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Thursday, November 06, 2014

How self publishing is keeping reading alive and what you can do to help: Guest Blog Mortal Gods by Alex Manea

In a world where fewer and fewer people read books, a decade ago, a miracle happened. Or, as the skeptical might call it, a technological breakthrough: the invention of the e-reader and the birth of the modern e-book. This led to another important stepping stone, self-publishing.

I come from a country where the majority of the population stopped reading. Here, only 1-2% of the population read anymore and selling 5000 copies make a book a bestseller. It's  bad and it's happening all over the world. People simply stopped reading. It's easier and more entertaining to just read a tabloid newspaper or magazine instead. The effect? Fewer and fewer new writers are getting published and thus the chances of a new Asimov or Tolkien being discovered have greatly diminished.

A game changer surfaced a few years back, a new hope for all those aspiring new writers: self-publishing and the e-book reader. This is a great opportunity for all aspiring writers who up until this point had almost no chance of being discovered. Now hundreds of thousands of aspiring writers are self-publishing their books, with hundreds, or even thousands, of new books appearing each day. Yes, some of the books are bad, but there are a lot of great writers out there, just waiting to be discovered.

They've done all they could: spent countless hours in front of the keyboard to write the best story they could and hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars on editing,  formatting and advertising. All they can do is pray and hope.

Hope that you answer their prayers, because only you can. Only you have the power to help them.

Buy their books. Read their books. And if you like them, tell your friend about each and every new writer, you discover and urge them to read the books as well. It might not seem much, but
Most self-published books are cheap. So next time you're not exactly sure that you want to read the newest novel by an established author, use that money to buy some self-published books. I say some because with the same money you can buy at least 5 self-published books, even as many as 15. Think about how many people you can help this way.

Mortal Gods        
Forgotten Pantheon
Book 1
Alex Manea

Genre: Urban Fantasy

ISBN: 9781311240422

Number of pages: 183
Word Count: 45,400

Cover Artist: Ovidiu Stanciu

Book Description:

Heather, a young American girl, is visiting her college roommate, who now lives in Rome. While partying in a local nightclub, she's picked up by a man who looks like he was created in the image of a Greek god. Her initial impression is correct.

He’s one of the last surviving members of the Greek pantheon. After hooking up with him, Heather is forced to join the culmination of a two-millennium-long war between that pantheon and a clandestine sect of monks within the Catholic Church, itself led by perhaps the most infamous figure in Christian history.

Heather and Apollo embark on a world-spanning effort to collect what remains of the gods to engage in the final battle with the monks opposing them. But the fate of the battle is changed by the intervention of a mysterious military organization…

Available at  Amazon   BN   Kobo


Immediately after waking up, the body’s first reaction is to open its eyes, but this wasn't the case with Heather, at least not this time. She knew something bad had happened to her and keeping her eyes closed gave her a fake feeling of safety. When she came back to her senses, she didn't know if she had been out for ten minutes or ten hours or even whether she was in the same place. What woke her was a strange voice whispering close to her. Her last memory was of walking with Apollo to his car. Then he started acting really strange and pushed her.

Was this his plan all along? Or did something else happen?

Her dark thoughts were interrupted by the strange voice. Heather perked her ears. It wasn't Apollo, she concluded. She couldn’t understand what the voice was saying but she knew it wasn't English. Her ears finally caught something vaguely familiar.

In nomine Patris et Filli et Spiritus Sancti, Amen.”

Latin. It's a prayer. Someone is saying a prayer. Maybe I'm in a church.

The drop of water that hit her forehead startled her and brought back the memory of Martin, the sexual predator who’d kidnapped her when she was a child. She’d been rescued before he could molest her, but he’d woken her just like this, with drops of water to her forehead. Since then, having water dropped on her forehead was the thing she hated  and feared most in her life. Once she’d fallen asleep outside and a rain drop had fallen on her. Another time, a college friend had done it as a joke. Each time, Heather woke up screaming and crying, with images of Martin flashing through her mind. Heart racing, Heather quickly opened her eyes, only to see Martin standing over her.

No it can’t be him. Martin is dead. He was executed a long time ago.

She blinked and when she opened her eyes the second time, Martin was gone. Instead, a bald man appeared in front of her. He was chanting the same prayer over and over again. His left hand was right above her head, holding a small bottle, which looked just like the ones flight attendants serve. It was tilted slightly and with every “Amen” spoken, the man let a drop of liquid fall on Heather's forehead. As it hit her skin, the liquid mixed with the blood from the cut on her forehead, oozing over her nose and eyes. Heather wanted to move, to get up and run away, but the fear paralyzed her.
The strange man had no reaction when she opened her eyes. He remained still and kept staring right at her, chanting, like he was hypnotized.

In nomine Patris et Filli et Spiritus Sancti, Amen,” he repeated.

But he stopped before dropping the liquid on her forehead with the ‘Amen’.Then, she heard a muffled sound and blood started dripping from the man’s opened mouth right on Heather's face. He collapsed next to Heather, his head hitting the asphalt near her left ear. In the few seconds of perfect silence that followed, she couldn't hear him breathe. He was dead. Heather started screaming. The loud noise filled up the narrow dark alley. Out of the same darkness, a man’s silhouette appeared in front of her. Before she could realize who it was, he had his hand pressed tightly against her mouth.
“Be quiet,” Apollo said as he looked beyond the dumpster like he was searching for something.

A muzzled sound came from her mouth.

“Are you okay?”

Heather shook her head.

“Listen to me very carefully,” he continued while his hand was still pressed against her mouth. “Your life is in danger. If you want to get out of here alive, you have to do what I say, when I say it. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

“I'm going to take my hand off your mouth, but you have to stop screaming.”

She nodded again.

Apollo removed his hand. Heather didn't make a sound. She looked left, at the dead man lying next to her. Just as she did, his hand twitched. Heather screamed again. This time, her own hand covered her mouth.

“Here's what I want you to do,” Apollo said, his green eyes glinting in the faint light.“When I say 'now', run to the car, get into the passenger seat and put the key into the ignition. Stay as low as possible. I'll be right behind you.”

“What if you don't make it?”

“If I don't, neither do you,” he replied with a calm voice.

He peeked over the dumpster.

“You ready?”

He handed her the car keychain and she nodded.


Apollo stepped out from behind the dumpster and started shooting in the direction they came from. Heather got up and started running straight to the car. She got in and, as instructed, placed the key into the ignition. She curled up on the seat and waited. The few seconds she waited seemed like minutes. Heather moved her head between the front seats to see what was happening behind her. Apollo was moving slowly toward the car, his back to it, shooting down the alley. When he emptied his clip, he ran and got into the driver’s seat. He reloaded his gun, dropping the empty clip on the floor of the car, and placed it in his lap.

“Who was—?”

Before Heather finished her sentence, a bullet came out of the darkness, shattering the rear window. The bullet missed Apollo's head by inches and exited the car through the windshield, cracking it.

Heather screamed again, this time without bothering to cover her mouth.

About the Author:

Alex Manea is a Romanian journalist and writer, author of the Urban Fantasy novel Mortal Gods, the first book of the Forgotten Pantheon series. Alex is a big mythology buff, especially Greek, this being the source of inspiration behind the novel. Alex is currently working on the second novel of the series.

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karenmbryson said...

This is great! I look forward to reading it!