Showing posts with label Code of Darkness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Code of Darkness. Show all posts

Saturday, June 30, 2012

Spotlighted Author Chris Lindberg Shares More About Writing on Last Day at BRH...


Which comes first: character or story?
 
By Chris Lindberg 



Every author has a different way he or she goes about building their novel.  It’s a brick-by-brick process, after all.  You start with the story arc as foundation, then take the raw materials of character, scene, detail, and dialogue … then bond them together with the mortar of storyline and plot twist, and at that point, you have most of what can be called a novel.  (After that, the real work of editing and revising begins, but that’s an entirely different story.)  

A common question writers often ask (and get asked) is: where do you start?  Most of the time, we start with one of two elements: character or concept.  In the case of character, you somehow get an idea for a character in your head, and decide they are fascinating enough to build an entire story around.  Think Harry Potter, Batman, or Jason Bourne as a few examples.  In the case of concept, you dream up a high concept for a story, build a storyline, and weave in characters that will push the story along.  Think “Twilight”, “The Hunger Games”, or pretty much all Dan Brown novels. 

Again, each writer’s method is different.  Some probably switch back and forth.  When I began writing my debut novel, Code of Darkness, it actually began as an entirely different concept (and too long to talk about here).  But I opened it up with a character whom I found fascinating: an alienated, weaponized young man, with a chemical imbalance baked into his altered DNA that makes him want to do very bad things.  He becomes a vigilante in order to channel that fury into his own brand of justice, but he has inner demons to battle.  And unknown to anyone, there are others out there like him … 

While working on this first draft of Code of Darkness, I also spent time doing character studies, to broaden my comfort level with writing different kinds of characters.  In this process I created many new possibilities, including a widowed Chicago cop, and a small-town social worker who’d recently moved to her new home in the big city.  After writing a few short stories about both characters, I decided to retool Code of Darkness into more of a modern thriller, with these three characters (vigilante, cop, social worker) as the foundation.  I began revising the story to include them from the beginning.  The cop could be on the vigilante’s case, closing in to make the arrest.  The small-town social worker could provide his moral compass, and possibly be a love interest.
 
So in the case of Code of Darkness, I switched mid-stream, starting off with a concept, but then scrapping that original concept and building a better one, based on the characters I’d created. I’d love to hear how any of you built your stories – did you start with character or concept?  Leave a comment below!  

Trimming Down: to cut or not to cut?  
One Author’s Experience 


Quite awhile ago, I began writing the main character for what is now my novel Code of Darkness: a mysterious loner-turned-vigilante known only by the name Rage.  I had recently graduated from college, was living in the suburbs with my parents, and commuting on a train to downtown Chicago.  I decided the train would be my “writing studio.” 

I remember coming up with that first line: “Rage walked into the shadowy bar with one thing in mind: vengeance.”  The line contained a lot of angst, energy, and foreshadowing for what would be the first chapter of my writing life.  I wrote the chapter in a few days, happy with the result, and moved on to write other chapters, getting about a hundred pages into it. 

About a year later I moved downtown, and suddenly found a lot of other things to do with my time.  Without the long commute to give me a “studio” in which to write, the book project was tabled for a long time. 
Five years ago, I moved back out to the suburbs and started a family.  I was back on the train, so I thought I’d try picking up where I’d left off.  I found the old manuscript and began to put down new material.  But I decided to go an entirely new direction.  I scrapped old characters and storylines, and wove in new ones: a Chicago cop, a rogue NSA agent, a government conspiracy.  My goal was to make the story more of a page-turning thriller. 

But through all the changes, the chapters that centered around Rage stayed mostly intact.  That first chapter, the one in which I’d first introduced him, and most importantly that first line, was always going to be my starting point, I’d decided. 

I finished the novel at a whopping 198,000 words.  Yes – 198,000.  I was advised to get it down to about half that.  Half my creation was going to be on the chopping block?  No way was I going to do that.
 
But it quickly became clear that I was going to have to.  So I began removing chapters, storylines, characters.  In some cases I was simply trimming fat.  Two revisions later, at 123,000 words, I discovered an angle that would probably cut another ten to fifteen thousand words easily: introduce the three main characters together in the same chapter, putting them in a perilous situation that would set the tone for the book.  The problem with this was, what would this mean for my cherished original starting point?
 
I tried to find another home for it: the second chapter, maybe later in the story, but nothing worked.  It just didn’t fit into the story anymore.  And the problem was, the new first chapter didn’t just cut the word count, it also gave the story a much better starting point.
 
So after much deliberation, I said goodbye to that original first chapter, and my story became a thousand times better for it.  It will always have a home in the first draft of Code of Darkness, and if enough people are interested, maybe I’ll post it on my blog someday. 
So now you now the rest of the story.  I’d be curious to know what all your experiences were with your first novel: how long the first draft was, did you cut anything, and if so how much … and most importantly, what was the biggest or most difficult change you made? 
_____  
Chris Lindberg’s first novel, Code of Darkness, was released in August.  You can find out more by visiting www.codeofdarkness.com, or visiting Facebook and searching on “code of darkness.” 
To purchase Code of Darkness in paperback or e-book edition, please check out: http://www.lulu.com/browse/search.php?fListingClass=0&fSearch=code+of+darkness
Or search “code of darkness” on Amazon or BN.com. 

You can also email him at chris@codeofdarkness.com – he’d love to hear from you. 

Have you read Code of Darkness yet? If not, clicked over to my review and find out more about it!

It was great having Chris share what happened while he was writing his first novel, don't you think? But even after all the advice...hey, I think I'm just going to continue reading all those great novels that you writers produce! Much more fun and NO frustration about changing, cutting down, whatever! LOL

Chris, thanks for visiting Book Reader's Heaven!lated articles
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Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Chris Lindberg Asks Writers: What's Your Sources of Inspiration?

English: Collage of photos of authors
English: Collage of photos of authors (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Sources of Inspiration: 

Authors or No Authors? 
(Comments Wanted) 
By Chris Lindberg 


A pretty common question for a writer is “what authors have inspired you?”  It’s actually a great question, since all writers’ styles and works are somehow related to one another: inspiration is what ties us all together. 

However, I am probably the odd person out here, but I’d have to say the majority of my inspiration doesn’t come from other authors at all.  Now, before you dismiss this crazy notion and close your browser window on me, please allow me just one more paragraph to make some sense here. 

Sure, I get inspired by good writing: Franzen, McCarthy, and others.  But reading the works of the best authors makes you want to continue to develop your prose, and take your writing to another level.  Will most of us get there?  No, not even close.  But it’s something to aspire to, and that pushes us along as writers. 

Now on the flip side, I’m also inspired by not-so-good writing (I won’t name names here, since good vs bad writing is clearly subjective): it gives me confidence to think that if some authors can make a living putting out that stuff, maybe my work just needs to catch the right set of eyes, and I’ll get a lucky break, too.  

But really, what inspires me more than any other authors’ works, is the stuff I see and hear on an every day basis. 

What stuff, you ask?  It could be anything, really.  A conversation you overhear.  Someone wearing an odd-looking shirt, walking by on the street.  A pair of dogs playing in a field.  A cloud pattern in the sky.  See?  Anything, really.  It just has to resonate with me: capture my attention for a split-second, and start a train of thought in my mind that turns into a scene, storyline, or character interaction.  And something I see or hear will likely only inspire me, not another writer; just like what another author sees may put a thought in his or her head that would never occur to me. 

And that’s what really inspires me as a writer, more than anything else.  What about you, is your main source of inspiration other authors, or something entirely different too? 
_____  
Chris Lindberg’s first novel, Code of Darkness, was released in August.  You can find out more by visiting www.codeofdarkness.com, or visiting Facebook and searching on “code of darkness.” 
To purchase Code of Darkness in paperback or e-book edition, please check out: http://www.lulu.com/browse/search.php?fListingClass=0&fSearch=code+of+darkness
Or search “code of darkness” on Amazon or BN.com. 
You can also email him at chris@codeofdarkness.com – he’d love to hear from you. 


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Saturday, June 23, 2012

Last Chance to Read Excerpt of Code of Darkness!


Book Excerpt – 
Code of Darkness 
by Chris Lindberg
Chapter 12 

Deep within the Pentagon, Edward Armstrong was making edits to a border defense plan when his secretary buzzed him. 

“What is it, Marlene,” he exhaled, setting down the red-ink pen. 
“A General Dunlap here to see you, sir,” the voice replied through the speakerphone. 
“Hmm,” Armstrong paused, stroking his chin.  “All right then, send him in,” he finally said, stacking the papers strewn across his desk and setting them in his inbox. 
The heavy steel door opened, ushering in the tall, broad frame of General Jack Dunlap.  He was dressed in full uniform as always, presenting the many service marks and medals packed tightly across his lapels.  His clean-shaven, bald head and neatly trimmed mustache belied his gray, bushy eyebrows.  A thirty-year Marine veteran and decorated war hero, Dunlap had been Armstrong’s acquaintance since the Somalian missions they’d worked on together some fifteen years before, when Armstrong had been a military strategist, and Dunlap a Lieutenant.  Now heading up the Pentagon’s special task forces unit, Dunlap was viewed by many as next in line for promotion to Joint Chiefs. 
Armstrong rose to greet him, then motioned for him to have a seat. 
“Edward,” Dunlap said, nodding as he sat down. 
“Jack,” Armstrong replied.  “Haven’t seen you since the North Korea debrief in December.  How’s the family?” 
“Good, Edward, good,” Dunlap said, a look on his face Armstrong couldn’t identify.  He appeared ready to speak when Armstrong cut in. 
“So, what can I do for you?” he said curiously. 
“Edward,” Dunlap began.  “One of the men under my command was recently tapped for a top-secret operation within our borders.  Colonel Nolan Hayes.  I was wondering if you knew anything about it.” 
Armstrong paused, leaning back in his chair. 
“I might,” he answered carefully, folding his hands together. 
“Don’t play games,” Dunlap said sharply.  “You either know or you don’t.” 
“I do,” Armstrong admitted. 
“What are you doing running an operation within the homeland?” Dunlap questioned.  “Is this in a civilian environment?” 
“Jack, as you’ve already said,” Armstrong replied.  “It’s top secret.  I’m prohibited from speaking about it.” 
“But Hayes,” Dunlap pressed.  “He’s one of my men.  Why didn’t you come to me first?  At least for a POV?  Do you understand the implications of deploying him inside our borders?” 
“We’ve read the file on him, yes,” Armstrong answered.  “He’s the perfect fit for this mission.” 
“He’s also extremely dangerous,” Dunlap shot back, leaning forward.  “Placing him in a civilian atmosphere puts us at incredible risk.” 
“We know what we’re doing,” Armstrong said flatly.  “His skills make him the only one who can carry out the operation the way it needs to be done.” 
“Edward, listen to me,” Dunlap said, his tone urgent.  “If it’s not too late already, you need to pull the plug, now.  Hayes should only be deployed in hot zones, deep behind enemy borders, on the other side of the world.  There are plenty of those missions to keep him busy.  Under no circumstances should he be anywhere near U.S. civilians, innocents, or even cameras, for that matter.”  
“Jack, I don’t understand,” Armstrong said, flabbergasted.  “He’s the best soldier this country has; a decorated war hero, just like yourself.” 
“He’s the best soldier we have,” Dunlap said.  “Because he is a killing machine.  Yes, he’s killed a lot of our most dangerous enemies.  Hundreds, maybe a thousand.  But there have also been scores of civilian casualties, even American soldiers.” 
“That’s part of war,” Armstrong said.  “You know that.” 
“Not this way,” Dunlap countered.  “He has no regard for human life.  Any human life.  If you could only see what I’ve seen, you’d understand.” 
“Jack,” Armstrong said, “I hate to put this argument to bed.  But it’s a moot point.  The field leg of the mission began several days ago, without incident, I might add.  The SRC created an antidote to his condition.  To control these … urges he has.” 
“Antidote?” Dunlap asked curiously. 
“Yes,” Armstrong answered.  “There’s a shot; he injects himself twice a day.” 
Dunlap paused, an almost hopeful expression on his face, as if he wanted nothing more than to be wrong about what he’d said.  “Has the field leg concluded?” he asked. 
“No,” Armstrong answered.  “But we’re halfway there.” 
“Then I hope you’re right; that he’s taking the meds as you say he is,” Dunlap said, standing up to leave.  “And if for any reason he stops … God help us all.” 
_____  

Chris Lindberg’s first novel, Code of Darkness, was released in August 2011.  You can find out more by visiting www.codeofdarkness.com, or visiting Facebook and searching on “code of darkness.” 

To purchase Code of Darkness in paperback or e-book edition, please search “code of darkness” on Amazon, iTunes, or BN.com. 

You can also email him at chris@codeofdarkness.com – he’d love to hear from you. 


Thursday, June 21, 2012

2 of 3 Excerpts from Code of Darkness by Chris Lindberg!


Book Excerpt: 

Code of Darkness  
by Chris Lindberg 
Chapter 5
 
Looking up from her files, Mira happened to notice the clock.  It was lunchtime already. 
It was her third day of work at the newly-opened Chicago Loop branch of Beacon Therapeutic Social Services, and Mira had been asked to lunch by her co-workers Bernice, Edna, and Kim.  Bernice was a black woman of about sixty who’d spent the past fourteen years at Beacon’s Longwood location.  She was at least six feet tall, with a lean frame and bushy gray hair that wrapped around a kind but steely face.  Wire-rimmed glasses always rested about two-thirds down the bridge of her nose. 
Edna and Kim had worked together at the Calumet Park campus.  Both lived on the north side, so they had jumped at the chance to move to the Loop location.  Edna was a witty lady whose neatly-styled white hair complemented her always-fashionable clothes, and who moved through life much faster than her short, 63-year old frame should have allowed.  Kim, considerably younger than Bernice and Edna, carried a rougher edge through her day.  Mira observed that Kim took on the most difficult cases, from child abuse to trauma.  The circles under her eyes were but one sign that her cases had taken a long-term effect on her.  She’d always schedule ten-minute intervals between clients to allow her to go outside and smoke at least two cigarettes.  “One to detox from the last meeting, one to prepare for the next,” she’d say. 
The four of them found a booth right by the front window, and consuming helpings of pad Thai and pot stickers, chatted about their new clientele. 
Mira froze in her chair, forcing a smile in response.  She fought off the hot rush of embarrassment rising in her face.  Why, she thought, did people feel the need to break the ice with her using the topic of men?  She was single, but had learned that saying so usually led to back-handed compliments (“How on earth could you be single?”), followed by the prospective introduction to someone or another.  It was flattering for a while, but even the most genuine of compliments aged quickly when repeated too often. 
“Hmm, well, why do you ask?” she smiled back at Edna, trying to hide the slight bit of frustration her expression had surely given away. 
“Oh, no reason,” Edna replied, retreating a bit, still with a genuine smile.  “I guess we were just wondering, that’s all.” 
I don’t care,” Bernice grinned at Mira, taking a sip of her iced tea. 
“I think what our friend Edna’s getting at,” Kim started, “is something about her nephew.  Isn’t that right Edna?  See, we know all about him.  I even met him myself.  Nice guy, a cop.  Low-thirties, lost his wife years ago.  Sad story.  Still, he’s handsome, nice tush.  Built like an ox, but wouldn’t hurt a fly.  So, you wanna meet him?” 
Edna flushed, taking a sip of her tea.  “Okay, something like that,” she admitted. 
After hearing about her nephew’s wife, Mira decided to humor Edna a little.  “Has he dated often since?” 
“Not a one,” Kim cut in before Edna could respond.  “Fussy one he is, if you ask me.  Or can’t move on, one or the other.” 
“Let’s give Edna a chance here,” Mira offered.  “Continue, Edna.” 
“I think,” Edna exhaled, putting her palms on the table, “that you’ve all made your point clear.  How about we change the subject?  Did you know, the city is going to offer special group therapy sessions at city hall starting week after next, paying moderators $1,000 for each course.  It runs six weeks, just two nights a week.  There are slots open if any of you girls is interested.” 
“Something to think about,” Kim sat back in her chair, “if you can’t get enough of this job during the day.  Thanks, I’ll keep my evenings to myself.” 
Bernice had started to flip through the day’s edition of the newspaper.  “Will you look at that,” she said.  “Another one of those murders.  Just like the others – gang members.  One dead, one left alive.  Guy all in black, with a ski mask.  This is like the fifth one, isn’t it?” 
“Fifth, sixth,” Kim commented passively.  “Who’s counting?” 
“It says here,” Bernice continued to read, “that in the last two cases now, the words ‘Protector of the People’ were found spray painted on the ground underneath the victims.  What do you think that means?” 
“Well, whatever it means,” Edna added, “I’m sure the police are doing their best to catch him.” 
“I suppose,” replied Bernice, scanning down the story.  “But apparently whoever it is, they’re not leaving much of a trail to follow.” 
The subject then changed to the weather and other small talk.  Soon afterwards, the four of them finished up lunch and headed back to the clinic for their afternoon appointments. 
_____  
Chris Lindberg’s first novel, Code of Darkness, was released in August 2011.  You can find out more by visiting www.codeofdarkness.com, or visiting Facebook and searching on “code of darkness.” 
To purchase Code of Darkness in paperback or e-book edition, please search “code of darkness” on Amazon, iTunes, or BN.com. 
You can also email him at chris@codeofdarkness.com – he’d love to hear from you. 

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

1 0f 3 Excerpts of Code of Darkness


Book Excerpt – 
Code of Darkness 
by Chris Lindberg
Chapter 1 

It happened on a Saturday morning, with no warning that it would change their lives forever. 

Inside the Edgewater branch of Chicago Savings and Loan, the clock on the wall had just struck nine o’clock.  The page-a-day calendar that hung next to it read March 12th.  Early spring sunshine had set the bank lobby with a soft, warming glow. 
Rage pushed through the front double-doors and entered the teller line.  There was only one window open, and he was second in line behind an elderly couple.  He’d glanced around to see a young woman had also just walked in, now behind him in line. 
Somehow, the sight of this woman got him thinking about her again; how she had died quietly just days before, in her bed just before dawn, her hollow, sad, tired eyes closing for the final time, her soft, wrinkled hand going limp in his, the sun rising emptily on the windowsill. 
A loud bang echoed through the room as the front doors burst open.  Rage looked over to see the first man club the door security guard with the butt-end of a shotgun.  The second man fired into the ceiling.  Both were wearing black stockings over their heads.  Everyone about him scattered to the floor.  The first man shouted at the teller to keep her finger off the silent alarm.  The second man fired the shotgun again, blowing to bits the teller window next to hers to make the first man’s point.  
“Everyone on the floor!” the first one shouted, waving his gun.  The second man barred the front double doors with a crowbar.  “Get down I said!” he screamed, shoving one of the bankers to the floor. 
Rage crouched down, his eyes moving to the elderly couple, huddled against each other on the floor, both terrified.  He swiveled his head back toward the woman, whose eyes met his.  Though her dangling auburn hair obscured part of her face, he could see she shared the couple’s frightened expression. 
He closed his eyes and thought about his gift. 
He had used it only once before, years ago.  Since then he’d sworn to her he would never use it to harm another. 
And this was a public place … with witnesses … 
No.  The thieves would take the money and leave. 
It was that simple.  It would be that simple. 
The first robber, the smaller of the two, pushed a large burlap sack across to the teller.  “Fill this,” he barked, pointing the gun at the terrified woman. 
The second robber kept the shotgun pointed at the group, telling everyone to stay calm, stay where they were, and it would all be over in a matter of minutes. 

Mira Givens huddled on the lobby’s tile floor, too frightened to move.  She was starting a new job on Monday, and had only come in to put in a direct deposit slip for her first paycheck.  Now she was face down on the floor, while above her men were pointing guns at her and the others around her. 
From the floor she saw the black boot of the second robber pivot in her direction.  She did not look up but imagined him looking down at her. 
She then caught the eye of the man who’d been in front of her in line, and she was briefly struck from the moment.  Aside from his rugged features and rumpled hair, his eyes were the blackest, coldest eyes she’d ever seen.  Those black eyes locked with hers, then quickly looked away.  But in that instant, in those eyes, she felt an odd calm, an inexplicable, momentary reprieve from the dire situation they were all in, as if somehow, everything would be all right. 
Her thoughts were interrupted when the black boot tapped her ribcage.  “You.  Up,” the gruff voice came from above. 

The usual Saturday morning buzz of Nick’s Diner on Chicago’s far north side was interrupted by the dispatcher’s voice crackling through the portable radio.  Seated at the counter, Lawrence Parker took the call.  A hostage situation at the Chicago Savings and Loan’s Edgewater branch.  Negotiators were being called, but since he and his partner Gino were closest to the scene, they set down their forks, flipped a pair of ten-dollar bills on the counter, and headed out the front door toward their squad car. 
Hopping into the passenger seat, Larry called in the response to dispatch, his heart hammering behind the Kevlar vest as it began to sink in.  His ten years on the force had exposed him to more shootouts, robberies, and drug busts than he’d cared to count.  But this was different.  Janna had been lost in a hostage standoff four years ago.  Two bastards, two guns.  Two seven-year-old sons left without a mother, a husband without a wife. 
As the cruiser sped eastbound, he felt his head begin to pound. 
Gino Urrutia had been Larry’s partner since his rookie days.  “Hey,” he said, glancing over at Larry from behind the wheel.  “Gonna be fine.  Standard procedure.  Hold ‘em there ‘til the negotiators arrive.  They’ll find out what these shitheads want, they free the hostages, we nail ‘em.  You know the drill.  Just follow my lead, okay?” 
Larry looked out the window at the streets moving by in a blur.  “Everything’s cool,” he said under his breath. 

As the frantic teller pulled the stacks of bills from the drawers and dropped them in the smaller man’s burlap sack, the large man kept one eye on Rage and the others. 
The teller’s drawers empty, the small man took the sack from the counter and moved toward his accomplice.  At this, the large man grabbed the young woman’s arm and pulled her up to him.  “Gimme your purse.  Now,” he said to her, then addressed everyone else.  “That goes for all o’you.  Take ‘em out, put ‘em on the floor.  Do it now.” 

Face to face with the large robber, her right wrist being held tightly, Mira handed her handbag to the man, who tossed it into the burlap sack.  The small one picked up the wallets, purses, and handbags the others had laid on the floor. 
The large man eyed Mira, a smile coming to his face.  “Lucky for you we ain’t got room for ya in the bag,” he sneered. 

The small man folded up the sack and took it under his arm, still pointing the shotgun, and nodded to his partner.  As the two men made their way toward the front doors, a screech of tires came from the front parking lot. 
“Son of a bitch, the cops!” the small man roared. 

Outside, Larry and Gino took up positions behind the squad car.  Through tinted bank windows and glaring morning sun, he made out about nine or ten figures inside.  Larry radioed in for backup, ordering units to every possible exit.  The hostage negotiators would be arriving any second. 

Inside the lobby, the small robber barked to his partner, “We gotta get outta here before they surround us.  We need leverage.  Take the broad and head for the back.” 
Cocking the shotgun, the large robber pulled Mira tight.  “Looks like you’ll be comin’ with us, after all.” 
At this Rage stood up and grabbed the large man’s forearm.  “If you’re gonna take someone, take me.” 
BANG.  The shotgun went off.  Startled by Rage’s sudden move, the large man had fired it inadvertently, right into Rage’s stomach.  The lobby seemed to freeze in time.  Rage fell backward.  The teller screamed.  The elderly woman fainted. 
“Shit!” yelled the small man.  “Head for the back, now!” 
The large man pulled Mira, squeezing her under her right arm, overpowering her struggles.  They made their way toward the rear exit as more sirens approached outside. 

Outside, Larry heard the gunfire erupt inside the bank.  Signaling to Gino, he rushed toward the back entrance, taking cover at the alley’s edge. 
The emergency exit door boomed open, and two men with black stockings over their heads emerged, the second much taller than the first.  Both were armed.  Larry pivoted into the alley entrance, his revolver pointed directly at them. 
“Freeze!” he screamed at the two men. 
Larry saw the young woman being held under the large man’s arm. 
“Drop your guns, and let the woman go,” he ordered them. 
Without warning the small man pointed the gun at Larry and fired.  From out of nowhere a third man appeared between Larry and the robber, taking the shotgun blast in his right shoulder.  In one blinding motion, the newcomer ripped the gun from the small man’s hand then spun into a kick that connected with the large man’s jaw. Larry could hear the sickening crunch as the jawbone shattered.  Completing his full spin, he rounded up on the small man and punched him square in the chest, sending him flying into a brick wall.  As the large man fell, he turned back to pull the woman free while kicking the shotgun from the robber’s limp hand. 
Larry stood there, thunderstruck.  His gun was still pointed at the spot where the two bank robbers once stood, both now lying unconscious on the worn pavement.  The intervener set the stunned woman down near the alley wall. 
The man, maybe mid-twenties, was wearing a black t-shirt and torn jeans.  Both his right shoulder and lower abdomen were bleeding, as if he’d been shot moments before also.  He wore a shocked expression, but showed not even the slightest sign of pain.  He was maybe five-foot-six, with matted black hair.  He looked down at the two unconscious bank robbers, then over to Larry, as if analyzing whether Larry would become a threat himself.  He took up the burlap sack and pulled out what looked to be a wallet, then tossed the sack in Larry’s direction.  Then, before Larry could utter a word, the man leapt all the way up onto the adjacent building’s roof, and was gone. 
_____  

Chris Lindberg’s first novel, Code of Darkness, was released in August 2011.  You can find out more by visiting www.codeofdarkness.com, or visiting Facebook and searching on “code of darkness.” 

To purchase Code of Darkness in paperback or e-book edition, please search “code of darkness” on Amazon, iTunes, or BN.com. 
You can also email him at chris@codeofdarkness.com – he’d love to hear from you.  

Saturday, June 16, 2012

BRH Welcomes Chris Lindberg - and He's Ready To Roll!


Comments Wanted!  
Ready to Roll: 
one Author’s Experience
in Self-Publishing 

By Chris Lindberg 

I’ll bet every single Indie Author has a unique story about how we came to self-publish our book, and each story has its share of highs and lows.  The first high comes at the moment you type that last line and hit "save."  You lean back from your keyboard, take a deep breath, and savor the moment, reflecting on your accomplishment -- you’ve just completed your novel, and it feels great.
 
And then the real work begins: it’s time to get your creation ready to meet the real world. 

You might edit it two, maybe three times, adjusting the word count, the story line, refining dialogue, scenes, characters.  Then, once you feel like it’s the best novel it can possibly be, you ship the concept off to the world in the form of a query letter, putting it out in front of editors and agents.  These are the people who can make your novel a reality: someday you’ll see it on bookstore shelves, newsstand racks, in the hands of people on buses, planes, and trains … and of course, on the New York Times Bestseller List.

 
Until that first rejection letter rolls in … then you feel your first real low.   The letter is polite and has a “it’s-not-you-it’s-me” tone to it, but it’s still a “no thank you.”  But it’s just one person’s opinion, so you pick yourself back up, and you eagerly await the next response, knowing the next agent will surely be smarter than the first, and see the true potential of your book.  And then the next rejection comes in, followed by another.  And then another.  And before you know it, you have a pile of letters, all saying your work isn’t quite what they’re looking for.
 
At this point do you doubt yourself, and your work?  Of course, it wouldn’t be human not to.  But luckily you’ve grown a thick skin throughout this process.  And you realize that you didn’t spend three years pouring character, detail, storyline, and scene onto a keyboard just to have a few people tell you it’s not worth bringing into the world. 

So you shake it all off, and you decide to self-publish.  After all the revisions you’ve done, you feel your novel is ready to roll.  Some people tell you not to, saying that self-publishing will place a stigma on your work, but you’re not going to be denied:  your novel is a labor of love, and it deserves to at least see the light of day, even if you’re the only one who winds up reading it. 

So you pick a self-publishing partner (Lulu, iUniverse, CreateSpace, or any number of others), and you move forward: designing a cover, formatting the copy, making final revisions.  It takes weeks, maybe months, but at the end, you’re holding your finished work in your hands, proud of your accomplishment, and ready to see if anyone else will think it’s as good as you hope they will.
 
That was my experience in getting my first novel, Code of Darkness, out there.  I’m currently working on the promotional phase right now: updating Facebook, Tweeting whatever I find worth sharing, doing a Virtual Book Tour, submitting for reviews.  And getting some nice feedback so far!
 
Now I’d like to hear from you: where are you in your publishing process, and what have your experiences been like? 
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About the Author

Chris Lindberg was born and raised outside Chicago, Illinois. After graduating from Northern Illinois University in the mid-1990s, he headed out to the west coast for a couple of years, where he began writing as a casual pastime.

Some time after returning to Chicago he began attending writers workshops at StoryStudio Chicago, where he wrote two character studies, both of which have since been developed into key characters in Code of Darkness.

Chris now lives outside Chicago with his wife Jenny and their two children, Luke and Emma. You might catch him working away on his second novel while commuting on his morning train into the city.

Chris Lindberg’s first novel, Code of Darkness, was released in August.  You can find out more by visiting www.codeofdarkness.com, or visiting Facebook and searching on “code of darkness.” 
To purchase Code of Darkness in paperback or e-book edition, please check out: http://www.lulu.com/browse/search.php?fListingClass=0&fSearch=code+of+darkness
Or search “code of darkness” on Amazon or BN.com. 

You can also email Chris at chris@codeofdarkness.com – he’d love to hear from you. 


Check out My Review! But before you do, please take the time to respond to Chris' desire to hear from YOU! You must "follow BRH" to comment - and I certainly hope you look in the right column to do that!!!!