WWIV Book 1

FOUR WWIV Books are now available on Amazon.
Click here for more information.

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

This week - a Guest Blogger

This week I invited my friend, Bella Harte, to post something dystopian for our consideration. Graciously, she accepted my invite and gives us the post below.

Bella is a fellow self-published author and blogger from England. She, being the wonderful person she is, hosted a blog post about my first novel (WWIV - In The Beginning) several months ago and I wanted to return the favor.

Thank you Bella for posting here today. So without further babbling on my part, here is Bella's post, and further below is additional information regarding Bella.

My Thoughts on the Dystopian Genre

When first asked to write about my thoughts of dystopian literature, I thought 'oh heck I know nothing about this subject whatsoever,' as I mainly write novels for the paranormal genre.   But I’ve pondered on it a lot over the last few weeks and came to realise that I have actually read quite a few dystopian novels in recent years, mainly of the YA [Young Adult] genre as that’s who I write for.    A lot of you will have heard of The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins - Divergent by Veronica Roth - The Selection by Kiera Cass - Legend by Marie Lu.  These are just a tiny, minuscule offering of what’s available to read in this category right now.  In fact my host today writes adult dystopian novels.

So while I was contemplating several of these fab novels, I recognised that this type of literature is actually my next most popular after the paranormal genre.  However, I’ve always been drawn to the sci-fi vibe since being very young and the dystopian novels appeal to me in a similar way.

In science fiction there are the coolest gadgets and all manner of wondrous technology and I really love technology but there are also aliens, good, bad and some seriously ugly, so there’s always a factor of the unknown to keep you entertained and/or scared witless.   In dystopian, things are gritty and back to basics, unlike what we recognise today, everything is dehumanised, a fight for survival on all fronts whether it be against a controlling faction or just the elements of mother nature, the outcome is still unknown and it’s that element of a real fight for survival that so riveting and compelling.

I also imagined what it would be like to live in a dehumanised society and how I would survive, as I consider myself ‘one of the last girl scouts’ so to speak.  I think I’d fair ok as today I’m already geared up with a generator, fuel supplies, wood supplies, food supplies, water, tools, equipment, a four-wheel drive vehicle with a winch, snorkel exhaust, upgraded suspension etc…  I learnt to shoot and have had weapons of various types growing up, so I’m no stranger to guns and ammo.  While this is all ok, it wouldn’t last for that long but at least I’d have a head start, a better chance than most out of the gate.  I hope I never have to experience it, to be honest I prefer to read about it from the comfort of my armchair while the TV is on softly in the background, rather than having to get the razor wire around my property and be on constant alert against whatever or whoever.

Dystopian literature gives you a taste of what life could be like from a whole new perspective, I like that a lot.  I also like the uncertainty and the need to overcome great odds in the face of greater adversity.  So now I‘ve rambled on for a while, my conclusion is this,  I really enjoy this genre, the diversity of each author, the varying view points on how things could be in these diverse times, testing humanity to the limits in all ways to better mankind or not. 

So I’ll leave you with this one liner: Keep Calm and Read Dystopian Literature [You’ll be glad you did].

Lake, thank you so much for the opportunity to be here today.

Bella Harte

Thanks Bella! Now here is some information on this exciting young paranormal author you may want to check out.

Author Bio:
Bella Harte has been writing for well over a decade, and completed several novels before deciding to go in a whole new direction and write for the Young Adult genre. More specifically the YA PNR – Young Adult Paranormal Romance category.

Her first published YA Novel is ‘Scarlett Phoenix’ - Book I in The Seraphoenix Saga, with Book II:- ‘Crimson Fire’ being scheduled for release in 2014, and Book III:- ‘Red Ashes’ for 2015.

She has also been working on two other YA PNR series:

The Angel of Death Series
 Book I – Reaper     Book II – Touched     Book III – Afterlife

Nine Lives Series
Book I – The Glaring    Book II – Midnight Calling     Book III - Hunters Moon  

Aside from writing, Bella has also worked as a fashion designer and interior designer. She lives in a quiet part of rural England with her gorgeous husband, who doesn't mind in the slightest if she vanishes for hours at a time into her writing cave.
Author Links:
LinkedIn: LinkedIn

Scarlett Phoenix Book Trailer


Thanks for reading.  Have a GREAT week!


Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Announcing the Release of Book Two in the WWIV series (and Goodreads Giveaway Contest)

WWIV - Kids at War is now available on Amazon in ebook format (for Kindle).

In case you didn't know, a Kindle reader can be downloaded to almost any software platform. This way you can read Kindle books on a tablet, an iPad, a laptop, a MacBook, or even almost any smartphone.

Click here link to purchase the book directly from Amazon. Or you can just click on the picture above. 

To enter to win a free copy of the paperback version of this novel, please see the Goodreads Book Giveaway below.

As always, thank you - everyone - for your readership and support. I am humbled each and everyday by your continued purchase of Book One (In The Beginning).

e a lake

Goodreads Book Giveaway

WWIV - Kids at War by E.A. Lake

WWIV - Kids at War

by E.A. Lake

Giveaway ends November 16, 2014.

See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.

Enter to win

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

I am no Eric Blair, but I try

Are you familiar with the writer Eric Blair? No? That's not unusual; hardly anyone recognizes this man by his real name. You see, he chose to create fiction as George Orwell, because (to paraphrase his own words) "no one would purchase anything written by Eric Blair."

Even George Orwell had his fears. Fears of writing, fears of publishing, fears of selling. Sound like you? I know it sure sounds like me. When I search deeper into Orwell's life, I find a lot of similarities to mine.

We share the same birthday

Albeit, years apart, but the same day nonetheless. Eric Blair was born in June 25, 1903 in what was known as British India at the time. He described his family, at that time, as lower-upper-middle class. I'm still not sure what that means, but it sounds similar to my birth.

I was born on June 25, 1959 is what was known as Portage, WI. In fact, it's still known as Portage and it's still in south-central-Wisconsin. At the time of my birth my mother would describe our family as upper-lower class (perhaps trending towards middle class).

Sharing a birthdate is more of a coincidence I suppose, but from high school on I've always marveled at the work of George Orwell.

We both went to college

While not a prerequisite for becoming a writer, I believe this was and is an important step for both of us. College, in my mind, is a reinforcement of your high school learning. College studies teach a person discipline; a discipline that one will use time and time again throughout their adult life.

According to what I've read, Eric Blair neglected his academic studies while at Eaton (in England). I'd like to think that I didn't neglect my studies at UW-Whitewater (in southern Wisconsin), but I know at time I had other things occupying my mind - as I'm sure we all did during our formative college years.

We both chose pen-names

I must admit that I used the same logic as Orwell in not using my real name as an author. He had actually written some in college; I, not so much. His studies focused on some of the classics. For a while he took french from renowned author Aldous Huxley.

On the other hand I studied accounting in college. My actual degree is a Bachelor of Business Administration with a Comprehensive Major in Accounting. That's kind of a mouth full; let's just agree that I'm a degreed accountant.

So we both did away with our birth names (he and I actually share the same first name - even the spelling) and chose to write under assumed identities. I don't know about him, but my logic followed this - if I crashed and burned as an author, it wouldn't be tied to my real name. Cowardly I know, but safe as well.

I've left one important item from this list: we both write/wrote dystopian. I'm nowhere near an Orwell; I have no shame in admitting that. Chances are I'll never write something as great and important as 1984. And again, I'm okay with that. If there's a list of 1 to 500,000 of great dystopian writers, George Orwell is in one of the top three spots. Me, e a lake, I may not be in the bottom three, but I'm far closer to last than first...so far.

I aspire to be as great as George Orwell, someday. I hope to grasp his understanding of our trade, the ins and outs of creating riveting novels; novels that will stand the test of time. Honestly, I know there's little chance I will ever climb as high as he, not in my lifetime at least. But that won't stop me from trying.

You see, I have one advantage over George Orwell/Eric Blair. He died January 21, 1950 at the age of 46. Some would say his best work may have lied ahead; but we'll never know. I've already reached the age of 55, some nine years Orwell's senior (when he passed away). And I have no plans on dying or halting my writing activities for many, many years.

Take a moment today and study a few of the rules (listed below) that Orwell tried to live by. He passed them along so we can all be better at what we do. And have a great week.


Six rules for writing (from Orwell):

1. Never use a metaphor, simile or other figure of speech which you are used to seeing in print.
2. Never use a long word where a short one will do.
3. If it is possible to cut a word out, always cut it out.
4. Never use the passive where you can use the active.
5. Never use a foreign phrase, a scientific word or a jargon word if you can think of an everyday English equivalent.
6. Break any of these rules sooner than say anything outright barbarous.

Wednesday, October 8, 2014

Doomed Preppers - A short story

This week's post consists of one of the first pieces I created. A short-story that would fuel my desire for dystopian and post-apocalyptic writing.

I hope you enjoy the tale; it's very short, so it should be an easy read. Comments are always welcome. Perhaps we'll even come up with an idea or two to make this into a novella.



Doomed Preppers

Four years, three months and four days. That’s how long Matt and Betsi Jones had trained for this exact situation. Long and hard they had prepared for the day that almost everyone knew would eventually come. The day the lights went out and SHTF. Matt and Betsi were well prepared for all this.
Fifty-one months and four days they had trained. Three to five mile runs morning and evening. Long weekend hikes with 50-pound packs. Sit-ups until their abdominal muscles screamed. Weight training until their arms burned and begged to stop. Swimming sessions that lasted for hours.
One thousand, five hundred and fifty-six days. That’s how long they prepped for the exact moment. They had saved money and bought extra water, extra food. They did without movies and instead bought lightweight balanced weapons. They drove older cars so they had extra money for thousands of rounds of ammunition. They used coupons for everything so they could afford their top-notch survival gear. Matt and Betsi had done without for so long because this was a time they knew they could and would survive.
Twenty-six hours. Twenty-six stinking, measly hours. That’s how long before the SHTF for Matt and Betsi. One day and two hours was as long as all their training, all their saving, all their preparing carried them. Twenty-six lousy hours.
One thousand, five hundred and sixty minutes. The exact amount of time Matt lived after the lights went out. Matt and Betsi spent the first twenty-four hours preparing for their nine-hour journey from Rochester to Newberry. Newberry, Michigan, at the far eastern, remote, desolate end of the Upper Peninsula. Newberry, their safety and refuge. Newberry, where their small cabin full of food and supplies quietly awaited their arrival. Newberry, a place Matt and Betsi would never see again.
Two hours and ten minutes. That’s where Matt’s journey in this new world ended. His trip with Betsi lasted 130 minutes. The last 130 minutes they would be together until the promised eternity brought them back forever. If Betsi had known, she would have just sat back and enjoyed Matt’s last minutes on earth. She would have studied his face, his now hardened features. She would have reminded him on a minute-by-minute basis how much she loved him, just how special he was to her.  But time doesn’t allow for rewinds.
Instead Betsi sat in the passenger seat of their 2002 Jeep Wrangler watching the road in front of them, carefully, intently. They had traveled this exact path many times. They knew every twist and turn, every hill and dale this road had to offer. Still, Betsi watched, closely. She watched for the trouble they knew they’d find. The trouble they hoped they’d beat by leaving so soon after the start. But two hours and ten minutes into their journey trouble found them.
A simple roadblock manned by six lawless men was their undoing. The blockade was strategically set just after a severe ninety-degree turn in their road. A turn that brought their vehicle speed dangerously low, less than 15 miles an hour. A turn that allowed the pirates to block them in from the front as well as the rear.
Before their vehicle was even stopped Matt had his weapon at the ready. He jumped from the driver’s side and drew a bead on the group in front of their tenuous position. Betsi watched, not breathing. Matt knew what he was doing, he was well prepared. It wasn’t until the gunshot came from behind them that Betsi even knew there were more in the rear.
Matt dropped to the ground, his last breath spent. A single man walked up and kicked his now lifeless body signifying Matt’s death for all to see. The group of ten now closed in around the idling vehicle. Betsi scrambled for her weapon but knew it was already too late. Her door torn open, and the bandits ripped Betsi from her sanctuary. Taken from the only man she had ever loved. Taken from a world that offered some safety, to a world that had none.


One single moment in time. It was just one heartbeat. One second; one fraction of a minute. Joe stared down, hidden above on the ridge twenty yards from the murder. He had only stopped to relieve his ready to burst bladder. He had seen the roadblock from above, the trap awaiting some poor unsuspecting traveler. He knew it would be trouble for someone but not for him. Now he stared at the scene - the gunman, the dead husband, the screaming woman, the rough group. Joe frowned and shook his head ever so slightly.
He’d been walking for six hours. He still wasn’t sure where he was going, where he should be going. He just knew he had to get away from trouble, trouble that would follow when the SHTF. This was the exact trouble he’d wanted to avoid…desperately. But one single moment in time had changed all that.
Jesuit Brother Joseph Clower rose slowly from his secluded squat. Business was at hand, business he knew he had to attend to promptly. This is why God had sent him to this place, at this exact moment in time.