Handling a bad review

   So, I got my first bad review today, Well it's been there a month, but I only just saw it today. It was disheartening at first, yet the flaw had nothing to do with the story I told. The flaw, which I know is there, is with the grammar. I know my grammar is bad, always has been. That is why I did not rely on myself to edit my book. To this particular reviewer it was so bad that they found it difficult to read and was unable get into the book.
  Now, this could be one extreme grammar Nazi, I've known a few of those in my day or it could be the honest truth. I am the first to admit every author needs a editor. Still, what is a self- publishing author to do when they can not afford the 500 to several thousand dollars for an edit on a book they may or may not  see a return on. I don't know about you, but I have bills. Maybe I should have just submitted and waited for the rejection letters...
  Needless to say this did not help with the lull in writing I'm currently experiencing. That is about it, hopefully The Muse will return soon.


Progress Report:
MFLI: The Machine- 10589
Violet Eclipse Part 2- 1512
Two Thrones- 7014

Thoughts and plans

  Tonight, I begin recording Moore For Less Investigations: The Kid. The recording will be in serial format and I'm looking for them to be about thirty minutes long. I'm following the Podiobooks guidelines and will be releasing the book on their site as well as my own. This will be an interesting part of my journey in a attempt to make a career out of my passion to tell stories.
  I also believe it will help me regain focus and get back into writing mode. Sadly, this means I also have to stop listening to audio books during my two hours driving back and forth from work. Like many others, my writing style tends to be influenced by the authors I'm listening to. MFLI written by Terry Pratchett would definitely be different than MFLI written by Jim Butcher or Cherie Priest. Though my voice is my own, we all in every medium are inspired and influence by someone.
  Book one, I can say was heavily influenced by Jim Butcher, though not so much that it was not a Marcel Alexander book. I wish to keep that feeling and develop more as an individual with book two. Book two is off to a promising start and like the Dungeons and Dragons games I run, has already veered off the beaten path. The core is to explore more of the city, its history, its people and continue plot-lines left unresolved in book one.
 Which means it's time to find the right music and immerse myself into my world. Luimere lives and breaths and changes in my head. I have the bullet points of the story I wish to tell. Its just the matter of connecting the dots and staying clear of the distractions.
  Hopefully soon I will be releasing Violet Eclipse: A Time In Shadow-Part 1. I'm currently waiting to hear back from fellow writer ,Jesse Kulla, who is proofreading/editing it for me. That is all for now.

Progress Report-
MFLI: The Machine- 7822 word count
The Violet Eclipse: A Time In Shadow-part 2 - 1512 word count

How about another sample from Book 2?

We both entered my Athena and after a few moment of allowing the steam to build in its engine we were off. Highland park was not to far away from my home and with the street nearly empty of steam powered cars or horse drawn carriages. We made the trip in under ten minutes. I knew we were at the right spot when the patrol airship came into view quietly hovering over the scene like a watchful owl.

I pulled the car over to the side of the road and we hiked the rest of the way on foot. I showed the officer guarding the alleyway my consultants badge and he allowed us through. The Luimere Police force had come to summoning this ex-cop for grunt work when clues ran dry. They were unaware of my heritage, but joked about me being a hound that never lost a trail.

The smell of the body reached my nostrils at the moment we reached the alley. It had not been dead long and there was the distinct smell of something acidic. Though knowing what I knew that smell was not from acid touching bare flesh. We ventured further into the alley. From the corner of my eye, I could tell Cristabella was surveying the surrounding.

Jarred was standing over the body at the end of the alley. Jarred Belgum was the product of a chocolate-skinned mother and orcish father. He stood just under seven feet tall and was built like a prize fighter. Even now in his late forties he was a force to be reckoned with. He was dress in a brown and tan suit and a bow-tie, his wife's doing, she had at thing for bow-ties.

“Jarred, what is that thing growing on you face?” I asked pointing out his mustache that had merged with his muttonchops forming a large mass of black hair on his face.

“You are one to talk with that tie, pretty boy”

I looked down for the first time realizing I had put on the unreasonable bright red tie with gold imprints. I shook my head.

Jarrad looked over at Cristabella who was surveying the alleyway. I saw a small smile touch the corners of his mouth.

“Seriously Marcus, You brought your date to a crime scene.”

I let of a small laugh. “Cristabella is not my date. She is a distant relative and my assistant.”

She looked over at us, the light of the mechanical torches dancing off the reflective surface of her amber colored eyes.

“Right... a wood elf relative.” He said rolling his dark eyes.

“I did say distant,” I said with a smile. “All pleasantries aside. What do we have here?” I asked looking down at the naked corpse.

“The victim was shot and stabbed but looks like he was in a brawl before that. He is bloated and puffy about his face and there is something not right about the wounds. The strange thing is that who ever killed him took the time to strip him naked and dug the bullet out.”

I looked over the body and sniffed the air. The wounds were swollen and by the smell of it filled with pus. Symptoms commonly seen from severe allergic reactions. I tapped a small button on my goggles and pulled a small vial and tweezers for my jacket pocket. The tapped cause the tiny gears within the goggles to go into motion and change the enchanted lenses. The goggles were another gift form Lucy.

The lenses changed to the set of adjustable magnifiers. I knelt over the body and focused on the blade wound. With the modified sight in addition to my all ready impressive vison, I scanned the wound. I hoped I would find a tiny sliver of what I believed the murder weapon was made of. After a moment I found what I was looking for a tiny spec of silver. I removed the piece of metal and put it into the vial.

“What's that?” Jarred asked.

“A clue for this personal case, I've been working on.”

“So it's evidence. You honestly think I'm going to let you walk out of here with that?”

“Jarred, it not evidence if one knows to look for it. I'm just putting some pieces together. Like I said it's personal.”

“So you and the lass here are working on a serial murder case and don't think to get the actual authorities involved. This is not the first body like this I've seen over the years, Marcus.”

Because I have to Write

As I sit here today at the job filling my brain with new knowledge, I find my mind drifting to my works in progress. I saw the above image while web browsing and the message really hit home. More so now than ever I feel this way. One would think that after completing one book in a span of three months a break would be expected. But as I anxiously wait for the edit to return. The cogs and and wheels in the clockwork of my brain are winding and turning, new visuals are formulating and though I should be learning my mind is drifting. I find myself resisting the urge to open up Dropbox and loading up on of the two new projects, the prequel and the sequel to Moore For Less Investigations: The Kid. I find and internal conflict forming , though my logical brain will shut the other side up. I tell myself the job is for now, the writing is for the future.  

I read an interesting blog to day about becoming a full time writer. http://www.kseniaanske.com/blog/2012/10/17/you-can-write-full-time-quit-your-job.html

Now this is not something I could personally do at this point of my life, still it did make me think. I desire to make writing my career, not a wish blown on a dandelion. Do I have the gift? There are those out there that seem to believe so. Can I make it happen? A few months ago I would have said "Nah, it just a dream or one of these days" or "I'll get that book done.( After I beat this video game.)" 

That was then, however now, One novel down, the game has changed. The prospect of being a writer full time is not some mythical creature dreamed up from the hopes and wishes of a child. The idea that I have the the will, the skill, and the desire to make this a reality is tangible. The question is "At what cost?" What am I willing to sacrifice to make this happen?  The only thing I have to offer to the Muse is time. Honestly it is the one thing that any writer has to offer. So we sleep a little less, we watch little to no TV, we play fewer games and surf social media site far less. Note: that I didn't say we sacrifice these things, we are in fact sacrificing the time we dedicate to them. I personally don't believe you should totally cut yourself off from these things. Why? Because our environment inspires us.

Man cannot remake himself without suffering, for he is both the marble and the sculptor. (Alexis Carrel)

I wish to wish everyone a Merry Festivius and as all ways thanks for reading.