Drawing with Words

Drawing with Words

As the title might imply I draw and write. Started drawing from an early age and even went to one of the Art Institutes for a while. Then I stopped for far too long. I'm getting back into it now. My love of books has caused me to want to write my own, so I do.

Flash Friday

So I may have missed posting a story last Friday. Ok, no maybe about it. I got lazy and din't write the darn thing. So here it is now. 


That's My Jam


By Linton Bowers


So you want to know how I ended up chained to this chair?


It started earlier today. I was sitting in my conveyance, one of those on-a-budget automated hunks of plastic and aluminum, jamming out to my favorite radio station. The song ended then the D.J. announced a new premier song. This did not sit well with me. New songs are hit and miss, usually a lot more miss these days.


The first few notes of the music were magical. I felt like my soul was getting a sensual massage. Until the words started that is.


The band, one I enjoyed immensely, sounded great. The problem was the words themselves. They matched a song I had written years ago. To the best of my knowledge the song I wrote had never seen the light of day, but there it was.


A small part of me was excited to hear the way it was artfully produced. It was exactly what I heard in my head as I wrote it.


"Car," I said out loud, " change course to Devon's house."


"Course correction acknowledged," the pleasant female voice of my ride responded. "Warning, this will make your timely arrival at your place of employment impossible."


"I'm aware, continue with the new destination."


"Destination confirmed."


The vehicle slid out of its lane and onto a new street. I called Devon as the trip progressed.


"Devon, did you hear the new song on the radio this morning?"


"Oh yeah, man. That shit was righteous! I gotta gets me a copy," Devon said.


"Its my song," I replied tersely.


"I know, man, its my new jam too."


"No, dude, I mean I wrote the damn song!"


"Wow! You're gunna be rich, like Oprah Winfrey the third rich."


"No I'm not, at least not yet. I didn't sell the song, someone stole it."


"Oh no! That's bogus, dude. What are you gunna do about it?"


"What are we going to do?" I asked.


"I don't follow."


"I'll be at your place in five. Fire up the engine. I need to find out what the heck is going on."


Seven minutes later Devon and I stood in front of the engine.


"Dude, like... Dude! I don't know about this, I mean, you know what happened last time. We barely made it out of there. My ass still hurts when I sit down too hard, dude."


"I'm will to take the chance that you may never be able to sit on your ass again, man," I said.


"I hear that, dude. Wait... What?"


"Shut it and fire it up, Devon."


"Its on, we just have to get in. You sure, dude?" Devon rubbed his rear as he asked. I could tell from the far off look in his eyes he was reliving an unpleasant adventure we survived.


"Yeah, get in," I replied.


The engine consisted of two pods barely big enough for a grown person to curl up in tethered to a black box the size of a rubix cube. I have no clue as to where Devon got it and he ain't talking. What I do know is that getting into the main pod and concentrating on what I need to know will transport us both to the answer. And that it doesn't work unless there are two people.


I waited for Devon to crawl in and his hatch to close before getting in the other pod. Had to make sure he didn't chicken out. The hatch of the master pod closed, sealing me into darkness.


I focused my thoughts onto the song, letting it play in my mind once more, feeling it wash over me. I remember the sheets of paper stuck in a shoebox in my closet. The words I wrote that match exactly to the song we heard on the radio.


The engine doesn't take long. A few seconds after the hatch closed the pod is filled with blinding light, then the hatch slid open.


My body ached from the transition. I uncurled myself and spilled out of the pod. The blasted thing managed to make a few seconds of discomfort feel like ages. I stood and stretched my back. Devon was doing the same.


"Where are we, dude?" Devon asked.


"Looks like some sort of warehouse," I replied.


"Wonder why it took us here," Devon said.


"That is what I would like to know,"  came a deep voice from behind us.


I spun and froze. More guys than I cared to count stood in a loose semi-circle with wicked looking black weapons leveled at us.


"Dude! Are those P727 Night Hawks?" Devon asked as he took a step forward.


The man closest to Devon shot propes from a module mounted on the underside of his barrel. Before the muffled thud of the shot could clear Devon did the dance of the tazed. He crumpled to the dirty cement floor and moaned.


"Yes it is," the guy said.


I raised my hands above my head.


This takes us back to where you found me chained to a chair. Our assailants lead me to the room with said chair and secured me to it. They tied up Devon and dropped him on the floor next to me.


Hours passed with no one coming to visit. I think it was hours anyway. Hard to tell when your sitting in one spot with nothing to do and unable to check the time. I was just beginning to doze off when the door unlocked with a loud click.


A man in slacks, a white shirt, and a lab coat entered. He stopped a few feet from me and sized up Devon and myself.


"Why have you come?" He asked.


"I'm the one asking the questions here," I said in a low bark.


"Is that so?" One of his neatly trimmed eyebrows rose. "I can always come back in four or five days when you're thirsty and hungry to ask again?"


"You stole my song!"




I could see confusion written on his face.


"It was on the radio this morning. I wrote it three years ago and some how you stole it. I want what's mine!"


"Ah, I see now." He tapped his ear twice then spoke again as he turned his back to me. "Scan local proximity for nanoworm signal then send me all relevant data."


"Huh?" I said.


He ignored me.


"Ah yes. Now I see. Tell you what," he said as he faced me. "Since you are of no use to me I'll leave you with a final thought before you die. When you vacationed in Cancun you drank something with ice. That was your downfall. You were infected with my nanoworms. Little devices that transmit to me every creative thought you have. In your case I have only received one transmission from you. Since you have not had a creative thought since then you are no longer useful to me. Good day."


He turned and walked out of the room. The lock snapped back into place. Naturally we would have to sit in the most boring room in the world before dying.


"Damn, dude, that was harsh."


"Devon! You're alive!"


"No doubt, dude. Guess what." He said as he sat up.




"Those dweebs forgot to check me and take the engine remote."


"What does that mean?" I asked.


"It means were getting out of here, dude."

Flash Fiction Friday: VEGLAND

Yesterday, I put the call out for ideas. I thought it would be fun to let my friends on BookLikes choose the topic of my first Flash Fiction Friday post. People responded awesomely. You’ll find their ideas at the bottom of this post. If I didn’t use your suggestions, no worries. There’s always next Friday.


Oh, and some of your suggestions are sprinkled throughout. I know there was one suggestion with four parts, so I had to chop it up to make it work.






by Edward Lorn


My name’s Tiger and I find things for people.


I’ve lived a strange life. When I was fifteen, a two-hundred-pound ape carcass crashed through the roof of my suburban home. Dad was pissed. Mom was indifferent.


The next week, my mother ran off with a robot cult because Christianity didn’t rotate her gears anymore. These cultists are the people who got the amusement park in town closed down because of how the animatronics were being treated.


I suppose that’s why I picked the career I did. Meaning, not much shocks me. So when Charlene called up asking me to find her flesh-eating corn cob, I didn’t hesitate to say yes.


This ain’t some dime-store pulp paperback. I ain’t going to bore you with how this dame walked in and begged me to take her case, because it didn’t happen like that.


Charlene called me, told me her story, and asked if I’d find her corn. I agreed.


Money’s money unless it’s funny.


As with most cases, I wound up at the local library. Librarian’s name is Gregor. He’s a cool cat, if a little weird. He likes to tell how he lost his virginity, you know, if you’re old enough to hear such a thing. It involves a goat, so you gotta have a strong stomach, too.


You’ve been to a library before. I ain’t going to tell you what it looks like.


I was back in the stacks, researching fleshing-eating starches, when I heard a rather manly scream followed by the low tick and hum of machinery. I tucked my research materials under my arm and made for the checkout desk.


Gregor was dead. He had a goat hanging half-in and half-out of his backside. I guess what comes around goes around.


I wasn’t shocked.


(Remember the ape that fell through my roof?)


I called the local PD and let them deal with it.


I don’t know why, but death makes me hungry. Seeing Gregor, all half-fulla goat like he was, gave me a hankering for Greek. I headed across town to Athena’s.


There ain’t much of shit I can eat these days, allergies being what they are. Athena’s is run by a beefy broad named Paula who knows what I can eat and fixes me up nicely whenever I drop by.


I laid my research materials on the bar as Paula slid a plate of lamb and cucumber in front of me.


You’ve seen a beefy broad with humungous boobs before. I ain’t gonna tell you what Paula looks like.


“Ut’s dat?” she asked, and scratched under one heavy breast.


“New case.”


“Cannibal veg?”


“Technically, no. Flesh eating veg. Cannibal would mean they eat other veg.”




I ate in silence while Paula flipped through a scrapbook. She’d acquired amnesia after falling off a ladder the year before. She’d been reaching for a tub of yogurt in the cooler when she slipped, fell, and bashed her head on a shelf. The scrapbook was her way of remembering the past. I didn’t have the heart to tell her all the photos were stock, so, whenever she asked, I lied: “Sure, that looks like you.”


I read through my materials. Flesh-eating veg were a product of genetic experiments first conducted by Dr. Ralph King. Dr. King also went on to be leader of a cult. The same cult that owned the closed down amusement park in town. They’d won it in a court battle over animatronics’ rights.


VegLand was all the rage in the 1980s. Ride the Cucumber Coaster! Twirl on the Cauliflower Carts! Terrorize yourself on the Tobacco Train, sponsored by Marlboro.


Hey, money’s money unless it’s funny.


It was full dark by the time I parked in the weedy lot and got out.


Flashlight in hand, I squeezed through the rusty gate.


You’ve seen pictures of rundown carnivals at night. I ain’t going to tell you what VegLand looked like.


I found my mother on the carousel. She was spread-eagle atop one of the horses, pleasuring herself with a corn cob. At least that was what I thought was happening.

Truth of the matter was, Mom was dead. Had been for at least an hour. The corn cob had eaten most of her lady bits. The way her stomach was caved in, I’m guessing it had snacked on half her insides, too.


“Lovely, ain’t it?” Dr. King asked from the shadows. “My creation devouring my follower. Poetic, don’t you think.”


I’m a private dick, not a cop. The only weapon I own was limp in my shorts.


“I suppose this is where I monologue,” said Dr. King. “My robot cult was responsible for shooting down that plane full of apes when you were a kid. Your mother, of course, knew this. Seeing our cause as righteous, she joined.”


“Hold on, space cadet. What’s any of this have to do with anamatronics’ rights?”


“Those monkeys would have put our fellow animatronics out of jobs. They wanted to turn VegLand into a zoo! Even after we killed a great percentage of the animals on that plane, they still meant to buy more!”


“Why’d Gregor have to die?”


“I lost my library book. Didn’t want to pay the fine.”






“Fine. What about the corn? Why are you stealing your own invention?”


“Nobody stole anything, Tiger. Charlene works for us.”


You’ve seen a twist before. I ain’t going to tell you why this was one.


“Tell me, Tiger… are you allergic to corn, too?”


I am, but he didn’t need to know that.


Dr. King chuckled as he produced a small device and began pressing buttons. The fleshing-eating corn cob stopping eating my mother, flopped down from the horse, and came at me, end-over-end.


I punted it. Hard.


Dr. King got a mouthful.


His head snapped back as the cob first devoured his tongue and then worked its way down his throat.


You’ve seen a corny ending before. I ain’t going to tell you why this is one.



Suggestions used:


Brainycat’s Occaisonal Reviews


MC has severe food allergies, but has to travel and can’t find anything to eat amidst a huge selection of unknown foods. CHECK


Soze Says


And then it turns out some of the food might actually be eyeing the MC as something for it to eat!CHECK




A library, a lost book, a scream, and a lie. CHECK


Paul Read or Dead


Lorn writes Porn with a devilish twist in an abandoned theme park. Half-CHECK


Grimlock. Stronger, faster, studlier.


Robot cult. Because the book I read that had it had all this hardcore Christianity in it so I couldn’t get past that part, and I still want to see what a robot cult looks like. CHECK


It’s a Mad Mad World


Someone in the book has amnesia… CHECK


Gregor Xane


An ape carcass falls from the sky and through the roof of a suburban home. CHECK


Andreya’s Asylum


Gregor’s first time, when baah-ad things happen to good animals. CHECK


Char’s Horror Corner


My suggestion is Corn porn! CHECK

Reblogged from Lornographic Material
Flash Friday

Here is the first of many flash fiction stories to be posted on Fridays.



NOT Jake


By Linton Bowers



Jake placed his hand against the push bar and stopped. Opening that door and going in would erase all he’d worked for these long hard months . The tip of a glass and one small sip would send him back to day zero.


"What are you doing, Jay?" Jake asked himself.


Jake stepped away from the door.


"Am I really going to do this?"


Deep in the dark corners of his mind dwelled something that used to be a part of Jake. He was at one time whole. A normal man going about life doing normal things. Then those damned terrorist dicks decided to crash some planes.


Jake was among the first in his town to sign his life over to good ol' Uncle Sam. He became a hard-assed, ground-pounding, stone-cold Marine. Like so many others, he was changed by the things he witnessed. What came home wasn't what left.


The darkness he runs from answered his questions.


Would you like to get a good night's sleep?


"Passing out in my own piss and puke is not sleep," Jake replied.


It's better than crying like a bitch til the sun comes up.


How could he respond to that? The truth, as painful as it might be, is still the truth.


"I've come too far. Worked too hard."


And for what? To spend all your time reliving what you did? When is someone going to come up with a thirteenth step to make all the nightmares go away, Jake? When are you going to catch a break from me?


"It's a process, it takes time. One small baby step at a time."


That's a load of horseshit and you know it. How many times did your dick get hard when you put a 5.56 into some dude's brain housing group? How many times did you almost cum in your tight whites while you watched the pink mist drift away in the breeze? Huh? There is no fixing you, Jake. You're too far gone, man. The kid you used to be fractured and fell to pieces on the hot desert sands. We need a break, Jake. We need to forget for just a little while. Please, Jake.


Jake fell to his knees. The pain of the collision with the unwavering pavement a minor inconvenience compared to agony he felt inside.


"I don't know how much longer I can take this shit," Jake whimpered.


Then get the fuck up and go inside. The respite we need is just inside that door and it comes in any flavor we want. Come on, man, we need this and you know it!


Jake let out a sob. He was done fighting, tired of it. He climbed back up to his feet, the sins of the past pressed down on him. He went to the door, placed his hand against the push bar and paused.


Don't puss out on us now, Jake.


Jake pushed the door open and went inside.


The bar was dark.

Reading progress update: I've read 3%.
Carrie (Turtleback School & Library Binding Edition) - Stephen King

Brutal begining.

I've read 35% so far.
The Shining / Salems Lot / Night Shift / Carrie - Stephen King

This is not turning out to be one of King's greatest works, but I am enjoying it. What I find really amazing is how well King has kept track of all the different characters in this book. I would love to get my hands on the first draft to see if he did as well before edits and rewrites.

Author Talks: John Biggs

We're happy to introduce the next guest in BookLikes' Author Talks.


John Biggs author of the YA novel Mytro agreed to talk to us about his recently published novel, he reveals how a journalist becomes a writer, and how to use crowdfunding to publish a book. 


You can meet and follow John Biggs on BookLikes where he shares his reading and writing passion on blog: John Biggs


Plus: you can win Mytro on BookLikes. Read on to know more. 




You’re a busy man, a tech enthusiast, a full­-time journalist, writer at TechCrunch, speaker, blogger, and now a writer. What inspired you to start writing a fiction novel? 
I love writing and I love sharing my writing. Journalism is a sprint, but a long fiction book is a marathon. Both have their benefits but, as I get older, I feel the marathon is more rewarding. So I'm trying my hardest to train, write, and build a body of work of which I can be proud.
Is it difficult for a journalist to become an author of a fiction? 
I don't know. I think so. I think the fact that I wrote 10,105 posts on TechCrunch over the past few years is good practice. I've been writing a few thousand words a day for years. It's great experience and it helps with my discipline. It's exhausting, though, and wouldn't recommend it unless you really love to write.
Recently, you’ve published your first YA novel Mytro. How did the idea of Mytro appear in your head? 
I was traveling in Spain a few years ago and we were in the Retiro Park. It's a   beautiful old park on a set of rolling hills surrounded by beautiful old homes (at least that's how I remember it.) We were walking there and passed by a statue of a falling - or fallen - angel. I read the inscription and it turns out it was the only statue of Lucifer ever commissioned for public viewing.
It was a chilling sight and I imagined what would be under the statue - a cave, a doorway, a subway station? Suddenly, the name Mytro popped into my head and I fell in love with the idea.
It took years for the whole thing to truly gel but once it did all the pieces fell into place.
Tell us something about Mytro. Why Young Adult? Are action and adventure your fav subjects for your novels?
I wanted to give something to my kids. I've been writing for adults - tech nerds, really - for a almost 15 years. Now I wanted to write something for the coolest readers in my life - my eight year old, my five year old, and my two year old. So they, and the rest of the world, got Mytro.
You’ve decided to try crowdfunding for Mytro. The book is out so we know it went well. Can you tell our readers more about the process and the outcome. 
I was very lucky. I had good friends at Indiegogo and lots of great readers on TechCrunch. They helped push the funding way past my goal. I also learned how to lay out and publish my own ebooks and paperbacks. That was a hard job.
Building a book is amazingly messy and frustrating. But it can be done. I also learned that schedules slip and I feel bad that a lot of my readers are waiting for the 3D printed trains I promised. They'll be getting them soon! I swear!
Would you recommend publishing books with crowdfunding? What are the pros and cons? 
I would, if you have an audience. If you don't you'll probably be disappointed.
I think, in order, you should first get really good at writing. Then try to find an agent. If you don't like the publishing world, do it yourself on Kindle, and finally crowdfund once you're popular. 
Crowdfunding is a very powerful engine but there's nothing like seeing your donations come up zero at the end of the day.
In your opinion, is crowdfunding the future of the publishing, an answer / complement to self-­publishing? 
It's a complement. It's not quite the future unless we're talking about paper books and especially artistic or difficult books that require resources. I could see, for example, crowdfunding a very complex book about history or politics as well as a detailed autobiography. I could also see crowdfunding a travel book.
Why do publishers pay advances? To cover expenses. That's why, if you don't get a good advance, you can lose money writing a book. It's awful.
Can you reveal to our readers what are you working on right now?  
I'm working on a New York fantasy called More Gods Than Men and a mystery about a Polish tailor called The Tailor of Optimist Street. When I'm done with those, I have to finish the Mytro trilogy.
Can you tell us something about your writing process? 
I sit down and I write. I try to write at least 1,000 words of fiction a day, sometimes more. There is no secret to it. You make the time and you do it.
It's like asking how a marathon runner trains - she doesn't, she just runs every day, without fail, and knows that if she stops she'll suffer for it. 
What advice would you give to aspiring writers? 
Always be writing. Get your stuff out there. Put it on a blog. Don't get confused by social media. Social media is useless. It doesn't help you sell anything nor does it help you gain a following. I've had people with a million Twitter followers mention me on the Internet and it got me absolutely zero in return. Gain a following on a site frequented by nice people and write for them. Then write a book. Then publish that book. Rinse. Repeat.
Use Scrivener to write. It's an app for long-form writers. It helps immensely when you're building a story.
Also keep a file of "sparks." Have it always available, anywhere you are. You can even use a notebook for this, if you like paper. But the key is to always have it with you. This is the place to jot down notes for future projects. You'll soon discover that there are hundreds of things floating in your head that could be great books. 
What are you reading right now?
Under the Skin by Michel Faber. 
What books won your heart?
Which titles would you recommend? 
I like a lot of books. My favorite book is probably Catcher In The Rye and I really liked American Gods by Neil Gaiman.
For a long time I couldn't read fiction so I read a lot of non-fiction. I really like histories, especially the Story of Civilization by Will and Ariel Durant. It's a sprawling series of histories and I listen to them while I run. They are so full of amazing stories and explanations that I've been grabbing the best ones in a text file for later research.
Paper books or e­books? Why? 
E-books. I don't like carrying paper books anymore. They're nice to hold and smell and touch, but reading them is a pain.
Any favorite quotes?
I like Neil Gaiman's.
1. Write
2. Put one word after another. Find the right word, put it down.
3. Finish what you’re writing. Whatever you have to do to finish it, finish it.
There are five more rules - you can find them yourself - but those are the most important ones.
Also try to be happy and try to be kind. The world gives you stories when you are.
(pic source: Brain Pickings)
What's your favorite writing and reading spot?
(our readers would love to see some photos ;-) ) 

Anywhere my computer is. I have a nice attic space at home in Brooklyn where I can stand and walk on a treadmill but I travel so much that I'm rarely there in the summer. And I tend to read on planes or in bed.
This is my space right now in Warsaw. It is an absolute mess, which is just how I like it! 
Thank you, John. It was a real pleasure. 
And here's a candy from John Biggs to BookLikes bloggers: Mytro Giveaway! You can't miss it! Enter to win:
You can find books by John Biggs on BookLikes:


Read other talks on BookLikes

Author Talks on BookLikes: 

Literary Inspirations of Rayne Hall

Author Talks: Elizabeth Watasin, Part One

Author Talks: Elizabeth Watasin, Part Two

Author Talks: Ned Hayes, Part One

Author Talks: Ned Hayes, Part Two


Blog Talks on BookLikes: 

Book Blog Talks: Happy Books, Part One

Book Blog Talks: Happy Books, Part Two

Book Blog Talks: The Happy Booker, Part One

Book Blog Talks: The Happy Booker, Part Two

Reblogged from BookLikes
Cruelty episode 1 for FREE!

I've got free mobis to give away of Cruelty episode 1 by Edward Lord (and yes I have his permission). Send me a message if you would like a copy.

Net Nuetrality

We have an opportunity to let the FCC know what we think about Net Neutrality. This is important and we all need to weight in. Here is a link to the FCC comments page where we can leave them a message. Please do so. The alternative is letting companies like Comcast and Verizon dictate what we get to see and do on the web.



52 in 52




Aloha from Hell

Ocean at the End of the Lane

Specter: A Zoe Martinique Investigation

Double Dead

Jack and Jill


February 5



Night Film


March 7


The Devil Said Bang

The Shinning

Doctor Sleep



April 11


Two Steps from Hell

Emperor's Edge

Born of Hatred

Dark Currents

Deadly Games

With Silent Screams

Story Engineering

It Came From Hell and Smashed the Angels


May  19


Fat Vampire

Words of Radiance


June 21


Fat Vampire 2

Fat Vampire 3

Fat Vampire 4

Fat Vampire 5

Fat Vampire 6





Skin Walker A Dresden Files Novel


Brain Eater Jones

Shadow Ops:Breach Zone

The Goblin Market

Reblogged from Drawing with Words
Who Wants to Die?

I'm working on a new short story, and I figured I'd try out this whole killing-your-readers thing. So, if you would like to die in my upcoming story, leave your name in the comment section below. I am in need of four corpses. If more than four people leave their names, I'll use the overflow, but you may not perish. 


I look forward to killing you. ;)



Reblogged from Lornographic Material
Randomized Randomocity #71

Terry Mixon of the Dead Robots' Society shared this today, and I thought I'd pass it along as well. If you plan on writing for a living, I suggest you take heed. I built my career on these words.


Neil Gaiman’s 8 Good Writing Practices


1. Write.


2. Put one word after another. Find the right word, put it down.


3. Finish what you're writing. Whatever you have to do to finish it, finish it.


4. Put it aside. Read it pretending you’ve never read it before. Show it to friends whose opinion you respect and who like the kind of thing that this is.


5. Remember: when people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work for them, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what they think is wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.


6. Fix it. Remember that, sooner or later, before it ever reaches perfection, you will have to let it go and move on and start to write the next thing. Perfection is like chasing the horizon. Keep moving.


7. Laugh at your own jokes.


8. The main rule of writing is that if you do it with enough assurance and confidence, you’re allowed to do whatever you like. (That may be a rule for life as well as for writing. But its definitely true for writing.) So write your story as it needs to be written. Write it honestly, and tell it as best you can. I'm not sure that there are any other rules. Not ones that matter.

Reblogged from Lornographic Material
Review Reblogged
4 Stars
He's Got Issues
What the Dark Brings - Edward Lorn

If you like short short stories, you'll really like this collection. Short shorts are exceedingly hard to write, and Mr. Lorn seems to have a real knack for them.

This book has 22 stories crammed into 145 pages!

Lorn is primarily thought of as a horror writer, but the bulk of the stories to be found here are more quirky and bizarre, not so much out-and-out horror. There are some straight up horror pieces near the end (including the three bonus stories), but I enjoyed the somewhat lighter, funkier pieces more.

My favorites include:

"A Purchase of Titanic Proportions"*

"What the Dark Brings"

"He's Got Issues"*

"That Thing about a Picture and a Thousand Words"


"He Who Laughs Last"

"The Attraction"



"Come to Jesus Meeting"

Well, it seems I've listed nearly half the stories as favorites. That should tell you something.

*Great story

Reblogged from Gregor Xane



Why can't human albinos have pink eyes? I feel like our species was cheated on that one.

Makes sense to me.

Is it just me, or should an author have the reading order for their series on their website?

52 in 52



Aloha from Hell

Ocean at the End of the Lane

Specter: A Zoe Martinique Investigation

Double Dead

Jack and Jill


February 5



Night Film


March 7


The Devil Said Bang

The Shinning

Doctor Sleep



April 11


Two Steps from Hell

Emperor's Edge

Born of Hatred

Dark Currents

Deadly Games

With Silent Screams

Story Engineering

It Came From Hell and Smashed the Angels


May  19


Fat Vampire

Words of Radiance



Brain Eater Jones

Shadow Ops:Breach Zone

The Goblin Market

Reblogged from Drawing with Words
Reading progress update: I've listend 1560 out of 2893 minutes.
Words of Radiance  - Brandon Sanderson

I am enjoying this book a lot more than I thought I would and much more than I did Way of Kings.

currently reading

Progress: 3%
Progress: 35%
Progress: 17%