Dear Dad - Part 2

Dear Dad,

9 months.

That's how long it's been since you left us.

9 months.

It doesn't seem possible.

The time has gone so quickly that some days it feels like only yesterday. And yet, other days, it feels like a lifetime.

It feels so strange to think that 9 months of my life have gone past without you knowing about them.

Or maybe you do. Some days I honestly don't know what I believe. Are you up there somewhere? Watching over us? I think you are. I want to believe you are.

In that case, you already know I'm getting married. I just don't know what you think about it. Are you happy for me? Do you wish as much as I do that you'd got to meet him - just once? You'd love him. I know you would. But I'd give anything to hear you say it.

I'd also give anything to have you walk me down the aisle. Ian will do a wonderful job, I know he will, but it won't be the same. We're all going to miss you so much.

But it's getting easier, Dad. To think of you and smile, instead of crying. It's getting easier to look at a picture of you without getting too sad.

But some days, like today, when I think of how long you've been gone, I miss you more than ever.

There is nothing in this world I wouldn't give to talk to you one last time. To hug you one last time.

I love you, Dad. I wish I'd told you that more.

xxx

Evolution Release Day!

Evolution, the second book in the E series, is now available! Get Evolution and E for only 99¢ each during release week, November 12th-19th, 2014.

 
Outpost Three is still standing… barely. But the deadliest threat it has ever faced is on its way-- a violent force that will annihilate every man, woman, and child.

With the Sentries under his control and Grey’s army defeated, Matt is more powerful than ever. Eden is little more than his prisoner, but that line is blurring as her affection for him grows. Now, as the Outpost faces total destruction, Matt must sacrifice the possibility of attaining Eden’s love in the vague hope that her past might hold the key to saving them all.

Eden’s journey will begin to unravel the mysteries of her previous life, reveal dangerous new questions, and change not only the future of Outpost Three, but shape the course of history.

This eagerly anticipated sequel to Kate Wrath’s E begins an epic quest into the dark, dystopian landscape of Eden’s world.
Get both books in the E series, E and Evolution, for 99¢ each on Kindle for a limited time only: November 12th- 19th, 2014.
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Connect with Kate:

Join Kate for the Evolution Release Day Facebook Party:

You're invited! Come hang out November 12th from 8-12 pm Eastern and celebrate the release of Evolution. Woohoo!

An excerpt from Evolution:

We run down the narrow alley and take the first turn, then another. We keep running, moving. I don't even notice my surroundings until, at last, we slow to a stop. The smell hits me first—the stench of piss, of something rotten, all condensed into a small space. Breathing hard, we stand in the street and look around us. We're in a main thoroughfare now, judging from the traffic, but it’s still narrow. I feel squashed, smothered. On all sides, a crowd throngs around us. Most of them are dressed in rags. Hollow faces huddle three or four bodies deep against both edges of the road, dirty, hopeless, and lost. Many of them are children.


I'm scanning their faces frantically before I even realize what I'm doing. "Oscar," I hear myself whisper. It hits me, and I break off before I can call out his name. Before I can start running again, sifting through the masses of them.


Apollon's hand clamps onto mine, but he says nothing. He and Jonas are focused on Jacob, who is shaking violently. Tears are pouring from widened eyes down his face. I want to help him, but all I can do is stand here trying not to break down, myself.

"We need to find somewhere to regroup," Jonas says quietly. "Get out of this mess."
I cast around for somewhere to go, but as far as I can see, it's piles upon piles. People, and people, and buildings looming over them. There's no breathing room. No space. I have to force my breath to steadiness. It's too much.
There is a commotion on the street ahead, maybe a block away. The ragged masses push away from the center, squashing and trampling each other in the process. We're caught in a wave of motion and carried backward, but still we try to look. Where the commotion started, there's a group of figures, similarly dressed in black with blue bandanas. They're moving down the street toward us.


The wave of people suddenly backlashes from the other direction, and we're pushed the opposite way from before. We manage to finally see why. On our opposite side, there's another group of people. These are dressed primarily in white. One of them, clearly a leader, wears a purple doo rag and carries what might be the biggest gun I've ever seen. He raises it toward us.

   

Why do I do it?

A week ago today I published my third book.

You'd think it would get easier with every book, less doubt, more confidence.

I'll tell you this - I was as terrified about a terrible response to the third book as I was about the first. Possibly more.

In fact, I spent the three or four days before Blood Calling came out, asking my Other Half if I was doing the right thing. After all, I kept telling him, it's not like other books are flying off the shelves. Why do I keep putting myself through it all, for so little reward?

Well, two things happened over the course of the following week that answered my question for me.

The first was a couple of brilliant reviews of my first book, The Last Knight. Reviews from readers who had really connected with the book, and loved it.

The second was that I got stuck into writing something that will probably never see the light of day - but I loved writing it none the less.

The point is, these two things reminded me of why I write. And it's not for sales.

The two reviews were from free copies I had provided. I didn't make a dime. But it doesn't matter because I always wrote not for the money, but because I love telling a story that can entertain people. Even if the only person it entertains is me.

I knew when I got into indie publishing that it wasn't about the money. I was never going to make a fortune. It was about getting my books out there, finding people to read my stories (other than just my mother and my Other Half). It was about touching one or two, or if possible, a thousand readers.

But it was never about the money.

Sometimes with the promoting and advertising, and desperately trying to get heard, I think I forget about that. The obsessive (sometimes) checking of the sales graph, the constant research into how I can get my book to a wider audience. That becomes the only focus.

It's good sometimes to remember that I write because I love to write. And those sales? They're just a bonus.

Have a good weekend everyone!