Where To Draw The Line update...

Hi all!

Just wanted to update you on the latest about my new book (is it still new when it's only a month old?!). Today I had the joyful experience of making it available on Lulu.

Any self published indie authors out there will know that it's not the simplest thing in the world to do! But my IT experiences improve every day... Today I learnt how to apply a TOC to my book on Word in order for Lulu to accept it. No easy task, but at least I now understand that TOC stands for table of contents!

With luck, you'll soon be able to purchase the story on your iPad or Nook too.

I also reworked the cover art for the book. I'm hoping this will lure the reader in to tale by representing the crime feel, and the tensions that William Hunter goes through.

I've had some great feedback so far! A huge thanks to those who have left comments!

Click here to purchase!

5.0 out of 5 stars
couldn't put this book down 24 May 2013


By Sarah jane whitfieldFormat:Paperback
this book is brilliant, an easy read but a complete page turner, couldn't put it down, dont normally read this type of genre book, I thoroughly enjoyed it and can't wait for a follow up book!


5.0 out of 5 starstruly a brilliant book 18 May 2013By Will slowFormat:Kindle Edition

This was a great book right from the beginning and I was not able to put it down till I had read it a really good story

4.0 out of 5 stars
Emotive and haunting! 16 May 2013
By Gary LinesFormat:Kindle Edition
A superbly written novel, with the kind of protagonist that we can all relate to. A page-turner to the very end; its gritty, first-person narrative carries the reader along as the hero, William, battles with his conscience. Very enjoyable and well worth the purchase.

KARI MILBURN AUTHOR INTERVIEW - Questions asked by EARL CHESSHER

You're a writer. Why?

My father asked me when I was nine what I wanted to do when I grew up. I told him, “Tell stories!” He said, “Then you’ll be a writer.” I have always had a weird imagination, and writing is a way to express that and hopefully make someone smile, cry or frown – any reaction at all is a welcome one.

What three writers have most influenced you as a writer?

Stephen King, Jeffery Archer and Dean Koontz. These three men are amazing story tellers, and there is no agenda other than to share a moment of time inside their heads.

What is your preferred genre? Is that your ONLY genre?

I love to read crime, thrillers, fantasy and horror. I love to write anything that is slightly weird! It is easier for me to say what I don’t write, which is romance. And the only reason for this is that my characters tend to take on a life of their own which usually involves more action than foreplay!

WHO, in your personal life, has most influenced you to write, or made you WANT to write? Why?

My father. He used to love to read my stories, and try to put his own stamp on them! He was a Captain in the merchant navy, and the stories of his life inspired me to write my first novel, Millennium. It never got published and would need a serious re-write now due to it being 2013!! But writing it with his knowledge to aid my research was an inspiration and I miss him dearly now.

Commercial success: Do you care? Why?

Of course I would love commercial success! If I made a decent penny out of this, I could do it full time and can’t imagine a happier place for me to be. In the meantime, however, feedback and reviews are what motivate me.

Literary success: Same questions.

I write ‘quick reads’, and doubt that the literary success will come with the commercial success! Do I want The Times to review it and give it 5 stars? Hell yes! If it comes, I’ll lap it up!

You hate the _________ genre because ...

Least liked is Romance, but that’s probably because I love it and can’t write it!!

The Janitor - a short story by Fiona-Jane Brown

"Ok, ok, you lot, yes, I know you're all deities, but please, keep it orderly, the Big Man doesn't allow me to open the doors before midnight!" the Janitor orders the large crowd which has gathered. Same thing, every year, they've no patience, by Zeus I wish they would take their time! he mutters, looking at his large pocket watch and comparing it with the clock on the wall. The hands on both crept inexorably toward twelve.

The Furies were plotting, muttering, the Janitor swore he could see them pulling the wings off a dead bat. Artemis was stretching her bow back and forth. "Ere, young lady, don't you be putting arrows in that! You'll take someone's eye out!" he warned loudly.

Just then, he saw a familiar face - he had heard the drunken singing for a while now. "Oh now, Dionysus, you've started already, eh? No orgies in the queue, mind, you can do that on the other side!" he called, teasingly, the half-divine rebel-rouser grinning at him from behind a golden mask. One of the Nymphs shrieked and there was the sound of a loud slap as she walloped her groper across the face. There was silence for a bit.

Everyone could see the hands on the large clock reach the zero hour, and a chant of "six, five, four, three..." rippled through the crowd, as the Janitor fumbled for his keys. He knew what they were like. By the first strike, he had the large golden key in the lock. By the twelfth, he had his hands gripped around the door knobs. "Oi! Silence! I'm not opening up until you're all in an orderly line! It wouldn't be the first time I've been knocked down in the rush!" There was a generally shuffling and muttering as the crowd arranged themselves in a line. Satisfied, he turned the knobs and flung open the vast ebony doors. He managed to step back just in time as they all dashed forward, out into the new year, the new day, to carry on the business of the ages.

It took a full ten minutes for them all to leave. Olympus would be quiet for a bit. The Janitor sighed and closed the doors, but not before he could hear the sound of danity running feet and a feminine voice shriek, "No, please, don't close them, I must get through!"

He didn't quite recognise the girl, who wasn't quite wearing a sea-blue robe as she ran towards him. River nymphs! They're always in trouble! He thought. "You're a bit late, little lady, it's gone quarter past, I've got to close up or the Big Man will have my guts for garters!"

"Oh please, let me through, this is so embarrassing, I am Syrinx, a disciple of Artemis. She told me to be here on time, but that's just it, I've... well, I've got a problem... with a man... er a goat... oh, please, help me, he's just a pest!" she cried.

"Pan! He's a wicked boy, worse than Dionysus. Just a sex-maniac. He's after you as well, is he? Oh dear, oh dear, will he never learn?"

"Yes, he's terrible, he doesn't seem to understand my vow of chastity! He's horrible, he ... he smells, he's no better than an animal!"

"Well, he is half-goat! Oh look, on you go, if I see him, I won't breathe a word, ok? Now, on you go, catch up with your goddess, she'll be worried for you!"

"Thank you, thank you, dear friend, may Zeus bless you!" she trilled and ran through the doors.
The Janitor closed them.

Five minutes later he heard it... you couldn't really miss the coming of the chief of Gods, Zeus had a heavy footfall. The Janitor was not unduly worried, surely his boss wouldn't mind letting a latecomer through, especially when she was being pursued by that oik!

"JANUS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING INTERFERING??" Zeus bawled, even before he was within sight.

"Eh? What d'you mean, boss? I did as I always do, opened the door at midnight and let them through!" the Janitor replied.

"You let Syrinx through the doors after they should have been closed! You know the rules, Janus, those that wish to begin the new year on earth must go through the door at the stroke of twelve!"

"Aw, come on, boss, the poor kid's being pestered by Pan, he's a randy sod, won't leave her alone!"

"I'll have you know, Pan is one of my many sons, if he wants a girl, he should not be frustrated by a mere doorkeeper!"

"Ah. But you know, surely you know? And anyway, she just rushed past me, I can't do everything, I'd need two heads to watch both ways!"

Zeus suddenly smiled. "Come hither, Janus, you may have just come up with the best solution ever!" He grabbed the Janitor by the ears and pulled.

"ARGH!!!" the roar of pain and shock was heard all over Mount Olympus and down on earth...

Janus - the doorkeeper of the gods, still stands at the door of the year, having given his name to the first month, but all know him as the twin-headed janitor who can see the past and the future.

Fiona-Jane Brown in an author. You can read her blog here.

Mirror, Mirror - a short story by Megan Loughlin

Mirror, Mirror, on the wall...

Arabella hates mirrors. She hates their cold surfaces and their impersonal stares. She hates the belief that breaking one brings seven years bad luck. She hates the way they seem to be everywhere she looks.

But most of all, she hates them because of what she sees reflected.

Once, she was beautiful. Men flocked to her and women envied her. She was the Face that graced a thousand billboards. She relished in the worship and the adulation. She relished in her body and her face. She dressed herself in the latest fashions and kept herself young and beautiful through an endless string of surgeries. She used and discarded people like Kleenex, never caring about anything except her looks. Those above all she cared about.

She had no friends, only hangers on and lackeys that she used to advance her way further up the rung of success. She clawed her way to the top, never caring about those she stepped on to get there. To her, there was only one thing that mattered-Arabella.

But such an attitude cannot go unpunished forever, and Arabella found this out.

Even now, she has trouble remembering everything. There's a party, then all of a sudden there's smoke, and then an intense and horrible heat blasts her face, blinding her. After that, she recalls snippets of words, phantom-like conversations.

“...Almost completely burnt away...”

“We'll try to save as much of her face as we can...”

“She'll never look the same...”

“...Blind in one eye...”

She opens her eyes to darkness, and a professional voice - a doctor's, she thinks - is telling her that she had a narrow escape. “However, you did sustain some serious injuries.”

“How serious?!” Her voice is raspy, and she trembles. The doctor hesitates.

“Miss Wilkins, you need to get some rest. We can discuss this more lucidly in the morning.”

“I want a mirror.”

“Miss Wilkins...”

“BRING ME A FUCKING MIRROR!”

The doctor sighs in resignation. “There's one on the wall behind you.”

Arabella turns, and for a moment she thinks that an elaborate joke is being played on her. Surely the maimed and disfigured monster she sees isn't her! Why, she doesn't have those hideous scars! Both her eyes are a brilliant blue, not this faded grey color, and her hair is a long, luxurious black, not short and stubbly. Her lips are full and plump, not cracked and pitted like a dried up riverbed.

But then reality hits her. That is her. That-creature, that monster from the pits of Hell is her. Her hands come up, digging into her cheeks as her eyes go wide in horror, and she screams, and screams, and screams, at the realization that her life is over, that her looks, her perfect looks, are gone.

The screaming dissolves into insane laughter, and Arabella grabs the bedside lamp and throws it at the mirror, shattering it into a million pieces.

'Now', she thinks, 'I am beautiful again. I will always be beautiful.'

Always.

Forever.

Who's the fairest of them all? 


Note: Megan Loughlin is an author who lives in Florida. View her book Wolf's Bane on Amazon

Waiting Room

I'm in the waiting room for them to call my name. I have to see an Angel. Just a little ironic seeing that I had spent my whole life as a receptionist in a doctors office.

It's exactly the same as the waiting room in any doctors or dentists you may have ever been in.  Scuffed paint on the walls and the skirting boards, old well worn furniture, broken toys piled high in the toy box. There aren't any out of date magazines though. Instead, there are lots of leaflets.

How To Cope With Change
Welcoming God Into Your Life
Finding Employment
Build Your Perfect Home
Relationship Counciling

This is not what I expected at all.

When alive, I was an atheist. I didn't believe there was anything after death. My parents had been Catholics, so I had the full Catholic burial. I'm still not sure if that was the right way to go. The cremated bodies are gone for good. Maybe that would have been a better choice. So far, all I've done is sit in this room. I don't know what is beyond the frosted windows. They haven't told me. Is this another life to live all over? Do I have to spend another forty years behind another reception desk? I hope not!

The cremated ones don't come here. It seems that the body really does get reborn. We need it after all.

This waiting room is a doctors of sort. I'm not ill though. Just missing a few vital organs. They're fitting me with some new parts. Being a Donor cost me my lungs and liver.

Apparently,  I need them...