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Albert Camus

Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.

Friday, September 15, 2017

danger is always hot on his heels - The Slant Six by Christopher F Cobb

If you want something that's completely different, this is your ticket! -Piers Anthony, New York Times bestselling author
Death races, sexy space vampires and a darn good time! -Amazon Reader
A fast-paced joyride through the solar system! - Amazon Reader
Description:

Published: March 31st, 2017

The year is 2252 and Loman Phin is in trouble. A washed-up channelship racer turned freelancer, he hits pay dirt with his latest mission: a fortune is on the line if he can transport forty-three kilograms of human skin to a remote villa on Pluto's moon, Nix. Little does he know his very life is at stake when he gets caught up in an ancient feud, chased by a space vampire, and forced into a death-race by the king of Ceres. Meanwhile, danger is always hot on his heels in the form of a massive space freighter out for Loman's blood. With just his wits, his friends, and his beat-up cruiser, the Slant Six, Loman sets out on the most dangerous adventure of his life.

GUEST POST

Chris's Thoughts On The Slant Six & A Moon Called Sun

I have to say lack of sleep was my inspiration. As long as I take my omeprazole for acid reflux, I sleep fairly well at night. In the morning, I wake refreshed and quite often, appropriately rigid. This makes me happy for a man now in his 50’s. But then there are those nights when an ugly little monster slithers out from underneath my bed to bite me in the bleary-eyed ass. The name of this beast... Insomnia. How frail is my condition without the ability to wipe away the toxins in my brain from a single day on this complicated planet? Seriously frail, people. My mind starts spinning out of control unless I can focus on something other than my own petty problems.

During one particular attack, sometime around 2:00am, I found solace in late night television. All hail Turner Classic Movies, who happened to be showing the film, Duel, directed by Steven Spielberg in 1971 – a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away... the caveman days before CGI, cell phones or Ambien. I must add here that as the youngest son of 4 boys and then my parents having their only daughter right after me, I tended to be the “forgotten child” raised on TV, books and my own feral imagination. Indeed, I had watched this movie as I child and enjoyed the premise. I still do after all these years. It’s about a traveling salesman driving his red Plymouth Valiant on the winding, mountainous highways of California. This poor guy is returning from a disastrous road trip and just wants to get home. However, he finds himself being terrorized by an unseen truck driver, a madman inside a dirty old Peterbilt semi. The genius of Spielberg was never showing the driver of the semi, allowing the audience to conjure up their own demon behind the wheel. The truck itself became the villain and not the driver. Brilliant!

Now my last novel, A Moon Called Sun, had such a complicated plot with multiple storylines that I wanted to give myself a break with my next one. I knew I was going to write something more linear, more straightforward, but what? I struggled with this idea. I even recalled it while watching the dogged salesman in Duel, played by Dennis Weaver, in his battered Valiant finally square off against the bigger Peterbilt belching up black smoke—both vehicles plunging over the edge of a cliff. That’s when the light bulb popped on… or I may have just blown a fuse, who knows for sure. This movie was pure, simple and sinister. I so admired the concept and being a sci-fi guy, I had the glorious notion of setting it in space. Brilliant! The potential of it was unlimited. It was a perfect recipe for my genre and furthermore, it sounded like a blast to write! I don’t remember what time I finally fell asleep that night. I may never have fallen asleep but the beast, Insomnia, was nowhere to be found. I was too geared up from this epiphany to worry about that silly little monster. I had the idea for my next novel.

About the author:
Born and raised in West Palm Beach, Florida, Christopher Cobb ventured off to the wilds of New York City for several years to experience the world of acting. Finding it a cruel and inhospitable world, he hid high in the Appalachian Mountains of North Georgia for a time. Having grown weary of snow and perilous black ice, his life path took him back home to south Florida where he earned college degrees at Florida Atlantic University. He now lives in Jupiter—the city, not the planet—with his true love and talented artist, Alicia, their two weird cats, Simon and Weezy, and his amazingly wonderful daughter, Emma. He is a member of the Bloody Pens Writers Group, as well as the Florida Writer’s Association and intends on writing more exciting books for publication. All this makes Christopher a very happy man indeed. Visit him at:


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