...some shameful acts can be rectified. Others, well...
Sad but true, Gaiman's "American Gods," a modern day classic soon to be entering into adulthood, has yet to find itself upon my bedside table. This admittance coming from a nurtured bookworm who nearly lost his day job over getting caught with one's face buried in a novel while on the clock. (More than once ;)
Not sure how this story has been playing hard to get for the past decade, but the game of cat & mouse is nearing closure. Over the past weekend, while carousing the shelves at the local indie, I inched up behind my wife, who'd spotted "Gods" on a display rack, and was reading its back cover blurb.
I blew softly into her ear, caused her to twirl about in alarm, and gained possession of the softback moments before accepting a punch on the shoulder.
"You scared the living...!"
"Sorry," I whispered, "But I call dibs on the Gaiman book."
I bought her lunch, and all's well.
In the meantime, check out Gaiman's latest blog post, describing a day that began with a missing laptop, but ended with a new IPad...
Since dropping in price, "South of Charm" has experienced a rebirth of sorts. In a week's time it scaled Amazon's infamous rankings as if still a feisty pup, settling in nicely at the fifty thousand mark. It stuck for a day or two, then began the inevitable journey back down... Nonetheless, it made for some interesting conversation at the dinner table.
If in dire straits for a decent read, (perhaps not Gaiman worthy, but I'm getting there,) "South of Charm" is now available for $2.99 on Kindle.
For anyone hinging...check out fellow writer and dear friend, Olivia J. Herrell's interview we shared a few months ago, along with her take on my first novel. She's a sweetheart...
As for an excerpt I promised a short time ago, a paragraph or two from "The Fall," that novella near and dear to my heart, I apologize in advance for the shortened cliffhanger...
...despite the sun's departure under a skyline smeared in copper, the temperature remained ablaze. Johnny could see the heat radiating from the cobbled sidewalk. Transparent tentacles rising with the breeze, reaching toward him, trying to slow his pace.
Johnny however, was no stranger to the intense heat of the south. Nor was he unfamiliar to running the historical streets of Charleston. He'd done it once before. Pushing through an ocean's salty breath during the witch's hour. The rustling of palm fronds towering overhead, like distant applause, urging him onward. A night he'd never forget. No matter how hard he tried...
This story is my son's favorite...me hopes you like as well ;)
Thanks for reading,