Inkshares books
Getting involved with Inkshares has meant getting involved with a lot of other writers, all struggling to get their work known. Of course, each of us only has a limited number of people we know, and not all of the people we know might be interested in what we have to offer. On the other hand, we all know people who might be interested in what someone else has to offer. So now, I'd like to talk about a couple of books currently in the funding process....
Or, more precisely, Eric Peterkin and the cast of "Murder at the Veterans' Club" would. Because, hey, I'm also in it to show myself off, right?
But seriously. Go check these books out.
Avery had his nose deeply buried in a book when Eric found him at the Arabica that night. "What's got you so engrossed?" Eric asked, sliding into the seat across from his friend.
"'The Traveller's Cup'," replied Avery, holding up the book cover for Eric to see. "It's an absolutely spiffing tale of outer space adventure. There are giant slugs pulling chariots, and space dragons, and this fascinating society divided between glowy nobles and a not-glowing-at-all grey underclass. Our hero's one of the nobles, of course, only he gets sucked into this contest that's usually about the underclass getting sent off on a suicide mission--"
"Fine, fine. Let's have a look at it, then."
But Avery pulled back sharply. "No. Get your own copy. I'm not finished with this yet."
Eric sighed and got up again. There was no point being social when Avery was stuck in a book like this. But the booksellers on Charing Cross Road were still open, and if Eric hurried, he might be able to get himself a copy and see what the fuss was all about.
Eric returned to his club and found Bradshaw in his office with his feet up on his desk and a book open across his lap. Eric thought the book might be a report of the club finances, but it turned out to be a pulp novel in a glossy cover: "The Amaranth Chronicles: Deviant Rising"
"Pulp science-fiction, Bradshaw? I didn't think you read that sort of thing."
Bradshaw grinned. "I embrace all things, Peterkin; as does this story. This, this is *epic* pulp science-fiction, but not without a homely, human touch. It goes from personal to political and back again; and of course it wouldn't be science-fiction without a good deal of action and adventure."
"Oh?" Eric liked stories of action and adventure, and of course no-one could deny the mass appeal of pulp. Eric had fond memories of lazy Saturday mornings curled up with the latest pulp adventure ... it looked as though it might be time for another expedition to Charing Cross Road.
Or, more precisely, Eric Peterkin and the cast of "Murder at the Veterans' Club" would. Because, hey, I'm also in it to show myself off, right?
But seriously. Go check these books out.
Avery had his nose deeply buried in a book when Eric found him at the Arabica that night. "What's got you so engrossed?" Eric asked, sliding into the seat across from his friend.
"'The Traveller's Cup'," replied Avery, holding up the book cover for Eric to see. "It's an absolutely spiffing tale of outer space adventure. There are giant slugs pulling chariots, and space dragons, and this fascinating society divided between glowy nobles and a not-glowing-at-all grey underclass. Our hero's one of the nobles, of course, only he gets sucked into this contest that's usually about the underclass getting sent off on a suicide mission--"
"Fine, fine. Let's have a look at it, then."
But Avery pulled back sharply. "No. Get your own copy. I'm not finished with this yet."
Eric sighed and got up again. There was no point being social when Avery was stuck in a book like this. But the booksellers on Charing Cross Road were still open, and if Eric hurried, he might be able to get himself a copy and see what the fuss was all about.
Eric returned to his club and found Bradshaw in his office with his feet up on his desk and a book open across his lap. Eric thought the book might be a report of the club finances, but it turned out to be a pulp novel in a glossy cover: "The Amaranth Chronicles: Deviant Rising"
"Pulp science-fiction, Bradshaw? I didn't think you read that sort of thing."
Bradshaw grinned. "I embrace all things, Peterkin; as does this story. This, this is *epic* pulp science-fiction, but not without a homely, human touch. It goes from personal to political and back again; and of course it wouldn't be science-fiction without a good deal of action and adventure."
"Oh?" Eric liked stories of action and adventure, and of course no-one could deny the mass appeal of pulp. Eric had fond memories of lazy Saturday mornings curled up with the latest pulp adventure ... it looked as though it might be time for another expedition to Charing Cross Road.