Spoilsport – Short Fantasy Fiction

The following is a fiction piece of exactly 100 words, according to Microsoft Word. Enjoy!


The sight of mingling coworkers, bobbing and swaying in their greens and reds, made me nauseous. With a petite Asian woman on his arm, my officemate Jonas sidled next to me. “Rob, meet Amy.”

She offered me her hand, delicate fingers curved down. I gave them a kiss.

Amy smiled. “What do you do?”

Software developer is dull. “I’m a fantasy author.”

Tree ornaments sparkled in her eyes as she grabbed my belt buckle. “What’s your pleasure?”

With a scowl, Jonas clapped her on the shoulder. Her eyes went black. He grimaced. “Don’t say ‘fantasy.’”

Her eyes came back on.

Jonas and Amy - Spoilsport Story

Pestilence – Short Fantasy Fiction

[This story was written in response to a challenge on the Mythic Scribes forum, and is also posted on that site. About 2000 words.]

A leaf floated down from a tree branch hanging over the balcony of the Green Palace. Ella picked it up from the balcony floor. Numerous holes in the leaf left it looking skeletal. “I’m dying,” the leaf cried, and then it did.

Ella’s heart missed a beat. “The island is overrun by bugs, Gammon. Something must be done, or our beautiful island will be reduced to a sandy beach where nothing grows.”

The High Priest joined her on the balcony. “Curses on Trader Ograk.”

“Gammon, we’ve been through this. Retract your curse. We don’t know it was the ogre who brought the infestation.”

“No one else has visited our shores since the last new moon.”

He had a point. Ella sighed, pocketing the leaf. She would use it, along with all the other recently dead and dying leaves from her tree, in making a new outfit, to memorialize their passing. “But cursing him does us no good now.”

“You’re right. I hereby retract the curse. But we must do something.”

Another leaf fell in front of Ella’s face, crying in agony.

“Have our wizards any magic left to combat this pestilence?”

“They are doing what they can, Princess. It is not enough.”

“These are desperate times, Gammon.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, Princess. I think it time I resorted to prophecy.”

“You will create more controversy,” said Ella. “Too many of your previous prophecies have failed. People will not believe a new one.”

The High Priest dropped his chin. “The god does not inspire me to speak. He leaves me to do what I think is right of my own design. I can think of no other course of action that may save us. All I can do is my best, and pray that the god will bless my efforts.”

“I understand,” said Ella. “It must be done.”


The prophecy spread across the island in a matter of minutes: A Chosen One would come forth to deal with the pestilence upon the island. Gammon, High Priest of Elhon, had spoken. Some said that the prophecy could not be true. Some said that it must be true, for why would Elhon allow a priest to lie? Some pointed to the failure of other prophecies. Others argued that those prophecies may have succeeded in ways not understood by those of mortal blood. The ways of Elhon were mysterious, they said. I’ll show you mysterious, their contenders said.

The prophecy was carried away from the island by swans, since they were more reliable than the ducks and geese, and could survive the long journey to the other islands. A duckling chose to undertake the task along with the swans – a duckling so ugly, the other ducklings were glad to have a reprieve from looking at it.

Then the waiting began. The leaves continued to drop, their every cry wrenching at Ella’s heart.

“Even if a Chosen One should come now,” moaned Ella, “it may be too late.”

“We must have faith,” said Gammon. “Elhon will not fail his people or his plants.”


The tree beside the palace balcony sported only fifty-six leaves, down from seventy-five at the same time the day before. Ella counted the leaves every morning. At this rate, the tree would be leafless in three days. Other trees in the forest were in similar condition. “Soon I will have neither a man nor a tree in my life, Gammon.”

“You will have me, Princess.”

She patted his arm. “I will always have you, dear friend.”


Two days later, only twelve leaves remained on Ella’s tree. Some bugs gnawed the bark of the tree, leaving wicked scars in their wake. “This is the end,” said Ella. “This is the last day of greenery on my tree. Is there no elven magic that can preserve even these last few precious leaves?”

Gammon shook his head, his hood cloaking his face like a veil. “We have done all we can, Princess.”

A brace of ducks waddled by below, quacking contentedly. Every one of them looked plump. They’d not lacked for anything to eat this past moon. But even they could not consume enough bugs to end the pestilence. Only when the bugs had devoured every plant on the island would the pestilence end.

A swan landed on the balcony. “I have brought you good news, my Princess.”

Ella studied the swan. “Forgive me, swan, but I do not recognize you.”

The swan held his head high and strutted about. “You knew me as the ugly duckling.”

“Oh, my goodness,” said Ella. “What magic converted you from duckling to swan?”

“No magic, my Princess, only time. But that is not the best news I have for you. The Chosen One comes.”

Ella felt the throbbing of her heart in her chest. “Why did you not lead with that?” She ran inside and down the spiral stairs to her bedroom, where she donned an outfit crafted of grass blades and rose petals. Then she hurried out to meet the Chosen One.


It wasn’t a Chosen One who had come. It was Trader Ograk. Ella’s throat felt dry as she watched the merchant ship dock. Her muscles tensed as the ogre dropped a plank and tromped down it, his heavy feet sinking into the sand as he reached the bottom of the plank. He marched up the beach to her and kneeled. “I hear you’re in need of a Chosen One.”

“Go away,” said High Priest Gammon. “It was you who brought this pestilence to our island. You cannot be our Chosen One.”

“Didn’t say I was.” Ograk stood. “But I brought someone who is. He’s a simple farm hand who found a magic rock. He used it to run an army of invading trolls off his home island. His name is Herman. You want to meet him? He’s on board my ship now. Says he’d like nothing better than to meet an Elven Princess and be her Chosen One.”

“Oh,” said Ella, feeling flush. She fanned her face with a hand. “Well, then, yes, please, by all means, bring this human man before us.”


The fellow ran down the plank and up the beach. He did not kneel before Ella. “Hi,” he said, extending his hand for a shake, “I’m Herman.” He held up a stone, a spherical, polished black thing with a hole in the top. “I found this magic stone, and when I heard of your dire situation, I felt I had to come see if I could help.”

“It is a very pretty stone,” said Princess Ella, touching its sleek surface. Her arm brushed against Herman’s, causing her skin to tingle.

“Well, thank you,” said the stone.

“It does have a magical glow,” said High Priest Gammon.

“Always want to look my best,” said the stone. Herman smiled and shrugged.

“Let us waste no time,” said Princess Ella, “and put it immediately to the test.”

“At your service,” said the stone.


“The Chosen One has come to our aid,” proclaimed Princess Ella from her balcony before the gathering of her elven subjects. “The prophecy of High Priest Gammon is true.” The crowd cheered.

Priest Gammon walked up beside her, and the crowd fell silent. “We will be rid of this pestilence once and for all,” he shouted. Everyone in the crowd looked at each other with skeptical glances.

“I present to you the Chosen One,” proclaimed the Princess, and the crowd cheered again.

Herman walked out on the balcony. He held the magical stone above his head. “With the magic of this stone, I will end this pestilence!” The crowd cheered even louder for him than they had for Ella. Herman lowered his arm and his voice. “All right, rock, what must we do?” Herman shook the rock and rubbed his finger in the hole on top of it.

“Ooh, yeah, baby.” The stone shone even more brightly. “All right, yeah, um, first, you must go to the center of the island.”

“This palace is at the center of the island,” said Ella. “We’re already there.”

“Aw,” said the stone, “that’s not very dramatic. If I’m to do magic, there ought to be some drama, some tension. There ought to be a journey for us to make, obstacles to overcome, something that bards will want to write stories about. Standing on a balcony is hardly a legendary feat. Perhaps you could all strike dramatic poses. Make it look like you’re confronting something dreadful.”

“But we are confronting something dreadful,” said Ella. “The pestilence is dreadful indeed.”

“That’s the spirit,” said the stone. “Now strike a pose, please. Herman, hold me aloft and command me in your loudest voice to do what needs to be done.”

The Princess and the High Priest posed, legs spread apart, each with a fist extended behind their backs and the other hand raised, pointing into the trees.

Herman set his feet wide apart. He held high the stone and cried, “Magical stone, I command you, rid this island of its plague!”

“Um, just a moment,” said the stone. “Is it a plague? I thought it was a pestilence. I’m not sure I can deal with a plague.”

“What’s the difference?” said Herman, lowering his arm.

Ella broke her pose. “I thought a plague was a form of pestilence.” She touched the stone and let her fingers slip free of it, to land on Herman’s arm, where she allowed them to linger.

“It’s a pestilence,” said High Priest Gammon, still maintaining his pose, “regardless of whether it’s a plague. A plague is a form of pestilence. So if you can deal with any pestilence, you can deal with a plague.”

The stone shimmered. “That is not for you to say, old man.”

“I’m not so old I can’t put a curse on you,” said the High Priest, his legs trembling.

“Settle down,” said Herman, his gaze briefly meeting that of the Princess. “Forget I said plague.” He held the stone up again. “I command you, stone, to rid this island of this pestilence.”

“And be quick about it,” said the Princess, retaking her pose, “so that I may give the Chosen One his reward.”

“You already used up my magic for the year,” said the stone. “If it’s not a plague, you can’t change your mind, and I can’t help you.”

“Oh, for Elhon’s sake,” said the High Priest, slumping to sit on the balcony floor, “it’s a plague. It’s a pestilence. Just get rid of it.”

A bug wearing a crown flew down from the tree. “Would you three please shut up?”

“Don’t you mean four?” asked the stone.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” shouted King Bug.

“That’s only three ‘shut ups’,” said the stone.

“Aaaaugh!” shouted King Bug. He flew away, muttering something about there not being that much food left on the island anyway. His fellow bugs followed him. They loaded themselves onto the merchant ship and sailed away, leaving Trader Ograk knee deep in the water staring after them with his jaw down.

“Hooray!” shouted the Princess. “The pestilence is gone! Three cheers for the Chosen One!” The gathered crowd applauded. There was much dancing in and beneath the nearly leafless trees, until well after the sun went down.

“I do all the work, and he gets all the credit,” said the stone.

“Looks like you’re stranded on this island with us,” said Princess Ella to Herman. “You’ll just have to stay with me.”

“And you can stay with me,” High Priest Gammon told Trader Ograk.

And so they all lived happily ever after, until the Elven King returned home from his odyssey. But that’s another tale for another day.

To The Core – A Fantasy Short

[This story was originally written by Michael K. Eidson and previously published October 16, 2012, on Burrst. About 1000 words.]

Wearing a long cloak in hot weather wasn’t always a sign you’re concealing something or intend to, thought the elder Cornraind as he watched the younger Nachford walking amongst the carts and stalls in the marketplace. Cornraind had seen Nachford around here before, knew the man to have only half a brain and no couth. The older man had not seen the younger one take anything from a cart that he hadn’t put back, but Cornraind was still suspicious. Not that it was his duty to patrol the marketplace, but even in retirement he had the mindset of a City Guard.

Cornraind stayed his distance, but maneuvered his way through the stalls to keep Nachford in sight. Something didn’t look right about the young man. Cornraind couldn’t put his finger on it; maybe Nachford had put on some weight, or grown an inch taller. Maybe he had already stolen something and carried it under his cloak. But it wouldn’t do for Cornraind to confront the young man; any ensuing incident would have bad consequences for Cornraind even if Nachford were concealing stolen goods. The City Guard would lock away anyone for the night, even a former City Guard, who caused a disturbance in their fair city without due cause.

Shrill laughter cut over the noise of the crowd. Nachford had apparently just told one of his strange stories to Pwervara, an older woman selling apples. She held out an apple to Nachford, and the man placed both hands on it, one on either side. He bowed to the stall owner and kissed her wrinkled hand as she released the apple.

At the same time, a hand covered with mottled gray skin snaked out of a pocket of Nachford’s cloak, grabbed another piece of fruit from the apple cart, and hauled it into the pocket. As Cornraind hurried closer, he could hear munching from Nachford’s direction. When he stood right behind Nachford, he heard a belch and saw an apple core thrown at high velocity out of the pocket.

Cornraind had just witnessed what was obviously a theft of an apple, and he clapped a hand on Nachford’s shoulder.

The young man turned around with an inquisitive look, holding the apple Pwervara had handed him. “Yes?”

“Excuse me, young Nachford, but your stowaway stole an apple from this nice lady.”


“The gremlin in your pocket.”


“In your pocket.”

Nachford reached into his pocket and turned it inside out. It was clearly empty.

“I know what I saw.” But doubt gnawed at Cornraind’s gut. Had he been wrong? Was his sight playing tricks on him? He looked for the discarded apple core, but didn’t see it anywhere.

“I think you need some herbs and prayers, old man. You’re either seeing things or you’re possessed.”

Pwervara shooed him away with her hands. “Nachford was just about to buy an apple, and I don’t need you ruining a sale for me. Or should I call the real City Guard and have them carry you away? Guard! Guard!”

“I’m sorry,” muttered Cornraind, and he trudged away, his conscience weighing heavy in his chest. He’d been so sure of what he saw.

As he passed another apple cart, one belonging to Raugal, a man about Cornraind’s age but too poor to retire, the mottled gray hand reached out of one of the lower pockets of Cornraind’s cloak and snatched an apple. He heard munching and crunching, and then the apple core went flying. “Why you little…” he shouted, and dove a hand into his pocket. His hand met no resistance other than the cloth of the interior of his pocket. He turned the pocket inside out, and it was empty.

“Can I help you?” Raugal stepped around the cart and looked askance at Cornraind.

“I saw it again,” mumbled Cornraind. “It stole an apple from your cart.”

Just then a hand reached out of one of Raugal’s pockets and grabbed another apple. Cornraind moved quickly. If he could catch it while it was eating, maybe it wouldn’t have a chance to get away.

“Get off!” Raugal shouted, striking Cornraind over the head and shoulders as the retired City Guard bent over and stuffed a hand into Raugal’s pocket.

Cornraind clutched something hard and clunky and drew it out of Raugal’s pocket. Coins fell from his clenched fist.

“Thief!” shouted Raugal.

Cornraind dropped the coins and ran. He managed five quick strides before he collided with a cart loaded with fish. He and the fish and the fishmonger landed on the ground in a tangled, smelly mess.

A stern voice boomed over him; it belonged to City Guardsman Gavaeld. “What is going on here?”

“The old coot tried to steal from me,” said Raugal.

“He’s ruined all my fish,” said the fishmonger.

“He interrupted my making a sale,” said Pwervara.

“He accused me of stealing,” said Nachford.

“Come on, old man,” said Gavaeld, hauling Cornraind to his feet. “Of all people, you should know better than this.”

“But I–”

“Save it. You can sleep it off in a cell tonight, and Chief will decide your fate in the morning.”

Cornraind knew better than to argue. If he were still with the City Guard, he’d have done no differently than Gavaeld, given the same circumstances. He went along, keeping his mouth shut, and stood there looking forlornly through the bars of a cell with no furnishings except a small straw cot against the back wall. Gavaeld turned the key in the lock to the cell door, wagging his head in pity but not speaking one word of comfort to his prisoner. Cornraind knew he wouldn’t receive even a morsel of food until morning; it was part of his punishment.

As Gavaeld turned to walk away, a hand zipped out of his pocket and threw an apple through the bars. The fruit landed at Cornraind’s feet. The retired City Guard picked it up, rubbed it on his cloak, sat on the edge of the straw cot, and quietly yet gratefully ate his meager dinner. He even ate the core, eliminating any evidence that he’d somehow avoided a part of his expected punishment.

Hooblaport City Center Square – Map

I’m going over the latest draft of my debut novel, looking for any inconsistencies in the story. To aid me in this endeavor, I’ve created a map of one important location in the novel, City Center Square in Hooblaport. I thought I’d share the resulting map here with any who might find this sort of thing interesting.

If the map looks small, click the image to see it at full-size.

Hooblaport City Center Square


The map isn’t entirely to scale, though it’s close. I’ve left a few buildings off the edge of the map, where I’ve not decided exactly what’s there. Some of the buildings that made it onto this map aren’t referenced in this first novel, but they may make appearances in later novels. Time will tell.

Note that Main Street runs through Wizards Emporium at ground level. The Emporium is six stories tall. Main Street cuts through the first two stories of the building.

I’ve been thinking about book cover art for fantasy novels a good deal lately. So I found this analysis of fantasy cover art trends written by Nicola Alter of particular interest.

Read the post: Judging a Book by Its Cover – 17 Typical Features of Fantasy Covers.

Or read about my muck-up:

I tried to reblog the post of the above name written by Nicola Alter on her Thoughts on Fantasy site. I don’t know why it didn’t work. I haven’t reblogged any other posts before, so didn’t know exactly how it worked. I suspect I had a problem because I hadn’t logged into my site before I tried to do the reblog from her site. Seems like WordPress would have asked me to login if necessary when I clicked the Reblog button, but it didn’t. And clicking the Reblog button again had no effect. So I messed up. Next time I try to reblog something, I hope I remember this experience and will login to my site first. Maybe it will work then.

If you’ve read my little blurb here, I appreciate it, but now, if you’re interested in the topic listed in the title of this post, please jump over to Nicola’s site. You can tell her I sent you.

UPDATE: I managed to get the link on Nicola’s site to my so-called reblog of her post to point to this page, by making the title match and backdating this post to the day I tried to reblog. Go, me! 🙂

Role-Playing and Writing: the Storytelling Intersection

Hello, friends. This time, we have a guest post from Coyote Kishpaugh, co-author of The Order of the Four Sons series. He will tell us about the connection between role-playing games and writing fiction. As I mentioned last time, when his co-author, Lauren Scharhag, graced us with her guest post on creating fantasy worlds, I received an advance review copy of the first book of the O4S series (book one is out now as of this writing), and I recommend it to anyone who likes fantasy or horror or other forms of speculative fiction. It also has a touch of science fiction, crime and history. I’m looking forward to further journeys in this universe they have jointly created, which has many similarities to our own, but tons of differences too. I hope you’ll give the series a try. Links to book one are in Lauren’s guest post, the link to which is at the bottom of this post.

Before we hear from Coyote about his experience with rpgs and fiction writing, let’s get to know him a bit. I asked him and Lauren both the same set of questions, and they agreed to answer them without consulting each other about their answers. Fun, fun, right? Coyote’s answers are below. A link to Lauren’s answers and her guest post are at the end of this post, so you can easily compare to see how close their answers are. Continue reading “Role-Playing and Writing: the Storytelling Intersection”

Home Sweet Universe

Today’s guest post comes to us from Lauren Scharhag, co-author of Order of the Four Sons, Book 1. Much of the story takes place in Excelsior Springs, MO, not far from where I grew up, and near where some of my family still live and work. I received an advance review copy of the book (it’s out now as of this writing), and highly recommend it to all lovers of speculative fiction. It has touches of science fiction, fantasy, horror, crime and history, all wrapped up in one little package. It’s the first book of a series, and I’m looking forward to book 2 and further journeys in a universe not quite ours.

By way of introduction to Lauren and the O4S universe, I’ve asked her a few questions and posted her answers below. Following the interview is her guest post on creating believable settings for fantasy worlds and the universes they inhabit. Continue reading “Home Sweet Universe”

My Trouble With a Single Viewpoint Character

I’ve been working on my debut fantasy novel for too long. This will be my seventh and last draft. There will be beta reading and editing, but I’m never writing this thing from scratch again. Seven drafts are enough, even if a couple of them were not complete.

I’ve written 40,000 words on this latest draft. That’s half what the experts recommend for a first novel. But I’m only a quarter of the way through the story. So my novel will be twice the length the experts recommend, unless I cut a lot, and even then, what remains will exceed 80,000 words. It will be what it is, and I won’t cut so much the story suffers for it, regardless. I plan to self publish this sucker, so it’s not like I have to adhere to someone else’s ideas of what’s best.

I’d thought about breaking the book into two or three books, but some people don’t like reading a book, even one that’s part of a series, that can’t stand on its own. I’m not that way, as long as all the books in the series are available to me. If I can’t find one or if the author stops writing the series partway through, then that irks me. With that in mind, I think it best to make this novel a standalone story, even if it’s 120,000 to 160,000 words. I intend this to be the first book in a series, but I want it to be a complete story in itself.

The previous draft of the story was meant to be the one I’d edit for publication. But after it went to beta readers, I discovered they all agreed on one thing: Alonso, the male human protagonist, was not a good viewpoint character. I’d been shooting for an antihero, and that’s what I produced. He was just such an antihero that the readers couldn’t relate to him or, worse yet, root for him.

The problem I face with not using Alonso as the point-of-view character is that he’s so central to the story, whatever viewpoint character(s) I use need to know about Alonso and be able to observe his actions in so many different venues. To sufficiently cover all significant aspects of his tale, I determined that I needed three viewpoint characters: Ngozi, the shadow elf woman married to Alonso; Locket, a nearly-twenty-year-old dream walking human gal who’s been told to spy on Alonso in his dreams to help facilitate his death; and Gabriel, a teen-aged human girl with a secret or two and a grudge against Alonso from her previous life as a jackal. The tale will be told without either the protagonist or antagonist being used as a viewpoint character. Other authors have pulled off this type of story. The tales of Sherlock Holmes comes to mind, those narrated by Dr. Watson.

I’m staggering the chapters, writing one from one character’s viewpoint, the next from the second character’s viewpoint, and the next from the third character’s viewpoint. Repeat to the end. I like this approach in that it gives the reader information from different perspectives, and the reader comes to understand all that’s going on before any of the individual characters. I think this helps with the suspense, because it’s questionable whether each character will discover what they need to know in time to save themselves and those they love. Before, with only Alonso as viewpoint character, it was unclear exactly what the threat was against him — or if there was any threat — until late in the story. Without knowledge of the threat, it was difficult to root for Alonso, especially with his being such an antihero. The way the story is written now, the reader will have other characters to root for, and whether they root for Alonso or not won’t matter much.

It will now be clear to the reader from the outset that someone wants Alonso dead and for him to endure a lot of physical and emotional pain in the dying. Not all of the characters, especially Alonso and Ngozi, will know this. The reader will understand why Alonso is being treated so nicely by certain people he interacts with, whereas the beta readers of the previous draft had confessed to wondering at Alonso’s great luck in certain situations. One beta reader had even admitted to feeling a bit jealous of Alonso’s luck. That shouldn’t be the case now.

Initially I’d thought that using a single viewpoint character would be the only way I’d want to tell this story. The reader could delve deep into one character’s psyche and get to know the character well. That’s cool if the character has a psyche you want to visit for an entire novel. Alonso wasn’t like that. All of the three viewpoint characters I’m using now are likable in their own ways and more likable than Alonso. Gabriel was singled out by one of the beta readers as a favorite character. Another beta reader singled out Ngozi. Locket is one of my personal favorite characters from the story, and is suitable in the role of main character. So there you have it. Three viewpoint characters.

In writing the story from these different viewpoints, I’m finding the need to fill in some details that I hadn’t bothered with before, partly because Alonso had paid them no mind. I’m also finding that using these characters is invoking a better understanding in me of events that before had transpired in the background, but which now make sense to flesh out to further the stories of the viewpoint characters. There are times while writing this new material when I feel a flush of excitement as I realize that I am coming to understand these characters better and loving the cool new stuff I get to write because I’m using their viewpoints. There is a whole side to Gabriel that never came out in previous drafts, because Alonso wasn’t privy to it. This secret aspect of her had colored how she acted in those previous drafts, and I think it was because of this that a beta reader liked her the best, even though he didn’t know her complete backstory.

When will I be done writing this book? I think I’ll finish writing this last draft by the end of 2015. But the beta reading and editing will go into 2016. So I’m setting a goal of mid-2016 to publish. I will have to stay focused, which is difficult at times. I’m easily distracted by the lure of doing something new.

I love receiving words of encouragment from others. They really help motivate me. Got any such words for me?

Eposic Character Art Now Available on DriveThruRPG

If you’re an individual or self-publisher who could use a bit of royalty-free fantasy character art, check out the Eposic store on DriveThruRPG. I’ve put up a couple of art packs at a price anyone can afford: Pay What You Want. Even if you’re just curious, you can grab it for free if you like. Decorate your web site with it, put it on a roleplaying game character sheet, use it in your self-pubbed fiction or game books.

Sample image from the Dark Jasmine art pack:

Dark Jasmine sample art

There are two art packs available now. Grab them both at the Eposic store on DriveThruRPG.

Love After Death – Cover Art

Love After Death cover art So here’s my first stab at a cover for my debut fantasy novel, Love After Death. Click on the image to see a larger version. I rendered the 3D portion of the cover in DAZ3D Studio using the Genesis model. Postwork and titling were done in Serif PhotoPlus X5. The title font is Showcard Gothic. The font for the rest of the text on the cover is Century Gothic.

It’s not easy picking fonts for cover art. You want them to stand out even when the cover is displayed at a small size. I think the fonts I chose will work well for that. LoveAfterDeath-5 Here’s a smaller version of the cover art, at the size you’d expect to see used in an Amazon ad or brief listing for a published book. I have to lean close to the screen to read the text at the very top of the image, but I can definitely make it out. I can read the title okay, but then I already know what it says.

What do you think of this cover art? Does it pique your interest in the novel? What kind of story does this cover make you think the novel will be? Any suggestions for changes?

Enhanced by Zemanta

Proudly powered by WordPress | Theme: Baskerville 2 by Anders Noren.

Up ↑