Dealing with Rejection Letters with Justin E. Geary

MIDNIGHT'S CLOAK

by Justin Geary

Dark blood of the evil ten; drank by a son of the same brood. Possessed by the taint, he marches to different sections of the world, conquering and destroying everything in his path as a cloak of midnight pulls itself over all things. The great foretelling of LaStaudd the Wise, the age of the Rising Flame.

Genre - Epic Fantasy
Publisher - Outskirts Press
Release Date - May 30, 2012

Purchase Link - http://outskirtspress.com/midnightscloak/


Midnight's Cloak is the first part of a ten book epic fantasy series. The series takes place within the timeframe of a decade. Midnight's Cloak is world building Epic fantasy and contains maps an appendix and a glossary. As far as the type of fiction I write, i would say it's similar to Robert Jordan, David Farland and Terry Goodkind. Midnight's Cloak is 361 pages. There is a lot of charicter development early on in the story. Also there is romance and I write a lot of battle sequences. My map is rather small on the paperback so i always recommend a pdf ebook because you can zoom in on the map to see places. It is also cheaper and I earn a larger royalty for it. Midnight's Cloak is edited and proofread. Outskirts Press E-book 5 dollars amazon search inside the book available soon.

GUEST BLOG:

How To Deal With Rejection Letters by Justin E. Geary

First of all, rejection is hard. No one likes being rejected and the more work you put into your novel or short story the harder it is when it is rejected. It's a fact that the national publishers only accept 1% of the manuscripts they receive each year. Some of these manuscripts aren't even as good as others they have turned down. It all comes down to hitting the right publisher or agent at the right time, in the right mood. Very high quality work gets rejected because of a lack of publishing credits and it frustrates the authors when they read a nationally published book that is not as good as their own. National publishers are taking fewer and fewer chances on unknown writers and literary agents won't even look at you until you have thousands of sales, then they will be knocking down your door. Does that seem fair? It isn't, but that doesn't make it less true.

   My only advice about dealing with rejection letters is that you keep your head down, grit your teeth, and keep going. No matter how many times you get knocked down, just refuse to surrender. It's hard to do when everyone around you, your family and your friends, don't believe in you and on top of that they appear to be right based on the huge pile of rejection slips in your dresser drawer. Try to surround yourself with people who are less negative and help you build your self esteem as a writer. That will help you to deal with the constant “we regret to inform you that “title of the book” is not right for us at this time” letters. It makes you bang your head against the wall but don't lose hope... because hope is what keeps us creative types going and above all never stop writing or doing something that you love because of something an unpleasant person has said to you. You are a strong enough author, you can achieve your dreams, but you have to be willing to sacrifice everything for those dreams. Good luck, fiction authors and I wish you the best.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Justin E. Geary lives in western Maryland where he spends his time reading various authors and exploring different subjects. In addition to fiction he enjoys history and some science. He is the nephew of 1942 Pulitzer Prize winner Laurence Edmond Allen. Justin’s hobbies are chess, pool and writing epic fantasy. He started reading Edgar Allen Poe with interest at the age of sixteen and started writing screenplays at the age of nineteen. Screenplays were unfulfilling for Justin because they lacked depth. Later on he wrote his first novel at twenty-one and Midnight’s Cloak his second at twenty-four. After finishing the rough draft Justin decided that Fantasy was his escape from the world. Without a college education Justin decided to seek editorial help sinking twenty-one hundred dollars of his own money into the editing and proofing of his manuscript. Justin calls the expense a small price for something he loves so dearly.

Author Links: https://twitter.com/#!/JustinEGeary BOOK EXCERPTS:    Excerpt 1 A little over a month ago Lot had had a dream. He was standing in a field with a forest to one side of him and a cabin to the other. The samurai had dreamt before, but none were as detailed as the one he’d witnessed that night. In the yard, a girl was digging a grave. Lot walked down an embankment and watched her for a moment. There were tears in her eyes and dirt on her gown. In the graves were the bodies of a man and a woman. The girl digging the grave looked up at him. She had the most beautiful brown eyes he’d ever seen. They were bewitching and yet soft. “Could you please help me?” she asked. The samurai sensed danger around him. “This is just a dream,” Lot said. She dropped her shovel, squatted to the earth and came up with a handful of soil that she put in his hand. “I’m in Terrid,” she said, “six hundred fifty miles northeast of Andalar.” Eyes opening, Lot found himself in his sleeping quarters. He had a handful of dirt clutched in his palm. This girl was real. The place that she had spoken of he had never heard of. But the dirt Lot brought back with him and his instincts were all that the man needed. Quietly, Lot put on his sandals, slid the door to his room open and went down the hall, where he slid another door open into the dojo. Then he went outside. How Lot had managed to leave without waking Ogami he did not know; the man’s ears were sharp. Crossing the yard he entered the stable, threw a saddle on tracker his master’s quickest horse, and rode for Andalar. On Lot’s way north he’d stopped at an inn close to Andalar. The samurai was exhausted. He’d ridden for nine hours, and Tracker needed a good rest. After paying the stable boy to feed and rub down Tracker, he went to the inn where he’d chosen a round table in the far corner of the room. Shortly after Lot had ordered his first drink, a stranger burst into the room, raving like a lunatic about Prince Raziel drinking from the blood of the ten Clonan after poisoning and killing his father, king Tarnoll. The man claimed that a civil war had broken out between the king’s loyalists and Raziel’s men. As quickly as he had entered the inn, the stranger left as if on an important mission. Lot approached the innkeeper and asked if the stranger was one to spread rumors. The innkeeper had told him that he had known the man his whole life and he was as honest as they came. Lot tossed a few coins on the table and retired for the evening. Excerpt 2 After a half hour of travel Aramina woke up. “You okay sweetheart?” Lot asked. “I think so,” Aramina said. “I take it the Cael are dead.” “Yes. Why didn’t you use your magic?” Lot asked. “I started to, then one of them jumped me from behind. After that everything became hazy,” Aramina said. “You’re not dizzy or anything?” “I feel fine,” Aramina said softly. She looked to the right where Clophues rode the gelding and had Snowflake’s reins. “His name is Clophues. I don’t think he would have shot you. He was just scared.” “The Cael were chasing him?” Aramina asked. “Yes.” “Could you let me down so I can ride Snowflake. This saddle is a bit uncomfortable.” Lot stopped Tracker and Aramina climbed down. Clophues stopped his horse as well. She went to Clophues. “May I have my horse back, please?” Aramina asked. “Maybe I’ll give her back to you, but I’d like a kiss first,” Clophues said, simpering. Aramina stuck her hand out, expecting it to be filled with Snowflake’s reins. “I’d prefer a kiss on the lips,” the West woodsman said, perking up. “I’d be careful with her?” Lot warned. Aramina dropped her hand and looked back at the samurai. Her look told him to shut up. Lot watched the two of them intently. She turned back to Clophues. “I can’t kiss you from up there,” Aramina said. Clophues bent sideways to get closer to her. When he got close Aramina grabbed his ear hard and yanked him from his gelding. The West woodsman hit the ground, grunting. Lot chuckled. “Would you like another?” Aramina asked angrily. Clophues stood up and brushed off his coat. “You’re mad,” he said.