Tuesday, November 12, 2013

G. S. Wright, Broken Things

AUTHOR: G.S. Wright
BOOK TITLE: Broken Things
GENRE: Science Fiction Thriller
PUBLISHER: Self-published

Please tell us about yourself.

My name is G.S. Wright, and I am a writer. I indie-publish and I have three novels available across multiple genres. What my books do have in common is a thriller pace with scares thrown in. Though I’ve been writing and telling stories most of my life, I didn’t get serious with it until the end of 2012.

Please tell us your latest news.

I have just completed a four part serial novel called SPILLING BLOOD. Each part is available as an individual episode, or as a complete novel. This book is a vampire horror thriller, and not like the current generation of vampires. It takes its inspiration from the vampire movies and novels from the eighties, when they were bloodthirsty and violent monsters.

Are you a full-time writer or part-time, and how do you organize your writing time?

I am a full-time writer, and have been since November of 2012. I try to set aside a few hours every day to write, and try to get started by 9 or 10 in the morning, if not earlier.

What are your thoughts about promotion?

Books don’t sell themselves, and while it’s not the job we, as writers, signed up for, it’s in our job description. The problem is how we go about it. I no longer count on Social Media to move my titles, outside of an initial launch. To find readers, nothing beats advertising in any one of the number of emailed ebook newsletters. With that said, I no longer do much promotion. I hired my wife to take over marketing, and she does so much better than me.

What are your current projects?

I am currently working on book 2 of my Dark Fantasy Zombie Apocalypse trilogy, HUNGRY GODS. Book 2 is titled DEATH’S REACH, and I am hoping to have it out early November.

What do you plan for the future?

I have several horror novels that I’m dabbling at, which could see the light of day before 2013 comes to an end (wishful thinking happening there). I really enjoyed writing SPILLING BLOOD as a serial, and if I can get away with it, I’m going to write more of them. All I’m really planning is to keep on writing, and when something’s done, release it to the public.

How can we find you? Website, Facebook, Twitter, blog, etc.?

I am everywhere!

What genre do you write in and why?

I write Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror, throw in Suspense/Thriller and Action/Adventure generously, and mix it all together. A huge advantage to writing for myself and not a publisher is that I can write whatever I want, and I do. There’s plenty of advice out there saying not to spread yourself out like this, but I have no interest in ever writing one thing. If I want to write a story bad enough, I’m not going to ignore it because it’s outside of my main genre. 

Tell us about the current book you’re promoting.

BROKEN THINGS is about a future where children are androids in a world where adults are immortal. Despite being robots, they are just as real as their owners. But what happens when they break? BROKEN THINGS follows a broken kid thrown away, while he navigates a treacherous and unforgiving world, as he tries to find his way home.

What gave you the idea for this particular book?

As a parent, I’m constantly critiquing how I’m doing raising my kids, if I’m giving them enough attention, if I’m seeing to their development, and a thousand other worries. What if you took these worries away? What kind of world does that leave for the children? Those questions helped formulate the setting and plot for BROKEN THINGS.

How long does it take to write a book, and what is your process?

BROKEN THINGS took around two years to write. DEATH STORM took three months. SPILLING BLOOD Season 1 took a month. I write more often, I write a lot, and the books start coming faster.

What advice would you give a new writer starting out?

It’s easy to get lost in revising while you write, and doubting your ability. There are tools that will make your writing sooooo much easier. (1). Outline. Know your story, if only where you want it to go. (2). Learn story structure. It will flesh out your outline and make your story stronger. (3). Set your word count goal – 1000 to 2000 words a day is doable. (4). Finish that first draft! Write! (5). Always study your craft to become a better writer.


What do you do when you’re not writing?

When I’m not writing, my time goes to my family. If my family doesn’t want to spend time with me, I’m probably trying to play guitar.

What has been your favorite part of being an author? What has been your least favorite?

I’ve always wanted to be an author. How cool is it to be able to live the dream? The least favorite part of being an author? Paper cuts.


Over by the river Josh blissfully threw rocks into the water. He’d managed a few skips but nothing spectacular. He’d seen his father skip a stone half way across a park lake once, each skip becoming smaller and smaller until too rapid to count, the stone seeming to glide along the surface. 

On the other side of the water the trees and brush grew thick, and he expected that it was probably full of snakes. He would have to cross later to explore and find out. He hadn’t seen many snakes, once in a zoo, and another time one in the garden behind his home. That one had been little. 

He’d been away from his parents for a while now. It felt a little peculiar to play by the river for so long without his mother checking on him every five minutes. Being twelve, he was big enough to do just about anything he wanted, but she still saw him as a little kid. But he’d never been little, always twelve. He’d been built to be this age, and that could never change. That didn’t seem to matter to her though. If she wasn’t checking on him then maybe he needed to check on her. It would do her good to know that he was okay.

Josh hopped up from the bank of the river and made his way back to the camp. Miraculously everything looked complete as though it had sprung whole from the ground. When they’d arrived there had only been nature, and now it looked as though a piece of civilization had moved in. Food waited for him on the table, even though the sandwich still had the crust on it. He’d make his mother cut it off before he’d eat it, but she’d gotten him the right chips at least.

His parents sat in the car, window rolled down. His mother looked upset, shaking her head and crying. He could hear her but not what she said. His father consoled her, his voice sounding a bit impatient. She probably wanted to go home. Dad would settle it though. They were all set up. No way would they leave.

For a moment he let himself get distracted, ripping off the plastic wrap and throwing it in the general direction of the fire pit. He scarfed the chips and looked around for more. He found the rest tucked away in a grocery bag. He pulled out a handful and shoved them into his mouth. The campsite looked great and even had a fire pit. Maybe they’ll let me roast marshmallows before dinner, he thought. That wasn’t very likely though. Parents always expected you to eat what they wanted you to first, getting you too full to eat the good stuff. Maybe they’d at least let him start the fire. His father had a special technique for fires. He used a ton of newspaper and lighter fluid. When the match hit it, it would create a small fireball.

He heard the car engine start and he looked at them curiously. Did mom want to go home that bad, or had they forgotten something important? He watched the car pull out and it felt like warning bells going off in his head.

“Dad! Mom! Wait!” He ran after them as they pulled onto the dirt road. He saw his dad’s eyes in the side view mirror, but he didn’t stop. Were they actually speeding up?

He ran harder and faster than he ever had in his life, ignoring the cloud of dust they threw up behind them. He saw his mother’s hand on his father’s shoulder. Please stop, please if there is a God make them stop.

Whether in answer to his quick prayer or his mom, his dad stopped the car in the middle of the road. He didn’t stop running until he reached the driver’s window. His father turned to face him, expression solemn. That meant his father was either in a fight with his mom or Josh had done something wrong.

“Where… where are you guys going?” he asked breathlessly. He leaned on the window, noticing his mother’s red, swollen eyes.

“Let go of the window, Josh,” his father ordered in a quiet, yet firm voice.

Josh ignored him. “Is everything okay, mom? Why are you…”

“She’s fine,” his dad interrupted, “I need you to go back to camp. Now. You need to stay there.”

“When are you coming back?”

“Josh, honey,” his mother said, “You have to do what your father says. Please just go back. Be a good boy and don’t follow us.”

“Why are you leaving? Take me with you!”

“We can’t honey, you’ll like it here…”

“Carol, please,” his dad said. He looked straight ahead, not at his wife or at Josh. “You just can’t and that’s final. You’ll be fine. You’ve got everything you need. Now please, go back.”

"Is it because I’m broken? I’ll find a way to fix myself, I promise! Please don’t leave me, don’t go! I won’t cause any trouble, you won’t have to spend any more money on me, please Daddy, I’ll be good! I’ll…”

“Drive, Dave,” his mother said, “Go, I can’t handle this.”

Josh reached through the window and grabbed his dad’s arm as he gave the SUV gas. He hung from the window as they started down the road, forcing him to stop again. “Let go of me, Josh,” he ordered.

“Don’t leave me, let me go with you! Daddy, please!”

“Stop calling me that!”

His father grabbed his wrist and roughly pried Josh’s hand away. He stomped the gas, his peeling tires throwing a cloud of choking dirt into the air. Josh fell to his knees in disbelief, tears coming unbidden.

“I don’t understand,” he said to no one.

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