Good Morning Is an OxyMoron – Part 1

Bill Jones, Jr.:

My newly revised 1st chapter of Discovery, to be retitled The Changeling. Be the 2nd to read it here. (Maria was first.) :)

Originally posted on Just Me:

Having gone through my revision of my first book, Discovery , I’ve decided to post the 1st chapter here. It’ll be in 2 (long) parts, as the entire chapter is 2,600 words. Once done, I anticipate re-releasing the book (publisher unknown) under the moniker The Changeling . Those of you who’ve read Discovery should find it darker, tighter, and more focused. It is the same book as before, but better and more reflective of who I am as a writer now.  The new title represents the main characters’ evolutions in the story, as well as a key figure introduced near its climax.  Until republication, Discovery is available on Amazon for only $0.99! Pick up a copy – it’s still rated 4.5 out of 5 stars. :) Maybe I’ll famous and these will be worth something one day. Who knows? :D


Charlie hated mornings, due, in no small part, to his…

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Restructure, Redirect, Reconnect

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Originally posted on Just Me:

After consultation with my muse, prime reader, and partner, who fortuitously are the same person and my fiancée, I’ve decided to retool my series, The Stream. Although I like the books, I felt the writing could be tightened up, and more importantly, the marketing approach needed to be redirected toward its audience.

When I wrote the first book, there really was no genre for the book, except, tangentially, YA Fantasy Fiction. That caused some issues, because 1) it’s not like the vampire, wizard, warrior, zombie fare typically associated with Fantasy, and 2) it’s not targeted for kids. Certainly, there are elements of each of those (except … shudder … vampires) and there’s nothing in the books that would be inappropriate for those 12 years old or older, but still, it’s an adult series. It’s no more a kids book than Stephen King’s Firestarter was.

By book 3, the whole…

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Muro – Day 5 – NaPoWriMo 2014 (MPoWriMo)

Bill Jones, Jr.:

One of my favorite poems from my favorite poet and love.

Originally posted on Diary of a Person Being Human:

Santa Lucia, Venice

I place my fingers in-between the cracks of your walls,

Paying attention to the crumbling stone,

The silence that greets my touch. So much past,

So many idle conversations had right here;

Exhalations and tribulations spoken

Like rising smoke, curling around the yellow

Light of your singular lamp. Beneath your

Watchful eye; you, listening patiently,

Absorbing the meter of a language long forgotten.

No longer audible; forgotten by me, not you.

Your hard clay heavy with memory and the weathering

Of time, age; youth: my fingers pressed against your heart.

Reflected innocence in your hardened mirror.

Dirt beneath my finger-nails that will wash away

In the waters that satisfy your quiet urges,

And leave no discernible trace of my presence,

My momentary contact, with your damp flesh;

Fingers dug deep into the sands of your foundations,

Arm held fast by your timeless grip.

I yearn for you to tell me that…

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Editing, Day … What the hell day is it again?

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Originally posted on Just Me:

Okay, I’m coming to the end, even though I’ve no idea what comes after the end. Initially, I thought that I’d finish my edits and then pull Discovery from circulation in an attempt to redirect marketing efforts toward finding an agent and perhaps getting it published in the UK. But as I’ve gone through the book again, after not reading it for years, I realize that’s probably not the primary market.

While Awakening (book 2) features a full-on dragon war, and Emprise (book 3) even have dragons leaking into the modern world, in Discovery, the dragons were more incidental. Most of the book takes place in the world of dreams, but I’m not familiar enough with the UK market to know if I could make a go of it based solely on that. After all, would the idea of Ku Klux Klowns play across the pond? Who knows? Well, I…

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Do. Be. Write.

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Originally posted on Just Me:

charlie-brown In terms of actively writing, I recently figured out that over the last 4.5 years, since I wrote that 1st short story that turned into the Stream, I’ve averaged only 476 words per day. That’s about equal to a blog post, or about 1 1/3 paperback pages per day. However, over the 4.5 years, it adds up to 775,369 words. Of those, I’ve published 481,264 words and the rest are works-in-progress. None of them has won a Pulitzer, but who knows, the next one might.

My point is, just by writing consistently, and way less than Stephen King’s 3,000 words per day, I’ve finished 5 novels and a short story collection, and I’m 1/3 of the way through a 6th novel and another short story collection.

We are writers not because we create great works, or even because we write. We are writers because the stories will never quiet until…

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On Critique and Criticism

Bill Jones, Jr.:

A post from September 2011 on the differences between giving a critique (which is useful) and giving criticism (which is not).

Originally posted on This Blog Intentionally Blank:


I’ve been thinking quite a bit about critiques lately. That is not surprising, given I’ve been planning the release of my first novel. Once you publish anything, irrespective of your intentions, you open yourself to criticism.

Artists need to be thick-skinned.

That’s the mantra that every artist, every writer hears. And it’s true to some extent. However, there is a difference between criticism and critique, and one’s reaction to each should be expected to differ. To explore that, let’s look at the difference between the two.

The definition of criticism reads as follows:

“1. The act of passing judgment as to the merits of anything.  2. The act of passing severe judgment; censure; faultfinding.”  A third definition reads, “The act or art of analyzing and evaluating or judging the quality of a literary or artistic work, musical performance, art exhibit, dramatic production, etc.”

If you look up…

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Love Me Like a River Does

Originally posted on Hard as Roxx:

An excerpt from the build-up of love in Hard as Roxx. I’ve had people talk about the “lesbian sex” in the book. There is no explicit sex in any book I write. Ever. If you’re good, I believe, you don’t need explicitness.

31 May 2137 – 10:17 a.m. Central European Time.

They have been in Tripoli four days, and Roxx is tired of the indoor life. Jessi seems to advance a week of development every two days. Jazz has become obsessed with defeating her robot in war games in the hotel’s holograph game room, and Roxx can do little more than workout in the limited exercise facilities and pace. There is the beach, which is generally deserted, as Tripolitans want neither exercise nor sun, but she has tired of it. After days in the Sahara, the lure of sand has limited appeal. In addition, the surf is a constant reminder…

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Bill Jones, Jr.:

Happy Valentines Day!

Originally posted on Just Me:

Heat is the remnant of what has been
A response of chemical signals
It is merely radiant noise
the mind tells when it hates silence.
Light is the bringer of illusion,
reflecting of what might be
when what is has no gloss of its own.
We’re given passionate songs
and finger-spoken promises
that light and heat are love.
In truth, love is what happens
when the lights are off,
and shadows dance boldly nearer.

Love dances naked in the rain
despite frightening claps of thunder’s fury, and
love feels the surprising warmth
of teardrops on the flesh of your back, and
love does not quit, won’t be deterred, and
love understands that heat is not the ability
to warm the earth, but the ability to stand the cold, and
love can teach that bravery is not
the absence of fear but its conquest, and
love is always
when its…

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Killer Robot Bees

Originally posted on Hard as Roxx:

Here is an excerpt, wherein Roxx and her group are attacked by bee drones. It’s not as fun as you might think. ;) For the record, I wrote this before development on the actual drones began.


“Wake the fuck up!” came Trint’s voice. She was standing astride the sidecar and the Indian, firing indiscriminately at the swarm with one hand and trying to reach the handlebars with the other.

“Back off, little girl. I got this,” Roxx surprised herself by responding. She was grateful for Trint’s help, but surging anger was taking over.

“I’m trying to keep you from getting us killed, bitch!” Trint answered, firing a wide arc of lasers in the air. Dozens of bees fell at once.

Bitch. I’m being a bitch. Good.

Trint was turning – left, then right, then left again – all the while firing. It didn’t matter if she was an accurate…

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