Wow, I just looked over my blog and realised it's been far to long since my last post. Time passes so quick and before you know it another year has gone. Just like this one. I have a lot to look forward to next year. I know that my second novel in the "Dream Raider" series was supposed to be out now, but once again life gets in the way and the unexpected wraps you in it's tendrils, as time slips from your grasp. To those of you waiting for this book I apologise. Sorry for mucking you around. You will be pleased to know however that I will also be releasing my first adult novel next year as well, so keep an eye out for that one. It will be released under the pseudonym K.E.Vee to save problems with regards to the YA novels.
Why K.E.Vee? Well simple really. I've always liked just being called Kev. K E VEE spells Kev. I promise to visit the blog a bit more regular in the future and keep you posted on the happenings with the book fronts. I'll post again soon, enjoy the holiday period.
Kev. AKA K.E.Vee
Friday, December 23, 2011
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Pete's Diary
Hi everyone today I'm going to Blog about Pete's Diary, it's the online companion to Dream Raider, that we have on our Johnny Marsh website. The Idea was first put to me by Anthony, (Ant) my business partner. After getting the website off the ground he was looking for things to fill it up and pad it out. Ant wanted something unique and something that would grab the readers and keep them coming back. He put the idea to me and I loved it, so together we hatched which character should write the diary, what would it's content be and how much of the storyline we could give away without spoiling the book.
I really wanted it to be an authentic looking diary that a teenager would write so it should be scrappy, since no one else is supposed to read it. It doesn't matter about neatness or spelling or punctuation. So it's full or errors and missing words and bad spelling. It's not a stretch for me to write like that believe me. And while we're on the subject, yes I hand write them myself. We thought in the beginning that it was a good Idea and we have been proved right, it is the most popular spot on our website.
Ant also saw the potential and made sure it had a nice home, so he took time to craft a beautiful page for it with Pete's glasses resting at the top of the page, some tea cup rings, and a pen under the diary. Plus he used some scraps of paper to click on to go from page to page. They are also my hand writing. (It's very lucky that my own handwriting is extremely scrappy.)
We now have over twenty entries in the diary and it's growing. Because the story is centered around Johnny Marsh, people are finding it interesting seeing things from Pete's perspective. You get to see another angle of Dream Raider and the fans like that. They like it that Pete talks about a girl he likes, or of his own fears about a certain situation. I guess most of the readers also like Pete and feel he deserves more book time and this is a perfect way to enter his little piece of Dream Raider.
I really wanted it to be an authentic looking diary that a teenager would write so it should be scrappy, since no one else is supposed to read it. It doesn't matter about neatness or spelling or punctuation. So it's full or errors and missing words and bad spelling. It's not a stretch for me to write like that believe me. And while we're on the subject, yes I hand write them myself. We thought in the beginning that it was a good Idea and we have been proved right, it is the most popular spot on our website.
Ant also saw the potential and made sure it had a nice home, so he took time to craft a beautiful page for it with Pete's glasses resting at the top of the page, some tea cup rings, and a pen under the diary. Plus he used some scraps of paper to click on to go from page to page. They are also my hand writing. (It's very lucky that my own handwriting is extremely scrappy.)
We now have over twenty entries in the diary and it's growing. Because the story is centered around Johnny Marsh, people are finding it interesting seeing things from Pete's perspective. You get to see another angle of Dream Raider and the fans like that. They like it that Pete talks about a girl he likes, or of his own fears about a certain situation. I guess most of the readers also like Pete and feel he deserves more book time and this is a perfect way to enter his little piece of Dream Raider.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Touching Lives
I remember the excitement of putting my ideas down for the first time and wondering if I really had it in me to finish my first story. Johnny Marsh, Monster Hunter. Yep that was Dream Raiders first title. It started out as a project very much for myself, A hobby, after all it was only going to be about fifteen thousand words long. As I wrote, the characters and the story grew, then ran ahead of me, I was truly unable to catch up at times. It soon became obvious that these characters would demand another story, another book was in the planning stages, long before I had finished the first.
Something happened the day I became a writer. I changed, I had that moment, the moment we all hear about, the moment where you realise that you have just hit a major turning point in your life and you don't ever want to go back. At that stage of my life I was healing, writing it seems was my therapy. Fifteen years have now passed since that day and I had no idea at all about what was in store for me through all that time. I simply thought that I would write my stories, get them published and give up Construction work forever. WRONG!!!
It has been tough, exciting, fun and frustrating, but the one constant that made me push on, was the fact that I was touching lives. Everywhere I go and every chance I get I talk about my work...my real work. I can see the spark light up in peoples eyes when I talk about my books and the journey I'm now on. I can see them searching, looking deep within themselves. Wondering whatever happened to their dreams. Is that you? Do you ever wonder where your dreams went? Perhaps like most people these days they are buried, buried deep under your mortgage. Or more likely, buried under your day job.
I asked myself the other day, how many people have come up to me in the thirty three years I've been in construction, just to say, "The plastering you have done has inspired me to follow my dream."
Yeah Right! But my books are another story all together. I can make a difference, I can touch your very soul with my words. I have been told that Manjucus the soul stealer in Dream Raider is scary, creepy and downright nasty. Some people despise him. I think that is so cool, that a character I made up can evoke strong feelings in my readers. It means I'm touching them. Whether I inspire, or whether I instill mistrust, it means I'm touching lives and my stories will live on, to be discussed well into the future.
To live and work uninspired is a crime. A crime against you very soul.
Something happened the day I became a writer. I changed, I had that moment, the moment we all hear about, the moment where you realise that you have just hit a major turning point in your life and you don't ever want to go back. At that stage of my life I was healing, writing it seems was my therapy. Fifteen years have now passed since that day and I had no idea at all about what was in store for me through all that time. I simply thought that I would write my stories, get them published and give up Construction work forever. WRONG!!!
It has been tough, exciting, fun and frustrating, but the one constant that made me push on, was the fact that I was touching lives. Everywhere I go and every chance I get I talk about my work...my real work. I can see the spark light up in peoples eyes when I talk about my books and the journey I'm now on. I can see them searching, looking deep within themselves. Wondering whatever happened to their dreams. Is that you? Do you ever wonder where your dreams went? Perhaps like most people these days they are buried, buried deep under your mortgage. Or more likely, buried under your day job.
I asked myself the other day, how many people have come up to me in the thirty three years I've been in construction, just to say, "The plastering you have done has inspired me to follow my dream."
Yeah Right! But my books are another story all together. I can make a difference, I can touch your very soul with my words. I have been told that Manjucus the soul stealer in Dream Raider is scary, creepy and downright nasty. Some people despise him. I think that is so cool, that a character I made up can evoke strong feelings in my readers. It means I'm touching them. Whether I inspire, or whether I instill mistrust, it means I'm touching lives and my stories will live on, to be discussed well into the future.
To live and work uninspired is a crime. A crime against you very soul.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Edit
Apart from the horrendous natural disasters to hit Queensland this year, things do seem to be looking up. I am talking on a personal level here. The decision to independently publish our next book looks like a winner all round. We have embarked on the editing journey at the moment. With a huge part of the whole journey behind us, now we can look back and see further ahead. (I hope that makes sense) We have made some firm friendships along the way, that enable us to deal with people we know we can trust. That's a big thing when you step out into the big bad world alone.
Everywhere I turn these days I have good people watching my back. I know that if I do fall there will be many hands to help me up again, and even more encouraging words of support. I feel that the next book in the Johnny Marsh series will please the ever expanding group of readers that already have a copy on their bookshelves. I'm getting good vibes off it from people who are reading it in it's current form.
It's strange because it's been a while since I finished it. I remember at the time stressing about it being the follow up in the series and worrying whether it was worthy. I read it today with a confident eye. I must admit there are a couple of places where I think to myself. Wow! Did I write that? I'm not trying to sell anyone the book here and now. I just want you all to know that I write these as much for myself as I do for my readers. That's no lie. It's simply, the truth.
I was a late starter when it came to reading and writing. One of the thing's I remember thinking while reading other peoples novels, was, these books are great, but they're so predictable. I could see closed doors everywhere in the stories and wondered why the authors never opened them. In my stories there are open doors everywhere and I trust my imagination, so watch out for the next Johnny Marsh book, we hope to have it to you real soon. I promise you will be the first to know.
Everywhere I turn these days I have good people watching my back. I know that if I do fall there will be many hands to help me up again, and even more encouraging words of support. I feel that the next book in the Johnny Marsh series will please the ever expanding group of readers that already have a copy on their bookshelves. I'm getting good vibes off it from people who are reading it in it's current form.
It's strange because it's been a while since I finished it. I remember at the time stressing about it being the follow up in the series and worrying whether it was worthy. I read it today with a confident eye. I must admit there are a couple of places where I think to myself. Wow! Did I write that? I'm not trying to sell anyone the book here and now. I just want you all to know that I write these as much for myself as I do for my readers. That's no lie. It's simply, the truth.
I was a late starter when it came to reading and writing. One of the thing's I remember thinking while reading other peoples novels, was, these books are great, but they're so predictable. I could see closed doors everywhere in the stories and wondered why the authors never opened them. In my stories there are open doors everywhere and I trust my imagination, so watch out for the next Johnny Marsh book, we hope to have it to you real soon. I promise you will be the first to know.
Monday, January 10, 2011
A Brand New Year.
Something about last year still sends a shiver down my spine. I'm glad we've seen the back of it to be honest. There is a certain sense of optimism in the air that wasn't present last year. I hope it lasts and that everybody benefits from that optimism.
I'm about to embark on the next step in my life's journey. We have set the wheels in motion for the next book to be published in the Dream Raider series. It's in the capable hands of my editor as we speak. I have to admit I love the editing part. It's like watching a beautiful flower open. It's not until it's open fully that you see it's true beauty. I can't wait for that moment.
I'm about to embark on the next step in my life's journey. We have set the wheels in motion for the next book to be published in the Dream Raider series. It's in the capable hands of my editor as we speak. I have to admit I love the editing part. It's like watching a beautiful flower open. It's not until it's open fully that you see it's true beauty. I can't wait for that moment.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Apathy
I don't know what it is at the moment but there is a certain sense of apathy about me just now. I can't get into the swing of things. Since I was forced to have a break from work for a month without pay due to lack of work, I seem to have started coming apart at the seams. It all just gets to hard at the moment. I'm back at work now but it feels like the world changed in that month I was away and now I have to find my niche again. It all feels too daunting.
Life can be a cruel mother, always when you feel you have a handle on it, the handle breaks. If your lucky, you only get skinned knees but mostly of course you come off worse than that. I feel like that at the moment, it could just be that 2010 was a crap year and I'm feeling the effects of the fallout from it. I have seen the results of the GFC, we may not have had a recession here in oz but the ripple effect is present for all to see and to feel. Sometimes you know when you've had enough don't you.
Life can be a cruel mother, always when you feel you have a handle on it, the handle breaks. If your lucky, you only get skinned knees but mostly of course you come off worse than that. I feel like that at the moment, it could just be that 2010 was a crap year and I'm feeling the effects of the fallout from it. I have seen the results of the GFC, we may not have had a recession here in oz but the ripple effect is present for all to see and to feel. Sometimes you know when you've had enough don't you.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Body Jump Prologue Revisited.
A couple of months back I posted the Body Jump prologue. Now I love this story and the characters in it. Since its first posting it has been worked and reworked again & again, so now I can put up the final edit, this is what you will read when it comes out in hard copy or E format. A big thanks once again to Maggie Anderson for her unwavering help and support with this, as well as her belief in Body Jump
Body Jump Prologue
By K.E.Vee ©
It’s the smell. It hits like a fist in the face. The pungent stench of death is overwhelming. Susan Claw braces herself. She’d mastered the stomach clenching phase a few years ago, but the sickening smell is the one thing she can’t get accustomed to. A uniformed Sergeant leads Susan to the apartment where Bryce is already working the scene. The cop hesitates at the open door. The putrid smell of rotting flesh wafting into the hallway is enough to turn his stomach, although he's a seasoned cop and has seen his fair share of murder victims, he doesn't want to see what’s waiting for the detective in that bedroom.
Susan had just opened a bottle of Shiraz and was about to step into a long, hot bubble bath when the call came through. She stared at the phone willing it to stop ringing. The caller ID displayed “Bryce,” and she knew she had to answer it and what it would mean. Susan could sense the desperation in the ring tone. Sighing heavily and wrinkling up her nose, she snatched up the phone.
‘What have you got for me, Jim?’ She tilts her head back and closes her eyes as he gives her news she’s been dreading. ‘Shit! I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
This memory plays out in her mind as she steps through the bedroom doorway. The bizarre sadomasochistic room screams depravity—one wall lined with sex toys and whips, while chains with a neck cuff and shackles hang from the ceiling.
Bryce is hunched over the body shaking his head. His eyes wander unsure of where they should rest. The rotting corpse of a young woman is tied to the bed like an X. Under his breath he mutters, ‘How could you let this happen to you?’ Several flies take flight as he leans closer to examine the mutilation. Their buzzing around the body is a real violation as far as Bryce is concerned. It sickens him. He looks over the disturbing scene and sighs heavily.
Movement catches his eye. Her top lip is twitching. He narrows his eyes in disbelief and stares at her mouth, which is encrusted with dried blood and saliva. A fly squeezes through her parted lips and zips away. Fuck! Bryce thinks. As if this poor girl hasn’t been through enough.
Susan approaches her partner. ‘Good God, Jim.’
‘I know. It just keeps getting worse, doesn’t it?’ He exhales deeply. ‘Why would you ever have a need to flay someone…alive?’
‘Do we know that for certain?’
‘Forensics hasn’t arrived yet, but that’s what it looks like to me. Look at the bindings where she’s been tied to the bed, she’s pulled at them so hard the silk has embedded into her skin. I can only assume he removed her hands and feet for trophies. I’m hoping she was dead at this point. Lack of blood seems to suggest it. Could be the bindings acted as tourniquets.’
Susan looks intently. ‘It’s possible, but I sure as hell hope not.’
‘Is this our guy? I mean it sort of looks like his MO, but none of the previous victims were flayed. Body parts missing, yeah, but certainly not flayed.’
Susan is consumed with what she sees and doesn’t look up. ‘Not sure, Jim, it could be.’
‘Shit, Sue…it looks like he’s used a saw to take off her hands and feet.’
‘Yeah,’ she says, taking a closer look. ‘I’d go with a hacksaw. What was her name?’
‘Elizabeth Paula Jenkins, but everyone called her Liz. Age 32.’
Visions flash through Jim Bryce’s mind. The frantic scenes rush into his head, blindsiding him— Liz struggling, pulling at the red silk, restraining her to the wooden four poster bed. The glint of steel plunged repeatedly into her convulsing body. Bryce can only imagine this woman’s suffering. Thank God we can’t feel her pain. His thoughts return to the blood spattered walls and what forensics would make of it all. It wasn’t the same knife that opened her up, he notes. A long blade would have caught the internal organs. It was a short bladed knife, something more akin to a builder’s utility knife, the kind that has a disposable blade. That means the killer came prepared and it was premeditated.
Bryce hopes she was dead before she was cut open and hacked up. He could only imagine the thought of her being alive while the knife sliced through the skin and muscle of her stomach, cutting a trail to her sternum where it stuck in the bone. He winces, drawing air through his teeth, and tries to dislodge the thought. All of a sudden, he hears it, starting at the back of his mind and working its way forward, demanding his attention - he can hear the grating of a saw drawn back and forth through bone. He wants to cover his ears but it wouldn’t make any difference, the teeth-jarring sound won’t stop until the hands and feet drop off. It’s a horrible mutilation, one of the worst Bryce has ever seen. And he’s seen a lot of them.
There’s no sign of the knives or a hacksaw anywhere. Both cops try to come to terms with the gruesome scene. They can see this is a young woman, but with no hands, feet or eyes it is hard to register that right now.
‘How long do you think it would take to remove the hands and feet?’
Susan looks up not really wanting to. ‘Not long. Have you ever used a hack saw?’
‘No...I’m not what you’d call a handy man.’
‘A few years ago, I was on a similar case. It turned out to be a hacksaw job. The coroner cut through a pig’s foreleg to get an idea of how long it would take. I was invited along to watch the test. It took less than a minute to make four complete cuts through flesh and bone. I tried it myself, it was unnerving how fast the hacksaw blade ripped through the bones, in fact it was sickeningly quick.
‘Less than a minute? You’re shitting me.’
Susan nodded. ‘I know, scary isn’t it. To think a body can be cut up in less than twenty minutes.’
Bryce reckons he could do without that sort of knowledge, but understands why the research is needed. These days it appears to be more the norm, mutilated corpses stuffed into every corner and crevice. What the hell happened to the days when murders were clean for Gods sake. He concentrates on the blank eye sockets staring up at him. If the eyes are the windows to the soul, where is her soul now?
The detectives stand at the bloody bedside in silence, until Susan turns to Bryce and says, ‘Where the hell do we start?’
Body Jump Prologue
By K.E.Vee ©
It’s the smell. It hits like a fist in the face. The pungent stench of death is overwhelming. Susan Claw braces herself. She’d mastered the stomach clenching phase a few years ago, but the sickening smell is the one thing she can’t get accustomed to. A uniformed Sergeant leads Susan to the apartment where Bryce is already working the scene. The cop hesitates at the open door. The putrid smell of rotting flesh wafting into the hallway is enough to turn his stomach, although he's a seasoned cop and has seen his fair share of murder victims, he doesn't want to see what’s waiting for the detective in that bedroom.
Susan had just opened a bottle of Shiraz and was about to step into a long, hot bubble bath when the call came through. She stared at the phone willing it to stop ringing. The caller ID displayed “Bryce,” and she knew she had to answer it and what it would mean. Susan could sense the desperation in the ring tone. Sighing heavily and wrinkling up her nose, she snatched up the phone.
‘What have you got for me, Jim?’ She tilts her head back and closes her eyes as he gives her news she’s been dreading. ‘Shit! I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
This memory plays out in her mind as she steps through the bedroom doorway. The bizarre sadomasochistic room screams depravity—one wall lined with sex toys and whips, while chains with a neck cuff and shackles hang from the ceiling.
Bryce is hunched over the body shaking his head. His eyes wander unsure of where they should rest. The rotting corpse of a young woman is tied to the bed like an X. Under his breath he mutters, ‘How could you let this happen to you?’ Several flies take flight as he leans closer to examine the mutilation. Their buzzing around the body is a real violation as far as Bryce is concerned. It sickens him. He looks over the disturbing scene and sighs heavily.
Movement catches his eye. Her top lip is twitching. He narrows his eyes in disbelief and stares at her mouth, which is encrusted with dried blood and saliva. A fly squeezes through her parted lips and zips away. Fuck! Bryce thinks. As if this poor girl hasn’t been through enough.
Susan approaches her partner. ‘Good God, Jim.’
‘I know. It just keeps getting worse, doesn’t it?’ He exhales deeply. ‘Why would you ever have a need to flay someone…alive?’
‘Do we know that for certain?’
‘Forensics hasn’t arrived yet, but that’s what it looks like to me. Look at the bindings where she’s been tied to the bed, she’s pulled at them so hard the silk has embedded into her skin. I can only assume he removed her hands and feet for trophies. I’m hoping she was dead at this point. Lack of blood seems to suggest it. Could be the bindings acted as tourniquets.’
Susan looks intently. ‘It’s possible, but I sure as hell hope not.’
‘Is this our guy? I mean it sort of looks like his MO, but none of the previous victims were flayed. Body parts missing, yeah, but certainly not flayed.’
Susan is consumed with what she sees and doesn’t look up. ‘Not sure, Jim, it could be.’
‘Shit, Sue…it looks like he’s used a saw to take off her hands and feet.’
‘Yeah,’ she says, taking a closer look. ‘I’d go with a hacksaw. What was her name?’
‘Elizabeth Paula Jenkins, but everyone called her Liz. Age 32.’
Visions flash through Jim Bryce’s mind. The frantic scenes rush into his head, blindsiding him— Liz struggling, pulling at the red silk, restraining her to the wooden four poster bed. The glint of steel plunged repeatedly into her convulsing body. Bryce can only imagine this woman’s suffering. Thank God we can’t feel her pain. His thoughts return to the blood spattered walls and what forensics would make of it all. It wasn’t the same knife that opened her up, he notes. A long blade would have caught the internal organs. It was a short bladed knife, something more akin to a builder’s utility knife, the kind that has a disposable blade. That means the killer came prepared and it was premeditated.
Bryce hopes she was dead before she was cut open and hacked up. He could only imagine the thought of her being alive while the knife sliced through the skin and muscle of her stomach, cutting a trail to her sternum where it stuck in the bone. He winces, drawing air through his teeth, and tries to dislodge the thought. All of a sudden, he hears it, starting at the back of his mind and working its way forward, demanding his attention - he can hear the grating of a saw drawn back and forth through bone. He wants to cover his ears but it wouldn’t make any difference, the teeth-jarring sound won’t stop until the hands and feet drop off. It’s a horrible mutilation, one of the worst Bryce has ever seen. And he’s seen a lot of them.
There’s no sign of the knives or a hacksaw anywhere. Both cops try to come to terms with the gruesome scene. They can see this is a young woman, but with no hands, feet or eyes it is hard to register that right now.
‘How long do you think it would take to remove the hands and feet?’
Susan looks up not really wanting to. ‘Not long. Have you ever used a hack saw?’
‘No...I’m not what you’d call a handy man.’
‘A few years ago, I was on a similar case. It turned out to be a hacksaw job. The coroner cut through a pig’s foreleg to get an idea of how long it would take. I was invited along to watch the test. It took less than a minute to make four complete cuts through flesh and bone. I tried it myself, it was unnerving how fast the hacksaw blade ripped through the bones, in fact it was sickeningly quick.
‘Less than a minute? You’re shitting me.’
Susan nodded. ‘I know, scary isn’t it. To think a body can be cut up in less than twenty minutes.’
Bryce reckons he could do without that sort of knowledge, but understands why the research is needed. These days it appears to be more the norm, mutilated corpses stuffed into every corner and crevice. What the hell happened to the days when murders were clean for Gods sake. He concentrates on the blank eye sockets staring up at him. If the eyes are the windows to the soul, where is her soul now?
The detectives stand at the bloody bedside in silence, until Susan turns to Bryce and says, ‘Where the hell do we start?’
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