Friday, 6 March 2015

 It is my great pleasure to welcome to my blog today a visiting author: J.L. McFadden...






 An Exclusive Interview with Adela.

Let me give you a little backstory to this interview.  I had just finished reading this book about a vampire named Adela when a gust of wind left the candles flickering upon the dresser and one of the candlesticks wobbling. As I stood to steady it, I noticed a folded paper lodged under the candlestick; it hadn’t been there a moment ago.  Even stranger was the impression of a woman’s lips in a light shade of red.

I was dumbfounded as to how this paper could have got there, and even more intrigued by what was hidden within its perfect folds. It appeared to be a rather expensive piece of stationary - not your usual piece of paper, and not really of this time.  As my fingers began to probe the folds it became more and more apparent that the texture was not like any I had ever touched...

As soon as the tabs came out of its hidden pockets, the page opened in my hand as a flower that had just blossomed. The words upon the page were clearly written by a quill pen with the most eloquent penmanship I had ever seen – and it read:

My beloved,


It is being whispered in the darkest of the alleys of this great city that you have been talking about me, wondering if such a woman could ever exist; and I ensure you that yes, yes I am as real as the morning dew and the night’s moon.

If a meeting is what you wish, light a candle on the fourth night of this week upon the witching hour.

Your Mistress of the Night

Adela

My palms began to shake with the sheet firmly upon my grip. How can this fictional character that I have read story after story about be inviting me to interview her?

I searched my room for any proof of foul play by one of my colleagues or one of the other tenants of this small apartment complex. Everyone poked fun at me whenever I told them the tales. They always found it amusing to make fun of me when I said I wished I could find such a woman.

The fourth night came and the twelfth hour approached.  I lit a candle and set it upon the windowpane.  The time crept by...  All I could hear was the tick tock of the clock that hung overhead.  Time slowed even further...  It dragged by for about a century until half past midnight, when I decided it was time to blow out the candle and let this fantasy go.

Just as I was about to draw in the breath that would lay the flame to rest, I heard a gentle rapping at the door.  Anxiously I headed for it, not knowing who would be waiting on the other side – a friend ready to laugh at the practical joke they had just played or the one woman I had dreamed of meeting for the past few nights.

As I approached the door, fog began to pour through the cracks.  The door knob was cold to the touch with a bit of a bite as though it had been frost-covered, but it was not. The door creaked as it slowly opened and in the lightly lit hallway full of fog was a slender woman with fantastic curves, waiting with her hand upon her hip.

My mouth hung down in disbelief.  How could this be?  She smiled as she looked at me, and her eyes had more life than I had ever seen. I was caught right there – she had me in the palm of her hand – with just a flash of a smile.

My breathing deepened as she passed by me. I moved awkwardly to one side, banging into the wardrobe beside the door. Her long black hair swayed back and forth, just above her beautiful backside as her hips rocked from side to side on their way to the chair. She took a seat facing the other wall and raised her hand, snapping her fingers and pointing to the chair that faced us both.

I took my cue, stumbling across to the chair and fumbling with the ledger and pen that I had placed in readiness. My heart raced as I lowered myself into the seat – not sure how this could be – or even if I would get to live to tell the tale.  Her face was demure - sweet but seductive – and her voice haunting as she said coyly: “I heard you’ve been asking around about me.”

By now the beads of sweat were rolling down my forehead.  “No ma’am, I… I thought that you were… um ah…  I thought you were just a character in a book.”

A soft smile crept over her face.  “And I thought you were a reporter.”

My voice cracked as I responded: “That… that I am.”

“My boy, you do not handle yourself as such.”

“I am just in shock.”

She was playing with her fingers, her long legs crossed in a form-fitting dress that left very little to the imagination. She glanced at me. “Journalists of my time had more spine. They thundered through wars to get at the news, narrowly surviving near misses from rockets roaring overhead; or if we go back a little further, cannon balls whistling past their ears...”  She shook her head in disbelief before continuing: “And you are scared of a mere girl, scantily dressed, sitting on a chair in your room.”

She badly rattled me.  I managed to ask: “What would you like to tell me about yourself?”

A look of disappointment crossed her face.  “Is it not you – the reporter – who is supposed to interview me?  I did not come here to make a declaration or a wild speech. I came to make your dream come true… And now that I am here you do not seem to know what to do.”

“How many of you are there?”

“I am one of a kind, my dear.”

“I mean how many vampires are there?”

“More than you want to know.  They are all around you, in places you would never expect.”

“Why does your kind hide from us?”

“Do you let your dinner know that you are stalking it? As you do with your livestock, we hide within plain sight?”

“Were you born this way?”

She cracked a smile and rolled her eyes, “As I said, we hide in plain sight.  Your horror stories are a fair reflection of our kind.”

“ALL the stories...?” I choked.  Some were downright morbid, while others were more than a little lustful.  I was beginning to wonder what was to be my fate on this fair night. I felt her breath upon my neck without seeing her leave her chair.  Her nails ran up my torso as she whispered in my ear: “That is something you will never know...”

Honestly, that is all I remember before waking up here.  Doc, Doc I beg you, please let me out of this padded room. All that I say is true, I swear!



 Author Bio:

J.L. McFadden was born in Pennsylvania and spent his life bouncing around the States until beginning to travel the world. Starting out, he was a well-known musician in upstate New York with a heavy playing schedule. Later he went back to his home state to work in the lumber mills of the mountains; then in California working in sales, management, and even directing a small moving company until deciding to see the world. His travels around the world have allowed him not only to join an International Aikikai Aikido Federation, but to have trained with Sanseis from Belgium, Ukraine, Russia and other European countries. His journeys and meeting with new people account for the broad character types in his books.


Book Blurb:

While still doubled over, picking up a book, Adela stated with a sultry voice: "One of these days, I am going to make you deliver on all of those promised ideas, running through your head when you watch me." She had a playful sound to her voice with her smile, revealing that fulfilling his dreams was not out of the question.


Site:                  http://jlmcfadden.com/
Twitter:            https://twitter.com/JamieLeeMcfadde

Purchase:
 
Amazon:          




BN:


Monday, 26 January 2015

The story continues to grow in strength and subtlety…

It has been my pleasure and privilege to carry out this volume’s final edit: so I can lay claim to having read it very carefully indeed.  Cheryl Matthynssens is weaving an exceptionally strong story here with subtlety and skill.

The life force of a magnificent blue dragon (Renamaum) has become inextricably involved with a young Daezun/Lerdenian mixed-race mage (Alador).  With a dragon’s essence comes its power and temper, and in this case a “geas” that is death to deny (a ‘geas’ in Irish folklore is an obligation or prohibition magically imposed on a person).  Alador must right the wrongs done to dragons by Lerdenian mages under the control of Silverport’s ruthless High Minister Luthian – Alador’s evil uncle – whom he must defeat while also destroying his abominable ‘bloodmines’.  Only then can the geas be fulfilled.

Alador’s powers are extraordinary, but learning how to control them as well as to make best use of them requires rigorous training.  Who better to provide training in dragon magic than dragons themselves? - and where Alador is concerned there could be no more appropriate trainers than Renamaum’s mate Pruatra and her two offspring: sired but not born before Renamaum’s death.  Through Alador, the ‘god-gifted’ blue dragon has a chance to get to know his son and daughter before his spirit is entirely absorbed by the young mage.  That is the way this magic works…

It’s a story about growing up, acquiring wisdom, controlling feelings, conquering fear and fighting for truth and justice for all species.  The characterisation is acutely observed and the different strands of the story sensitively woven.  It’s an epic tale - certainly one of my favourites in this genre - and I am keenly looking forward to further developments in Book 4.

A harrowing and inspiring read

Some stories have a power that resides in the story itself, regardless of the artistry with which it happens to be told.  This is one such: a story that opens our eyes and hearts and broadens our minds.

In an unsensational, matter-of-fact way, Dr Lo-Bamijoko describes the burdens carried by four different women born and raised according to Igbo tradition and culture to be subservient to and abused by men.  In places their suffering is harrowing, and one is consumed by rage at the ignorance and arrogance of the men they have to deal with and at the terrible inequalities endemic in their society.  At the same time one is inspired by their intelligence, resilience, capacity for endurance, patience, fortitude…  Being so much brighter than the men they have been forced to deal helps a lot as well.

One can only hope that this book will be widely read in Nigeria as well as everywhere else, by men as well as women: that it might play its part in making man’s ‘inhumanity’ to woman a distant memory of our unenlightened past.