I am a Registered
Respiratory Therapist working in Healthcare Accreditation. I grew up and still
live in Central New York State. My first novel, THE BEST LAID PLANS, was selected
on February 1, 2014 as a Runner-Up in the MARSocial Author of the Year
Competition, the largest competition of it's type ever held on the internet.
My work takes me all over; I’ve been to 44 States, along with Bermuda, Canada,
and Puerto Rico. My other interests include sports, history, computers,
photography, Jordan The Wonder Cat, gardening, fishing, and scale model
building.
I have been interested in science fiction since a friend in Junior
High School lent me the Lensmen Series of books by E. E. "Doc" Smith.
This interest was further spiked by Star Trek, and then Star Wars.
 |
| Author James W. McAllister |
1. What do you write?
I write the stories I would love to be told, but no one’s told them yet.
They end up being Science Fiction or Fantasy.
2. Why do you write?
I’m tired of waiting for some one to tell these stories. And, I’m
getting old, so I need the room on my hard drive. My head is almost full.
3. For whom do you
write?
Mostly myself. And anyone who enjoys what I write.
4. By
whom are you inspired?
Isaac Asimov, E. E. ‘Doc’ Smith, Michael r.
Hicks.
5 .Can you share
your current writing (Any small Story/Poem) or Tell your Future plan About
writing?
Yes.
Here is a sneak peak:
It always happens in a stinking back alley. And in the
middle of the night on my watch. Cold and raining. Or hot and steamy. These
things never happened in sunny flower studded meadows…
“Captain? Captain!”
“Yeah, Kawalski, isn’t it? What do you have?”
“Double murders, Captain. The woman’s over here.”
Sergeant Kawalski pointed at the rusting dumpster and
began walking in that direction. I followed.
The stench and steam rose with equal enthusiasm into the
cold April night. The mist mingled with Kawalski’s breath and then mine when we
reached the corner of the alley hidden by the dumpster.
“Caucasian female. Looks about 40. No make up, clothes
are last year’s style. No jacket. Purse is right there, unopened. Stabbed eight
times. Two in her back, the rest in her face, neck and chest. M.E. said she’s
been dead about an hour.”
I looked at the woman, then up and around the alley. The
entrance was about fifty yards from us. A streetlamp flickered just out of
view. The shadow of the medical examiner walked towards us carrying a large
bag. From the shape of the shadow, Dr. Lisa Martin drew the short straw
tonight. Great. Just my luck.
“Where’s the other one?”
“He’s right over here, Captain.”
My eyes followed Kawalski’s gesture. I saw a dark shape
against the bricks and the basement hatch. I’d taken two steps towards it
before the M.E.’s flashlight beam lit it up.
I almost puked.
“Good Grief, Lisa. Next time, warn a guy, will ya. What
did this?”
“Best I can tell somebody took most of him apart, a
mouthful at a time. Not much left but bone.”
If her voice had been any colder it’d be snowing. Was
that for me, or from this scene? Not that I’d blame her either way.
I looked back at the body. In places the flesh was pared
down to the bone. There was no skin left, and his eyes were gone. Hell, his
face was gone down to the teeth. The blood splattered on the wall and along the
ground formed a path back to the woman. A big kitchen knife lay to the side
about half way between the bodies.
“What? Are you saying somebody ate this guy?”
“I’ll need to run some tests to determine an official
cause of death. But my first impression is that’s what happened.” She didn’t
look up while she spoke. I don’t blame her for that, either.
I stepped back, pressing myself to the back of the alley.
This didn’t always work, but sometimes it did. I took a deep breath. I let it
out and began scanning the entire area, starting at the street and sweeping
back to my feet. I closed my eyes and took another deep breath.
I opened my eyes as I let this breath out slowly.
She was sobbing as
she ran down the street. Panicked, terrified. Blood was running from down her
neck, thinned by the rain. She nearly fell when she turned into the alley. He
was close behind her, knife held high. He caught up with her at the dumpster.
He grabbed her, pulled her close. She went limp as he kissed her neck. Five,
ten, twenty seconds he held the kiss before he pulled back. Twice the knife
came down into her neck before she turned. He kept stabbing, twice more on her
arm, twice on her face, then twice on her chest. I could feel the evil pour out
of him as I watched the blood pour out of her.
He stood panting
over her, hands on knees. His mouth was covered with her blood. He licked the
knife and his lips clean. He stood up tall and smiled. Then he jerked back, as
if he’d been hit. Blood fell from a hole in his forehead. He jerked back again,
a second wound bleeding on his neck. He screamed as a third, then a fourth
wound drove him back. Another strike, then another, then he was against the
brick wall, sliding down, as chunk after chunk of him disappeared. Faster and
faster, more and more chunks of him just… vanished…
“Captain! Hey, Captain!”
“JOHN!”
Lisa’s cry broke the vision. She was inches away, looking
straight into my eyes.
The concern I saw there vanished in an instant. Kawalski
stood next to her, looking puzzled.
“He’s okay, Sergeant. Would you be a dear and get me two
more specimen bags from my car please?”
“Sure, Doc. You, you sure he’s alright?”
“I’m sure.”
I didn’t hear Kawalski’s footsteps echo down the alley. I
was looking into those gorgeous eyes. Just like before…
The stench from the dumpster and the blood wouldn’t let
me sink into that memory.
Damn.
“You saw it, didn’t you.”
“Yes.”
“Well?”
“There was nothing there.”
“John,” she cupped my face in her hands, “what do you
mean?”
I was glad she’d seen me like this before. She knew how
to guide me back. Slowly. Gently. Quietly.
Safely.
She also knew when I was all the way back. Her arms went
to her hips, and anger grew in those beautiful eyes until I had to look away.
Just like before.
Damn.
“He chased her to there,” I pointed to her body. “He
kissed her neck for a long time. Then he stabbed her. He was angry, hateful.
Evil. He killed her and then he stood there, panting. Something hit him, and a
chunk of him was gone. Like you said, like it was bitten off of him. But
nothing was there. The he was hit, bitten, whatever it was. Again and again,
faster and faster, driving him over to there.” I pointed to the murderer’s
body.
“John, something had to…”
“There was just a, well, a blur, like hot air rising off
of the asphalt. Nothing else, Lisa.”
Saying her name brought a lump up. Two lumps.
Damn.
“Lisa. I…”
“Don’t.”
Ice.
She had turned back to the woman’s body already.
Kawalski’s steps echoed closer.
Yeah, this was going to be a long day.
6. Give five pieces
of advice to a new writer?
1. EDIT!
2. PROOFREAD!
3. Be patient. Unless you spend a few million on advertising, selling
books takes time.
4. Ignore bad reviews and trolls looking for a fight.
5. Learn as much as possible about marketing. Then repeat 1 through 4.
7. Give five pieces of advice to a reader?
1. Read what YOU like. Don’t
listen to generalizations like, “Indie Authors can’t write.” Books are like
wine; drink the ones you like.
2. Try something new once in a
while. You may find a new favorite.
3. Encourage your favorite
authors by writing reviews.
4. Write reviews for other
READERS, not book reports. Don’t spoil it for the next guy. Don’t play ‘Movie
Critic’ and trash everything that isn’t Gone With The Wind. Remember, some one
else may like that book you don’t.
5. Every book won’t be War and
Peace or Moby Dick. It’s OK to enjoy good-but-not-great books.
Website: http://fortiterpublishing.com
Twitter: @StarclanAdmiral
Books: THE PAGE The Year of the Dragons; THE TURRET Starclan
Foundation; THE BEST LAID PLANS Birth of the Starclan; THE UNIVERSE, FIVE
MINUTES AT A TIME.
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