Tuesday, 22 May 2012
Meet me at the UK Games Expo!
Thursday, 8 March 2012
Author Interview: John-Paul Cleary
Thursday, 23 February 2012
Author Interview: David J Pedersen
I was born in Racine, Wisconsin and raised in Kansas City, Missouri. I’ve worked in sales, management and IT – which means I’m not good at anything but I can make a mess in lots of different places. My lovely wife and editor, Angie Pedersen, is a published author of three books about Scrapbooking. I have a 14 year old daughter and an 18 year old son. Right now I’m trying the paleo diet, so all cereal sounds really good!
How long have you been writing and what first inspired you to pick up the pen?
I’ve been writing stories since I was in grade school, and got the bug to write a novel in High School – but was never patient enough to do it. I’m not sure what finally made me turn the corner, if it was too much time in corporate America, or that I was finally mature enough to wait for the microwave to count all the way down to zero. Either way I’m glad I finally did start because I can’t seem to stop and I’ve got a lot of story to tell.
I see you’ve written a novel called ‘Angst’ – let’s hear the sales pitch for it!
Angst is a story about midlife crisis in medieval times. After turning 40 Angst believes that any chance of his dreams coming true are gone. He is an overweight, paper-pushing, magic-wielder. Magic is mostly illegal and because of this he is stuck in a thankless job. His friends have drifted apart, his marriage is on the rocks, and the only person who seems to care is the teenage princess Victoria. They have become the best of friends, which upsets his wife, and makes things worse with his boss, the Queen. Angst believes that if he had just been allowed to become a knight everything would have turned out better.
Do you consider your work to be in any way autobiographical – i.e. are you facing the same mid-life crisis that plagues your protagonist?
One of my best friends from High School said reading the book was like spending an evening talking to me. While I’m not Angst, and most of the characters aren’t exact duplicates of friends and family, there are certainly more than a few similarities. I have tried to follow Mark Twain’s great advice to “write what you know.” As for a mid-life crisis, I guess it depends on who you ask. I will say that if going on adventures while being surrounded by attractive young women means I’m going through a mid-life crisis – then I’m in!
Why did you choose to self-publish rather than follow the traditional route of publishing?

There are lots of reasons I never submitted anything to a traditional publisher. The most important one was retaining control of the story and characters. I have no doubt that a publisher could make my story more sellable, but I know what I want my story to say and really don’t want anything or anyone cut out. For instance, there are things that happen in book 2 that may not be referenced again until book 6 or book 100. I want the flexibility to leave those plot points and characters in place.
I also enjoy the immediate gratification I’ve gotten from self-publishing. Writing your first book isn’t about money. Instead, my goals have been to entertain, write characters that people care about, and create situations that readers can relate to. And I love to hear that I have made someone laugh. I’ve been told that I’ve met many of those goals, and I feel great about it.
How important is social media in the marketing/promotion of your work?
To this point it has been everything. Most of my marketing and promotion has been done through Twitter and my blog. I never thought I’d say this, but I love Twitter. It’s a great way to find an audience, and network with other writers. I’ve met some amazing people and have gotten some great feedback. The interaction is both fun, and really makes me want to write more.
What’s the most challenging aspect of being a writer?
I want my books to be easy to read, entertaining, and relatable while at the same time being clever enough that you don’t always know what is going to happen. Readers who reviewed Angst enjoyed some of the twists and turns of the story. I’m proud of my first book and am striving to make the sequel, Buried in Angst, as good, or better than the first.
Do have a strict writing regime or is your creative process fairly relaxed?
Not really - my schedule is crazy full so I fit writing time in when I can. I try to schedule writing after work 2-3 days a week and feel pretty good if I get one day in -- I usually hide at a bookstore with my netbook and throw up a few pages while listening to various soundtracks. Then I’ll edit and rewrite the mess a couple of days later at home in the evenings before handing it off to my wife for editing.
What genres and authors do you enjoy reading?
It’s unfortunate that my reading time is my writing time (and my family time, and my exercise time, etc). I mostly enjoy fantasy and science fiction, but if I don’t have a lot of time to read I’ll pick up a comic book. I’ve really enjoyed DC Comics’ New 52 soft reboot lately.
What advice would you give to aspiring writers?
Write! More than anything you need to write. Write lots, write little, write poorly – it doesn’t matter. Every time you write it is like exercising a muscle; your writing will improve and so will the creative process.
Monday, 13 February 2012
Author Interview: Natalie Binder
Saturday, 4 June 2011
Friends of Samuelj
Christian Hoagland - Santa Ana Video Game Community Examiner
Friday, 3 June 2011
King Slayer has begun!
To join in, just follow @tw33t_rpg on Twitter, and send us your choice. Once the voting session has finished, the winning choice will be posted and the next voting session will begin. It's that simple!
There are a couple of gameplay adjustments that you will need to take into account:
- When encountering an enemy, you will be given an assessment of how dangerous your foe is. For example, you might see '[low threat]' after the enemy's name - this indicates the battle will be fairly easy. Precede according to this information.
- There may be some situations where you cannot use your bow during battle. You will see '[bow unusable]' in these situations.
Monday, 23 May 2011
I am the chosen one!
The Neverending Story Project is a writing venture that creates stories by getting one writer to start a story, another to continue it, and then a final person to compose the conclusion. They also create stories through the use of Twitter, tweeting the opening sentence of a narrative and then leaving it up to the followers to finish the tale. And my sentence was chosen to start their next story! The sentence is:
"Take the next left," she ordered. I turned clumsily, clipping the kerb. It's hard to drive with a pistol wedged in your side.Visit their website for more details, and follow @story_project on Twitter to get involved!
Tuesday, 15 June 2010
Assimilated

"Seriously guys, you've gotta sign up,” Will enthused. The young dark-haired student sat with his two companions in the university coffee shop, other groups sitting at the surrounding tables, the warm cosy room filled with conversation and laughter.
“I dunno,” remarked Emma, absentmindedly playing with her long blonde hair. “I've already got profiles on three or four sites and I used them all for about a month before getting bored of it.”
“Absolute.Network is different,” replied Will, sipping his coffee. “You don't have to do anything accept create a profile. The programme assimilates all your information for you.”
“How does that work?” questioned Henry, adjusting his glasses.
“Well it uses your web cam to get your picture – ”
“That's fairly obvious,” interrupted Emma, making Henry chuckle.
“ – but it also scans your surroundings and gathers the information needed to fill out your profile,” Will continued, ignoring her joke. “For example, I was doing some reading for my course last night, and when I checked my profile the programme had added my degree course to my personal info and had made a post about the exact book I was reading.”
Henry frowned.
“That sounds a bit invasive.”
“No, it's cool. There's loads of stuff in the regulations and rules that stops anyone from stealing your identity.”
“Yeah, if you trust that stuff,” retorted his friend.
“You're just too paranoid, Mister 'I change my email account every month',” said Will playfully, flicking a biscuit crumb at Henry, who dramatically pretended to be shot as it hit him, the trio laughing.
“Maybe I'll give it a try,” said Emma thoughtfully.
“Well, don't say I didn't warn you,” Henry said aloofly. “These things will take over your life.”
Entering his bedroom, Will took off his backpack and tossed it onto his unmade bed, sitting down at his desk with a sigh of relief. It felt good to get home. Surprising how three hours of lectures can really take it out of you. Almost like a really day's work. He turned on the monitor of his computer, the screen flickering into life. His Absolute.Network profile was gradually filling up with information, the 'hobbies and interests' area brimming with all the films, books and music he liked. Will smiled. So much easier than doing it all himself.
As he glanced at himself in the mirror something caught his eye. He stared at the reflective surface, confused. He was missing a freckle. He touched his face, his fingers passing over the place where the brown dot once was. Well, where he assumed it once was. Had it always been there? He turned back to the computer, scrutinising the image of his face on his profile page. There it was, just below his left eye. Maybe it was just a bit of dirt or a pimple, he thought, but in the back of his mind he knew it had been there for as long as he could remember.
A knock at the door startled him.
“Hey Will, you there?”
“Yeah, come in.”
The tousled curly-haired head of his house-mate Alex poked around the door.
“We're going out for a curry, you wanna come?”
“Um...yeah, alright,” replied Will, grabbing his jacket and following Alex out of the room, the missing freckle pushed to the dusty recesses of his mind.
Will climbed sluggishly back into bed, pulling the covers tightly around him. He felt terrible, completely drained. His house-mates had all made remarks about his colourless complexion when he had ventured downstairs for a slice of toast, urging him with concern to visit the doctor. He waved their anxiety away, asserting that he'd be fine in a day or two. It had already been three days since the illness had started however, and he couldn't even fool himself into thinking that he felt any better. He sank in and out of sleep, all the while his computer humming away in the background, a soothing electronic buzz.
He awoke, his bedroom shrouded in darkness, a shaft of streetlight dissecting the black space from between the parted curtains. An uncomfortable itching sensation covered his entire body, running from his head to his toes, like a thousand ants prickling his flesh. In the dimness he forced himself into a sitting position. He felt so weak. So tired. His head ached, his eyes dry and irritated. He scratched at his arms, the itch burning his skin. Something wasn't right. His skin felt...different, taut and cold. He laboriously swung his legs out of the bed and stood up, inspecting his body in the mirror.
The breath left his body as he caught sight of himself. His skin was completely featureless. No hair, no freckles, not a wrinkle or crease in sight, his body like a grotesque porcelain doll. A cry of fear escaped him as he saw his face. It looked like it had been sanded down to an almost faultless sphere, his nose reduced to a small lump, his mouth a smooth line, his eyes sinking into their sockets. His breath was shallow and fast, as if his lungs were being slowly crushed within him.
Then he saw the computer screen. Glowing in the black, it displayed his Absolute.Network profile picture. Not just a good match or a high-resolution digital copy, the image was perfect. His hair, his face, his imperfections and freckles; everything that was missing from his current mutated form. It was him.
Panic rushing over him, he stumbled towards the computer. He had to shut it down. He fell to his knees, his strength waning, head swimming, vision blurring. He reached out his hand, inching closer and closer, his finger brushing against the power button. Darkness enveloped him, wrapping him in unconsciousness. His body fell limply to the ground, motionless on the carpeted floor.
Emma and Henry sat in the coffee shop, mugs in front of them, a third mug in front of the empty place at the circular table. Henry checked his watch.
“He's never this late,” he remarked.
“You'd think he'd have told us if he wasn't coming,” Emma said, taking out her phone. She placed it against her ear, listening for a few seconds, then removing it. “No answer. I'll see if he's sent me anything on my profile.” She tapped the screen of her touch-phone, cycling through the menus and gadgets. “Nothing. I'll send him a message, he's always online.”
The End





