It all went to hell when the world’s greatest cyber warriors chose to wage war for themselves and not on behalf of the politicians that hired them. Hackers, they used to be called.
To Xera, William Waltz was a broken spy and a fugitive, manipulated by the Cyber Elite that ruled from Canada to Peru. If she helped him, the Cyberwar could be avoided . . . but the assassin named “Sheetrock” tracked them to use his bio-hacked body to delete them both.
The research on cyber warfare and political protest, as well as a strong female protagonist set this riveting story apart.
The book has been finished and is now a series.
See the investment opportunities at Pentian Publishing's site here, and if you want become a character in Cyberwar!
The words are gathering and a number, 30,000, comes nearer. These are the finest words I have ever put together under one fictional heading, and it is my sincere hope that they are the most innovative too.
As a story of speculative fiction, this is going to be one that has not been done before. That is my goal. The reader will not have seen anything like this.
So far, nearly 30,000 words so far, I am living up to this standard. It is exciting, it is terrifying, and it is incredibly difficult.
Is the bar too high?
My feeling is that the bar is never too high, but I do have to decide when to stop tinkering, when to stop scrutinizing everywhere in the feeble reach for revision perfection.
And sometimes if the limbo bar is held just too low for success, you can arch your back and strategically use your stomach to nudge the damn bar up just high enough to get by without disrupting the entire conga line.
How’s that for a metaphor?
Be excited. This piece has a large part of my soul embedded within. An no one will see it coming.
I have to write every day, but that is sometimes extremely difficult to do when sleep drives my head to the top of my desk.
For this writer, writing is often on the mind, and it becomes a suppressed primal force, like the need for sex or food, that does battle hour after hour to win out over all other activity that has been vying for the single most valuable entity in the known universe (that I know of, anyway) . . . time.
I do not expect that every writer or even the majority of writers feel the same compulsion that I do to write every single day, no matter the circumstance. Though I think the practice does help to improve and hone the writing.
That said each day I exercise my chops with reading, writing, and editing. The editing can be very minimal at times, but I am OCD and every new thing I write plus every past written word that my eye happens to stray over even while just finding a place to take up in a manuscript has to be edited there and then or . . . or . . . my head will explode? Maybe. More likely I would not let the potential for an improved line out of my skull and at some point would drop all else - the current writing, various cooking functions of which I am very fond - to go and play around with the line and/or words in question. I love to play with words.
Work and a commute involve writing at times, but nearly every weekday I am faced with sitting to write sometime after a delicious dinner and before I pass out for the night.
I like structured chaos and improvisation and do things when I feel them, so sometimes the first thing I do after munching on an oh so rare steak is write and other nights it is not until the midnight dreary (and a terrific rain storm if I am lucky) that I sit down, at last, to play with those tricky words. I work hard and enjoy that, and as a result my energy can wane as the day’s end draws nigh and as much as my heart and soul want and need to write I can find myself having drunk a cup of dark coffee and putting my head down on the desk to get things straight.
What is the essence of the passionate scene that you’re writing about? What dark and grim view of the world are you trying to depict vividly on paper?
Thinking of what drives you, what drives your writing, does wonders for scaring off the gnomes that incessantly try to feed you their sleeping powder.
Personally, a trick I am happy to share is to GET ANGRY! Find something that your character feels strongly about, or find some travesty that the world is feeding instead of healing and get pissed off about it! Your blood runs quicker when you’re pissed off.
Do whatever it takes . . .
Get mad & write.
by R.J. Huneke
At the forefront of Ian Fleming’s spy novels is, of course, the world-famous character of James Bond, but the grit and realism of Mr. Bond in the novel Live and Let Die is matched by an amazing array of world building, unexpected plot twists, a fearsome villain, and a gorgeous female named Solitaire.
There is plenty of the hard-hitting Bond here, including a fantastic train scene where Solitaire somewhat falls for her rescuer and then teases him, knowing that the suave British agent 007 must painfully resist because of a near-broken wrist and hand.
The man of action and few words is depicted as being at odds with everyone and everything, except his mission.
But the true art of Fleming is in his tight prose, his cunning flurry of “edge of your seat” moments, and the detailed description of vastly contrasting and often exotic environments. . .
Read the rest of the Impulsive Review at Fantasy-Matters
I have turned the tide and started on my journey. Words and Worlds hang in the balance and I am writing it all down before the RJ Tower! Read about my newest novel on CyberwarSeries.com