Guest Post: “The God Hunter” by Tim Lees

Registry field op Chris Copeland arrives in Hungary on a routine mission: find a sacred spot, lay down a wire grid, and capture a full flask of a god’s energy. But when his arrogant new partner, Shailer, sabotages the wires, things go very, very wrong: the god manifests as a mirror image of Chris himself. Chris quickly destroys the god, and, for the good of the company and his own career, buries the evidence.

Six years later, Shailer is a rising star among the energy industry’s corporate elite, while Chris has taken a break from operations. But when a mysterious serial killer begins stalking Budapest-a psychopath who bears an eerie resemblance to Chris-the operative is forced back into the field.

With the help of Anna Ganz, a brusque, chain-smoking Hungarian detective, Chris tracks the monster across the globe. Only the real danger isn’t a killer on the outside . . . it’s Chris’s treacherous colleagues at the Registry who refuse to acknowledge the terrifying forces they’ve unleashed in the name of profit-forces whose origins lead back to the dawn of man . . . and beyond.

Tim Lees is a British author living in Chicago. His short fiction has appeared in Postscripts, Black Static and Interzone, among many other publications. He is author of the collection, The Life to Come, nominated for a British Fantasy Award, and the novel Frankenstein’s Prescription, described by Publisher’s Weekly as “a philosophically insightful and literary tale of terror.” When not writing, he has held a variety of jobs, including teacher, conference organiser, film extra, and worker in a psychiatric hospital. His blog is


The God Hunter by Tim Lees – **EXCERPT**

Chapter 1: Field Ops


            I was laying cable on the south side of the altar, working by instinct now, rather than planning. There is a point the brain goes quiet and the hands take over. That’s the point I like. I felt the wires grow warm under my fingertips. They pulsed and trembled; once or twice they caught a gleam of color from the windows high above, and then a spark would seem to flash along their length. I’d move them, one way or the other, depending which felt right.

The tools of my profession can be beautiful, seen from a certain angle, in a certain frame of mind.

So when Shailer called, “Watch this!” I didn’t look up straight away. I swung the second braid of wire off to the left, put a loop into the third, then took the fourth and held it for a moment, seeking my next move. I sucked my lower lip. I could have made a guess, and probably have even got it right. But the rhythm had been lost now, and the sense of things was gone.

I turned round slowly, pretty sure I wasn’t going to like what happened next.

Shailer was standing in the aisle. He wore baggy shorts and a long, sloppy T-shirt, which may have been the fashion back at home, but left him with the look of a collapsing tent. He’d put a chalice upside down on his head. It pushed his hair into his face. He grinned at me, waved, and started goose-stepping back and forth for all that he was worth. He raised his right arm. He sieg-heiled gleefully and bellowed in a dreadful German accent:

            “Lebensraum! Lebensraum!

I told him, “Cut it out.”

Lebensraum, mein Führer!”

“Cut it out!”

            But it was my fault, I suppose, regardless of how inadvertently. Last night I’d tried preparing him. I’d had him watch the newsreels, the old stuff, to get him in the mood, get him acclimatized – given the place we were, the history; a quick reminder of the power of thought en masse. What my old mentor Fredericks, in his pompous way, would no doubt call an Invocation of the Deity, for what that’s worth. Still, I’d been hoping it might resonate, set a few thoughts spinning where there’d probably been precious few before.

Shailer hadn’t seen it that way. No, to Shailer, it had all meant something very different: a bunch of funny-looking guys in funny-looking uniforms doing funny-looking marches, much too long ago, and much too far from home to be of any interest now.

Especially to him.

            He put his fingers up under his nose, the other arm still raised in a salute. It was more John Cleese than Hitler, to be honest, and perhaps not even that; more somebody impersonating Cleese, reality a dozen times removed.

            I stood up, crossed to him in six quick steps, and slapped him hard across the face.

            That got his interest, anyway.

            The chalice toppled from his head and clanged onto the floor. The echoes shivered; it was as if the whole church suddenly breathed in, scenting something was amiss within it. The hairs upon my neck began to prickle. I recognized that moment, knew it instantly. I glanced around.

The going can get sensitive at this stage. Things get raw.

Shailer stared at me, shock and disbelief caught in the slack O of his mouth, the water welling in his eyes. Then his shoulders tensed, his fists came up, his eyes went thin and hard. I waited for the rush of anger to die down. I told him, “Be professional.”

His eyes stayed hard.

I said, “You fool around on one of these, then we could both die. You, I don’t much care about. Me, I do.”

His mouth squeezed tight. A muscle flickered in his jaw. I turned my back and walked slowly to the altar, giving him lots of time to jump me if he’d wanted to.

He wanted to, all right.

He didn’t try it.

“Fetch the flask,” I said. I said it in a neutral tone. Business-like. I kept my head down, bending to the work. Footsteps on the stone floor. I heard him coming, closer, closer. He set the flask beside me. It’s a thick metal container, like a strongbox with a socket in the top.

“OK,” I said. “That’s our receptor. Once we’re done, we double seal it, just for luck, and walk away. I’m hoping that it won’t take long.”

He didn’t answer. I was talking to myself. I linked the last few cables, showed him a third time how to do it, carefully explained it all, reciting from the manual. My heart-rate was up. Breathing too. The talking helped to calm me, normalize me once again. I like to stay cool when I’m working; no stray emotions, nothing to latch onto. It’s like a meditative process. I tried to focus on the task, to let that side of my brain come to the fore. Signs were, we’d got a pre-incarnate here. Tricky. Or worse. And Shailer was the last person I wanted with me. All right – to be fair, perhaps it wasn’t his fault he was such an idiot. But if it wasn’t his, I’d really no idea who else to blame.

Guest Post From Kevin J. Anderson: “An Unlimited Special Effects Budget”

It’s summer blockbuster movie season, and we’re ready for the biggest movies of the year. Gigantic budgets, incredible special effects, 3D IMAX, fantastic colors, amazing images, explosions, monsters, super heroes. The studios promise to show you things that you’ve never seen before.

But, I have. In my imagination, as I develop my stories and write my novels. I’ve seen things that no filmmaker could ever put on screen. With words, you see, I’ve got an unlimited special effects budget.

Years ago, when I was writing my first X-files novels, I asked Chris Carter, the show’s creator, what kind of story he was looking for. Chris said, “Write something so big that I could never afford to do it as an episode. You’re not constrained by set limitations, location shots, or effects budgets. Take advantage of that.”

So, I did. And I’ve always remembered that advice. I like thinking big, telling stories that are constrained only by my imagination and nothing else.

I’ve written epic Star Wars novels, Dune novels with Brian Herbert, as well as our big and complex Hellhole trilogy, and my Terra Incognita fantasy trilogy about sailing ships and sea monsters. But my greatest creation of all, I think, is my Seven Suns universe, originally published as a seven novel series, and now I’m embarking on a brand new standalone trilogy, The Saga of Shadows.

It’s the biggest canvas I’ve ever written on, the grandest story, the most complicated cast of characters, and a labyrinth of interconnected plots. I can feel James Cameron quaking in his boots.

You want alien planets? You got ‘em–a whole Spiral Arm full of them. Lava planets, ice planets, stormy gas giants, ocean stations, alien capitals, a jungle planet with gigantic interconnected sentient trees (hmm, maybe James Cameron is trembling after all), ancient abandoned cities on desert worlds.

There’s a race of intelligent and murderous insects, as well as killer black robots. An empire of benevolent aliens who look mostly human on the outside, but have tremendous differences. A dimensional transportation network, telepathic priests who can commune with trees, outlaw space gypsies. And monsters. Did I mention monsters?

Each new idea in the Seven Suns universe led to a character or a storyline that would allow me to feature the concept, because when I developed such fantastic images, I had to use them somehow. The first volume of my new trilogy, THE DARK BETWEEN THE STARS, is a 672-page tome, and I crammed everything I could into it, but had plenty to spare for the remaining two volumes.

An energy-harvesting industrial station in the center of a blazing nebula, a huge derelict space city filled with the bodies of an extinct alien race, a hollowed-out comet that serves as a school. And of course there are incredible creatures: destructive elemental beings composed of pure fire, a race that lives in diamond-hulled chambers at the cores of gas-giant planets, a huge dragon insect that preys on a quiet fishing village—and the terrifying Shana Rei, the creatures of darkness, that are entropy incarnate with a desperate quest to unravel the universe itself.

Yeah, all that would probably be too cost-prohibitive to film.

I had so many colors and images in my mind as I came up with one idea after another, building upon concepts that I developed for previous scenes. I did my best to visualize them, but I’m no artist.

Before writing the original Saga of Seven Suns, I hired one of my comic artists, Igor Kordey, to help me put it down on paper. I gave him the outline for the series, my write-ups of the history, the characters, and the cultures . . . and I turned him loose. Igor did close to fifty sketches, developing the architecture and clothing of the Ildiran Empire, and the magnificent crystalline Prism Palace, where the Mage-Imperator ruled. He sketched out the types of organic buildings that Therons would construct in their gigantic worldtrees.

And he did more than sketches. Igor presented me with three complete paintings: a gypsy Roamer standing on the deck of a skymine looking down at the stormy clouds of the gas giant his factory was harvesting. Another painting shows a desert world with the empty ruins of a Klikiss city and the insidious beetle-like robots they constructed. And a third painting shows the bizarre and exotic hydrogue city in the high-pressure depths of a gas giant.

I used those images as reference when I wrote my novels, and I built upon them, creating even larger landscapes. After all, I had an unlimited special effects budget and I intended to spend every penny.

THE DARK BETWEEN THE STARS is one of my biggest, most ambitious novels ever. Writing it was immensely satisfying, and now it’s the reader’s turn to interpret those words, enjoy the story in their own minds on the screen of their own imagination—because as a reader, you have an unlimited effects budget too.

GUEST POST: “Oh, Those Wild and Crazy Puritans!” by Tom Doyle

Those Puritans never seem to catch a break.

 My debut novel from Tor, American Craftsmen, is a thoroughly modern-day fantasy of military intrigue. My backstory, however, starts with the founding of the English colonies in North America and focuses on Puritan New England.

The Puritans have always had a public relations problem. Yes, they grew in numbers to the point that they could win the English Civil War, but their stance on the arts made them many enemies among more memorable voices. Even the mild Shakespeare didn’t like them (see Malvolio in Twelfth Night).

In America, Thomas Morton, a real-life figure and fictional ancestor of my protagonist Dale Morton, ran a one-man campaign against what he considered the fanatical Puritan settlements, and was arrested and expelled three times for his trouble. Later, the peculiar tensions of Puritan communities would help to generate the notorious Salem witch hunt, over which my fictional present-day characters still hold grudges.

Still, most Americans prefer to look towards the upright Puritans as the national ancestors and ignore the claims of those opportunistic and sometimes cannibalistic rascals in Jamestown. As pointed out by writers such as Edmund S. Morgan and Sarah Vowell, the dilemmas that sprung from all that religious tension and paranoia led to some creative solutions in governance that eventually helped produce the United States.

Enter my modern-day Puritan character, Major Michael Endicott, the sometimes antagonist to the main character, Captain Dale Morton. Endicott is a fictional descendant of the real-life John Endicott of Salem, who was the Puritan’s Puritan. John Endicott was the one who led the attack on Thomas Morton’s settlement at Merry Mount. He also brandished his sword during the trial of Anne Hutchinson, a notorious heretic among the Puritans (and ancestor of another of my characters, Colonel Elizabeth Hutchinson). In America’s first declaration of independence, John’s sword sliced the cross of Saint George the Dragon Slayer from every flag that he saw.

Major Michael Endicott finds that he has to be more realistic than his Puritan forebears about many things. Michael can laugh at his ancestor John wanting veils for women. But Endicott continues to admire his ancestors for their faith, discipline, and freedom. He is above all loyal to his family.

In my earliest draft, Endicott started out as almost totally unsympathetic, which didn’t work. So he evolved into a quite different character: a person trying to maintain his integrity even as his trials and tribulations seem to mock him.

Endicott’s patience and integrity are particularly tried by his encounters with Dale Morton. The pagan and atheistic Mortons and the Puritan Endicotts have continued as enemies for hundreds of years. Endicott believes that at best Dale is untrustworthy due to his seeming instability, and at worst Dale has gone over to the evil practices of his Left-Hand Morton ancestors.

As Endicott pursues the fleeing Dale across the country, he begins to suspect that Dale may be telling the truth about corruption at the heart of Langley or the Pentagon. But if Dale is right, this also means that some terrible deception may have occurred in the Endicott family.

Despite the gravity of the situation and his normally stern demeanor, Endicott tries his best not to take himself too seriously. When things go wrong, even in ways that make him look slightly ridiculous, he faces adversity with a churchy sense of humor and as much patience as he can muster. Challenged by a great threat to the nation, Endicott is perhaps the character that has to grow and change the most, and in that regard his core principles are more help than hindrance.

As Sarah Vowell came to like the Puritan subjects of her book The Wordy Shipmates, I’ve come to like Michael Endicott’s character as well. I hope you find him and my other magical, fictional descendants of the real-life founding colonists, my American craftspeople, entertaining.

About Tom Doyle:

The Internet Review of Science Fiction has hailed TOM DOYLE’s writing as “beautiful & brilliant.” Locus Magazine has called his stories “fascinating,” “transgressive,” “witty,” “moving,” and “intelligent and creepy.” A graduate of the Clarion Writing Workshop, Doyle has won the WSFA Small Press Award and third prize in the Writers of the Future contest.

GUEST POST: Movies for Bookworms – Five Books Becoming Films in 2014

Many have argued that movies can never be as good as the books that inspired them. This year, however, many new films are being released that just might challenge that statement.

Here is just a small sample of the literary-inspired works slated to arrive in theaters in 2014:

1.) The Fault In Our Stars: Starring Shailene Woodley and Ansel Elgort, the tragedies of youth are amplified when terminal illness casts a shadow over the lives of its teen victims. The narrator of The Fault In Our Stars, in both the novel and the film, is a 16-year-old girl with stage four thyroid cancer, a disease she has been battling since the age of 13. Her cancer has been contained thanks to an experimental drug, but she hasn’t been to a traditional school since her diagnosis, and she still must wheel an oxygen tank behind her wherever she goes. Her prognosis is murky and her day-to-day life is flat and dull, until she meets a boy in a cancer support group. A cancer movie that “isn’t about cancer,” the author chooses not to focus on the finitude of death  – instead he packs the story with heartbreakingly real examples of life and the emotional tumult of youth.

2.)   Inherent Vice: Starring Joaquin Phoenix, Reese Witherspoon and Josh Brolin, Thomas Pynchon’s crime novel embodies the sleazy LA noir genre, following a druggie detective as he weaves his way through the haze of early 70’s California. Doc, the detective, begins his investigation when an old girlfriend arrives and asks him to look into a problem involving a real-estate developer with whom she’s been having an affair. Soon the case begins to unravel, and the developer goes missing. The missing person—or the murder victim—leads Doc down a trail of greed, lust, and conspiracy, in a world distorted by drug use and illusions of danger. In a town full of strange happenings, more often than not the knowledge he acquires only adds up to more confusion. Being both an avid marijuana user, as well as a private eye, makes for an interesting interpretation of the clues, and Doc gives readers and viewers reason to question their own grip on reality.

3.) The Giver: Starring Jeff Bridges and Meryl Streep in primary roles. After the massive success of Hunger Games, it seems natural for the first “dystopian” teen novel to make its way to the big screen. Set in a futuristic society where crime, poverty, sickness, and unemployment have been successfully phased out, and only one individual is charged with carrying the weight of the past, one young man learns he is next in line to be the community’s “Receiver of Memories.” In this world, choice is limited, residents are assigned to one another to procreate, and community roles are all predetermined by higher ups. Any trace of individuality has been eliminated. Under the tutelage of “The Giver,” young Jonas learns for the first time about ordinary things like color, sun and snow, as well as the lessons of love, war and death. The book raises many questions, but ultimately leaves the answers up for the viewer to decide for themselves. A quietly popular novel for young adults, The Giver as a film has generated quite a lot of buzz on Twitter, as shown in these excited tweets found with social tracker Viral Heat:

4.)  Far From the Madding Crowd: Starring Juno Temple, Carey Mulligan, and Michael Sheen, this film is based on Thomas Hardy’s first literary success. The film is set in the beautiful countryside of rural Victorian England, and the story centers around the romantic trials of Bathsheba Everdene, an independent and strong-minded woman who inherits her uncle’s farm and decides to manage it herself. She hires Gabriel, a former neighbor and one-time suitor, to be her farmhand and shepard. Ignoring his romantic overtures, she instead becomes embroiled in dramatic love affairs with a gentleman farmer and cavalry officer. As love triangles often do, the complicated relationships crumble and she eventually finds herself stranded. Finally realizing how much she has always needed quiet strength and devotion, Bathsheba makes her way back to Gabriel and convinces him to stay with her as her husband.


5.) Divergent: Starring Shailene Woodley, Theo James, and Kate Winslet in titular roles. Following along with the trend of bizarro-world dystopian reality novels, Divergent is a film based on the debut novel by Veronica Roth. The novel follows Beatrice, “Tris” Prior as she explores the world of post-apocalyptic Chicago. In this universe, members of society are defined by their personalities, categorized and sorted into five different sectors: Abnegation, Amity, Candor, Dauntless, or Erudite. Beatrice, however, finds herself split between the factions, making her “Divergent” and therefore dangerous. She must attempt to conceal her identity, all while uncovering a plot to kill the Divergents and juggling a new love interest. Like the novels, the films will be a trilogy, so readers and viewers can expect plenty more Big-Brother action as they follow this series to completion.

Kate Voss

Guest Post with Anne Leonard, author of “Moth & Spark”

Fantasy Families

Harry Potter. Frodo Baggins. Luke Skywalker. Katniss Everdeen. What do they have in common? Well, besides being heroes, they suffered the childhood loss of one or both of their parents. When my son was younger, it seemed that every book I read him had a protagonist with at least one dead or missing parent.  And it’s not just fantasy. Tom Sawyer lives with his Aunt Polly. Jane Eyre is an orphan. Hamlet’s just lost his father.  King Arthur doesn’t know his father. Many fairytales have wicked stepmothers. It’s hard to think offhand of any hero or heroine who still lives with both parents at the time the adventures begin.

I suspect that a lot of this is because an adventure story is also often an archetypal story about leaving home and entering adulthood. It’s about the hero’s self-actualization. It’s about the heroine learning to use her own agency. Killing off the parents is a symbolic representation of this journey. (Frodo and Bilbo are somewhat unique in being middle-aged when their adventures begin.)

Killing off parents also often serves useful plot purposes – death of a family member destroys a person’s support system, creates a reason for vengeance or a need for help, is the first sign of catastrophic evil, or in some other way becomes the shake that gets the story moving. Handled right, it can bring out rich emotional depth in the characters as they grieve or change their lives.

Wrecking the family before the story starts, however, also cuts off all sorts of interesting possibilities for a more complicated story. Human families are both fraught with conflict and a source of strength and motivation. This was something the Greek tragedians knew. Agamemnon sacrifices his daughter, so his wife Clytemnestra kills him, and then her son Orestes kills her. Oedipus famously kills his father and marries his mother, then goes wandering the earth with his daughters. Antigone chooses to bury her brother and is thus condemned to die by her uncle. The climactic point of The Iliad is not a battle scene, but is when Hektor’s father Priam comes to the Greeks and pleads to be allowed a proper burial of his son. I think this family drama is one of the things the gives Game of Thrones such broad appeal.  Tangle families with politics and power, and there’s a recipe for limitless stories.

Family is one of the things I’ve tweaked in MOTH AND SPARK. Both protagonists come from families that get along internally. All four parents are still living. No hero-orphans here.

There are two main reasons that I did this. First, it’s a love story. When a person first falls in love, that’s one of the major points differentiating self from parents. I thought it would be interesting to have characters going through all those thoughts about love and family while family is still around to have an influence on the decisions. The normal tension of bringing home a significant other to meet the parents allows the characters to have all sorts of emotions they wouldn’t otherwise. The tension is even greater if you respect your parents and are worried they will disapprove of your choice.

Second, I did want to tangle family with politics and power.  What’s it like to grow up knowing you’re going to inherit the family business when the family business is running the kingdom (instead of, say, a plumbing company)? What about when something as personal as marriage is reduced to obligation? How about being an adult who still has to take orders from the parents? It’s a situation that is pretty foreign to me as an ordinary middle-class person, and that made it interesting to speculate about. If I’d made the main royal character the king instead of an adult prince, a lot of family dynamics would have evaporated.

MOTH AND SPARK tells a story about each of its two main characters fulfilling a quest with support only from each other and not from their families. Tam and Corin are in fact cut off by distance and events from their families in the last part of the book, so in that sense the novel fits the familiar pattern. Independence from one’s family means family members can’t help. However, once the quest is achieved, family is back in the picture. Independence exists within the context of relationships.

Fantasy as a genre does more than retell fairytales. It allows for the exploration of possibilities that don’t exist in the “real” world. As a reader (and, I admit, as a parent) I’d like to see more stories where family dynamics influence the hero or heroine through the entire book, rather than being a backdrop. As a writer, I want to dig a lot deeper into this area.

People unfamiliar with the genre often dismiss fantasy as not about important or real things. Sometimes that’s the case, and there’s nothing wrong with escapism. But fantasy families can have the same experiences and rich emotional lives that literary realism families do, and I hope that as the genre grows and expands, we’ll see more fantasies where family matters.

Anne Leonard lives in Northern California.  She has degrees from St. John’s College, the University of Pittsburgh, Kent State University, and University of California-Hastings College of Law.  Leonard began MOTH AND SPARK while attending the University of California-Hastings College of Law (where she graduated cum laude) eking out a few hours on weekends or a half hour on the bus, or wherever she had the chance. After 3 years, she had a draft, but ultimately decided to practice law first.  At last readers will be introduced to the deadly harsh steppe lands of Sarian, to the white-barked tree-lined streets of Caithenor.

Guest Post with David Edison, author of “The Waking Engine”

What made you decide to write about death?

I accepted my inner Morticia Addams at a fairly young age.

As a boy, I slept beneath the mounted corpse of a 9-foot dusky shark and ate my dinner in the same room as a mummy and a pair of death masks.  My parents are lovely, cheerful people whose love of travel and history made them accidental necromancers, and their only child was a cross between Pugsley and Wednesday Addams to begin with, so… I was steered toward questions about death early on.

My mother isn’t Jewish, and my father isn’t Catholic, and between the two I never quite belonged to either religious world, which set me up nicely for a cross-cultural survey course of the afterlife with no real attachment to any belief system, but baked-in respect for them all.  I survived lions in Kenya and snakes by the banks of the Nile before I hit puberty, not to mention that I explored more tombs, ruins, and caves than most kids have in their nightmares.

So I guess I’ve been preparing for The Waking Engine (and the books that will continue the story) for my whole life.  As my studies brought me closer to shamanistic practices and other animistic viewpoints, I started to realize that this business of being interested in (and not upset by) death and the transition we will all make, one day, wasn’t just my own weird idiosyncrasy.  It was a role that men and women have played throughout history, for the benefit of their communities.  We need people who are willing to discuss death, and work with it creatively—it will happen to us all, and yet we spend most of our life pretending that it won’t.  But our ends deserve as much emotional investment as our births, don’t they?

Not only is death a fertile ground for storytelling, it’s also a part of our individual stories.  And as is perhaps fitting with its taboo nature, our concepts of the afterlife are relatively lackluster.  Be bad, suffer; be good, enjoy yourself.  Life is a complicated and fuzzy creature—I never understood how the thing that comes after it could be so one-dimensional.  Harps?  Virgins?  Coming back as a cockroach?  Are you kidding me?

I have always imagined what kind of afterlife could match this beautiful, brutal life we lead.  The answer I found, for myself, was that only life could match life: give us dozens of lives, hundreds of scenarios, and see what becomes of us.  Suddenly, the possibility of reuniting with those who’ve gone before becomes complicated, rather than generic—what has your grandfather learned, in his next life, as a sailor?  That’s so much more fascinating to me than harp music and swan wings and peace.  Peace is the death of the interesting, and that’s the one thing I’m afraid to see die.

That said, I knew I was wading into heavy territory, so I tried to fill the story with as much joy and light and living as I could—which, in my head, is exactly the sort of lesson that Grandpa is learning on his successive lives.  What if death isn’t the end?  What if you pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and keep walking down the highway?  That’s a sunset I’ll ride into.

Born in St. Louis, Missouri, DAVID EDISON grew up reading and traveling, both to excess.  David was 15 years old when he began his study of creative writing at the college level at Bennington College under Rick Moody and Helen Schulman. He graduated from Brown University with a degree in English Literature in 2000.  In 2006, he co-founded, the first video game news site and community presence for LGBT gamers—which has been reported upon by everyone from The Advocate to MTV to the Canadian Broadcasting Bureau, and was named one of the video game industry’s top 20 most influential game news sites in 2008 by Official PlayStation Magazine, #20 in a similar ranking by Wikio, and one of 1UP’s top ten favorite game blogs in 2010. He divides his time between New York City and San Francisco. The Waking Engine is his first novel. Visit him online at and on Twitter @DavidEdison.

GUEST POST with Myke Cole, Author of “Shadow OPS: Breach Zone”

Let’s talk about how my military experience does NOT inform my writing.

Bear with me here:

This is the thing. We are currently living through the greatest divide in our nation’s history between military and civilian. A lower percentage of Americans serve in uniform than ever before, and the results are unsurprising. A population that is increasingly cut off from the military experience fetishizes it. This is to be expected. Things we don’t have a lot of interaction with become exotic to us. Stereotypes have one drawback . . . well, they have a ton of drawbacks, but I want to hone in on this one:
They’re monolithic. They take things that are incredibly complex, and distill them down into a single item.

There’s no such thing as a “New Yorker.” We all live in New York. Beyond that, the sheer breadth of our diversity is so vast that calling us New Yorkers is effectively meaningless.

Same thing in the military. Let me give you an example (centered around my latest novel, of course). Much of the action in BREACH ZONE takes place on a Coast Guard Cutter. It’s a 225′ Juniper Class Seagoing Buoy Tender (you can read more about them here). Now I’m *in* in the Coast Guard. But the “black hull” working fleet that Juniper Classes sail in are in the cutter world, the deep-water world, and the ATON (Aids to Navigation) world. Those are all worlds that have nothing to do with my work in the Coast Guard. I’m in the small boat squadrons. We run the 25′ Defender class response boats (more on them here). We stick to law enforcement and search-and-rescue missions. There is so little in common between life on a ‘225 and life at my station that we might as well be in two different militaries. And we’re ALL the same Coast Guard.

So, when I began to write about the cutter in BREACH ZONE, I had to confront the fact that I knew nothing about the ship in question. So, I did what all writers do. I went on the Internet and researched it.

The truth is that the military has informed my writing in a million tiny ways that I will never truly have a grip on, but I don’t have a monopoly on the experience. The military influences people who’ve never served, because observing a phenomena is still participating in the experience. I don’t own military stories more than anyone else.

But that’s also the most exciting part about writing in this sub-genre. It gives me an excuse to learn.”


In the wake of a bloody battle at Forward Operating Base Frontier and a scandalous presidential impeachment, Lieutenant Colonel Jan Thorsson, call sign “Harlequin,” becomes a national hero and a pariah to the military that is the only family he’s ever known.

 In the fight for Latent equality, Oscar Britton is positioned to lead a rebellion in exile, but a powerful rival beats him to the punch: Scylla, a walking weapon who will stop at nothing to end the human-sanctioned apartheid against her kind.

 When Scylla’s inhuman forces invade New York City, the Supernatural Operations Corps are the only soldiers equipped to prevent a massacre. In order to redeem himself with the military, Harlequin will be forced to face off with his havoc-wreaking woman from his past who’s been warped by her power into something evil…


As a security contractor, government civilian and military officer, MYKE COLE’s career has run the gamut from counterterrorism to cyber warfare to federal law enforcement. He’s done three tours in Iraq and was recalled to serve during the Deepwater Horizon oil spill. All that conflict can wear a guy out. Thank goodness for fantasy novels, comic books, late-night games of Dungeons & Dragons, and lots of angst-fueled writing.