“Paris
was an old city, the very moonbeams seeming but ghosts of sad lovers wandering
the night in search of their lost soulmate.”
Mark Twain
Welcome to my DON’T
BUY MY BOOK! Blog Tour. This stop
graciously provided by the ever kind D.G. Hudson.
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| Pixabay Image of the Louvre Museum |
D.G. loves the Louvre … and since part of my Steampunk
occurs in that fabled museum, I thought to speak of it.
But before approaching its awe-inspiring galleries,
let me tell you why I named my tour: DON’T BUY MY BOOK!
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| R. Yeomans, for The Not-So-Innocents at Large |
Like life in Paris, the craft of writing is never
simple, for it embraces not just the “How”
but the “Why” and the “What” as well.
I don’t wish for you to buy my book; I wish for you to
WANT my book.
Most people have given up the hope of ever finding a
book that so completely draws them in that they totally forget about their own
lives and actually live the exploits of characters who have become more real
than many of the people with whom they work.
How do you write a book like that?
Understand that there are no heroes … only ordinary
folks who must step up to the challenges facing them and do more than what they
feel they are capable of.
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| Cora Pearl’s Image above Paris |
Tap into the primal fears we all have, the inner needs
that comprise the human heart, and pull your reader into the turbulent lives of
your characters by making him or her care if they win or lose.
How to do that?
You craft your characters so that the reader sees herself in them and
her enemies in the antagonists your characters face.
When I wrote of visiting the Louvre, your mind filled
with the magnificent items that the famous museum contains. I did that as a magician distracts the audience with a
false flourish. You see, Paris of 1867 was an all too real city,
filled with heartbreak and despair.
Those with seeing eyes found the rot beneath the gilded façade
disturbing.
View the early morning streets of Paris through the
eyes of Texican, Samuel McCord, and his Apache blood-brother, Elu:
Considering its many gardens, you might think Paris fragrant. You would be right … and wrong. Story of the human race I guess. The streets of Paris reeked of decay both
literally and figuratively. Its idea of
sanitation was to throw everything unwanted out into the street: dish water,
feces … people.
The stench of Paris made me long for the clear, clean mountain air of
home. It wasn’t the soot that layered
every building I passed, but the soot that stained this city’s soul. Six thousand children a year were delivered
like so much refuse to the orphanage run by the Catholic Sisters of Charity.
In various parts of the city, there were places with small boxes in
which tiny babies could be “deposited” like unwanted clothes. I sighed.
In winter one child in three of those children died of exposure.
Elu flicked hard eyes to me as we walked the awakening streets of
Paris. “Have I told you lately how much
I hate the White Man’s cities?”
My steps picked up as I thought I spotted one of those accursed boxes. Elu growled low under his breath and walked
at my side like an angry panther. I got
to the damn box and bent down, dreading what I would find.
It was empty.
I looked up at him puzzled, “Why take care of the child, of course.”
“Of course,” he laughed without a trace of humor. “Dyami, even you cannot take care of the
whole world.”
I nodded. “Don’t mean to. I just take care of those lost souls whose
trails cross mine.”
Elu’s face became flint as he kneeled beside me, looking with disgust
at the tiny box. I had the terrible
notion that his mystic nature was having him feel all the deaths that had
happened to small crying babies who died of exposure or thirst in this wooden
coffin. He flicked harder eyes to me.
“Have I told you how much I hate the White Man’s cities?”
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| Image DRAGONS ABOVE PARIS! |
See how I put in juxtaposition your expectations of
beauty with the confrontation of stark reality?
That is how you draw your reader in. Do not worry: a mysterious tour of the Louvre does
take place at the end of my Steampunk novel …
Along with an aerial battle atop the Thunderbird
against attacking dragons above the Eiffel Tower. And, there is much more:
The Sidhe kidnapping Princess Victoria; a deadly “Red
Wedding” in the catacombs beneath the ancient Rouen Cathedral; the passengers of the first Air/Steamship, Xanadu, being attacked by the Fae Spell
of St. Vitus Dance; Samuel McCord being cornered by the Rougarou, the
werewolves of France.
What are you waiting for?
Disregard the title of my tour. BUY MY BOOK!
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DG:
Any comments about the covers and images? Have you been to the Louvre Museum? If not, would you like to?
Please leave a comment to let me know you were here AND to welcome Roland to the Rainforest Writing Blog. Each comment will receive a reply. . .Thanks for dropping by! Please check out Roland's blog when you have time at Writing in the Crosshairs.
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References:
http://rolandyeomans.blogspot.ca/ Roland Yeomans Blog
http://rolandyeomans.blogspot.ca/2016/10/do-you-trust-your-doctor.html Reference to this post
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