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
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 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
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
What gave you the idea for this
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
How long does it take to write a book,
and what is your process?
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
What advice would you give a new writer
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
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?
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.
BROKEN THINGS EXCERPT
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
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
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
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
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
“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.