book links:

Paul's other books can be found here at the side of this page.



Thanks Hilda and thanks to Paul Kater for managing to squeeze the odd sentence in around the crazy woman with the weird pointy thing on her head... 



Thursday, 3 November 2011

Kiwi and the Living Nightmare - a sneak peek

This except from my book - the third one in the Kiwi Series - appeared on Stephen Hise's blog at http://www.indiesunlimited.com - check it out for news, views, interviews and some funny stuff!


“Let’s try upstairs,” suggested Kiwi.
“Ok,” said James, looking back at the window. The animals in the stained glass remained still. Cats, a forest, birds and a lake. Very colourful and beautiful. The cats had happy, smiling faces, the forest was very green, the lake sparkled in the sun and even the birds looked happy. All of them were robins with little red breasts.
“Come on,” said his sister. “We’re probably just a little bit tired. Maybe we can have a nap upstairs. There are bound to be lots of beds in this big house.”
James’ eyes lit up. Sleep. Yes, he could do with a nap after all of that walking and some munchies. He stopped and fiddled with his rucksack seeking… chocolate. What else? He grinned and grasping the silver-wrapped bar in his hand, he scampered after the others.
“Hope you’ve got one for me!” whispered Amy.
“Of course,” grinned James. “I’ll find one when we get up there.”
Kiwi had stopped on the stairs for them to catch up. A thick, green carpet trailed up the staircase, which was made of a very dark wood. Most of the wood in the house looked old and heavy, and dark. The wallpaper was quite expensive looking, and looked like drawn swirls of red on a white background. Looking closer, Amy could see that there were thousands of branches with little birds hopping around. The lady of the house sure liked nature and animals. Amy guessed she would have liked her.
“Quick! Let’s go up,” winked Kiwi, “we haven’t got all night!”
“Hello…”
“What was that?” whispered Amy, stopping dead in her tracks. “Was that you joking around?”
“No hmph,” mumbled James, trying to speak through the sticky chocolate in his mouth.
“It wasn’t me either,” mewed Kiwi. She looked up, but there was nothing to see. “Maybe it was your imagination… it has been a long day…”
“Maybe,” whispered Amy, looking back down the stairs. The hallway was empty.
Whooooshhhhh, a cold chill of air rushed past them. Amy hugged her arms around her waist. The hairs on her neck stood on end. “You must have felt that!” she whispered, her eyes wide.
“I did,” mewed Kiwi.
James pushed the remains of his chocolate bar into his pocket and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Something cold had rushed past his hands. He rubbed them together. “What is it Kiwi?”
The little black cat stood still with her ears pricked up. Her tail stood on end. She sniffed the air. It was warming up again. Whatever it was had rushed up the staircase. “Maybe we should go back?” she said softly.
Suddenly, a heavy breathing sound could be heard, right in front of them on the next step up. Amy jumped and James banged into her. She gripped her brother’s hand tightly. Kiwi backed into them, protecting them as she looked around. There was nothing on the staircase. But the breathing continued. It was low and heavy, but unmistakeably there. Was the house haunted?
“This is a little bit scary,” whispered James, forgetting that he was trying to be like James Bond whenever they went on an adventure with Kiwi.
The little black cat nodded.
“I think so too,” whispered Amy. “But what you can’t see can’t hurt you… I think…”
Kiwi winked. “Let’s go back down…”
Amy and James nodded. “Phew…”
But, before they could turn around another blast of cold air rushed between their legs. Kiwi’s fur stood on end and she shivered slightly. Suddenly everything went dark.
“Look!” James pointed to the window right by them on the staircase. Outside, it was night-time. The sunshine had disappeared all of a sudden, like a light being switched off, and there was solid darkness out there. No stars, no moon, just black night. The whole house took on a different look. It seemed cold and spooky. The hallway and the stairs were dark, but they could see just about. The dark wasn’t complete.
“Look at the window,” pointed Amy.
In the stained glass window there were no longer smiling cats, but dark shadows with piercing yellow eyes. Instead of robins flying there were dark black ravens. The green forest was now jagged, spectre-like trees and the lake was frozen with black ice. Outside, the wind was beginning to howl.
“What now?” whispered Amy.
“Just follow me down the stairs slowly,” whispered Kiwi. “Don’t look at the windows and just follow me very quietly.” The black cat jumped softly down the staircase, followed by the two children. Amy gripped her brother’s hand tightly and pretended that she wasn’t scared at all. Behind her rib cage her heart beat louder and louder. They crept down the steps one by one. In the air the darkness seemed to be getting darker, but they were not sure if it was just a trick of the light. James dare not look at the stained-glass window and the shadowy creatures it now beheld. After what seemed an eternity, they reached the bottom of the staircase, careful not to make a sound, holding their breath and breathing through their noses. Kiwi’s senses were on alert. She sensed that they had to get out of here as soon as possible. Maybe this adventure wasn’t such a good idea. They began to cross the ‘Welcome’ mat with the friendly looking cats.
“Welcome!” boomed a voice as they trod on the mat.
James jumped and looked down and wished he hadn’t. On the mat, the smiling cat faces had become jagged snarls and their eyes glared a bright red colour. Gulp!
“They’re not real,” whispered Amy, noticing where James was looking. “It’s our imaginations.”
Kiwi wasn’t so sure. She looked around.
“Welcome to my home little kitty… so glad you could make it… I’ve been waiting…”
The voice seemed to come out of the walls. It floated in the empty air around them. Kiwi frowned.
“What or who is it?” whispered Amy.
Kiwi waved her head. She didn’t know. She backed into the children and looked around.
“Follow me!” She mewed and ran towards the corridor. “We must get back to the zebra picture… remember?”
Amy jolted into action and pulled James along behind Kiwi. They charged behind her into the corridor.
“Where are you going? Leaving so soon kitty cat?” shouted the voice, loud and menacing. But it was no longer just a voice. Kiwi skidded to a halt, and James slammed into Amy as she stopped all of a sudden behind their cat. In front of them he roared.


Book links:

Sunday, 16 October 2011

Sample sunday: opening chapter of Kiwi and the living nightmare

Chapter 1: The dream


“Wow, what a weird dream,” mumbled Amy, rubbing her eyes. Her bedroom was still dark and a bit chilly. Light streaked in through a gap between the curtains from a street-lamp outside. The small, round, blue clock on the bedside table ticked 3am on the dot. “Ah, I thought it was morning,” she signed, and slumped back down into the pillow. She hugged the warm duvet closer around her neck, hoping to dream about something different, something nice.

Across the hallway in his own little bedroom, wallpapered with red cars with big grins, James slept. But it wasn’t a peaceful sleep. Every ten minutes he was tossing and turning in his bed; the duvet had been kicked into a pyramid on the floor. Every now and then he muttered something inaudible, but he didn’t wake.

Downstairs in the lounge by the sofa, curled up in her little fluffy, pink bed, decorated with yellow paws, Kiwi was snoring in her sleep. This was unusual as she never snored. She breathed really heavily, slowly in and out. Every now and then her ears would twitch, and her tail flicked slightly at the end. Then a paw would twitch as if she was running in her dream. But she didn’t wake. 

The children didn’t say a word at breakfast, lost in their own thoughts. Every couple of minutes or so, one of them would yawn, and the other would catch it, and yawn an even bigger yawn. And so it continued in a game of yawning ping-pong across the table.

“Did you not sleep last night?” asked their mum, warming her hands around her mug of steaming coffee.

“Not much,” said James, cupping his hand over his mouth to stop a yawn.

Kiwi was sitting on the kitchen chair next to Amy and her eyes were sleepy.

“Me neither,” said Amy, frowning. She loved sleeping and if it was an Olympic sport, she knew she would have been a great contender for the gold medal.

“Is your room too cold again?” asked mum. It was nearly the end of October and the house was already starting to get chilly.

“Not really,” replied James. “I had a weird dream...”

Amy glanced up from her cornflakes. Kiwi’s ears perked up and she looked up at the little girl.

“What about?” asked mum.

“I’m not sure because I remembered all the details when I woke up, but now it’s a bit blurry,” mumbled James, rubbing his eyes. “But I remember an old house in the middle of some woods. It was really spooky and there were lots of rooms. And there was a cat in there...”

Amy stopped eating her cornflakes, but forgot to shut her mouth. Kiwi froze.

“...and the cat needed help. She was lost. And it was dark in the house. The horrible thing was that there was someone else in the house, someone bad...”

Amy dropped her spoon.

“... but I can’t remember any more. I just remember being really scared and I couldn’t wake up...” said James really quietly.

Kiwi tapped Amy’s leg with her paw. The little girl looked down and nodded to Kiwi. The little black cat looked puzzled.

“Don’t worry,” said their mum, rubbing the top of James’ head, which messed up his hair. 
“It was only a dream. Maybe I’ll turn the heating up a bit so that your room isn’t so cold. Or get you another blanket.”

“It seemed really real mum,” said James. 

“It could be something you ate,” she replied. “No cheese or bananas for you before bedtime! They can give you bad dreams. Now would you like some hot chocolate?”

James’ eyes lit up. “Yes please!” Hot chocolate was his favourite and their mum always put a couple of mini marshmallows in it. Gorgeous!

“Amy?”

“Yes mum. I’d love one,” smiled Amy, turning round. Their mum took a couple of mugs out of the cupboard.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” whispered James. Amy and Kiwi were both eyeballing him really strangely. “I’m no chicken, but that dream was scary.”

“We know,” whispered Kiwi, her eyes looked worried.

“So, why are you staring?” asked James.

“Because we had the same dream,” whispered Amy across the table. She looked round, but their mum was busy, stirring a saucepan of milk and adding some chocolate powder into two mugs.

“That’s impossible!” mumbled James.

“Well, I guess it is!” hissed Kiwi. “What colour was the cat?”

“Grey...” whispered James.

“Same...” said Amy. Kiwi nodded.

“Anything else about the cat?” asked Kiwi.

“She had three legs,” whispered James.

“Same...” said Amy. “We definitely had the same dream.”

“There must be a reason,” hissed Kiwi. “It’s too big a coincidence...”

Just then their mum returned to the table with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate. “Now this should wipe away any bad dreams, James,” she smiled.

Kiwi was doubtful. They would have to do some research on the house in their dream as soon as possible. The little grey cat really seemed to be in danger.