G.R. Yeates's Blog

Waiting for some more action in the Sarah Bean Chronicles? Here is something to whet your appetite.

NB: This extract is from the unedited draft.

Sarah watched as shadows crept in around them with the setting sun. The heat of the day vanished with it, leaving a bitter cold. The one thing keeping it at bay was the heat from Timoth’s fire. Sarah thought about reaching for the Flame to try and strengthen it – but her gut told her not to. She wasn’t sure why she felt that way.

Am I nervous because it’s been two years since I last used the Flame?

She shrugged to herself and decided that it could wait. They had been travelling safely enough for three days now; best to only use the Flame if she really had to.

“How much longer do you think it will be, Timoth?”

“Another four days walking and we will be in sight of Highmount, I should think.”

“Do you think the weather’s likely to change in that time?”

“Who knows?” Timoth said, staring off into the distance, “we have been fortunate so far. But there could another storm, or there could be a blizzard.”

“Really? After this heat.”

“The Storm Queen controls everything, Sarah. There are no more seasons in Seythe. We measure the days only by the rising of the sun and the waning of moon. Those, at least, have been beyond her power. So far.”

“My god,” Sarah said, “Imagine if she could control the sun and moon though. Wow.”

Timoth shivered, “I’d rather not. Perpetual sun until the land is finally a lifeless, blistered ruin, or eternal night until everything freezes to death. No, it doesn’t bear thinking about, especially as her power has grown over the centuries. There’s no telling what she might try to do.”

Crack …

“What was that?” Sarah asked.

“Get up, Sarah. Slowly. Do not move swiftly. Then turn around. And try not to be afraid.”

Sarah did as Timoth said, watching him do the same out of the corner of her eye. She looked out into the night beyond the light cast by the small fire. She saw shapes moving there; hunched and squat. The crunch and shuffle of their feet echoed off the surrounding rocks and stones.

“Molloi!”

“No, Sarah,” said Timoth, “look again.”

Sarah did, and she saw dark hair, desperate faces and rough, torn clothes. Mouths moved in what looked like snarls because they were hungry and had smelled the cooking meat on the wind. They were all thin and haggard.

“Who are they?”

“My neighbours, Sarah. The people of the valley. Those that are left.”

“But I saw no houses or farms along the way.”

“Their homes are caves and burrows now, Sarah. They shelter and sleep there during the day. At night, they hunt.”

“They look like they’re starving.”

“They are.”

“What can we do? Can we help them, at all?”

“Look at them, Sarah. Look at their eyes!”

A few of the hunters were close enough for the fire to catch in their eyes. Sarah saw how pinched and unsteady the pupils were. Their lips twitched as if they were silently laughing at a joke she couldn’t hear.

“They don’t want the jerky meat …” Sarah said.

They’re going to kill us, she thought, kill us and eat us.

One of them reached its hand towards her.

The shaking fingers curled into a claw.

Sarah reached for the Flame; and it poured into her like a molten river, making her gasp for a moment from the sudden shock. Then, she grasped it and drew on Timoth’s conjured fire to feed it. The flames licked higher and higher, making the starving cave-dwellers pause. Their eyes widened as the inferno began to further lengthen, bend and flow towards them. They began to back away, muttering and whispering fearfully.

Sarah began to relax the Flame – she didn’t want to kill them, just scare them off. There had been enough death when she fought against the Fallen One.

She didn’t want things to be like that again.

But the Flame didn’t relax.

Something was wrong with it.

The fire suddenly darkened, raging with a wan light Sarah did not recognise. She could feel it inside her. A strange cold flowing through the Flame – like a disease in blood. It made the Flame thrash and slither out of her control.

The cave-dwellers screamed and ran as raw power lashed out and tore into them, incinerating a handful on the spot.

Timoth – where was he?

Sarah turned and saw him lying on the ground by the rising column of fire she had created, a pale smoke rising from his prone form.

No!

She closed her eyes tight and took hold of the Flame though it struggled violently against her. She felt the sweat breaking out on her brow as she calmed it, tempered it and then, finally, let it go. Sarah opened her eyes and breathed a bit more easily. The fire had returned to normal and the cave dwellers were gone – those that had not been reduced to crumbling soot-stains on the ground.

She approached Timoth. His robe and face were blackened. She felt for his pulse and checked for breath.

He was alive.

She dug out a water bottle, uncorked it and held it to his lips, tilting his head gently until he was sipping at the water. His eyes fluttered, opened and focused. He looked up at her and managed a weak smile, “Well, I guess at this point there’s no question that you are the Living Flame.”

The Scion of Stars will be released in late Spring 2014.

So, as some of you know, I started self-publishing in May 2011 and I reached a milestone in January 2014 by selling over 1000 ebooks in one month. That’s a month’s day-job wages for me and a significant step closer to becoming a full-time writer. At this point in my career, I’d like share a few things with you about my journey so far. When I first started writing, I planned to go the traditional route. I bought the Writers & Artists Yearbook and started submitting my first novel once it was finished. It did the round of rejections from publishers and agents – all except for one who did pick me up. The following is a brief extract from the feedback I received:

“… It has been difficult to find anything about the writer which might indicate that this is a first book, and although this is a horror story set in war – to all intents and purposes, this is a literary book …”

Sounds good, right?

I thought so too.

Needless to say, we signed a contract and I thought I was on my way; instead, I waited over eighteen months for something to happen. While I was waiting, the Kindle came out and self-publishing started making waves. I was hearing very little from my agent and because of this I sat up, paid attention, mostly to J.A. Konrath and David Gaughran, and started doing my research on self-publishing.

If said agent had been more attentive and made me feel like I was a going concern then maybe I wouldn’t have done this – who knows? But this was not the first time I would run into what can only be described as a superior and dismissive attitude from those who work in the traditional publishing industry. Despite irregular assurances, usually as a result of me chasing him, nothing had happened by the beginning of 2011 and therefore I decided to sack my agent.

A few months later, I was publishing The Eyes of the Dead onto Amazon and Smashwords. I continued to self-publish horror fiction for eighteen months and garnered a certain amount of critical acclaim, but sales remained relatively low. The most I made in a month during this period was £55.16 after currency conversion and the most books I sold in a month was 70. Though this was still better on a month-by-month basis than the proceeds from my few forays into the Small Press, which came to about £20 overall.

This might sound like the beginning of a tale of woe but it’s not. Out of the blue, my agent came back to me and tried to sign me to his own publishing imprint. This is the response he gave when I politely turned down his offer.

“Really?

You’re obviously feeling bullish about the self/vanity publishing route. I’ve just offered you a £5k advance with a real publisher, an audio release and a 50/50 share of royalties. 

If you want to move up out of the self pub swamp let me know.”

I think you will agree that this response is less than polite, not very respectful and indicative, to my mind, of how traditional publishing not only views self-publishing, but authors as a whole. And remember, he came back to me – why try again if he didn’t think I was worth having in his stable? By doing this, he convinced me that I had done the right thing by self-publishing. I didn’t need to work with people like this.

What happened next was that I switched genres to Fantasy – and things started to happen. I had a feature for my first Fantasy title on Ereader News Today in April 2013 that led to my best month, by that point, with 243 books sold. A few months later, when the second book came out, I dropped the first in price to being permafree and sales picked up once again –not to the same level as April but September saw 4000 free downloads and 75 books sold. I was maintaining a steady income and sales stream – and, most importantly, it was out-distancing my horror sales significantly, even in August when I only sold 2-3 books per day.

Then, I managed to get a promotion lined up with Bookbub for the release of the third book, and this led to December 2013 and January 2014 being very good months. In December, I sold 696 books and saw free downloads hit 30,000. In January, I sold 1,174 books and free downloads were at 6,000. Since December, I have made more than I earn in a month from my day-job – that’s over $2,000.

Now, this is a milestone, not the end-game. I will have to work hard to keep the money and the sales up there. It won’t be easy but if I can do it once, I can do it again.

And I did this without an agent, a publicist or a publisher. Don’t get me wrong, there were times when it was tempting to fall for the Validation Myth, but I am so glad that I didn’t.

Before I go, here are some aspects of the Validation Myth that I would like to bust:

Writers need the old Gatekeepers (i.e. Agents, Publishers etc,.) to validate their work before it’s fit for public consumption!

Wrong! Every writer needs a good editor, but beyond that we can do a lot of the job ourselves. I proofread my books (repeatedly). I use beta-readers. I format my books. I market my books. I talk to other writers on a daily basis about best practice. I do out-source for cover-art at the present time, but if you have the skills then you can do your own art too. Not much else left for the old Gatekeepers to do now, is there?

Writers who get excited over Amazon Ranking results are deluded, pathetic idiots.

Wrong! Writers with good rankings on Amazon –paid and free – are making money, and that’s why they are getting excited. They are celebrating their success – what’s the problem with that, exactly? It’s also how we monitor the success of our work, make judgement calls on when it’s time to switch genres, for example, line up another promotion, or have another glass of bourbon. All privileges available to very few, if any, traditionally-published authors – except, maybe, the bourbon.

Self-published authors are just bitter; the numbers they share are purely anecdotal and signs of limited success shared by a few.

Wrong! I don’t even know where to start with this one. Firstly, I’m not bitter. I’m happier than I have been in years right now. Last year was good. This year is looking to be even better. As to our numbers being purely anecdotal, I’d like to refer you again to the blogs of J.A. Konrath, David Gaughran – and to Iain Rob Wright. Read thoroughly and without prejudice. These gentlemen, like myself, deal in real numbers and hard data – something that I have always found much more convincing than speculative pipe-dreams. Also, bear this in mind, the traditional publishing industry has only anecdotal numbers to refer to; self-published authors are outside of their system and, as a general rule, they don’t like to talk to us. So, can you really trust their numbers anymore than mine?

And here’s one last question that I would like to throw open to the floor – if Validation is so important, why is it that no author has ever been able to pay their gas bill with it?

Hello one and all,

Today’s blog is an announcement of sorts. After the success over the last few months of The Age of the Flame trilogy following the launch of the final book, The Stone of Sorrows, I am pleased to confirm that there will be more adventures from the world of Seythe coming your way. Thank you again for all your support, fellow writers and loyal readers, as this wouldn’t be happening without you.

Henceforth, the series will fall under the overarching title; The Chronicles of Sarah Bean, and there will be two more trilogies of fantasy adventure coming your way in 2014 and 2015, bringing the series to a total of nine books.

The Age of Ashes

1) The Scion of Stars (Spring 2014 release)

2) The Shield of Suns (Summer/Autumn 2014 release)

3) The Song of Sacrifice (Winter 2014 release)

The End of All Ages

1) The Seal of Shadows

2) The Sanctuary of Skulls

3) The Shophar of Silence

Okay, so we have lots of authors donating their fantasy books for this giveaway. You’ve got everything from epic fantasy to contemporary paranormal on offer.

Now how about them prizes, eh?

The Grand Prize winner will receive a MASSIVE collection of both paper and ebooks from all the authors alongwith some swag.

The Second Prize winner will receive an ebook collection of all the authors’ books.

I’m donating the complete Age of the Flame trilogy ebooks for the lucky winners.

To get a list of authors/books involved and to join the giveaway fun, hop on over to the blog HERE or use the image at the beginning of this post.

Get The Age of the Flame for under $4.00!

For a VERY LIMITED TIME ONLY, you can get the WHOLE TRILOGY at this greatly reduced price.

Please use the links below to DOWNLOAD your copies TODAY before the price goes back UP!

The Sword of Sighs – FREE!

Amazon US

Amazon UK

B&N Nook

Kobo

Apple

The Sceptre of Storms – $0.99

Amazon US

Amazon UK

B&N Nook

Kobo

Apple

The Stone of Sorrows – $2.99

Amazon US

Amazon UK

B&N Nook

Kiley Bean didn’t know where she was.

One minute she had been in the lounge of her home in Okeechobee, the next she was standing in a dome-shaped cavern that stank of sulphur and rot. There was light, dull and ominous, but she wasn’t sure where it was coming from. And she was surrounded by hooded figures squatting around ornately carved circular patterns that decorated the cavern floor. The stone was warm under her bare feet, and she could feel a slight rhythm passing through it, like an enormous heartbeat that was gigantic enough to split a mountain to its roots if the pulse picked up much more. One of the hooded figures stood before her, his black-gloved fingers clutching a staff surmounted by a polished skull. A single horn topped the skull and winked obsidian in the low light.

“Where the hell am I?”

“This world is Seythe, sister of the Flame.”

“Flame? What flame?”

“Your bloodkin. Known to you as Sarah Bean.”

“Sarah? Where is she? I want to see her.”

The figure hissed in the darkness of its hood. Kiley hadn’t seen the face yet, and something told her she didn’t want to. Had she fallen asleep on the couch? Was this a dream?

“She knows much more than you think, and is much more than you could hope her to be. Sarah Bean is the Living Flame, a daughter of prophecy.”

Kiley swallowed hard as the figure went on.

“She holds the power of a Goddess in her breast, chosen by destiny to hold a power and strength that should have been mine—”

This couldn’t be real. It had to be a dream.

“Cuh-come on, really? Are you serious? My sister is the chosen one … or something? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

A silence descended in the cavern and she felt the great heartbeat underfoot pause as well. The figure before her took a long, sibilant breath and then said a few words quietly, “None mock me.”

Suddenly, Kiley was flying through the air—flying fast. Her back slammed into the jagged rock wall of the cavern. Her lungs emptied as if she had been punched in the gut, and she curled in on herself as the figure drifted across the stone floor toward her. He held the staff aloft, gesturing at her with its bone-capped heel. She couldn’t breathe. Not one mouthful of air would pass her lips, no matter how hard she tried to swallow some down to replenish her crumpled lungs.

“None laugh at me, bitchling. None mock me. Ever. Do you understand? I am E’blis, Lord of the Fallen. Once, I was the Creator of Men in this world. You are the sister of the Living Flame and you will obey me, or I shall drive the breath from your body forever and leave your body here to rot.”

With that, the spell was broken. Kiley heaved in heavy breaths of air, her body shivering as the fuzziness and clouding dark colours that had been swimming in her senses began to fade.

He hurt me. This is real, she thought, this is far too real.

Getting to her knees, still dry-heaving, she looked up at E’blis towering over her. One thought alone went through her mind: Oh, Sarah, where are you? What’ve they done to you?

The Stone of Sorrows will be released on 15th December.

Coming soon on 15th December…

Hello ghouls and ghosts,

Welcome to my slice of the internet where I will be participating in this year’s Coffin Hop along with 70+ authors of dark and shadowsome fiction.

If you’ve ended up here then you probably want to know what I’m offering, yes?

Well, here’s what I want you to do.

I want *YOU* to join my Fiendclub.

If you do, you get *FREE* ebooks.

That’s right – 100% FREE!!!

To get The Sword of Sighs, The Sceptre of Storms AND a secret prize title for FREE, just go to my Facebook page here and LIKE it.

Remember to leave a Private Message with your e-mail details and preferred ebook format so that I can forward you copies after the Hop is over.

And that’s it – DEAD easy, eh? Mwa-hahaha!

Don’t forget to visit the Coffin Hop Hub and see what tricks and treats my fellow scurilous scribes have for you.

Hello, one and all.

This is a brief post just to let you know that my inaugural YA Fantasy Adventure and Number #1 Dark Fantasy Amazon bestseller - The Sword of Sighs – is now available from all major distributors (and a few crap ones that I can’t find the listing for).

Sarah Bean lives a quiet life in Okeechobee, Florida until the day when she is

transported from our world to the fantastic realm of Seythe. She meets a

wayfaring wizard called Ossen who saves her from the dreaded black riders,

servants of a being known only as the Fallen One. Together, they will have to

undertake a treacherous journey to the far-away Fellhorn mountain where Sarah

must find the one weapon that can save them from the black riders pursuing them

- The Sword of Sighs.

Amazon US

Amazon UK

B&N Nook

Apple

Kobo

The big day has arrived!

Great British Horror, a charity collection of horror novels and novellas, is released today on Amazon. You can pick it up at the following links:

Amazon US

Amazon UK

To whet your appetites, here are a few words from one of the authors featured in the collection. Great British Horror features a tale from his series, The Peter Chronicles, entitled Happy Ever After.

Take it away, Mr Matt Shaw!

Who Am I?

Six foot two inches tall.

Skinny despite an atrocious diet suggesting I should be anything but.

Engaged to be married. August in fact.

Las Vegas.

The perfect life?

Far from it.

I am thirty-two years old.

Thirty-three in September.

A Libra.

Psychopathic Personality Disorder, according to my old doctor. Not that they ever told me. Apparently that kind of information isn’t necessary to pass onto patients despite the potential dangers to themselves and members of the public. Just as well the new doctor doesn’t agree with this diagnosis and simply stuck me with the oh-so-common “bipolar disorder” – although they still believe I have the potential to be a danger (mainly to myself as advertised by my ‘cut here’ tattoo staining my wrist for the rest of my life).

And a danger I am.

But not just to myself.

A Libra.

A murderer.

I’m not sure how many people I’ve killed now. Animals too. Mostly dogs. Not that I have anything against canines. I even want one of my own dogs despite usually being a cat person. Animals, men, women and even children. They’ve all fallen before me. I regret nothing.  Probably due to my lacking empathy.

I’ve done other things too.

I’ve raped women. Not many. But, each time, it excites me. Gets the blood pumping. Sometimes they’re alive when I do it. Sometimes.

And women – if they’re not good enough to sleep with. Always good enough to eat. A meat so succulent, so tasty. Supermarkets should start to stock it for people, like me, with finer tastes. Only the best cuts of meat.

Murderer.

Rapist.

Necrophiliac.

Cannibal.

Dab hand with roast potatoes.

I scare myself, sometimes, with similar comparisons I see to the likes of Dahmer, Gein, Bundy and Sutcliffe. I’ve researched them to try and understand myself. A few differences here and there but, mostly, the same.

The main difference is that my victims are all in my books. Over forty publications spreading out my grisly crimes.

I have a darkness in me. It’s one thing to write the crimes down on a fresh piece of paper – forever tainting it with my ill thoughts – but it’s another thing for the words to ooze from the pages into the harsh light of an otherwise beautiful day. And it is beautiful. The sun is shining in the near-clear blue skies. White fluffy pillows of clouds billowing in patches, a place for the Angels to sleep. Birds singing in the trees – their songs of love, and general chit-chat to a world which rarely listens.

A beautiful day indeed; I’ve lost count of the number of people who’ve smiled at me.

You see me smiling and think I’m returning your brief moment of politeness?

I’m not.

In my head – I’ve killed you.

Some readers have messaged me thanking me for my words, my stories, my books. They’re grateful for finding me. A new author to read. I’m grateful for them. With them, reading my work, I have no reason to turn my words to actions.

Without them, I’m just a sick individual sitting, alone, in my office.

I’m also grateful for discovering a healthy outlet for my darkness and stopping myself for becoming something that scares me.

So – who am I?

I’m Matt Shaw.

A young man carefully balancing a troubled mind and a damn fine, and twisted, horror author of over forty (mostly horror) publications.

MATT SHAW was born, quite by accident (his mother tripped, he shot out) September 30th 1980 in Winchester hospital where he was immediately placed on the baby ward and EBay. Some twelve years later (wandering the corridors of the hospital and playing with road kill when he was on day release), the listing closed and he remained unsold, he was booted out of the hospital to start his life as a writer and hobbit – beginning with writing screenplays and short stories for his own amusement before finally getting published when he was twenty-seven years and forty-five seconds old. Aged 32, he is now the author of over 40 titles.

You can find out more about Matt Shaw (if you dare) at his author pages on Amazon:

Amazon US Author Page

Amazon UK Author Page