Tag: author

Jenna’s Side: Devil’s Eye (Review)

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Hi, it’s Jenna again with the latest edition of Jenna’s Side from frozen up Saskatchewan, Canada. With the temperature hitting minus 40 here this month (Before you ask, is that Celsius or Fahrenheit? Yes.) it’s the perfect time for me to curl up with a great book. So I did.

I have read voraciously for as long as I can remember, and was never really interested in picture books, except Robert Munsch because I’m a good Canadian and Mr. Men/Little Miss because of course.  Oh and The Cat Who Wore A Pot On Her Head. If anyone feels so inclined to get me a copy of that, I won’t refuse.  Ha ha I digress. I tell you this to explain why the sight of a 5 year old reading a chapter book was commonplace in my home, and why I read Treasure Island for the first time at that age.  Right around the same time I discovered Grimm fairy tales, but a couple years after I developed my life-long crush on Batman.  Yes, I was a weird child.  Now I’m a weird adult. This is fine.

So I’ll be brutally honest. A book about pirates? My first thought was, what am I, five again? I have never been so happy to be proven wrong.

Cameron Walker has clearly written Devil’s Eye as a labour of love, as his deep appreciation and enthusiasm for the subject matter shine through in every scene. He spent a decade writing and editing Devil’s Eye and it was a decade well spent. If I had to sum it all up in one sentence I would say its like Pirates of the Caribbean, but without the romanticism and Disney magic, much more raw and visceral.

The world of Devil’s Eye is well-researched and carefully crafted to be close enough to reality to be believable, but far enough away to be an escape that lets you forget you are reading and immerse yourself in it.  In many scenes, especially the battle scenes, it plays out like an action movie, which you watch between your fingers because you can’t decide whether or not you want to see what happens next. (Content note: there is a lot of blood and gore.  It’s not gratuitous; it all feels necessary. But if you’re more squeamish, you will struggle to get through.)

Ultimately, you’ll decide that you want to see and that’s because Cameron has put in just enough suspense to keep you hanging on. Every time you want to look away, you’re pulled back in. More than a few times, I had to put the book down–no, that did NOT just happen.  I don’t even want to know.  Oh who am I kidding, yes I do.

The characters are the real strength of Devil’s Eye. They make its world come alive and keep it from being the 5-year-old story I feared. They are all relatable in unexpected ways–I found myself just a little bit in love with the Devil’s Eye’s motley crew of antiheroes, especially Crimson Jack, and hoping despite myself through each twist and turn that things would work out for them. 

Crimson Jack has the charisma of his namesake from Pirates of the Caribbean, alongside the blood-and-power lust and wits of the likes of Ching Shih. Seriously, if you haven’t heard of her, Google her now. I’ll wait.

Was I right, or was I right? And that’s just one. The entire crew have the kind of stories that don’t quite make me want to join them at sea, but maybe meet up at a pub or something. Of course that would most likely lead to them drinking me under the table and dragging me off, because pirates, but that’s another story.

I love the complex moral code of the pirates as well. They could easily be out for blood, money, power, and booze, not necessarily in that order. And they absolutely are, otherwise what a boring story this would be. But they are also trying to support their families in a system that leaves them few other viable options.

I highly recommend Devil’s Eye as the kind of book you may not be able to read in a single sitting, but you’ll want to.

Rating: 5/5 Stars.

Devil’s Eye

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Devil’s Eye is a thrilling, action packed tale of swashbuckling adventure on the high seas, featuring excessive amounts pillage, plunder and PIRATES!!!

After the crew of the Devil’s Eye stage a successful mutiny they find themselves in possession of a very valuable hostage who could could alter their fate forever. With the chance of becoming rich or dead men, the stakes have never been higher.

Captain Blood is the infamous captain of the pirate galleon Devil’s Eye, but his long and illustrious career is about to come to a swift and bloody end at the hands of Crimson Jack and his henchmen. Having disposed of the old captain and his officers and placing themselves in command of the ship the pirates must bring their crew a worthy prize that will cement their positions.

Upon capturing a French ship in the Caribbean, they take a valuable hostage who will bring them a fortune in gold, if they can return them to France. Standing in their way is a flotilla of Spanish warships, a huge English galleon, French forces and other pirates out to claim the hostage and the ransom for their own. With little chance of success, the pirates embark upon the voyage of a lifetime with all guns blazing.

But a gathering storm looms over their heads in the form of the threat of yet another mutiny being staged by loyalists to Captain Blood and new additions to the crew loyal to another captain. Multiple parties on the ship have their own motives for wanting control of the ship and possession of their hostage, but the tense political situation on the ship threatens not only the success of the voyage itself, but their very lives.

Can Crimson Jack and his men maintain control of the ship long enough to complete this most perilous of quests, collect the ransom and cement their positions as commanders of the Devil’s Eye? Or will the risk of mutiny, competition from other pirates and being hunted by the naval powers of several nations prove to be too much and send them all to their watery graves?

You can find Devil’s Eye available on Amazon, Smashwords, Apple Books, Scribd, Lulu and Kobo.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/986119

https://www.amazon.com/Devils-Eye-Cameron-Walker/dp/1708437932/

Glorious Son (sample)

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This piece is the beginning of the novel Glorious Son currently in development by Forsaken Press author and Social Media Manager Jenna. It is being included in this section to help showcase the variety of talent and diverse writing styles that Forsaken Press and its wonderful team of writers have to offer:

Samael woke up Monday morning like every other morning.  That is, the alarm went off, he took a moment to bemoan his existence where nothing exciting or interesting ever happened, and he wandered off to make coffee to ease his pounding headache.  He wasn’t sure why he still set an alarm–it wasn’t like he had anywhere to be, after all.  Since he lost his job a few months ago, the best he could hope for was a few hours trolling job boards for an opportunity that never seemed to come, followed by a few hours of writing things he was sure no one would ever want to buy.  Sure, he could freelance enough to pay most of the bills, usually–an article here and there, after sifting through all those who wanted to pay in exposure, or worse to have you pay for the opportunity to do their work for them. But he really wanted to write something that would change the world, and clickbait was getting old fast.  Still, he tried to keep some hope alive.  He’d feed the cat,  and turn on a podcast for some background company, as he loaded up yet another webpage filled with more of the same, and waited until a respectable hour to open a mickey.  He may have been a drunk, but dammit he was a high-functioning one.  At least that’s what he kept telling himself.

When he saw it, he gasped.   There on the screen was an opportunity that seemed to be made exactly for him:

Wanted: Someone to collaborate on an epic fantasy novel with the broad themes of chaos and change.  Research and travel will be required.  We expect this to be your full-time job and will pay you accordingly.   Contact Ms. Tuesday by email with a cover letter, resume, and sample of your work.

Too good to be true?  Obviously.  Nobody just posts out of the blue looking for someone to write a novel.  If they want it written badly enough, they write it themselves.  But really, what did he have to lose?  He clicked apply now and got to work, expecting that any second the whole thing was going to explode in a fiery ball visible from space.  That was his luck, after all.  When he was born, his parents misspelled Samuel, leaving him with an unpronounceable mess.  Then things got worse.

No time to think about that now. In spite of himself, he actually felt good as he hit the submit button and nothing went sideways.  He got a response almost immediately, which he shook off as a form letter at first, but decided to open it just in case.  He was glad he did, as he read:

Samael:
We have been expecting you.  To ensure that you are up to our task, meet us tomorrow morning, 9:00, at 616 Northern Boulevard.  We look forward to working with you.
Ms. Tuesday and associates

“Okay that’s odd,” he thought.  But, with the misguided courage of someone with nothing to lose and everything to gain, he opened up his phone calendar, only to find the interview was already entered into it.  Hey, that was easy!  He talked to the cat, who was sitting in his lap, because he was just a little bit silly that way:

“Miss Princess Fuzzlebottom Squeakface!  What is your Daddy going to do?  Is your Daddy going to get a job?  Yes he is!  Yes he is!  Who’s a pretty kitty? Who’s my little Princess?  Is it you?  I think it’s you!”

Princess Fuzzlebottom Squeakface, who answered to Princess as much as any cat answered to anything, purred and pretended to understand the happy noises coming from her servant’s face.  As long as he kept the food coming, the bed stayed warm, and he occasionally scratched between her ears, she was willing to put up with him doing strange things like this.

That night, he set his alarm a little earlier, let Princess snuggle up to him, and dreamed of strange beautiful creatures he had never seen before.  He woke up not sure if that was strange or not, as he usually didn’t remember his dreams.  These stuck with him, though, as they were both dark and colourful at the same time, some with wings, some with horns, some with both.  The strangest appeared to be created from black flames.  Anyway, he felt a sense of purpose as, instead of walking over to his computer, he got dressed and made his way out the door.

A gorgeous woman in a long flowing black dress greeted him and said she was Ms. Tuesday. He thought she was overdressed for a simple interview, but pushed it out of his mind.  Artsy people were always a little strange, so who was he to judge?  Had he looked up at the walls, he would have seen the creatures from his dreams the night before.  But he was too nervous to look anywhere but the floor.  He followed Ms. Tuesday into an office where a well-dressed man already sat silently staring at him. 

“This is my co-president, Mr. Lysmith.  We are so glad you have come to us.  Are you ready to start now?”

Samael wasn’t sure how to respond–he hadn’t even been asked any questions and they wanted him to start?  What kind of interview was this?  To his surprise, he heard, “Yes, what would you have me do?” emerge from his lips.  He didn’t talk like that!  He shrugged it off as the stress of being interviewed.

Samael was an intelligent man, and had he actually been paying attention, he would have seen parallels between the story he was to write of an everyman unknowingly contracted by forces of chaos to bring about a revolution and stave off–or was that bring about?–the end of days, and his current situation.  As it was, he was trying too hard to keep from sweating through his clothes to fully comprehend what he was hearing.  It didn’t even dawn on him when he was told that his first duty was to dive headfirst into researching chaos history in order to make the book more realistic.  He just nodded as Ms. Tuesday handed him a thick black tome with golden runes on the cover.  But he did hear one thing: Don’t look up too much information about this book before you read it.  Take it as it actually is, not stories about it.  Weird, but okay.  Everybody’s got their quirks.  This sounded like an order and it was easy enough to do.

The Book of Chaos described a world which was a lot like ours, only instead of being controlled and orchestrated by an overall lean toward order, it was controlled by chaos in all things. 

Our world did lean toward order, didn’t it?  Samael wasn’t sure he believed in much, but he believed in that.  Whatever started the universe off started it off on some kind of trajectory–things didn’t just happen.  Everything had a place and everything wrong with the universe was just stuff in the wrong place.  Somehow everything would end up in the right place and everything would be great.  All you had to do was keep your head down and do what you’re supposed to do, stay in your place.

Had Samael disobeyed the order and researched the book, he would have learned that its author began with the same kind of viewpoint he had, but over the course of researching beliefs about chaos came to embrace them, especially that there is a thread of chaos through everything and the best we can do is keep this chaos from being harmful.  The society the author lived in labeled him as insane for this view, and he lived out the rest of his days as a hermit.  Samael might not have kept reading had he known that. He liked his nice, simple worldview: black and white, right and wrong, no grey areas to confuse him.  But he didn’t know, so read he did.

A week later, Samael’s eyes were buggy, but he had finished the book.  He felt like he had been made privy to some kind of forbidden knowledge, although he didn’t understand what exactly it was or what any of it meant.  All he knew was that somehow something was changed. Well, that wasn’t entirely true.  He also knew he never wanted to read a book like that again.  But if you had asked him why, he wouldn’t have been able to tell you.  It was just unsettling. In any case, Ms. Tuesday wanted him to return to the office to discuss what he read and what to do next.  He could do that.

He didn’t expect the warm welcome he got–the stern faces that had glared back at him last week grinned huge toothy grins and he half expected them to hug him.  His back stiffened in preparation–he felt hugs were far too intimate to share between practical strangers, but if you said no, you were a social pariah.  To his great relief, they noticed his discomfort and dropped the hug idea, settling for handshakes instead.

“We are very pleased.  We have chosen the right person for our mission.  We have promised to pay you, and we hope this is sufficient,” said Ms. Tuesday, handing him an envelope.  He opened it and found $1000. 

“There must be some kind of mistake!  All I did was read a book!” Samael protested.

“You have done research and prepared for our mission.  There is no mistake.  Now you will begin to write.  Should you require assistance, Mr. Lysmith acts as my eyes and ears on the ground and has been instructed to provide you with anything you may need.  Next week, we expect a basic plot idea and at least one chapter.”

Samael suddenly realized he didn’t know how to contact anyone who was supposed to help him.  He asked and was told not to worry; they would know, and they would be there.  Ms. Tuesday’s demeanour made it perfectly clear the case was closed and there was to be no more discussion on this matter.

With more questions than answers, Samael went home to begin writing.  After all, an outline and a chapter in a week was a difficult task, especially when the majority of his writing to this point was fan fiction and clickbait articles. Even though he still wasn’t exactly sure what he was supposed to be writing, he found that the words came easily, almost as though they were being given to him by some unseen force.  He had a strange compulsion to keep writing and not to read what he had written.  He guessed that this was what other writers called inspiration, so he kept going.

A week later, there he was in Ms. Tuesday’s office being warmly praised.  Samael was still uncomfortable and couldn’t look either of them in the eye, but he could tell you every detail of the office floor:  37 black tiles, 37 grey ones, white grout that was a little too white, with white spirals that meandered along in no particular pattern, and the whole thing was altogether too shiny.  He still hadn’t noticed the art on the walls, which was probably a good thing.  He didn’t consciously remember the dream from a couple weeks ago, but it was tucked away in his subconscious, and seeing them would have brought it back to mind.

“But I didn’t even proofread!  I don’t even know what I wrote!” protested Samael.

Ms. Tuesday smiled.  “So much the better.  Remember, you work for us now.  We know what you are writing and that is what matters.” With that, she handed him another envelope and shooed him out the door.

$2000.  Not bad for a week’s work.  A guy could get used to this.  But now what?

With no idea what he was supposed to do next, and everything he had written previously apparently wiped from his hard-drive during the meeting, Samael decided to return to some semblance of his old routine. Alarm. Ugh.  Feed the cat.  Coffee.  Podcast.  Write.  Consider getting smashed.  But there were changes.  Now, someone was paying him, even if the amounts didn’t seem to have much connection to the work he did, or to any kind of logic, really. Some weeks he got $500, others $5000. The words flowed effortlessly most of the time.  He began to notice that whenever they didn’t, a raven would come up to his window.   Even though it was silly, he liked to think he was having a conversation with the bird about what he was writing.  In any case, after the raven left, he was able to write more.

He had less time to drink now, and found himself missing the bottle as though he had lost touch with his best friend.  He didn’t miss the blackouts, though.   Although he was certain he had never harmed anyone–could never harm anyone–waking up not knowing what had happened the night before scared him, and it happened more often than he cared to admit.

The days turned to weeks, and he could swear the raven was following him around now.  That was crazy, of course, but he couldn’t shake it.  Other strange things were happening too.  Like the day he went to the liquor store, only it wasn’t there.  Or the way people seemed to treat him with a new fear-tinged respect, like there was some kind of dark aura around him.  If he believed in those kinds of things, that’s what he would think.  But of course, he didn’t. 

Keep your head down, Samael.  Stay in your place.  You’re just working too hard.  Take a break.  You’re being oversensitive.  You got distracted and drove too far.  There are birds everywhere.   You need a drink.  He kept telling himself that even though it sure felt like the world was cracking and breaking around him, those kinds of things didn’t actually happen.  Of course, they didn’t.  A place for everything. And nothing in its place.

Forsaken Press Marketing and Distribution Network

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Forsaken Press seeks to embrace and take full advantage of Social Media as a means of marketing and promoting our company, releases and writers to a large, global audience. Our current marketing network of Social Media outlets includes Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, DeviantArt and our official blog on WordPress.

Forsaken Press has established a wide arching network of distributors, making our releases available through many different avenues in a diverse array of marketplaces. Believe it or not, but our distribution network is three times the size of Amazons. By focusing our efforts on large distributor networks we have established one of our own that is far reaching and includes multiple platforms, including: Amazon, Smashwords, IngramSpark, Lulu, Kobo, Apple Books, OverDrive, Baker and Taylor, Scribd, Tolino, Gardners and Bibliotheca CloudLibrary.

We also have a presence in the online and physical bookstores of major and independent retailers such as Barnes and Noble, Angus and Robertson, Walmart and Collins. As well as other local retailers in a number of countries, such as Ireland, Great Britain, France, Spain, Canada, Brazil, Italy, The Netherlands, New Zealand, Japan, Australia, The Philippines, South Africa, Turkey, India, Germany, Russia, South Korea, Poland, The United States of America and Mexico with a combined total of 51 countries in our distribution network. This equates to a combined total of access to 25,000 libraries where our ebooks can be accessed and purchased, 14,000 stores where our paperbacks can be ordered by either customers or stocked by the stores themselves, and 70 online retailers.

Our marketing network plans for the future currently include podcast and Youtube channels, an official website and blogger blog. We are also aiming to increase our distribution network by having online stores on our official website, blogs and Facebook page, and further expanding both marketing and distribution networks by utilising mediums such as Shopify that feature combination blogs and online stores.

Solitary Confinement (Issue 8)

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The official weekly Forsaken Press Newsletter:

Issue 8: 21/12/2019

From the desk of the President and Editor in Chief, Mr. Cameron Walker.

Hello everyone, its that time of the week once again and I am here with some exciting news and big announcements to make as usual. So strap yourselves in and lets get started. To begin with I would like to take the opportunity to announce an exciting new addition to our blog, Jenna’s Side, the official Forsaken Press reviews page, ran by our lovely Social Media Manager Jenna.

In it she will be conducting open and honest reviews of all Forsaken Press releases to add some insight to the products we release to help potential customers decide whether or not its for them. This week marks the launch of Jenna’s Side (the name aptly given because its her side of the story, and her own little corner of the blog) with her review of The Roots of Marvis Jedd. Each month she will be doing another review of our latest release and giving her honest opinion on it.

It’s that time of year again with the holidays upon us and what better way to celebrate the end of the year than with Christmas Cthulhu? That’s right, Forsaken Press’s newest release “Through the Gates of the Silver Key: The Best Collaborations and Ghost Writings of H.P. Lovecraft” is due out just in time for Christmas with a December 23rd release date. This project is a personal passion of mine as a huge fan of Lovecraft who has been a major influence on my own work. So it is something I have been very excited to work on as a labour of love for the craft. 😉 ….So much so that I decided to make the cover the featured image for this issue of the newsletter and will be doing so with future upcoming releases as well.

The new year will see the launch of our new blog on Blogger to work in conjunction with our wordpress blog to ensure we make the most of the opportunities presented to us by the online blogging community. Although it will feature a lot of the same content as the wordpress blog we have plans to mix things up a bit to give both blogs their own unique feel with some fresh and original content, so they are not just a carbon copy of each other.

In conjunction with this we will also be revamping our Instagram a bit and adding some new content to the Facebook page with easy to locate catalogs for you to view all of our wonderful releases. Don’t forget we also have the re-release of Devil’s Eye coming on December 30th, along with the release of the print edition, just in time for New Years.

Well that’s all from me for this week, the last announcement I have to make is this is the last issue of Solitary Confinement for the year. The newsletter is being put on hold until the January 7th edition, as we scale down our operations over the holiday period to focus on getting the two releases we have coming up in just over a week ready and out by their release dates.

I would like to wish everyone a Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year. It’s been a great ride this past couple of months and we at Forsaken Press have a lot more to come in the new year with four releases scheduled in for the first few months of the year and a lot of big plans for the company to come over the next 12 months. Thanks to everyone who has supported us thus far, we hope you will continue to support us in 2020. We are all very excited and looking forward to what 2020 has in store for Forsaken Press.

With sincerest thanks and best wishes,

Cameron Walker,
Editor in Chief,
Forsaken Press.






Jenna’s Side: The Roots of Marvis Jedd (Review)

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Hello, my name is Jenna, welcome to Jenna’s Side, the Official Forsaken Press reviews page.  I’m 33 and I’m the Social Media Manager for Forsaken Press.  I live in a small town in Saskatchewan, Canada, and I’m slowly but surely working on my first novel.  I like books more than most people, and I also like books more than most people.  Ba dum tish.  So when Cam asked me to write regular reviews for the Forsaken Press blog, I jumped at the chance.  Let’s start with our newest release, The Roots of Marvis Jedd by Ken Dixon.

The book’s blurb:

“Returning apprehensively to his home town of Thune, writer Clay Reston endeavors to document the early years of enigmatic musician and fellow Thune native, Marvis Jedd. At every turn, he is reminded of the many reasons they both left as soon as they could.

The Roots of Marvis Jedd is a satirical, somewhat absurdist portrayal of small town life in the United States. Baring similarities to the work of existential philosopher Albert Camus, Clay Reston struggles to find a sense of meaning and purpose to his own existence and the people and events taking place around him, while writing a biography on his home town’s most famous son, Marvis Jedd.”

Do you love music? Mysteries? Stories of dysfunctional families and what passes for drama in small towns? The Roots of Marvis Jedd by Ken Dixon has all of this, and since I love all of these things, I love it. It turns the traditional literary pilgrimage story on its head, when Clay Reston somehow gets more and less than he bargained for at the same time.

My friends and I used to affectionately refer to a fun escape as a “turn-off-your-brain” story, and that’s what this is. But don’t mistake that for stupid or poorly written. The characters are engaging, although most of them would consider that an insult rather than a compliment. I relate strongly to Clay’s position as an outsider, wondering when or if he had ever belonged in the town, and trying to decide if he even wants to belong.

If you grew up in a small town like I did, you’ll recognize Thune.  The only thing everyone can agree on is Things need to be Done. But what things, and how?  Shrug.

If, like me and like Clay, you left and then came back, you live in Thune.  “No one ever comes back,” seemingly ignoring the many who do. I can hear the coffee row gossip at the diner in Thune now:  there’s Something Wrong with that boy. It’s said in hushed tones not quite hushed enough, because it isn’t just gossip, it’s public shaming with plausible deniability.  Because no one ever comes back really means no one leaves and gets away with it.

In addition, Ken Dixon perfectly captures the small-town waiting for something but pretending you’re not, caring deeply but pretending you don’t vibe, in a way that is slightly reminiscent of a combination of Waiting For Godot and Corner Gas, or like a town from a David Lynch or Terry Gilliam movie, for those of you not familiar with the prior examples.  Nothing ever happens, of course it doesn’t. Except for when it does.

Although he writes that he doesn’t live in Thune, I bet Ken Dixon did at some point.  He handles all of this with the dark humour of someone who has been there. This makes what could be a really depressing story into one which allows you to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

So if you’re looking for a good fun quick escape read, look no further, you’ve found one. If you are looking for some social commentary, you’ve found that too.

Rating:  5/5.

The Roots of Marvis Jedd

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“Returning apprehensively to his home town of Thune, writer Clay Reston endeavors to document the early years of enigmatic musician, and fellow Thune native, Marvis Jedd. At every turn, he is reminded of the many reasons they both left as soon as they could.”

Forsaken Press is proud to present Ken Dixon’s satirical, absurdist comedy, The Roots of Marvis Jedd. Now available on Amazon, Smashwords, Kobo, Apple Books, Scribd, OverDrive, Tolino, Gardners, Baker and Taylor and Bibliotheca CloudLibrary.

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B082FY5R69
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/994304

The Roots of Marvis Jedd is a satirical, somewhat absurdist portrayal of small town life in the American mid-west. Baring similarities to the work of existential philosopher Albert Camus, journalist Clay Reston struggles to find a sense of meaning and purpose to his own existence and the people and events taking place around him.

When Clay Reston returns home to Thune, a place he despises, he finds the small town hasn’t changed at all in the fifteen years he’s been gone, the place and the people are exactly the same as he remembers it, much to his chagrin. But Clay hasn’t returned to Thune to reminiscence on the good old days, or reunite with old friends, he has returned, somewhat reluctantly, to write a biography chronicling the early years of the career of Thune’s most famous son, the mysterious musician, Marvis Jedd. Running into many colourful characters along the way, both familiar and unknown to him, Clay is reminded of what makes Thune such an enigmatic place.

“The town itself looked like a bunch of big tossed dice. Nothing was planned and if you didn’t grow up there you may as well give up trying to find what you were looking for. No one would help you because it was really none of their business. That attitude goes a long way toward explaining why Thune never really found its niche as a tourist mecca; “Who cares?” would never have made it as a slogan.”

“For a reason known only to him, old Arvil liked to plant himself right out in front of his property just to glare at whoever drove by. I think that’s pretty much all he did, except when LuAnne would get him to come inside and eat his lunch. With all that practice, he got that glare down to a science and it really was something to see. If you gave even the slightest thought to stopping in Thune, chances were good that you would keep right on going once Arvil got a bead on you. “


Solitary Confinement (Issue 7)

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The official weekly Forsaken Press Newsletter:

Issue 7: 14/12/2019

From the desk of the President and Editor in Chief, Mr. Cameron Walker.

Hello ladies and gentlemen,

Welcome to another issue of Solitary Confinement, the official Forsaken Press newsletter. We have a massive issue for you this week with lots of exciting news and announcements to make. First off, as we have been advertising a little bit these past couple of weeks we are now closed for submissions from the 14th of December until the 30th of January for the holiday period and to sort through the submissions we have while dedicating some time and effort to other things that require our attention.

Tomorrow also marks the official release of the first Forsaken Press title released under the company’s banner, Ken Dixon’s, The Roots of Marvis Jedd. An absurdist, satirical take on small town life in the American Mid-West, it tells the story of journalist Clay Reston returning to his home town, a place he despises after a fifteen year absence. You can find it available for purchase on Amazon, Smashwords, Kobo, Scribd and Apple Books.

“Returning apprehensively to his home town of Thune, writer Clay Reston endeavors to document the early years of enigmatic musician and fellow Thune native, Marvis Jedd. At every turn, he is reminded of the many reasons they both left as soon as they could.

The Roots of Marvis Jedd is a satirical, somewhat absurdist portrayal of small town life in the American Mid-West. Baring similarities to the work of existential philosopher Albert Camus, Clay Reston struggles to find a sense of meaning and purpose to his own existence and the people and events taking place around him, while writing a biography on his home town’s most famous son, Marvis Jedd.”

Not only that, but we have another two novels scheduled for release before the year is out with Through the Gates of the Silver Key: The Best Collaborative and Ghost Written Works of H.P. Lovecraft set for release on December 23rd and the second and print editions of Cameron Walker’s tale of pillage, plunder and pirates, Devil’s Eye out December 30th.

We’re all hard at work behind the scenes, with our Social Media Manager Jenna, and our Marketing Manager Ashley, working with us to really make our marketing and social media network something impressive and innovative that offers our authors a lot of exposure, support and presenting a refined and professional image that’s eye catching and easily identifiable. Jenna is working hard on our twitter to bring you all the latest news and updates, while Ashley recently took over management of our Instagram and we are all very excited to see what she achieves with that.

Meanwhile I am hard at work helping to prepare Devil’s Eye by going over it with a fine comb, and perfecting the manuscript for its print and our new and improved second edition release. In conjunction with the myriad of other tasks I deal with while conducting the every day operations of Forsaken Press and preparing some promotional pieces for The Roots of Marvis Jedd and our future releases out later this month. Priest is working hard at designing cover art and formatting manuscripts for their Ebook and print releases. If he escapes with his sanity intact, it may very well be a miracle.

In closing we are also revamping a few things around the place as part of our campaign to enhance our image and ensure Forsaken Press meets its potential, for clients and customers alike. If you’ve visited the blog before you’ll notice a few changes with a sidebar menu and options at the bottom of the page now clearly visible as we seek to flesh the blog out a bit and make it easier to navigate. We also have some new additions coming to the Facebook page and don’t forget to look us up on DeviantArt and Tumblr.

That’s all from me for this week, stay tuned for next week’s edition, which will be the last for a while as we wind things down a bit for the holidays and focus more on behind the scenes developments we have in the works.

Warm regards,

Cameron Walker,
President and Editor in Chief,
Forsaken Press.

A Dream of Pirates

On By forsakenpressIn Short Stories1 Comment

“Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum. Drink and the devil did for all the rest, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.” Treasure Island, the first book I vividly remember reading. Well I didn’t read it. My dad read it to me of a night before bed, after we had moved up the coast, away from the big city to a small country town by the seaside. For the first few months after our move we lived in a small caravan park by the beach.

I found myself falling asleep every night to the sound of the distant waves crashing upon the shore, vivid images of cutlass wielding pirates, buried treasure, tropical islands and galleons doing battle upon the sea coursed through my mind, fueling my imagination and filling my dreams with tales of adventure, debauchery and battle, ruthless buccaneers, handsome heroes, beautiful damsels in distress, and exotic far off places. Looking back this early obsession with pirates plays a significant role in my fascination with history, and most of all my love of reading and literature later on in life.

Sometimes of a night, once my parents had gone to bed, and I felt the need to pee, or get myself a drink, I would sneak out of the caravan, being careful to not make a sound as I slipped outside and wondered down to the beach. I recall one such occasion with such clarity, as if it happened only yesterday, not some twenty-five years ago. I can’t say if what I saw was a mere figment of my excited child’s imagination, was in fact a dream of such detail and vividness that I confused it for reality upon waking, or was indeed a ghostly vision of a time centuries before. As if somehow my fevered imaginings had opened a portal through space and time, allowing me to see through the veil of the centuries and into the past. What I can tell you is I had an experience that whatever its nature, was of such profound significance to me, that it stayed with me all these years with a vividness and clarity of detail, unlike anything else I have ever experienced.

I was taking one of my regular late-night strolls from our caravan, winding my way through the labyrinth of caravans, campers, tents and cottages before turning onto the path towards the ocean. Shrubs, mangroves and grasses lined the sides of the sandy track as it snaked its way through the dunes, down towards the beach. Something rustled in the grass among the dunes and a bird of some sort cawed in the trees above as I strode along the path, my bare feet sinking into the soft, cool sand, leaving a track of footprints in my wake. I descended onto the beach, the sand becoming noticeably deeper and colder as I wondered across the sand. I strode down the sand until I came to the line where the waves reached their peak upon the shore and followed it for a time. I stopped to stoop down and retrieve some pebbles and began to toss them into the water, seeing how far I could hurl them out to sea.

Unexpectedly a curious sensation came over me and I stopped to take in my surroundings, giving my full attention to the night that engulfed me and now tickled at my senses with an indistinct feeling of surrealism. Everything suddenly felt vague and ethereal, like being trapped in a dream which one could not awake from as my hair stood on end and my pulse increased, my breathing becoming heavier as I became more alert and aware of the night around me. The steep cliff face of the large hillside that flanked the beach loomed menacingly above the shore, casting the beach nearby in a dark, malevolent shadow devoid of light. Hiding the rock pools below the cliff, where hermit crabs and small fish frolicked, from sight.

The waves lapped lazily at the shore, rolling up onto the sand before receding back upon themselves. The sea was eerily calm with the swell of the waves laying quite close to shore. Beyond them the ocean lay as smooth as glass, the pale light of the crescent moon reflecting upon the surface of the water and making it shimmer like the stars that blinked down upon the earth from the heavens. Several large clouds drifted across the night sky, the light of the moon giving them a ghostly visage, so they appeared as phantoms floating among the stars that glittered like jewels within the black, abyssal darkness of space. The trees rustled in the breeze that blew through the night, cavorting to a song only they could hear. It was then that I spotted it.

Out beyond the waves a ship glided over the sea, its large rectangular white sails fluttering in the wind as its bow cut a path through the inky darkness of the water. As it came closer I recognised it distinctly as an old sailing ship from centuries past and ran up the beach towards the headland that overlooked the bay gave unobstructed views of the vast ocean beyond. Unable to believe my eyes I stood there in a state of shock and awe, staring at the mysterious ship as it approached, gradually growing as it loomed closer and closer.

Shaking myself out of my trance I raced across the sand and up the rocky path that snaked its way from the beach into the rolling hills of the coastal field that overlooked the beach. Once cattle grazing land it now served as a recreational area for tourists and locals alike to have picnics, play sports and relax away from the sand and surf while still providing them with scenic views of the beach and ocean beyond. Breathing heavily and with my legs aching from the physical exertion of the uphill run I finally reached the top of the hill and looked out across the bay at the advancing ship.

The ship had turned with the tide and was making its way towards me as it followed the coast south, coming about on her starboard side to reveal two rows of ten cannons along her top and gun decks. Thanks to my reading of books on pirates, sailing and naval warfare during the age of exploration I identified her as a small galleon. A relatively fast, well-armed and formidable ship capable of not just hunting down prey; but severely punishing anyone who dared resist.

As she skirted the coast past the headland the skull and crossbones flag hanging from her masthead was clearly visible, fluttering lazily in the night wind with its infamous grinning skull mocking all unfortunate enough to set eyes upon it. Men scrambled amongst the rigging, swinging from ropes, racing deftly over narrow beams and scurrying up and down the ratlines as they shouted and cursed to each other through the forest of masts, ropes and timber beams and posts.

“Heave to ya bilge rats, come on ya godless sons of whores, on yar way,’ shouted a large portly officer, who stood amid ship barking orders at the men around him, encouraging them to pick up the pace. The pirate in the crow’s nest kept a vigilant eye out for trouble, or the prospect of an easy target that could bring them some quick booty. More buccaneers raced around on deck tending to the variety of tasks that consumed their daily lives. A group of men feverishly scrubbed the deck, scrapping off the layer of salt that built up while others polished the ship’s cannons, cleaning out their barrels and clearing any obstructions. A large burly sailor stood at the helm, steering the large wheel with practised ease as several other pirates crowded around a map and conversed nearby.

The bustle of conversation, shouted orders, curses and song piercing the night in a cacophony of noise as I stood amazed by the sight before me. As the galleon sailed past the headland I got a good look at the men on board as they rushed about their work under the light of the pale glow of the moon, seemingly oblivious to my presence upon the hill. Covered in piercings, tattoos and with a fair share of eye patches among them they were a fearsome bunch of hardened criminals, rebels and outcasts who had shunned society and made a life of their own on the sea where they were the masters of their world and the scourge of all who would dare oppose them.

I stood watching the phantom ship that had appeared out of the abyssal gulf of time, emerging from ages past into the modern era via some mystical means unknown to man and beyond the reach of science. Watching as it followed the coast in a southern trajectory for some time before turning to her port and moving back out to sea, casting a ghostly shadow upon the waves as she glided over the water and disappeared beyond the horizon.

Interview with Cassandra Castaneda: On Writing

On By forsakenpressIn InterviewsLeave a comment

Welcome to another edition of our On Writing series of Forsaken Press collaborator interviews. For this edition I sat down with Sci-Fi/Fantasy writer Cassandra Castaneda to discuss reading, writing and what makes her tick, as a writer of course.

When did you first start writing and what got you into it?

I was really young actually, the first “book” I wrote was a short story I made for a school contest, where you made a short picture book about any story you wanted to tell. Me, being the ubernerd I was decided to write a book about dinosaurs, about the different types of dinosaurs, and different theories on how they went extinct. I won first place for the school, although, as far as I recall I didn’t make it at the county level. Beyond that, I continued to be a heavy reader and writer all the way until adulthood, although the last few years I have slacked quite a bit.

What’s your favourite novel?

Without a doubt, The Neverending Story. More than any book I have read has this one influenced the way I write and how I develop worlds. The book in and of itself is sort of a love letter to the art of storytelling, with the Nothing representing the lack of imagination that often comes with adult life. I would almost call it a proto-Millennial mindset in many ways. If you’ve read The Neverending Story, you can pick up little hints and nods I throw towards it in my various writings. My character Storyteller, who appears in many of my stories, although in many forms and names is representative of the idea of certain beings being able to travel across worlds, be it from Earth to Fantastica, or in her case, from Earth, to the Aether, to the Nine Realms, etc.

Who are your greatest influences?

Aside from Michal Ende and his novel, I actually have quite a few literary influences. Kevin Dean Anderson, Michael Crichton, Dean Koontz and, of course, H.P. Lovecraft. It’s hard to say who has had the most influence on me, and they are a great many more I could list here, these are just the ones who come to mind.

You’re currently working on your debut novel Aether Station, what inspired the story?

This is a long story. So, I had been working on a tabletop roleplaying game, the original idea was actually to create something I could play for a Mass Effect themed game, but I decided it would be more fun to create something that was my own, although you can sort of see a small reminder of the influence in some of the races I created, the Arkdavieans and the Leirynn being similar to the Salarian and Turians, although much of that is superficial now. As I wrote down more of this universe I started to fall in love with it. I decided to write a series of short stories, that were meant to help the player (the novel takes place 100 years before the events of the game) immerse themselves in a universe that was rich in lore and not just a generic Sci Fi game. That is sort of why there are 4 parts in the novel, each part was originally a short story reworked into a novel.

What’s the most challenging thing about writing for you?

I have really bad ADHD, combined with anxiety and depression, its hard for me to motivate myself into writing. It really sucks when you have all these ideas and they seem to refuse to come out, like some sort of reverse writers block where its not that you don’t know what to write, but so many ideas you don’t know which one!

How do you create your characters?

Depends. Sometimes I create stories around characters I come up with, sometimes it’s the reverse. To narrow it down, in the case of Alicia I created her because I wanted a hero who was like me, a neurodivergent, Mexican woman. While I am not a super-scientist, many of her personality traits, especially her negative ones are very much mine. Comparatively, Rebecca was created to be a counterpart to her, to be the bad bitch I always wished I was.

What advice would you give to someone thinking about writing a novel of their own?

Read more. Not even kidding. When I started writing the first draft of Aether Station 5 or so years ago, I realised I had not read much in awhile and you can’t be a good writer if you don’t take the time to see what people want to read.

What kind of fiction do you like to read?

I’m not super picky, I do love Sci—Fi and Fantasy but I will read just about anything. I have been reading a bit of True Crime lately, most recently The Phantom Killer: Unlocking the Mystery of the Texarkana Serial Murders by James Presley. 

What is it about Sci-fi and fantasy that you find so alluring?

The escape. I was bullied a lot, and as an awkward LGBT person, having a fantasy realm to escape to was an important coping mechanism. I think it’s a lot of why I fell in love with The Neverending Story, the idea I could just disappear into another world, if just for a bit, was more than I could ever ask for.

What is your favourite story you’ve ever written and why?

Bob the Dieting Turkey. Wrote it when I was 12 and it was about a thanksgiving turkey that came back to life and forced the family to go on a low-carb high-protein diet. I was 12 and have no fucking clue why I thought it was funny, but me and my mom still have a laugh about it now and then.

How would you describe your writing style?

Accessible. I try to use language that conveys ideas, emotions, actions, etc without being pretentious. I think this is something I try to take from JK Rowling, wording that tells a deep story while being understandable to all groups of people.

What’s your favourite thing about writing?

Being lost in my own head for hours, coming up with new stories, new places and new people to meet!