The New Year

    As we have lived our lives this year, day by day, hour by hour, a new year has once again crept up on us. Many struggled through the long days, while others endured the time with ease. Children were born, the elderly died; and many died before their time. There were breakthroughs in science and technology, ideas became reality. The list of news-worthy items, public and private, is much too extensive to list here - anything and everything happened this year. So what will the shining new year bring to our curious minds?

   The change we feel in the air is for the time being is a mystery. It is a time of dreams and aspirations as we move forward into a new beginning. We can only speculate what will happen next, and if it will affect our personal lives. The new year will be a challenge, just as every new day is a challenge, and we will rise up to face it with all the strength and courage we can muster.

   One thing is certain: the new year can be what we make it, depending on the choices and decisions we make. Most people have a positive outlook toward the new year, as the old year has lost its luster and promise. It offers hope that we will be successful in all our endeavors. 

   So we celebrate New Year's Eve, saying goodbye to the old and welcoming in the new. I dare say that I, too, have dreams and ideas I hope to see come to fruition. With eight hours left until midnight, I shall close this blog and wait for the future.

   

   

War of Words

   The war of words continues as I am revising and editing several new projects, anxious to share them with the world. One cannot deny those feelings of satisfaction and accomplishment after completing yet another piece of work. These feelings drive you onward to new horizons.
   I see the same satisfaction in friends as they, too, push forward and create their own works of art. That is exactly what it is, a work of art to be cherished and shared forever. To follow through and complete a work of art is a wonderful thing, and I applaud those who reach that point, typing that final word with a sigh and a smile.
   I always consider what it will be like in years to come when I am gone and new generations are reading my works. After all, this is my way of leaving my mark on the world. 
   My heart almost bursts to see someone excited over one of my creations, for it is for the reader that I create and hopefully make a mark in their world. It is with great joy to have brought characters to life, each reader conceiving them in their own way, their own imagination.
   Imagination is, of course, a key element from writer to reader. It is perhaps the strongest element, one that injects life into all aspects of the story. The imagination can do wonderful things - create fantastic landscapes, lively characters, sadness and happiness. In the end, one walks away carrying with them the memories of a particular experience.
   Regardless of the art, from photographers to sculptures, painters to musicians, all are appreciated as they lend beauty to our world. I lend my own art, and will continue to do so for as long as I am able. In the meantime, the war of words continues...

Michael Shorde

It's About Time

Well, it has been a while since I last visited my blog, so I thought I had better get on the ball. I took an extended vacation and I am now in the middle of some new projects. You'll be the first to know. 
I sincerely hope everyone is doing great, feeling happy. I am trying to feel happy, but autumn has set in and the days are rapidly cooling off. The next thing you know we'll have snow.
I don't even like to say the word, but what must be will be. I have contributed several stories to a new anthology due out in 2013. A novel may be in the making, as well.

Well, I just wanted to say hello to all my friends, and let you know what I am up to. I am still here, and hopefully so for a good long time. Take care

Michael Shorde

So you may think writing is an easy game. You finish that first draft which is wonderful, indeed. I shall repeat myself again - there is nothing more satisfying than see your work in print. You are successful.
It isn't a matter of being published, or acquiring fame and fortune. You have completed something that others only talk about. "Oh, I'm going to write this book, and it will make me a wealthy man!" Because it is not handed to them on a silver platter, they give up instead of facing the reality.
I never expected this, which is why I have come as far as I have. I merely set goals, and pursued them one by one.
I don't push my characters, I let them live their own lives, make their own decisions - and in this world of reality, do we oftentimes disagree with others intent on doing?
I suppose what I am trying to say is set goals and let the rest run its course. You would be surprised. Of course, my writer friends aren't too surprised, for they are there time and time again - I respect them, no matter the genre.
I propose your first line of action is seeing your words in print - along with the mistakes. However, those with an open hearts and minds will look beyond any mistakes, and look for the story.
The story is the key to unlock the war of words.
Perhaps I have rambled too much.
Please, check out this short blob, for you may be enlightened. Only from simple words from from a guy like me.
I could move on, but I would probably bore you...
MS

Michael Shorde's Simple Observation

I just recently published a new book, and over the course of things it reminded me of just how difficult it can be. In fact, I believe this is why new writers give up so early in the game. I came close to that; I merely wanted to get something published, no matter how meaningless simply to leave my mark on the world. I remember my wife's words:
Why don't you write a book, honey. I know you can...
So I ended up writing my first novel, and before the pages had cooled, I was already starting another book. This one was much more difficult, as I had tons of research. I couldn't start right from the beginning, it had to be bits and pieces - I can them fragments and they inevitably end up somewhere in the book.
I am merely reflecting on my achievements, and looking forward to more of the same. You can accomplish anything if you set your heart and mind to it. The satisfaction is wonderful - to know that you have created something from your own two hands.
All this is why I respect other writers. They stick to it, no matter the genre, and go for the gold. For this, I applaud you. Know that someone is paying attention, and your efforts are not in vain. I am taking a break from my own writing (only for a few minutes), and thought I would share this thought with you on this day of remembrance. Have a great day and stay safe.
MS

A Season of Drake - the only vampire tale I have ever written. Yet, I have started a new one, a series no less. I have found it gratifying, exciting, and I am sure many of you will enjoy the adventures of Drake. He is powerful, and has compassion. Look forward in the future for more of Drake, for more is yet to come. And don't forget about his partner in crime, Thad. This will prove to be tales not to be forgotten. Take heed, for Drake will once again gain the advantage over the hunters, so powerful is he. Look for it in the future.....
DR/MS

Here I am once again. My opinions, my insights, my writing. I still work with David, especially after what happened to him which could have cause death. Now, he is struggling to finish several books, and he has allowed me to include some work of my own. 
David has always been a gracious person in that respect. I hope soon to collaborate with Paul DeThroe with a totally horrific tale. Between the two of us we can create something sinister. And so, I hope Paul reads this, for we shall create something all will love. Hang in there, for this soon will pass.....
MS

The Art of Selling other People's Work

Has this ever happened to you? You put  your trust in someone, send the something to read, and they turn around and sell it. Now, they are putting themselves at risk, since I own the copyright on everything I publish. 
So now, do I not have trust in relationships, I do not have trust in people. Period. Maybe some you can understand me. Trust is hard to come by, hard to give away. Once again, I gave my trust to someone, and they betrayed me. 
Most of you know who I am, and that's fine with me - I have some many good friends here. 
But I have to say, be careful of whom you put your trust into, because in the long run...well.
Ok, this is a negative blog, But I am going to speak my mind, blast it. 
You all know what I am talking about, so no more talk.
I am simply angry, but not at you.

Just some thoughts on writing..

Hello, Michael Shorde here. I must say, I am quite pleased David has decided to include me in his next anthology with The Lost Book. It is an honor, especially coming from a teacher like David Rhodes. He has a lot say when it comes to writing, too much to include all of it here. 
You know, I was supposed to be teaching him, yet he has turned the tables on me. Even his first draft work amazes me, but when he gets down to brass tacks it is a totally different story. For one, he likes to let the characters dictate what and how something is going to happen. Fictional characters telling the story.
Of course, I know many writers do this, but he takes it one step farther. Now, you must realize, as his best friend, I cannot reveal all his secrets. I can say this - his imagination has run wild. He has so many scattered tales, he oftentimes does not know where to turn first. 
I urged him to turn to revising and editing before he had too much to handle (which he already does.) Thank goodness he took my advice, but it was not just me - suddenly, he met someone who creates the most fantastic covers, and that, I think really urged him on. 
He has been working himself to the bone to finish a lot of work, and we all owe him cheers for that. When he decided to make A Season of Drake into a series, I was taken aback. A very good decision, if I must say so. And he will do it, too. I know he has already been working with his proofreader, Cindy, on an excellent location for this next story.
As you may know, this is the one and only vampire tale David has ever written. It may just turn out to be much more, yes, much more. However, I must mention that this was Dominic Drake's idea - after all, he is the one living the story. Again the character dictates to the writer what is going to happen. This is just the tip of the iceberg. 
So please, as I have been teaching David, he is suddenly teaching me and many others. He is a good writer to listen to, a good one to follow. I can say no more at this time, but bear in mind, there is a lot more going on inside that brain of his than we know.
Listen, and pay attention to your dreams.....

The Lost Book - Parts nine and ten

I took close care of David for a week – bringing him broth and liquids to bring him back. I was only the last night we spent in front of the fire that I learned all.

“Michael, I didn’t kill the nurse in the asylum,” he said. “ It was Cthulhu – I escaped into the being before anything could be done.”

“How? How did you manage to get the book in my hands?”

“I escaped long enough to give him the manuscript. I told him only one copy was needed. I paid him well – in the ensuing days, I didn’t know what would happen.”

“What happened?” I trembled as I spoke. I dropped my drink onto the carpet. “What is happening to me?” I implored David.

“I am not sure, but it’s my turn to take care of you. Off we go.”

David, under his guiding hand, his insufferable charm, cared for me for several weeks as the wound on my arm grew more pronounced. The doctors who visited had no clue, and just what were we supposed to tell them? I am growing dim now, so I cannot complete this narrative. It is up to one person…

10

David Rhodes

Michael has now taken a turn for the worse – his skin turned a beige-green, and he responded to no food or water.

Yet, he still spoke.

“You must do it now, David. End it,” he crackled.

“I can’t, Michael – there must be some other solution!”

I threw the sheets away from him. The appendices were pierced through his skin in every imaginable form, writhing, almost crawling. As his head and body grew smaller, he once last time implored me. “David, it must be now. Now, I say! Hurry!”

I ran downstairs to the kitchen and chose the largest knife I could before hastening back into Michael’s bedroom. His eyes were blackening, and more were forming on his forehead.

“You must do it now!” he exclaimed.

He took his right arm and placed it on his forehead.

The appendices thrust from his body, ruffled the blankets. I raised the tool of death or mercy (whichever you want to call it), and brought it downwards….