Dean F. Wilson's Blog

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Instafreebie is a website that connects readers with authors, providing sneak peeks, advanced access, special giveaways, and exclusive freebies.

November Science Fiction and Fantasy Instafreebie Mega Promo

The SFF Mega Promo, organised by Irish author Dean F. Wilson, is one of the biggest on the internet, with over 120 authors participating, giving you, the reader, the very best in speculative fiction — for free!

Here are three selected titles on offer. There are dozens to choose from!

Check out the full promo page

If that’s not enough, there are lots more books available for just 99c on Kindle on the accompanying promo page. Check them out and grab yourself a bargain.

Check out the 99c books page

Bookmark the above links. The promos will be held there each month. Check back in December for the next round!

Instafreebie is a website that connects readers with authors, providing sneak peeks, advanced access, special giveaways, and exclusive freebies.

October Science Fiction and Fantasy Instafreebie Mega Promo

The SFF Mega Promo, organised by Irish author Dean F. Wilson, is one of the biggest on the internet, with over 100 authors participating, giving you, the reader, the very best in speculative fiction — for free!

Here are three selected titles on offer. There are dozens to choose from!

Check out the full promo page

Another year, another set of writing goals. This year I’m aiming big, but I also think these goals are achievable for me. I think this is key when goal-setting. Aim high, but still within range of your arrows.

So, what are you aiming for in 2015? Aim, fire, and hit those targets!

The walls crashed down and the soldiers stormed in, replacing bricks with leather boots and stones with clenched fists. The dissonance died down, but the dust hung for endless moments, dimming the light and stinging the eyes. Yet Jacob did not need to see; he knew why they were here, what they had come for.

A figure, tall and broad, stepped into view, his hair and uniform as black as the long shadow he cast across the room. His fists were not clasped, but the anger was still there, pouring out of the cracks and crevices of his crooked face. Everyone could recognise him, even in darkness—especially in darkness. Everyone knew his name. Domas. Yet not everyone knew what he was.

“You are accused of smuggling amulets,” Domas said. He paced to and fro restlessly, until the very floor began to recognise him. The light from the oil lamp flickered on his face, creating and killing lots of little shadows. Those shadows made him look inhuman, but under any other light he looked like everybody else. Jacob remembered when he was first told about them by his father. They are like you and I. They walk among us.

“What evidence do you have?” Jacob asked, hoping they would not search the bookcase, hoping they would not scour his soul.

Domas drew close, seizing Jacob by the collar. “I don’t need evidence.”

Jacob parried Domas’ glower with his own. He felt like responding, like snapping or biting, even though he knew it would not help. It would make him feel better for the briefest of moments, and then, as the soldiers responded with their fists, it would make him feel much worse. The words of his father haunted him like a demon. In time they will replace us.

“Take him to the Hold,” Domas barked to one of his commanders. He turned to leave, but halted as something caught his eye. “Open your hand,” he ordered.

“It’s a bit late to shake it.”

“Open your hand,” Domas repeated. He did not need to give a warning. His tone gave enough.

Jacob offered his left hand, which was empty.

“A clown as well as a smuggler,” Domas said. “Your other hand.”

Jacob reluctantly loosened his grip on the tiny bag of coils he was holding, his all too meagre payment for smuggling an amulet into the city. Domas snatched it from his grasp.

“You won’t be needing this,” he said. “In the Hold, the rent is free.”

The soldiers seized Jacob and pulled him outside, where a mechanised wagon waited, one of the many vehicles the Regime used to transport its forces—and its prisoners.

In moments Jacob was hauled up and hurled into the back of the warwagon, where he banged his head against the iron walls. He heard the cogs and pistons start up, and he heard the roar of the furnace and the rhythm of the wheels.

The smell of coal and smoke filled his nostrils and seeped into his lungs, until finally he faded off into a halfway place between the waking world and dreams, where he imagined what things might have been like if the demons had not come here, if the Regime had not gained power.

Pre-order on Amazon here.

Ladesan the Magus can alter and remove memories, but not all his customers employ him for benevolent reasons.

Under the threat of exile, he is forced to help the would-be Lord of Calnibur make voters forget that they have been coerced into securing him a position of power.

The game is politics, and there are unlimited pawns in play. The board is the streets of Calnibur, and the pieces do not know that they are being moved—only that they are subjects of the Haze.

Enter the world of Iraldas. Meet the Memory Magus.

 Get it on Amazon here.

Welcome to WordPress. This is your first post. Edit or delete it, then start blogging!

This week I’m participating in the Speculative Fiction Blog Hop, with thanks to Sheila Guthrie for organising things. Before I begin, make sure to check out last week’s post by Carole McDonnell, author of Wind Follower.

And now to answer some questions about my writing process.

What am I working on?

I just finished the second story in the Memory Magus series, entitled The Haze, and I’m back working on the first book in my steampunk series, entitled Hopebreaker. I’m keeping details about it under wraps for now, but I’m finding it very exciting, especially as it’s such a different tale to The Children of Telm. I’m also very pleased with how the cover turned out.

How does my work differ from others of its genre?

I think the key difference between my work and others writing in the fantasy genre is the kind of prose I use. Many have described it as “lyrical,” which I think is an appropriate term. To me, great stories aren’t just about what happens, or how real the characters are, but how much the language itself moves us.

Why do I write what I do?

I write to express, to tell stories, and to play with language. I write in the fantasy genre because of the freedom it gives me to tell amazing stories that are, on the surface, fantastical, but underneath explore real human issues. I think those are the stories that speak to us the most, and so I would hope that my novels offer both an escape from reality and an even greater immersion in it.

How does my writing process work?

For me, endings are pivotal, so I often start with that idea, which encourages me to then write what needs to go before it. I typically work out a very skeletal chapter-by-chapter framework, then create a new document for each chapter. I then usually go and write from the beginning, but sometimes I dip in halfway through, or even write the end before many other scenes. Having separate chapter documents makes this much easier, and helps prevent the feeling of being overwhelmed when opening a document with tens of thousands of words in it. Often I write all the pivotal scenes first, then fill in the gaps. I will then typically read through the entire book several times, revising as I go.

The next blog hop post will be from S.B. James, author of The Inventor’s Son. Read her biography below:

SB James, formerly of the (in)famous Jersey Shore and now a resident of Florida, has been writing since she was in seventh grade. She is currently working on the five (and a half) book Steampunk series The Inventor’s Son, as well as developing a new series, tentatively called The Zombie Prom Queen of the Apocalypse. She also dabbles in graphic design and artwork when she has the time.

For those entrenched in the mire of Telarym, surrounded by armies on almost every side, it seemed that armour was not enough. Dawn broke over the horizon, invading their eyes, and as much as it announced a new day, it announced a new battle. The stand-off ended, and the armies charged.

Taarí splashed down with their limbs of water, and the Shadowspirits strode forth with their limbs of shadow. The Bororians and the Knights of Issarí braced themselves, shoving halberds and spears into the heart of the angry wind.

They clashed. The strike was like a tidal wave crashing against the stubborn shore. The cries and shrieks grew high and fell, like the wall of water, until the tumult grew so loud that each cry drowned out the other, each shriek silencing the next, until the real sounds that could be heard where each soldier’s own breath, each soldier’s own grinding muscles and clattering bones, and each soldier’s own unnerving thoughts.

Though the Taarí were made of water, they could strike like land. Their weapons were as real as any other’s, and though their tendons and sinews were of another substance, they still made up a body that could hit with great ferocity. Many on both sides fell to the initial attack, and while some Men were knocked dead, some Taarí were cleaved asunder, splashing upon all around them.

The attack from the enemy was swift and unmerciful, for they too had seen the Aelora force further north, which they knew could overwhelm them if they did not destroy or rout the Bororian army. Yet they had an ally of their own in the Shadowspirits, and as much as the Aelora could blind with light, the Molokrán could blind with darkness.

For the forces of good, the reinforcements could not get there soon enough, for even as the Aelora marched towards the desperate clashes, the survivors of the Nahamoni army, which were earlier routed by the army of Boror, began to return to the battlefield, and though their numbers were much smaller now, they were more daring with the support of their allies.

So the battle continued, and those Bororian infantry who pulled back to catch a moment’s breath were hunted down by the invading shadow, until that breath was a final one. The bodies of Men formed little hills upon the flatlands, and the bodies of Taarí formed little rivers between them. Chaos and cruelty fought among them all, and they seemed to every soldier to be fighting for the opposing side.

29 AUGUST 2014–DUBLIN, Ireland–DIOSCURI PRESS has released Irish author Dean F. Wilson’s third novel, The Chains of War: Book Three of The Children of Telm, concluding his engaging and critically-acclaimed epic fantasy series about, in the words of Publishers Weekly, “dark magic, mad gods, and tragically flawed heroes.”

Wilson, 27, has been interested in writing from a very young age, earning a TAP Educational Award from Trinity College Dublin for an early draft of his first novel in 2001, and publishing a variety of poems and short stories over the years.

The Chains of War, published by Dioscuri Press and released today, is the third and final novel in the epic fantasy trilogy, telling the tale of the last people in the bloodline of a dead god, who was responsible for locking the Beast Agon in the Underworld. The finale brings everything to its epic conclusion as Agon is moments away from freedom, propelling the characters on a war-torn journey.

The blurb from the back cover of the novel reads:

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THE FINAL HOUR. THE FINAL FIGHT. THE FINAL WAR.

The first of Agon’s chains has broken, and the others are straining. It is only a matter of time before he is free, before the world is engulfed in chaos and death.

There are few left to stop him. Most of the gods can only sit and watch in horror from their prison in the heavens, but the resurrection of the father god Corrias gives the people of Iraldas a sliver of hope, a fighting chance.

Yet the memory of Corrias’ failure to defeat Agon in ages past plays heavily on all minds. Many know that it is only the might of the Warrior-god Telm that can defeat the Beast. That god is dead, but his power lives on in his bloodline, in Ifferon and others like him, and they are tasked with waging a final war against the Beast.

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“The Chains of War brings Agon forth in all his terrifying glory,” said Dean F. Wilson. “In the first two books, he is a distant enemy, a concept more than a material monster. Now his threat is far closer, and the heroes of Iraldas are thrown into a final war to stop the Beast. Everything has been leading to this, and with so much at stake, no character will be the same again.”

Speaking on forthcoming projects, Wilson added: “I am not resting on my laurels with this trilogy. I’ve begun working on a series of steampunk novels, and am also working on more tales in the Memory Magus series, which will tie the two worlds I’ve created together.”

Wilson also works as a technology journalist, and has written for TechEye, The Inquirer and ITProPortal, among others. His long-term aspiration, which he held since he was a child, is to become a full-time fiction writer, and this novel is another step on that journey.

The Road to Rebirth is available in paperback from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, The Book Depository, and numerous other retailers. A Kindle version is also available from Amazon.

Dean F. Wilson is available for interview. Review copies of the book are also available from the publisher on request.