This epublishing is a strange business. I am excited to be able to publish my stories and my books, but that's all it is. I have to admit though, I am a little disappointed. I may have had foolish notions about making some money. It is nice to be published, but some reward would also be nice. It's not happening and sometimes I wonder why I carry on. There are so many other things I'd like to do. In my younger days I used to spend most of my time either reading or drawing and I was not bad at drawing. Had I kept it up I could have made a career out of it. These days I don't draw, and I read very little. There are just not enough hours in a day to do everything. When I have time, I write. Sometimes even if I don't have time, and other things get neglected. As I said before, writing is in my blood. Stories must be told. And if a few people read them and get enjoyment out of it, then my dream is coming true. After all, what sense is it to create something and there is nobody to appreciate it?
A few days ago I received an email from Midnight Showcase that they want to publish my Anthology 'Tapestry of Dreams'. Sometime next year. I haven't heard back about the shorter novella 'Time Flares'.
I've written about 10,000 words to date on my new story 'Outpost Epsilon'. I've had it all planned inside my head, but now I'm not quite sure where exactly it will end. New ideas are popping up while I'm writing. That usually happens to me. That's why I don't get too caught up with my outlines. I know they will change. Most of the time the stories turn out longer than planned.
My story 'Orola, the Kiir' will be coming out soon from Midnight Showcase in the digest Midnight Raunch. It pushes the envelope a bit more than usual, that means more Erotica, but that's what that line demands. Hopefully, I'll have more stories published in that line. I've written a few stories featuring Orola, the Warrior Priestess. They are more 'raunchy', some of them may have to be re-written.
Here is the first chapter from 'Orola, the Kiir':
They sat unmoving among the branches of a giant Scrip-tree, the foliage hiding them from anyone looking up. There were five of them. Scruffy looking men with stoic brutal faces. Only their black eyes seemed alive as they watched the river below.
The object of their attention stood looking at the briskly flowing water.
A naked young woman. She had arrived some time earlier. After tethering her steed, she shed her rather skimpy clothing, consisting only of a short kilt, a strip of cloth to cover her pubic area and a pair of metal breast cups, hardly large enough to cover much of her ample breasts.
Testing the water with one foot, she seemed to hesitate, but then with a shrug, she dove into the water, her naked body glistening white in the midday sun.
She hit the water and one of the watchers grunted. His lips parted to reveal brown, rotten teeth. The others nodded and silently they began to move through the branches.
Climbing down on the hidden side of the thick tree trunk, they reached the soft forest floor and, without making a sound, two of them moved towards the girl’s steed. One took her clothing and the other one tried to untie the animal.
When the black coated beast snorted, the girl looked towards the commotion and called out sharply. Then she began swimming towards shore.
Letting go of the beast’s rope, the man looked at her and grinned. His companion had already disappeared.
She climbed ashore and looked at the spot where she left her clothing and her sword, realizing they were gone. “What do you want?” she demanded.
The man grinned, his eyes raking her naked form. They rested momentarily on the thick black triangle below her smooth flat belly, then moved up to her round, large breasts, his attention suddenly on the red glowing object nestled in the deep cleft between them.
“Well?” she said, staring defiantly at him.
“I want you,” he said, his voice thickly accented and his words slurred.
The girl laughed, shaking her long black hair. “You want me?” she taunted. “You and how many other men?”
Still grinning, he said, “Four.”
Hearing the breaking of a twig behind her, she turned and looked at the two men approaching her. She stepped to the side and watched them coming closer, her body suddenly falling into a fighting stance.
Noticing her position, the two men slowed, but didn’t stop. “Don’t try to fight us,” one of them said. “We are five…you are just one helpless girl.”
She took one step backwards. The jewel between her breasts pulsed with a steady rhythm. “I may be just a girl, but I’m not helpless.” She whirled with a sudden movement, her knee came up and rammed into the belly of the man who tried to sneak up on her. He howled and dropped to the ground, his hands clutching his belly.
The other two rushed her and tried to grab her arms. She hit one of them in the face with her right fist, while the ball of her foot smashed into the chest of the other one. Rolling away from them, she came up, but collapsed, as a thrown club hit the side of her head.
Welcome to my blog
Hello visitors. On my blog I'm talking about my books, but also about what I'm currently working on and, maybe, some other stuff. Browse through my posts and don't forget to check out my older posts in the archives. If you are interested in my books, please, visit my website Fictitious Tales for more information and a few excerpts. You'll find more excerpts in my old website Herbert's World. Also, take a look at my second blog Herbert Grosshans, where I talk about fun-stuff and things that concern me.