For four yeas I've shared travel experiences, writing advice, musings, and other thoughts here on Blogger. Thank you to all of those who've visited, commented, followed, and enjoyed these posts.
Now, The Poet's Fire blog is MOVING permanently to the blog page on my website.
For future posts, please visit: http://www.christophermannino.com/blog
Monday, December 21, 2015
Friday, December 18, 2015
School of Deaths is FREE
For a limited time, SCHOOL OF DEATHS is FREE.
Click the image above, and see why School of Deaths is currently the #2 Bestselling ebook on Amazon in both
Dark Fantasy and Epic Fantasy.
Also, WANT a FREE paperback? Enter the Amazon Giveaway for a chance to win a free paperback version, no purchase necessary.
Tuesday, December 15, 2015
Fantasy Supervillain
As a speculative fiction writer, I'm always looking for new and interesting creatures. Often villains and magicians in fantasy have special abilities, things they do that are beyond normal,and might be terrifying.
Imagine, for instance, a creature with visual omnipresence. Omnipresence means that you can exist everywhere at once, able to see and witness everyone and everything. Unlike an omnipotent character, who knows everything, an omnipresent character would be able to see everything themselves. It'd be impossible to keep any secrets from this godlike ability, because everywhere you go, whether sleeping or awake, the character's there, watching. Imagine for example, Sauron with visual omnipresence- he takes one look at the Ring- book's over in chapter one. Same thing with Voldemort, President Snow, Darth Vader- you get the idea. Even in history this idea is terrifying. Want D-Day or the next drone strike to be a secret? What if the villain sees everything all the time? In nearly all fiction, the protagonists do things the villains aren't aware of. Crafting a story around this feat is daunting.
Let's make this supervillain more three-dimensional. As of now, he just has a superpower, albeit an impressive one. Imagine the villain also has a supernatural means of transportation. While he's still able to see everything anywhere, he can't actually get to places without traveling. We won't let him fly directly, that's too Marvel Universe for us, so instead we give him a flying car. Yes, he can hop on a flying car and travel rapidly to any location in the world. How fast? Let's assume he can get anywhere he wants within a single night, even making multiple stops. Scared yet? This character can see everything, and now get anywhere within one night. It's like having a TARDIS with the viewfinder always switched on.
The guy's still not interesting enough, though. Let's give him some minions. All villains have them. This character's got dozens of them- all enslaved to his will. They do whatever he says all year round, making anything he asks for. Yeah, now we're cooking, a character with visual omnipresence, able to travel anywhere within a night, who has a horde of servants.
Now we need to stop focusing on the evil/supernatural aspects and give our character some personality. President Snow and his blood breath and love of roses, Darth Vader's persistent asthma and respirator- that sort of thing. Hmmm... well, let's start by making the character fat. Too many villains are really thin and gaunt. It seems the skeletal look usually frightens people, so let's make our character as chubby as possible. In fact, give him nice red cheeks, almost comical looking.
Let's also give him a backstory. Maybe he used to be a farmer. Yes, he was a farmer long ago, before things went terribly wrong. His mother used to say "Plant, plant, plant! Plough, plough plough!" He's never forgotten the last thing his mother demanded, asking him to hoe the fields, right before the accident. To this day, the guilt around her final words consumes him, and he can't stop repeating them.
This character, by now, should be truly terrifying. Let's take a look at what he might look like, if an artist was to draw a rendition:
Click HERE to see an artist rendition.
And no, I won't even get into the obsession with little kids. That's too frightening, even for me. :-)
Tuesday, December 8, 2015
Outlines
Most authors outline, whether they admit to it or not. Even the most ardent "pantser" (someone who writes by the seat of their pants, making it up as they go) has a general idea, even if subconscious, of where the story's going at certain points.
I have been asked many times how I write, but haven't yet taken the time to explore the issue in the blog. I begin any story with a situation, a scenario similar to the blurb you'd read on the back of a novel. I have a journal with about twenty future book ideas, scenarios I've thought about and would like to expand on. I add to the list frequently, adding two new scenarios just this past week.
Scenario: Kid trains to be a Grim Reaper at a school where students learn how to reap souls. Reaping is a job, just like any other. Tensions exist at the school between Dragons- the original Reapers- and the Deaths, who now Reap. At end, kid must pass a test to go home.
The scenario will look something like the above, with no details fleshed out, and not much more clear. I then daydream about what will happen, and in this period, the most abstract creation occurs. As part of this stage, I develop what I call an "image outline." I develop a set of specific pictures, frozen images that I know are somehow related to my story, but I don't yet know how or even what order they'll occur in.
I'm currently reading Ransom Riggs' novel Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children. The book combines authentic old photographs with an odd story about a boy traveling to a remote island off of Wales. I've read that Riggs collected tons of actual photographs and used them to inspire a storyline, which now spans multiple books as well as an upcoming film.
I originally developed my inspiration for The Scythe Wielder's Secret (and School of Deaths in particular) from a trip I took to Tintagel. The original blog post from my trip can be found here. While I didn't have actual photographs to ply through or inspire me, I began to envision certain pictures in my head. Images I wanted to include in the novel.
Note: all prints below are by artist Jenn Eldreth and are available for purchase. Click on the pictures for more detail or to read a quote from the books about each.
 |
| One of the earliest images I envisioned, an enormous metal door in the center of an upward-flowing waterfall (or water-rise?) Didn't originally know what this would be, but it ended up playing a major role in the books. |
 |
| The Library I envisioned was partially inspired by the Duke Humfrey's Library Room in Oxford. This is the oldest reading room in the Bodelian and the college as a whole, and was a place I worked on the earliest drafts of School of Deaths. Admittedly, it's also where the library scenes in the Harry Potter films were filmed. I tried to differentiate from the Potter library by adding glowing flower lights and dozens of massive old stones. |
 |
| Before even starting book two- Sword of Deaths- I had a single strong image in my head. A boat, the old fashioned schooner type, on an icy sea. The boat was burning and a Dragon circled overhead. Exploring this image internally helped me develop the plot line for Sword of Deaths. |
After I have an image outline, I start from the beginning and just keep writing, trying to connect images as I go. With my current work in process I'm in much the same situation. I have a clear number of images in my mind, but no idea yet exactly how all of them will connect, and what the final process will be.
Wednesday, November 18, 2015
Calvin and Hobbes
Thirty years ago today, Bill Watterson released his first Calvin and Hobbes comic strip.
For the first time, the world was introduced to a six-year-old-boy and his best friend. I was five and a half when this strip was released. I'm fairly certain I didn't notice it the first time it came out, or even when it first appeared in our local paper. Yet, within a year or so, Watterson and his creation had become a part of my daily routine, and they'd go on to have a profound impact on my life. The story lines are one of the reasons I became a professional storyteller (both as a novelist, and a theatre director).
For ten years, Calvin and Hobbes delighted readers, but it did far more to me, Calvin and Hobbes was an inspiration every day. I would rush downstairs and look for the paper, just so I could read the strip. Calvin and Hobbes was the first thing I read every day. I was roughly the age of Calvin, and of all the characters I've encountered I've never identified so completely with anyone as with him. I was a very lonely child, and spent hours meandering in circles, telling my parents I need time to "imagine." Daydreaming was a 24/7 occupation. Whether in school, at home, or just about any other time, I'd find myself lost in outer space, fighting dinosaurs, or building transmogrifiers. It was at this same time that I discovered books, and my world opened up. It's no wonder that Pratchett, Asimov, Tolkien, Lewis, and Clark became the worlds I devoured. Speculative fiction mirrored my love of imagination and creativity, my incessant and unending daydreams: the way I saw the world.
In many ways, I was Calvin. To be honest, perhaps I still am. The imaginary best friends running around in my head have found their way onto the page, as well as onto the stages I direct. A student today asked me to draw a groundplan for our upcoming production of A Midsummer Night's Dream. It took me fifteen minutes to draw a complete groundplan. She stared- and said how'd you know what to do so fast? It's there in my head. Same with books- they just pop out.
On a deeper level, I think Watterson first taught me the craft of storytelling, albeit on a subconscious level. At first glance, the comic strips might seem silly or banal, but there are deeper, underlying story lines and themes. Calvin is both idiotic, small minded, and altogether brilliant. Hobbes can be a pacifist, and environmentalist, or a would-be romantic, depending on the arc.
In middle school, we were asked to write letters to one person we admired. A lot of people wrote to the President, or to movie stars. I sent a letter to Bill Watterson. His secretary wrote back, or sent a form letter, but to me, he was the hero I admired most.
To this date, I logged on the computer and noticed my avatar is Calvin. There's a Calvin and Hobbes poster, advertising one of the collections, that I swiped from my job at Borders, hanging on the wall beside me. When I'm feeling down, I still pull out a Calvin and Hobbes strip to cheer me up.
And of course, Watterson's also admired for never selling out. It wasn't about the money. He never let people make bad movies or tacky merchandise (merch you see is illegal). He was about the art, and the imagination. I'm not sure Bill Watterson knows I exist, or has any idea how much he impacted me, but someday I imagine him looking at one of my books, and saying- I helped inspire this.
For the first time, the world was introduced to a six-year-old-boy and his best friend. I was five and a half when this strip was released. I'm fairly certain I didn't notice it the first time it came out, or even when it first appeared in our local paper. Yet, within a year or so, Watterson and his creation had become a part of my daily routine, and they'd go on to have a profound impact on my life. The story lines are one of the reasons I became a professional storyteller (both as a novelist, and a theatre director).
For ten years, Calvin and Hobbes delighted readers, but it did far more to me, Calvin and Hobbes was an inspiration every day. I would rush downstairs and look for the paper, just so I could read the strip. Calvin and Hobbes was the first thing I read every day. I was roughly the age of Calvin, and of all the characters I've encountered I've never identified so completely with anyone as with him. I was a very lonely child, and spent hours meandering in circles, telling my parents I need time to "imagine." Daydreaming was a 24/7 occupation. Whether in school, at home, or just about any other time, I'd find myself lost in outer space, fighting dinosaurs, or building transmogrifiers. It was at this same time that I discovered books, and my world opened up. It's no wonder that Pratchett, Asimov, Tolkien, Lewis, and Clark became the worlds I devoured. Speculative fiction mirrored my love of imagination and creativity, my incessant and unending daydreams: the way I saw the world.
In many ways, I was Calvin. To be honest, perhaps I still am. The imaginary best friends running around in my head have found their way onto the page, as well as onto the stages I direct. A student today asked me to draw a groundplan for our upcoming production of A Midsummer Night's Dream. It took me fifteen minutes to draw a complete groundplan. She stared- and said how'd you know what to do so fast? It's there in my head. Same with books- they just pop out.
On a deeper level, I think Watterson first taught me the craft of storytelling, albeit on a subconscious level. At first glance, the comic strips might seem silly or banal, but there are deeper, underlying story lines and themes. Calvin is both idiotic, small minded, and altogether brilliant. Hobbes can be a pacifist, and environmentalist, or a would-be romantic, depending on the arc.
 |
| Bill Watterson |
To this date, I logged on the computer and noticed my avatar is Calvin. There's a Calvin and Hobbes poster, advertising one of the collections, that I swiped from my job at Borders, hanging on the wall beside me. When I'm feeling down, I still pull out a Calvin and Hobbes strip to cheer me up.
And of course, Watterson's also admired for never selling out. It wasn't about the money. He never let people make bad movies or tacky merchandise (merch you see is illegal). He was about the art, and the imagination. I'm not sure Bill Watterson knows I exist, or has any idea how much he impacted me, but someday I imagine him looking at one of my books, and saying- I helped inspire this.
Sunday, November 8, 2015
Cauldron of Fate concludes
Cauldron of Fate has now completed, and all four chapters are available on my site. Discover Sindril's past, and learn how Susan was selected to become a Death.
http://www.christophermannino.com/free-reads.html
http://www.christophermannino.com/free-reads.html
Friday, October 16, 2015
Cauldron of Fate
A new exciting FREE event begins TODAY. Discover CAULDRON OF FATE, a free short story exploring how Mark became Sindril. Men aren't born evil, but one teenager will rise to threaten the World of Deaths. Chapters will be released weekly, and will be available only on my website. Read Chapter one now.
http://www.christophermannino.com/free-reads.html
http://www.christophermannino.com/free-reads.html
Sunday, October 11, 2015
Gun Nation
I don't often post about political issues, but the USA is overwhelmingly plagued by an issue we cannot escape. There are more guns per person in the United States than any other nation, and guns here now outnumber humans. (Source, Washington Post) 270 million firearms are owned by civilians with only 897000 owned by police. (Source, DoSomething.org).
Every day I go to work in a danger zone, since I work in a public school. Mass shootings are so commonplace most only last a day in the news cycle. I have had serious conversations with my wife, about whether we feel safe starting a family in a country overrun wth gun issues, and one in which no gun legislation seems possible. If the Founding Fathers saw the country today, I think they'd be sick.
A look at the future:
In the year 2075...
Imagine a nation where all children report to school with guns. The Gun Lobby successfully convinced the nation that the only way to protect schools was to arm every individual in the schools, including teachers, students, and administrators. Each class begins by making sure the safety's are all on. In elementary school, children are allowed to leave their handguns in cubbies during recess or lunch. The one kid who comes to school without a gun is bullied and harrassed, leaving in tears.
Imagine a world where no one leaves their houses unless necessary. Where someone's considered lucky to live past age 40. A world where whenever you don't like something, you pull out a gun and blow them away.
Imagine a USA so stagnant and full of strife, that we've become the laughingstock of every nation. Thousands flee the country, looking for peaceful paces to live.
Imagine every school day beginning with the words:
I pledge allegiance to the guns,
Of the United States of America,
And to the Republic they helped to forge,
One nation, with no God,
With weaponry and ammo for all.
This may sound like an idle speculation, yet the statistics show we're moving in that direction already. We're a lot closer than you might realize.
This is Gun Nation.
Every day I go to work in a danger zone, since I work in a public school. Mass shootings are so commonplace most only last a day in the news cycle. I have had serious conversations with my wife, about whether we feel safe starting a family in a country overrun wth gun issues, and one in which no gun legislation seems possible. If the Founding Fathers saw the country today, I think they'd be sick.
A look at the future:
In the year 2075...
Imagine a nation where all children report to school with guns. The Gun Lobby successfully convinced the nation that the only way to protect schools was to arm every individual in the schools, including teachers, students, and administrators. Each class begins by making sure the safety's are all on. In elementary school, children are allowed to leave their handguns in cubbies during recess or lunch. The one kid who comes to school without a gun is bullied and harrassed, leaving in tears.
Imagine a world where no one leaves their houses unless necessary. Where someone's considered lucky to live past age 40. A world where whenever you don't like something, you pull out a gun and blow them away.
Imagine a USA so stagnant and full of strife, that we've become the laughingstock of every nation. Thousands flee the country, looking for peaceful paces to live.
Imagine every school day beginning with the words:
I pledge allegiance to the guns,
Of the United States of America,
And to the Republic they helped to forge,
One nation, with no God,
With weaponry and ammo for all.
This may sound like an idle speculation, yet the statistics show we're moving in that direction already. We're a lot closer than you might realize.
This is Gun Nation.
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
Guest Post: Kay Lalone
The Poet's Fire welcomes back Kay LaLone (view her post from last year HERE) to discuss her newest exciting release: FAMILY SECRET
Back Cover
On the road to solving his mother’s murder, sixteen-yea-rold Thomas Patrick Henry discovers a secret his father has kept from him for years. Tom thought Dad’s secret put him in danger, Mom’s secret is far worse.
Magic. Witches. Ancient Book of Spells. Magical Amulet. Ghosts. Demons.
Tom never thought these things existed until he is face to face with them. There is nothing else to
do but destroy the demons before someone else Tom love dies. He already lost his mom and a close friend because this secret was kept from him. No one else will die. No one else will be possessed. Tom faces his demons. A mother’s love gives Tom the strength to slay his demons.
Excerpt
“Ow.” Tom yanked the chain and dragged the burning amulet from under his shirt. Even the chain was warm, but there was no way he was going to take the stupid thing off. He let it drop to his chest and rest warmly on the top of his shirt as he stared at the demon.
“It’s not your grandfather,” Tom whispered. Anger rolled around inside him because of what this
thing did to Sarah.
The dark figure stepped out of the shadows causing the boys to take two steps back. The demon looked like a man dressed in thunderous stormlike clouds from head to toe. Even his face was black and the eyes a dimly pukeyellow that churned Tom’s stomach. He felt Rob’s heavy breathing just inches behind him, but it didn’t stop a chill from shimmering up his spine like fingernails on a chalkboard.
“I know who you are.” Tom tried to sound confident even though his voice shook with fear. He swallowed hard. “What do you want?”
The demon raised a shadowy arm and then his stormy cloudlike body started to swirl like a mini tornado. In a gust of black smoke, the demon shot up into the air and zipped right over Tom and Rob’s heads. The boys ducked and laid flat on the wet grass, afraid the demon would consume them.
Tom turned his head to see the black smoke head toward Mr. Watson’s house. Tom got to his feet while Rob remained on the ground. The black smoke swarmed over the house and then drifted back down. It slithered around the house like a snake looking for a place to sneak in, circling several times before seeping through the crack in the window and disappearing inside.
Rob scrambled to his feet. “That thing is inside my grandfather’s house.” His voice was high-pitched in fear. “My...” He glanced toward the empty driveway. Then he sighed. “Mom must still be at the hospital.”
Tom touched Rob’s arm to prevent him from doing something crazy. He didn’t want another one of his friends to get hurt by this thing.
“We need to do something, but I don’t know what.” Tom glanced over to the tents in Granddad’s backyard, hoping Matt or Granddad would come running to save the day. But there was no movement over there.
Inside the house, Jake growled and then started to bark wildly. Before Tom could stop him, Rob dashed upon the back porch and flung the backdoor open. Jake continued his wild barking as if protecting Rob and the house. If only the dog could save the day, but Tom feared nothing would save them.
A cracking noise caught Tom’s attention, and he turned his head toward what he assumed was Mr. Watson’s bedroom window. The glass appeared pitch black at first, and then a face appeared.
The same pukeyellow eyes stared at Tom and gave him an evil grin.
ABOUT
I’m Kay LaLone author of Ghostly Clues, my first MG novel. Family Secret is my first YA novel. Both published by MuseItUp. I live in Michigan with my husband and teenage son (two older sons and a daughterinlaw and my first grandbaby live nearby) and two dogs. I love to get up every morning and write about ghosts, the paranormal, and things that go bump in the night. I write PB, MG and YA novels. No matter the books I write, I want my readers to feel like they have met a new friend. I’m an avid reader of just about any type of book (mystery, paranormal, and ghost stories are my favorites). I do reviews and post them on my website and blog. I love to collect old books, antiques, and collectibles. You can find many of my antiques and collectibles selling on ebay and at fleamarkets.
BUY THE BOOK OR LEARN MORE ABOUT KAY:
Sixteen-year-old Thomas Patrick Henry is thrown into a web of secrets and demons after his mother’s murder.
Back Cover
On the road to solving his mother’s murder, sixteen-yea-rold Thomas Patrick Henry discovers a secret his father has kept from him for years. Tom thought Dad’s secret put him in danger, Mom’s secret is far worse.
Magic. Witches. Ancient Book of Spells. Magical Amulet. Ghosts. Demons.
Tom never thought these things existed until he is face to face with them. There is nothing else to
do but destroy the demons before someone else Tom love dies. He already lost his mom and a close friend because this secret was kept from him. No one else will die. No one else will be possessed. Tom faces his demons. A mother’s love gives Tom the strength to slay his demons.
Excerpt
“Ow.” Tom yanked the chain and dragged the burning amulet from under his shirt. Even the chain was warm, but there was no way he was going to take the stupid thing off. He let it drop to his chest and rest warmly on the top of his shirt as he stared at the demon.
“It’s not your grandfather,” Tom whispered. Anger rolled around inside him because of what this
thing did to Sarah.
The dark figure stepped out of the shadows causing the boys to take two steps back. The demon looked like a man dressed in thunderous stormlike clouds from head to toe. Even his face was black and the eyes a dimly pukeyellow that churned Tom’s stomach. He felt Rob’s heavy breathing just inches behind him, but it didn’t stop a chill from shimmering up his spine like fingernails on a chalkboard.
“I know who you are.” Tom tried to sound confident even though his voice shook with fear. He swallowed hard. “What do you want?”
The demon raised a shadowy arm and then his stormy cloudlike body started to swirl like a mini tornado. In a gust of black smoke, the demon shot up into the air and zipped right over Tom and Rob’s heads. The boys ducked and laid flat on the wet grass, afraid the demon would consume them.
Tom turned his head to see the black smoke head toward Mr. Watson’s house. Tom got to his feet while Rob remained on the ground. The black smoke swarmed over the house and then drifted back down. It slithered around the house like a snake looking for a place to sneak in, circling several times before seeping through the crack in the window and disappearing inside.
Rob scrambled to his feet. “That thing is inside my grandfather’s house.” His voice was high-pitched in fear. “My...” He glanced toward the empty driveway. Then he sighed. “Mom must still be at the hospital.”
Tom touched Rob’s arm to prevent him from doing something crazy. He didn’t want another one of his friends to get hurt by this thing.
“We need to do something, but I don’t know what.” Tom glanced over to the tents in Granddad’s backyard, hoping Matt or Granddad would come running to save the day. But there was no movement over there.
Inside the house, Jake growled and then started to bark wildly. Before Tom could stop him, Rob dashed upon the back porch and flung the backdoor open. Jake continued his wild barking as if protecting Rob and the house. If only the dog could save the day, but Tom feared nothing would save them.
A cracking noise caught Tom’s attention, and he turned his head toward what he assumed was Mr. Watson’s bedroom window. The glass appeared pitch black at first, and then a face appeared.
The same pukeyellow eyes stared at Tom and gave him an evil grin.
ABOUT
I’m Kay LaLone author of Ghostly Clues, my first MG novel. Family Secret is my first YA novel. Both published by MuseItUp. I live in Michigan with my husband and teenage son (two older sons and a daughterinlaw and my first grandbaby live nearby) and two dogs. I love to get up every morning and write about ghosts, the paranormal, and things that go bump in the night. I write PB, MG and YA novels. No matter the books I write, I want my readers to feel like they have met a new friend. I’m an avid reader of just about any type of book (mystery, paranormal, and ghost stories are my favorites). I do reviews and post them on my website and blog. I love to collect old books, antiques, and collectibles. You can find many of my antiques and collectibles selling on ebay and at fleamarkets.
BUY THE BOOK OR LEARN MORE ABOUT KAY:
Monday, September 28, 2015
Monday, August 31, 2015
Sword of Deaths: The Scythe Wielder's Secret Continues
THE SCYTHE WIELDER'S SECRET CONTINUES
Shadows from the distant past come to light. Dragons circle the horizon, blood spills, and nothing is what it seems. Susan and her friends struggle to stop a war. They search for the fabled First Scythe, hoping to sway the balance, but who is the true enemy?
SWORD OF DEATHS, the second novel in the critically acclaimed YA Fantasy trilogy "The Scythe Wielder's Secret," is now available from MuseItUp Publishing in both ebook and paperback formats. In SWORD OF DEATHS, Mannino delves deeper into the world and characters introduced in the first novel. The novel is told from three rotating points-of-view, and for the first time, the conflict with Dragons is fully realized. The style becomes darker, and for more epic, as the series moves towards a momentous climax in the final book DAUGHTER OF DEATHS.
Here is an excerpt of this exciting novel:
Frank started to speak when a deafening shriek pierced the woods. They exchanged a silent acknowledgement, and crept to the side of the boulder.
“We might be able to hide beneath the stone,” Frank told Michi. He used his mind, grazing the power without diving into its depths.
The shriek screamed through the forest. The Elementals huddled on the rock’s edge, grasping for a crevice. Frank reached into his pocket and clutched the hilt of Rayn’s dagger. Tingles of warm energy coursed through his skin, rippling in waves from the mortamant blade.
A third scream blasted leaves to the ground. The forest floor trembled and trees quivered in the face of the Dragon’s fury.
“Something’s changed,” said Michi. “He knows we’re here.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Frank. For a moment the forest quieted.
Crash!
The canopy overhead tumbled down, trees snapping in half. A smell of sulfur choked Frank. A blast of heat swept through the forest. White-hot flames engulfed the woods, disintegrating trunks and leaves in a conflagration. Fire rushed around them like a tidal wave against a beach. The boulder protected their backs, yet even the stone grew hot. Smoke stung his eyes like acid.
Frank pulled out the dagger. The Dragon’s scales covered its entire body. He’d never get close enough to draw blood. Yet, one nick of his own blood and he’d be home.
The Dragon’s blast ceased. So much destruction in a single blast.How did the Deaths ever defeat creatures like this? Acrid smoke billowed around the ashen ruins of trees. A wide swath of forest had been obliterated.
“Hold my hand,” he said. The boulder radiated heat behind them like coal in a furnace. “I’m going to bring us back to the College.”
“Wait. I’ve used my power,” said Michi. “It’s two against one, we should fight.”
“Fight a Dragon? Are you insane?”
WHAT PEOPLE SAY ABOUT THE SERIES SO FAR
(Praise for SCHOOL OF DEATHS: The Scythe Wielder's Secret Book One)
"Not just a book for young adults, but an imaginative read for everyone who likes something a little bit different. 5 Stars!" - Reader's Favorite
"With a well-developed setting, strong characters, a fairly fast moving plot, and snappy dialogue, this novel should keep readers engaged from the beginning to the end. Five Stars." - BookBreeze Magazine
"Let's start with one simple statement: Wow! This book, the characters and the world created by Mannino is absolutely spectacular." -Kay, GoodReads Review
"This book's world is brilliant, and the author's creativity is more than amazing and the way he conveyed his imagination was just stunning." -OnlineBookClub
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Christopher Mannino’s life is best described as an unending creative outlet. He teaches high school theatre in Greenbelt, Maryland. In addition to his daily drama classes, he runs several after-school performance/production drama groups. He spends his summers writing and singing. Mannino holds a Master of Arts in Theatre Education from Catholic University, and has studied mythology and literature both in America and at Oxford University. His work with young people helped inspire him to write young adult fantasy, although it was his love of reading that truly brought his writing to life.
Mannino is currently completing The Scythe Wielder's Secret series and is working on several adult novels.
Learn more about Mannino and his novels, including trailers and purchase links at www.ChristopherMannino.com
Sunday, August 30, 2015
Sword of Deaths Blog 2
THE SCYTHE WIELDER'S SECRET CONTINUES
Shadows from the distant past come to light. Dragons circle the horizon, blood spills, and nothing is what it seems. Susan and her friends struggle to stop a war. They search for the fabled First Scythe, hoping to sway the balance, but who is the true enemy?
SWORD OF DEATHS, the second novel in the critically acclaimed YA Fantasy trilogy "The Scythe Wielder's Secret," is now available from MuseItUp Publishing in both ebook and paperback formats. In SWORD OF DEATHS, Mannino delves deeper into the world and characters introduced in the first novel. The novel is told from three rotating points-of-view, and for the first time, the conflict with Dragons is fully realized. The style becomes darker, and for more epic, as the series moves towards a momentous climax in the final book DAUGHTER OF DEATHS.
MEET MICHI- AN INTERVIEW WITH A THRILLING NEW CHARACTER
In School of Deaths, we first meet the 'Mentals, or Elementals, one of the three races in the World of Deaths. Suzie's appearance at the College of Deaths coincides with extremely high tensions between the Deaths and the 'Mentals. In the second novel, a new 'Mental, named Michi, is introduced. Michi is also a girl, which changes the dynamics at the all-male College. Michi sat down with me to discuss her role in the upcoming novel.
CM: You were involved in the revolt at the College, weren't you?
MICHI: Yes, I was present at the beginning, but became trapped. For months, I took the form of a fly, eating the droppings I found in the Armory.
CM: How could you become a fly?
MICHI: I am an arthromorph. I have a special.. bond.. if you will, to the insect world. If I need to become an insect for a time, I can. I also use insects in other ways if I need to, but I don't like doing so unless I have to.
CM: Why don't you like using insects. They're just bugs.
MICHI: They're more than that. I sense what they sense, I feel close to them. To use an insect often costs part of their essence, and it's not fair to them to use that.
CM: I've heard a rumor that you and Frank used to be in a relationship. Is it true?
MICHI: No comment.
CM: Anything else you'd like to tell us about your role in the upcoming book?
MICHI: Sword of Deaths really does a better job of spotlighting the 'Mentals, who are of course the most important race in the World of Deaths. I felt like we were given a minor role in the first book, and I didn't like that. However, things aren't going that well for us, as I'm sure you'll see.
In School of Deaths, we first meet the 'Mentals, or Elementals, one of the three races in the World of Deaths. Suzie's appearance at the College of Deaths coincides with extremely high tensions between the Deaths and the 'Mentals. In the second novel, a new 'Mental, named Michi, is introduced. Michi is also a girl, which changes the dynamics at the all-male College. Michi sat down with me to discuss her role in the upcoming novel.
CM: You were involved in the revolt at the College, weren't you?
MICHI: Yes, I was present at the beginning, but became trapped. For months, I took the form of a fly, eating the droppings I found in the Armory.
CM: How could you become a fly?
MICHI: I am an arthromorph. I have a special.. bond.. if you will, to the insect world. If I need to become an insect for a time, I can. I also use insects in other ways if I need to, but I don't like doing so unless I have to.
CM: Why don't you like using insects. They're just bugs.
MICHI: They're more than that. I sense what they sense, I feel close to them. To use an insect often costs part of their essence, and it's not fair to them to use that.
CM: I've heard a rumor that you and Frank used to be in a relationship. Is it true?
MICHI: No comment.
CM: Anything else you'd like to tell us about your role in the upcoming book?
MICHI: Sword of Deaths really does a better job of spotlighting the 'Mentals, who are of course the most important race in the World of Deaths. I felt like we were given a minor role in the first book, and I didn't like that. However, things aren't going that well for us, as I'm sure you'll see.
WHAT PEOPLE SAY ABOUT THE SERIES SO FAR
(Praise for SCHOOL OF DEATHS: The Scythe Wielder's Secret Book One)
"Not just a book for young adults, but an imaginative read for everyone who likes something a little bit different. 5 Stars!" - Reader's Favorite
"With a well-developed setting, strong characters, a fairly fast moving plot, and snappy dialogue, this novel should keep readers engaged from the beginning to the end. Five Stars." - BookBreeze Magazine
"Let's start with one simple statement: Wow! This book, the characters and the world created by Mannino is absolutely spectacular." -Kay, GoodReads Review
"This book's world is brilliant, and the author's creativity is more than amazing and the way he conveyed his imagination was just stunning." -OnlineBookClub
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Christopher Mannino’s life is best described as an unending creative outlet. He teaches high school theatre in Greenbelt, Maryland. In addition to his daily drama classes, he runs several after-school performance/production drama groups. He spends his summers writing and singing. Mannino holds a Master of Arts in Theatre Education from Catholic University, and has studied mythology and literature both in America and at Oxford University. His work with young people helped inspire him to write young adult fantasy, although it was his love of reading that truly brought his writing to life.
Mannino is currently completing The Scythe Wielder's Secret series and is working on several adult novels.
Learn more about Mannino and his novels, including trailers and purchase links at www.ChristopherMannino.com
Monday, August 24, 2015
Sword of Deaths
NOW AVAILABLE: Sword of Deaths, The Scythe Wielder's Secret Book Two
READ CHAPTER ONE OF THIS EXCITING NOVEL NOW:
WARNING: CONTAINS SOME SPOILERS FROM BOOK ONE!
CLICK HERE IF YOU'D RATHER READ SCHOOL OF DEATHS FIRST
READ CHAPTER ONE OF THIS EXCITING NOVEL NOW:
WARNING: CONTAINS SOME SPOILERS FROM BOOK ONE!
CLICK HERE IF YOU'D RATHER READ SCHOOL OF DEATHS FIRST
Chapter One—Suzie
A Female Death
The Death laughed. He waved his scythe and the world behind her vanished. Two immense eyes rose behind him, surrounded by leathery skin. She heard the beating of wings.
“You are weak,” said the Death. “You’re nothing at all, Suzie. Just a girl.” He laughed again.
“Leave me alone!” Suzie walked forward but stopped as a sharp, shooting pain coursed through her.
“So weak, so worthless.”
“Go away! Leave me alone!”
The man, the strange eyes, and the entire world shattered, splitting into fragments of glass. Shards flew toward her, burrowing beneath skin. So much pain.
She looked down. The glass was gone. Markings covered each hand. The marks crawled upwards, moving onto Suzie’s neck—strangling her.
Something clawed at her throat, pulling her down, ripping her apart. She gasped for air.
She exploded into a burst of light.
* * * *
Suzie Sarnio opened her eyes as sunlight poured into the small bedroom in Eagle Two, Room Five. Wiping sweat from her face, she looked around the room. This was home now. Not just for a time, but forever. She’d failed the test. Now she could never return to the Living World.
Suzie Sarnio was a Death.
She heard her housemate Billy moving chairs in the kitchen. He was probably planning some surprise for her fourteenth birthday today.
The past year ran through her mind in a blur. She’d been a normal girl in Maryland, with normal friends, and a normal life. Then a stranger named Cronk, a hooded man waving a scythe, showed up, explaining she was a Death. Now here she was in the College of Deaths. She’d Reaped a soul, and helped overthrow the Headmaster of the College. Every new Death was given one chance to return home, a test at the end of their first year. Yesterday, she’d taken hers and failed.
“Is she awake yet?” she heard her friend Frank say.
“Haven’t seen her,” said Billy.
She pulled herself up and swung her legs to the floor. Putting on a pair of shorts and a tee-shirt, she yawned while opening the curtains. West Tower shot into the clouds in front of her, a gnarled mountain of stone writhing a hundred stories high, like an enormous stalagmite. On the far side of campus, she saw its twin East Tower, looming over the campus. Earthen mounds stretched between the two in a massive canyon-like labyrinth. She remembered her time in East Tower, and how she’d discovered Headmaster Sindril’s plan.
The Dragons need you alive, he’d told her. He’d confessed to plotting her abduction, and had re-written her final test, so the only way to pass would be to kill Cronk. She’d refused. She wasn’t a murderer. By refusing to kill, however, she’d ensured that she’d remain a Death eternally.
“You are weak,” said the Death. “You’re nothing at all, Suzie. Just a girl.” Sindril laughed again.
It was only a dream. Sindril was gone now. Probably fled to his Dragon friends.
So much had happened in a year, and now, here she was in the World of the Dead. Her home forever.
The only female Death.
She sighed and opened her door.
“You’re up,” said Billy. A crudely painted banner read “Happy Birthday Suzy.” Three large boxes wrapped in colored paper sat on the kitchen table.
“I-E,” she said.
“What?” asked Billy.
“I spell Suzie Z-I-E, no Y.”
“Guess I’ve never seen you write it.” Billy laughed. He hurried to the stove and brought a plate of warm pancakes.
“You guys shouldn’t have—” she started.
“This is a celebration,” said Frank. “Summer vacation. Three months off from school, and no more Sindril! Now maybe the ’Mentals will get the respect they deserve.”
“We don’t know what will happen, or who will take over.” Billy shook his head.
“It’s true,” said Suzie. “Frank, I don’t think you should tell anyone that you’re—”
“I won’t. I need you both to promise that you won’t let anyone know.”
“It’s our secret,” said Billy.
“You’re a Death.” Suzie nodded.
It wasn’t true. Frank was an Elemental in disguise. The situation with the ’Mentals was complex, but she hoped with Sindril gone, things would improve. Under Sindril’s leadership, the ’Mentals had been slaves to the Deaths. She’d enlisted their support to help overthrow him. Sneaking into his office during a ’Mental attack, she found proof that Sindril had allied with Dragons, the historic enemies of Deaths. The ’Mentals then helped her broadcast the proof to every Death at the College, ensuring Sindril’s downfall. However, even with new leadership, centuries of prejudice wouldn’t vanish overnight. Frank was better off if no one knew what he truly was.
“Thanks,” said Frank.
“Are you guys eating?” she asked.
“Already ate, sorry,” said Billy.
“Me too,” said Frank. “Grabbed a gorger before I got here.”
The pancakes were doughy and undercooked, but she loved them. Usually she just ate gorgers, the food that took whatever flavor you wanted. It was nice to have something cooked for once.
“I don’t know whether I should feel happy or not. I still feel torn about failing the test yesterday.”
Billy put his hand on hers. She felt a slight blush rising to her cheeks, the feeling she always got when he touched her.
“I was upset too,” he said. “When I didn’t take the test last year, a part of me felt like I‘d made the biggest mistake of my life. I’d blown any chance I’d ever have of leading a normal life, but here we are, Suzie. I’m thrilled to be here with you. This is my home now. It’s yours too.”
She nodded and smiled, taking another bite of pancake.
“Why don’t you open your gifts,” said Frank.
“There’s three here,” she said. “Jason didn’t—”
“No,” interrupted Billy. “It wasn’t him.” Jason had been their housemate last year.He had been their friend. Now he was gone, one of only two first-year Deaths who actually passed their test. The other, Luc, had bullied Suzie more than anyone. She was, after all, the only female Death in the entire world. Strange to think both Luc and Jason were back in the Mortal World with no recollection of their year as Deaths.
“Someone left this one at the door,” said Frank. “I saw it on my way in. Why don’t you open it first?” He handed her what looked like a shoebox wrapped in yellow and red paper. She opened the card.
“It’s from Cronk. It says: To the bravest girl I know. Happy Birthday, and Thank You.”
“You did save his life,” reminded Billy.
“A part of me just wanted to go home.” She sighed. “To forget all this, and see my family, but I couldn’t kill him. Sindril didn’t give me a choice.”
“That’s not true.” Frank grinned. “You always have a choice, and you made the right one. You’re a strong person, Suzie. What did Cronk give you?”
She laughed while opening the box and found a set of paintbrushes and a pad of paper.
“He knows you love art,” said Billy.
“I do.” Suzie smiled, taking another bite of pancake.
“Open mine next,” said Frank. He passed her a small box in brown paper, tied with twine. A small card on the front said: To the best friend I’ve ever had.
She opened it carefully, untying the twine and removing the paper without ripping it.
“What is it?” she asked, pulling out a worn book with an unmarked cover.
“Careful,” he said. “The ’Mentals may have preserved it, but it’s very delicate. That book’s a million years old.”
“That’s impossible,” said Billy. “It’d be dust now.”
“Difficult, but not impossible. Though I wouldn’t try to read the book, or even open it. I thought you should have it, as a keepsake. This belonged to Lovethar. Some say it was her diary.”
Lovethar’s diary. Lovethar, the only other female Death, who’d lived a million years ago.
“That’s amazing,” said Suzie. “Thank you so much.” She rose and hugged him. Tears pooled and streamed down her cheeks. How could she ever think of leaving? These were the closest friends she’d ever had. This was home.
“I guess that leaves mine,” said Billy. “It’s nothing much.”
She pulled the gift toward her, nervous to read the card. Did Billy like her as much as she liked him? They’d kissed, but maybe he just wanted to be friends. Would Frank be jealous if he knew how she felt?
She opened the card. “I’m glad you’re here with us. Happy Birthday.” She opened the box and pulled out a framed picture. At first she didn’t recognize the fierce woman holding the scythe. She thought it might be Lovethar, but when she looked harder, she noticed her freckles and that curl that never seemed to stay. The pale girl with long, black hair had to be her. Three other Deaths stood behind her in the image: Billy, with his disheveled sandy hair, icy blue eyes, and long scar across his right cheek; Frank, with his dark brown eyes, hiding their true green color; and Jason, with his glasses and awkward expression. The painting was amazing, and the faces looked very real.
“Jason helped me a bit, before he left,” said Billy, “but I’ve been drawing for a while. Never took Art or anything, and it isn’t much. I was going to give it to you before your test, but with everything going on, I sort of forgot. Guess I lucked out.”
“It’s perfect,” she said. She stood and kissed him on the cheek.
“So, birthday girl,” said Frank. “What’s the plan today? It’s summer break now, we can do whatever you want. Did you want to hang around the campus, or go somewhere else?”
“I want to go somewhere I’ve never been,” said Suzie. “Nothing on campus, but not Silver Lake or the library either. I want to see something new.”
Billy laughed. “You’re a real explorer. I thought you’d had enough of that, especially after you and I found that ’Mental village, but nope, always want to explore more.”
“It’s my birthday, and that’s what I feel like doing.”
“All right, all right,” said Billy. “How about Mors? I’ve only been once, but it’s pretty amazing.”
“Mors?” she asked. “Where’s that?”
“It’s on the sea,” said Frank. “The capital of the Deaths, and the great port. Where Deaths get most of their supplies. I’ve heard of it, but have never been.”
“Mors it is,” said Suzie.
“Pack your bag,” said Billy. “It’ll take a day just to get there. We’ll take the canal.”
* * * *
Suzie sat on her bed, remembering her first trip to the sea.
“Shut up, Joe. Mom, he’s being annoying.”
“Joe, leave your sister alone.”
Suzie turned away from her stupid brother, looking at the traffic.
“I told you we should have left an hour earlier,” said Dad.
“We’ll still make it to the rental on time. Don’t worry, honey.”
The packed SUV crawled up the long, sloping ramp leading to the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. Within minutes, they’d climbed high above the water below. Most of her friends had been to the Eastern Shore, but she’d never crossed the Bay. The lab they’d done last year, in second grade, really showed how endangered the crabs are.
To her right, she saw a moving cloud of black smoke.
“Daddy, there’s a boat on fire,” she said, pointing.
“Don’t be dumb,” said Joe. “It’s just a tanker. That’s its engine.”
Suzie grimaced. “Don’t call me dumb, idiot.”
“You two, knock it off,” said Dad. “I’ll turn this car around.”
“On a bridge?” asked Joe.
“Well, at least after we’ve crossed.”
Suzie caught Dad’s smile in the rear-view mirror. He scratched his moustache, and adjusted his sunglasses. Mom turned the page in her magazine. Suzie tried reading in the car once, but it made her sick.
Two hours later, the car pulled into a small town in Delaware.
“We’re here,” said Dad, turning right at a strange totem pole. “I haven’t been to Bethany Beach since I was a kid.”
They drove a mile more, and then entered the driveway of a single story house with wide porches and immense windows.
“This place is huge,” said Suzie.
“Well it’s ours for the weekend,” said Dad. “I’m going out to pick up some dinner. Why don’t you kids head to the beach? You can see it through the window there.”
Behind the rental, a tall sand dune blocked their view of a semi-private beach. Suzie ran to the bathroom and changed into her new suit. Excitement bubbled in her heart. Would she see Africa on the other side, or would the water just go to the horizon? On TV, the ocean seemed endless.
She adjusted the straps of her bathing suit, joined Joe and Mom at the back door, and then sprinted towards the dune. At the sand’s edge she kicked off her flip-flops, and walked bare foot over the hill. The sand felt warm and gritty. Tiny twigs and shell shards prodded her toes.
A seagull cawed loudly, sailing gently on a breeze. In front of her, a line of grayish water struck the beach with a frothy white crash. The wave receded, drifting away into the ocean.
“It goes on forever,” she said, staring at the boundless expanse.
“What’d you expect, dummy?” asked Joe.
I’ll never see Mom, Dad, or Joe again. It was my choice, and I chose to stay. Unlike Sindril, I’m not a murderer. I could never kill someone.
Despite her nostalgia, she smiled at the irony.
I couldn’t kill, but I am a Death.
* * * *
Billy brought them through the campus of the College of Deaths. Earthen ridges and mounds formed an elaborate reddish maze. East and West Towers shot for hundreds of feet above the rest of the campus: two towers of twisted stone. A glimmer of metal told Suzie they were near the Ring of Scythes, which surrounded the College.
They walked to a long mound with rows of arched windows. Billy led them through the open door, and Suzie was surprised to see long piers, and hundreds of small boats. The building smelled like the sea.
“There are boats here on campus?” She’d been here a year but had never seen this place.
“It’s the end of the Lethe, the canal that connects Mors to the College,” said Billy.He pointed to the rear wall, which was open. A series of small canals led away from the piers beneath arches of metal a few yards away.
“Most supplies are shipped in,” he continued. “I figured we’d take a boat out. We’re actually right next to the Ring of Scythes. You’ll see it clearer from the boat.”
Billy bought them each a ticket and they climbed onto a low barge with skulls carved near the bow. A tall Death with dark skin and long, braided hair helped her aboard.
“You’re the girl,” said the Death. “I’ve heard of you. Is it true you killed Headmaster Sindril?”
“No,” said Suzie. “What are you talking about?”
The Death shrugged and helped Frank into the boat.
“Doesn’t matter to me,” he said, “but there’s many talking about you.”
“We don’t want any trouble,” said Billy.
“Of course,” said the Death.
He untied the boat and they bobbed on the gentle canal water. Four Deaths with oars pulled. There were a few other passengers, and a large pile of boxes in the center of the barge. It swung away from the pier and Suzie stumbled.
“Let’s sit down,” said Billy. “It’ll take a while to get there.”
He and Suzie sat near the bow, with Frank behind them. The boat slid past the outer rocky wall of the building, and they were outside again. An enormous arch, bigger than any she’d seen in the Ring of Scythes loomed in front of them. The Ring was formed from massively oversized scythes, which stretched into the air, connecting to form arches. Only Deaths and ’Mentals could pass through the Ring, which could be sealed. She’d learned that the hard way, when Sindril sealed her out. Why did she keep thinking about him? He was gone now, nothing to worry about. He’d fled the College, returning to his friends the Dragons.
Where the Lethe Canal passed beneath the Ring of Scythes, two scythes stretched into the sky, forming an archway of solid metal thirty feet high. The long-haired Death stepped behind her.
“Left over from the Great War,” he said. “All the scythes in the Ring are, but those two were the greatest of all.”
“Were they?” asked Suzie, looking back toward the College. East Tower was directly behind the boat; West Tower had vanished behind its twin.
“My name is Eshue,” said the Death. “Esh-oo-ay.” His accent was African, and he moved in a strange, dancelike manner. “My father is captain of this boat. Welcome.”
“I’m Billy.”
“Frank.”
“You know who I am,” said Suzie.
“The female Death,” said Eshue. “Susan.” He nodded and gestured to the scythes again. The boat passed under them. Beneath the enormous blades, Suzie’s skin tingled.
“A wonderful use of mortamant, don’t you think?” Eshue chuckled. “The scythe can slice through anything. Light and dark, life and death, truth and lies. You know that already, though. Have you been on the Lethe before?”
“No,” said Suzie.
“This is the canal that feeds the College, the vein that connects mouth and heart, heart and body, in the World of the Dead.”
Frank gave her a look and rolled his eyes. She sighed. This was going to be a long trip. They passed beneath a long bridge, and civilization faded. The crowded College, its mountainous towers, and its glimmering Ring of Scythe grew smaller. Open fields and scattered trees stretched around the canal. Dense forest spread across the horizon on either side. She stood and walked to the side of the boat. The canal’s still waters rippled behind the oars. Another barge carrying enormous boxes passed in the opposite direction. She leaned down and reached toward the water.
“Don’t,” said Eshue, grabbing her hand. “Don’t touch the water. It is bad luck. The Lethe is cursed. They say the souls of Deaths who cease go here, forever forgotten. They drift the currents, trapped between the city and the College, never able to reach the sea.”
“That sounds like a superstitious old tale,” said Billy.
“Maybe so,” said Eshue, “but on my father’s boat, please do not touch the water. I don’t want bad luck.”
Suzie sat down again and Eshue walked away.
“Why do Deaths cease?” she asked Billy. “I know that if we’re killed in this World, we get erased from everything. But why?”
“Next she’s going to ask what happens in the Hereafter,” said Frank.
“He’s right,” said Billy. “There’s no answer to that. It just is.”
“So if I’d killed Cronk—”
“You’d be in the Living World now,” said Billy, “and none of us would remember his name. Suzie, you can’t spend the rest of the year obsessing about the choice you made. It’ll drive you crazy. You’re here now, that’s all there is to it. Yesterday you said you were glad to stay.”
“I am,” she said. “It’s just—”
“I understand,” he said. “Believe me, I do.”
“What is there to do in Mors?” she asked, changing the subject.
“I only went once myself. Last summer, a few of my friends went for a few days. We looked around, went to the port and the beach, and of course there’s Silver Fair. You’ll love that.”
“Silver Fair?”
“It’s like an amusement park. Well, sort of. Don’t forget that Deaths are taken when they’re kids, so plenty of them are our age. Silver Fair is great.”
“An amusement park. Never thought they’d have one of those.” Suzie smiled and watched a cloud drift by. She tried to imagine what an amusement park for Deaths might look like.
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