This is the link to the new book cover.
Katie Stewart has been darling while I’ve been a fusspot.
I know my audience of horse lover’s is SO picky about being able to identify a breed. So I’ve been driving the poor dear to distraction with details of the horse’s head. However, I haven’t had to say a word about color and compostion.
I recommend her as a stylistic cover artist any time.
I’m good with one-liners and smart-ass remarks, so I don’t often have trouble making up titles.
But this one is kicking my butt.
The saying that a picture is worth a thousand words had better be right. Otherwiser, I’m going to have a crap-load of explaining to do.
I don’t want to explain the book, so I’m working with a cover artist.
I trust the book cover is going to do for me what will take a couple hundred words to do otherwise.
Some writers, okay, KKR* and DWS** say all covers should look the same for a writer. Building a brand. If that’s true, I’m in deep do-do (or don’t-don’t) because I’m using one pen name for a covers of a different genre. It may not work. But I can’t imagine having my WIP cover look like ‘Let’s Do Lunch’ – any more than it could look like ‘Swallow the Moon’.
<<< Sigh >>>
Anyways – this is my next attempt at a title for my Zombie Apocalypse story.
Wait until you get to see the cover – it will blow your mind!
Rearing horse and rider
There are so many ways to express a concept. Language is a wonderful thing, so are pictures. The internet has brought the world to my laptop – so I’m going to play in a bigger sandbox than I’ve ever tried. Today I am experimenting with Spanish, to go with my Spanish mustangs. I’ve fallen in love with the words, their flavors are tangy and fresh.
My Zombies are Muerto (dead), Apestando Muerto (stinking dead) and Aullador Muerto (Howling Dead) according to my characters. I LOVE these names.
Why am I using Spanish instead of English?
Well – my undead critters are different than the average Zombie. A twist that I need to credit to my years as a Dungeon Master. Towit – some things evolve.
If a virus is powerful enough to ‘raise the dead’ what else can it do? Ohhh – no more spoilers on this one. I’m having too much fun.
I went on a Zombie kick not long ago. Blame it on “Doomsday Preppers” and “The Walking Dead,” mostly on the fact that I wanted to write something different. An action story that would appeal to anyone.
I also happened to run across a couple of videos on horse archery. Something that appealed to the Hun in me. After that, I started asking ‘what if?’ until I had my character Bethany McLeod of the Clan McLeod – not an immortal, but a young woman of our time who survived the Zombie Apocalypse with her family and a small herd of Spanish Mustangs in the foothils of Kentucky.
Bethany MacLeod of Dunvegan – horsewoman, archer, Emessary for The MacLeod of Dunvegan – Kentucky – Year 03 PZA (Post Zombie Apolcalypse).
The Apocalypse – Women, Horses, Zombies – it’s all here. Bethany McLeod of Dunvegan hated school. The Clan McLeod jokes used to infuriate her. Then the world fell apart; now she’s tryng to patch something together. Her family has a farm they call Dunvegan. The old Scottish Clans are reforming: Douglas, Davidson and McLeod are families of survivalists who made it to Year Three, Post Zombie Apocalypse.
Militia, marauders and mad-men abound, the stinking dead walk the land eating refugees from a world that will never exist again. Is there a place for a bleeding-heart in a land where man-eats-dog is the rule of the day?
I don’t know. So far, it’s fun to write.
Now is the accepted time to make your regular annual good resolutions. Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual. Yesterday, everybody smoked his last cigar, took his last drink, and swore his last oath. To-day, we are a pious and exemplary community. Thirty days from now, we shall have cast our reformation to the winds and gone to cutting our ancient short comings considerably shorter than ever. We shall also reflect pleasantly upon how we did the same old thing last year about this time. However, go in, community. New Year’s is a harmless annual institution, of no particular use to anybody save as a scapegoat for promiscuous drunks, and friendly calls, and humbug resolutions, and we wish you to enjoy it with a looseness suited to the greatness of the occasion.
Mark Twain, writing in the Territorial Enterprise (Virginia City, Nevada), Jan. 1, 1863
Stolen from: The Passive Voice