Guest Post – A.K. Alliss

Guest Post – A.K. Alliss

Readers and writers – some great insights here about writing and the publishing process  at Booksandbeyondreviews https://booksandbeyondreviews.com/2017/02/12/guest-post-a-k-alliss/

Books and Beyond Reviews

In a new feature to my blog, I am pleased to welcome A.K. Alliss, author of Frame, to Books and Beyond Reviews as my first ever guest post. I had the pleasure of reading Frame, which I reviewed here. In this post, he discusses the period of time running up to the launch of a new book. So without further ado, welcome A.K. Alliss!

fb_img_1456325114135Releasing a book traditionally, in a lot of ways, is a game. It’s a game of patience, of nail-biting worry and sleepless nights. To the new author, the world and characters that they have created are everything, but to everyone else, they are undiscovered, unknown and largely, unimportant. While that might sound pessimistic, the author will reach a point where they’ll have to posses a fairly pragmatic attitude when considering expectations of success.

Transitioning from an independent to traditionally published author is an exciting, yet…

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Welcome AK Alliss to My Blog

 

frame

Frame

AK Alliss

Atlas Productions Pty Ltd

ISBN: 9780995377615

Last year I was privileged to read the unpublished manuscript of AK ( Adam) Alliss’s contemporary novel, Frame.

AK Alliss introduces himself, talks about his writing and discusses Frame in this short video.  My review will follow shortly.

Thanks so much for sharing you story with us Adam.

The Perfect Gift Suggestion – Flash Giveaway

I recently discovered THE perfect gift for the writer in your life (I have a few  writers to consider this year so this will tick off a few names on my Christmas List)

win-pilot-2017-a-diary-for-writers

Pilot 2017 is bursting with features! Stay motivated and productive with weekly advice, tips and book recommendations from more than fifty inspiring authors including Benjamin Law, Anna Funder and Inga Simpson. PLUS there’s 150 competitions, festivals and awards, a years’ worth of writing prompts and tons of industry info.

Find Pilot at pilotpress.com.au  on Facebook & Instagram

 

And the wonderful people at Pilot have generously offered me a copy to give away so you can share the love too. *Australian residents only.*  This is an easy giveaway – all you have to do is click through this link.

Pilot 2017: A Diary for Writers  and look at the contents page and tell me what useful item is on page 188.

 

**I will randomly select one winner on the 14th of December 2016.

 

***Congratulations Deborah – and thanks to all who entered. ***

 

Avenues of Dawn – Short Story – AK Alliss

This short piece by AK Alliss maybe become something more…maybe not…I enjoyed this piece as it is.  I hope you do to.

Thanks Adam.

 

Avenues of Dawn

His eyes open hesitantly, unfamiliar sounds laced with some distant memory that he can’t quite recall, that déjà vu feeling at the back of his skull, pressing with urgency. The sounds get louder, a clinking, rhythmic beat that closes distance. His eyes are greeted by a flaking ceiling, the colour of old paper, an errant spider web billowing in a hidden breeze. His stomach feels folded inside out and he wonders for a second if he has been drinking, but instantly dismisses the idea as being inaccurate.

Sitting up, he stares for a moment, at poorly painted bars that grant him a view of a railing and a narrow catwalks, and still, he cannot remember how he got here. A flash in front of his eyes, warm, liquid irises the colour of a summer sea and hair that spirals in infinite repetition replaces his view of the bars, but then is lost to sight. He tries to get back that face but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared, a phantom that does not belong in this place of muted colours and cool barriers.

A man appears, military grade haircut and eyes that are as stern and unforgiving as the sea, a tray held in a gnarled hand that could as easily be carved from wood. The man studies him and grunts, sniffing in his inspection before tapping the bars once with a nightstick, producing the same sound that has awoken him from his slumber. He moves as if he will tap the bars once more but appears to decide against it, hanging the nightstick from a loop on a broad leather belt. The jailer replaces the nightstick with a ring of keys, reaching forward and unlocking a small panel inset between the bars, just wide enough to permit the tray.

The tray is passed between the bars and he can see now that he is being offered food, if that definition could apply to the assortment of green and grey smears held in small compartments on the tray. A flimsy plastic fork, edges rounded, sits in the mushed food and is nearly knocked from the tray as it passes through the gap. The guard holds the tray through the gap and he blearily realises that he is supposed to take it. He nods once and the guard ignores him, releasing the nothing food into his grip, rehanging the keys from their clip and reacquiring the nightstick.

He gives one more tap with the long, solid looking piece of steel, the sound more of a bang than the tap of previously, before moving on to the next cell. As he departs, he begins whistling a tune, and he recognises it as something by the Rolling Stones.

Paint it Black.

That collapsing feeling wells up unexpectedly and he swears that he can smell hot coffee, as if from a great distance. He squints as sweat coats his forehead and runs into his eyes, swiping furiously at them without managing to clear them of the sting. He hears a woman’s voice and he knows at once that it belongs to the face that flashed across his mind just prior to the guard arriving.

Caleb.

The tray in his hands twists as if it is made of nothing more substantial than an elastic band and he feels at once as if his body is doing the same. He is all angles and planes of uncertainty and his legs collapse, the solid green of the concrete floor rushing towards him. The guard’s whistling draws away, faster than a speeding vehicle and the concrete smashes into his face, only to be replaced by the smell of loam and spring. The whistle reaches a piercing shriek and moulds itself into the call of a bird, somewhere high overhead, it’s cry broken by a woman’s, warm and sultry, low of timbre. And yet, he can still hear the Stones singing about a red door that they want to have painted black, although this time its sound is blurred and buzzing, produced by a small radio next to him.

“Caleb, where were you?”

Caleb feels her thighs, held close together beneath the bird’s nest of his hair, bright and penetrating sunlight hurting his eyes as he opens them. She is there above him, her face occluded by the sun above her, making her features become lost, a silhouette that he reaches towards. She laughs and tilts her head up and he knows now why he doesn’t want to remember this moment, to be here with her. Pain fills him as he gropes internally for a reply, settling on something that feels as ominous as the moment he has just returned from.

“Somewhere you weren’t.” is the only answer he can give her.

 

(c) AK Alliss 2016

One Goal Achieved…

I reduced my reading expectations this year knowing that life would be busy once our grandson came along.  And it has been – beautifully, spectacularly and gorgeously busy. Being a grandparent is the best experience – so much love!

 

Anyway enough of my gushing. I did achieve my Goodreads challenge (150 books) and will add a few more reads and reviews before the year is out. Next I must update my Australian reading challenges pages…

 

good-reads 2016

Since I decided to blog my book reviews my ideas, ambitions and reviewing skills have changed as my experience has grown.   This year, as I mentioned life has been busy and so I am considering adding the occasional guest reviewer to keep the blog fresh and to provide me with some breathing space to catch up on some of my reviews. What do you think to that idea?

Finally I share my dream for the future – to be paid to read and review… if you know how I can make this happen, let me know:)  This would be the most perfect job!  Dreaming…yes I know.