Shed the blood. Speak the words. Change the world. - Blue Words by M.C. Edwards

"Even if this is not you genre of choice, 'Blue Words' is one great story, and, coupled with the writer's craft with words, deserves it's 5 stars. This book treats the reader to a uniquely, imagnitive context, an engaging and well-paced story-line" - Goodreads, Judy Morris:

Description:

Date of Publication: November 30th, 2014

Cover Artist: Geoff Craig

Common threads have always woven through the world's mythology and folklore, strings which seem to link cultures divided by the vastness of oceans and time.

Have you ever wondered why? What if I told you that they all stem from a single origin.....the Varth-lokkr. Within this ancient creature's blood, stirs the power to save or enslave the world as we know it, a power ignited by a simple word. But which does it truly desire?

This dark urban fantasy follows one of these creatures through its emergence into 21st century Australia. It chronicles the rise of those who oppose it, those who ally themselves with it and those who are unwillingly drawn into its wake.

Shed the blood. Speak the words. Change the world.

GUEST POST

Urban Fantasy through a Man’s eyes

Did you know that men and women actually see colours differently? Studies show that if my wife and I were to both look at an orange shirt it would look far redder to my eyes than it would to hers. Apparently we males aren’t able to distinguish the subtle shades of yellow, green and blue as well as our fellow female human beings. So alongside the obvious aesthetic differences between the genders, there is also a distinct difference in the way our brains process the world around us. Suddenly some of those disagreements start to make sense right? So how does that effect what we read and write? 

I don’t think I would get much argument if I said that the urban fantasy subgenre was dominated by female authors. You need only look at the ‘Popular Urban fantasy’ list on Goodreads, sure you are going to see Jim Butcher pop up a lot, but you will scroll a long way before finding another male author. We are out there though, and we are writing some great stuff. I’m not sure I can explain why female authors tend to dominate the subgenre, but what I will do is try to explain what the creation process looks like in my male mind and where I feel some of the differences lie.

I guess I should start by addressing what exactly an urban fantasy is. As most people do in today’s world I defer to the almighty Wikipedia:

Urban fantasy is a subgenre of fantasy defined by place; the fantastic narrative has an urban setting. Urban fantasy exists on one side of a spectrum, opposite high fantasy, which is set in an entirely fictitious world. Many urban fantasies are set in contemporary times and contain supernatural elements. However, the stories can take place in historical, modern, or futuristic periods, and the settings may include fictional elements. The prerequisite is that they must be primarily set in a city.

So basically it’s fantasy with believable elements, set predominately in a city. Straight away we get to the heart of what I personally love about urban fantasy, that believable element. I love how urban fantasy authors, both male and female, take something which at first glance is completely and utterly insane and in no way fits with the modern world, then through clever crafting and shaping starts you thinking, “hmmmm, I guess that sounds possible.” The impossible component is where I start my writing. What is? How does it work? Why does it work? Where did it come from? What are the weaknesses? Then comes the realism. How would the modern world react?

At this point I still think the creation process is much the same for male and female authors alike. Oh and that reminds me, as we start to dive into this, I would like you to remember that I am only theorising and generalising here based on what happens in my head and what I have gleamed from long discussions with female friends who also write. Every writer is different and no two writers of any gender ever work the same. -Now, back on topic- Once the unbelievable is made believable, my man-brain starts thinking….what is the action going to look like and how can I fit it into a plot? No book can exist solely on action, but to myself, as a male reader, it is integral to a story’s progression and I do bore quickly if there isn’t any. 

When the action is in place and I have the outline of a plot, the next step for my writing process, and in my opinion the most important, is the character development. This is also where I feel the first divide is between the genders lies. It’s hard to write the opposite gender, you just don't have that insider knowledge of how they think. I have to spend a lot more time trying to make my female characters three dimensional without them becoming unbelievable or irritating. This is something I see in other male authors work too, in all genres, but it seems particularly prevalent in fantasy genres. We desperately try to avoid the damsel in distress stereotype which litters classic fantasy literature. Unfortunately that often leads to overly dominating and sometimes……let's face it, irritating characters. The only way I have found to overcome that is to base my female characters on people I know. Yes, I realise that all my female friends and family are now deeply analysing my work and seeing themselves in every character. I will have to lay low for a while.

Finally with engaging characters developed, I look at the relationships amongst characters. This is where I see the greatest difference between male and female authors in urban fantasy. Romance has become a very strong element in the subgenre, because it really does fit well. Whenever I read work by female authors I am always envious of the depth and feeling they develop in their romantic relationships, it always feels so natural and organic. It’s not something which comes naturally in my writing, my brain just doesn’t see the complexities of love the way my female friends do. I see love as powerful and raw, but also very simple. You either, love someone and would do anything in your power for them, or you don’t. So the romance isn’t central to my plot like a lot of urban fantasy. It’s definitely there and plays a starring role but the story doesn’t revolve around it. 

Well there you have it. I commend you on making it to the end and thank you for taking the time to read my ramblings. In summary, I don’t think the gender of an author makes a difference to the quality of their writing, but there are certainly differences in their work. However, nothing is ever set in stone, and it never makes sense to limit yourself, so I would like to encourage a bisexual reading approach. Yes, I know that sounds weird, but I think you get my drift ans I’m going to finish on it anyway. Cheers.

EXCERPT

TOUR SCHEDULE

"Don't move or we'll fire," ordered one of the guards, his voice shook and his trigger finger twitched. Gudrik glared at him and swiftly shot towards George, who was now leaning over the stainless steel top rail, still scouring for an escape which didn't exist. The guards began to fire wildly at him. They may not have seemed overly competent, but they could shoot. Several projectiles tore through Gudrik's flesh as he moved, spattering blue onto the grass. Startled by the gunshots, George spun just in time to see the scruffy relic hurtling towards her. A bullet buried into Gudrik's knee. He stumbled. Before she had a chance to react, Gudrik crashed into George. His momentum forced her backwards, toppling them both indigently over the safety railing in a tangled mess of arms and legs.

The pair rocketed towards the ground. George screamed profanities so coarse that they blistered the very air around her. She scrambled and flailed as if trying to climb back up Gudrik's body. He wrapped himself tightly around her. "Earvictius groot," he bellowed.

His bullet wounds glowed, and the tender flesh surrounding them began to transform into cold, speckled granite. The stone rapidly spread along his limbs and across his abdomen, searing with pain as it went. He cringed and grated his teeth. As it spread across his chest and onto George she began to scream as though he were slashing chunks of flesh from her. Thankfully, the agony did not linger and in the blink of an eye, stone had completely swallowed both of them. No matter how hard she tried George could not move. It was both claustrophobic and frightening.

The living statues whistled closer and closer to the ground. Until......SMASH! They crashed unhindered onto the roof of a parked car. Glass and shrapnel exploded from the vehicle as they tore through the chassis and into the road beneath.

Just as painfully as it had spread, the rock retreated returning the flesh to its vulnerable state, leaving it sensitive and speckled with sweat. Both lay for a moment of recovery. Their chests heaved deeply as they came to terms with what had just happened. Gudrik crawled out of the mangled wreck and climbed to his feet. "Are you harmed?" he grunted, lifting George to her feet.

She was pale and disheveled with blank shock clouding her eyes. Time was of the essence. Gudrik slapped her across the cheek. Fire filled her blank eyes. She swung a punch, which he avoided. He grabbed her shoulders and repeated his question, "Are you harmed?"

"I-I'm confused as hell," she responded, panicked, but glad to be alive. "But fine. I think. Yes fine. Definitely ok," she stammered nervously, quickly checking her body over for injuries and pulling her dress down to cover the lacy black panties on show to the world. Her hand quickly went to her locket, checking it was still there. "Was I made of stone then?” Gudrik ignored her question. His attention was otherwise occupied. By that stage, a huge crowd of onlookers and good Samaritans had gathered around their impact point.

"We must keep moving."

He dragged his hand along a twisted shard of the car's metal shell and spoke, "Unjallius.”

Gudrik groaned as huge, white wings tore from the flesh of his back in a puff of loose feathers and a splatter of blue. They stretched to a massive, elegant span and quivered in the sun. The suit jacket and shirt were left torn and tattered, spattered, stained and hanging in shreds from Gudrik's muscled shoulders. The stunned onlookers stepped back in awe. He grasped the confused woman tightly and with a few powerful beats of his mighty wings launched the two of them into the sky.

George clung tightly as they whipped and glided through the city. They weaved between the highrise buildings, slowly gaining altitude and suddenly plunging toward the ground as Gudrik negotiated the unpredictable up-drafts above the busy city streets. George was not as terrified as her brain insisted she should be. She loved the speed, she loved the wind and she loved the gaping faces of the populous below. It all exhilarated her. Gudrik's grasp was gentle and caring, but still so firm and reliable that there was no fear of falling.

Finally, Gudrik surged up and breached the top of the sky scrapers. The onlookers below were now nothing more than ants. George released her grip on Gudrik and shielded her eyes. The sun was much fiercer up there without the buildings' protection. She swivelled and squirmed as she gathered bearings. "Land on those cliffs over there," George said pointing at a small lookout point above the river.

Gudrik dived and swooped in, gently putting the two of them down on the grass in a rapid flutter of tiny wing beats. "Gratitude," Gudrik grunted as the wings collapsed into a sprinkling of blood.

Goodreads ** Smashwords ** Amazon ** Warpath Print 

About the author:

M.C. Edwards, or Eddie as he is known to his mates, grew up in a coastal town on the picturesque Central Queensland coast of Australia. He has travelled to many corners of the world and has a love of all things bizarre. He enjoys motorcycles, beards, comics, videogames and the taste of a fine single malt scotch. In his writing he crafts immersive worlds which mix reality and fantasy to create a strangely believable mix.

Website ** Goodreads ** Facebook ** Twitter ** Wattpad ** Instagram