Guest Post Matthew Campbell - A Prophet in Jamaica

Growing up, I was pretty involved with my church. While I’m no longer connected to the church, many of those experiences (as all experiences do) shaped me into the person I am today. So, it’s no surprise that those experiences helped shape my writing and worlds I create.

When I was in middle school, I had the amazing opportunity to travel to Jamaica on a mission trip. This was my first trip out of the country (Canada doesn’t count, I’m sorry), and it was the farthest I’d ever flown on an airplane. Did I mention I was traveling to a third world country, one I knew next to nothing about? I was anxious and excited and completely unsure of what to expect.

Jamaica me crazy!

So when I met Martin, it’s no surprise that he would turn into the basis of one of my most important characters.

Martin was one of the missionaries residing in Jamaica. He helped shuttle us around, introduced us to the people, and taught us about the culture and land. I remember him being tall and a little intimidating, but he was charismatic in his own way. He had wide features and a deep voice, and I couldn’t help but listen to him any time he had something to say. I felt like I’d be missing something if I didn’t.

When I really got serious about The Chosen of the Light, I began rewriting and fleshing out my characters, turning them into real people. Most of my characters had always been real in my mind, so fleshing them out wasn’t too much of a problem, but there was one that I couldn’t get a grasp on. Nidic Waq, the prophet featured throughout my series, and arguably one of the most important characters. Spirit Summoner might be about Darr, but Darr is driven and guided by Nidic Waq.

My problem with Nidic Waq was I didn’t have a good handle on him. He was a wizard-type character in my mind, but that’s all I really had on him. Besides, he wasn’t a wizard, he was a prophet and Spirit Summoner. He didn’t have any human characteristics, and I knew that had to change. But no one in my life really seemed to embody the characteristics I imagined he should have, and so I had a difficult time trying to make him into a “real person”.

"Besides, he wasn't a wizard,
he was a prophet."

Martin, the missionary from Jamaica, finally helped me figure it out. Martin with his intimidating presence nonetheless drew me in and made me want to listen to whatever he had to say. He was the perfect basis for Nidic Waq. Of course, I gave my character my own little tweaks, making him exactly what I envisioned, but if it wasn’t for meeting Martin, I don’t know that he’d be the same character he is today.

I found out a couple years later that Martin had left his position as a missionary, turning away from friends and family, but that never discouraged me. If anything, it made me realize Martin, like Nidic Waq, was human, and prone to dreams and desires. I looked at Nidic Waq in an entirely new way, as a human who’d made a choice to become a prophet. Maybe one day, his choices will take him in a different direction.

EXCERPT FROM MATTHEW CAMPBELL'S BOOK  "SPIRIT OF THE SUMMONER"

Blue light gathered on the stranger’s fingertips and the air about him rippled outward like the surface of a pond. No, not the air. A sheet of water had materialized before the robed figure, its surface heaving outward by some unseen force. The stranger dipped his hand into the glassy surface, stirring it, causing it to shudder before a rippling geyser of water exploded across the charred ruins of the Tyfran General Store. The geyser found its mark in the body of the firehound, as it leapt at Darr. The elemental froze, its maw split wide and its body contorted in upheaval. Then it fell to the ground and evaporated into smoke and steam.

" . . . the white robes around

his body shimmered softly."

Dumbfounded, Darr clutched the top of the counter for dear life, staring open-mouthed at the stranger. He could see him clearly now, incredibly tall, his face hard and set, dominated by piercing green eyes set above his wide nose and close-cropped beard.

The stranger raised his other arm, and the white robes around his body shimmered softly. The same blue light, this time laced with tiny sparkles of yellow, swirled around his hands and arms. The man gathered it up and sent it spinning upwards to the ceiling. Darr jerked away from the motion, but the chill of a misty dampness caressed his face. When he looked up again, the flames were beginning to die away. A downpour of rain fell all about the room. The raindrops swirled about the interior of the store, a miniature squall hanging on the ceiling, and yet visibly there wasn’t anything of the sort. At the center of the maelstrom, the stranger held his arms up high with glowing fingertips.

When the rain had washed away the fire, the stranger lowered his arms and his conjuring ceased. With eyes fixed on Darr, he started forward. The Summoner found he could only stare at the stranger’s face from his perch on the counter.

I know this man, but from where?

Without a sideways glance, the stranger walked to the man who had been on fire. Stunned, Darr rushed over. The Summoner lowered himself down beside the kneeling stranger. The stranger’s hands moved over the withered form, touching it, checking it in places. After a few moments, the stranger looked up, and his piercing gaze found the Summoner’s own. Untold knowledge glowed in those eyes. This man knew things no mortal could comprehend. A chill descended over him.

“Do not worry, Darr Reintol,” the stranger said, his voice oddly reassuring. “This man isn’t your father. It’s unfortunate, but there are worse ways to die these days.”

Questions flooded Darr’s mind, but he forced them away. The man’s charred remains lay before him, and a feeling of sadness and guilt washed through Darr over his relief that it wasn’t his father.

The stranger rose, his white robe enfolding him, armoring him. He walked to where a shelf had been overturned near the front of the store and carefully tipped it away. His father lay underneath it, his clothes covered in ash and soot, his face bruised. Despite being unconscious, his father’s chest rose and fell steadily with each breath.

Darr ran to his father’s side, checking the old man’s body to see if there were any broken bones or permanent damage on the surface. It appeared his father had been knocked out, but was otherwise all right.

When Darr looked up to thank the stranger, the man had vanished, gone as suddenly as he’d come.

AMAZON http://www.amazon.com/Spirit-Summoner-Chosen-Light-Campbell-ebook/dp/B00H2C9MA8/ref=la_B00H32ODAG_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1386827791&sr=1-1

BARNES & NOBLE http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/spirit-summoner-matt-campbell/1117544651?ean=2940148950677

GOODREADS https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18747344-spirit-summoner

WILDCHILDhttp://www.wildchildpublishing.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=77&products_id=440

FACEBOOK https://www.facebook.com/mattcampbellauthor

BLOG, BY iMAGINE http://www.blogbyimagine.com

Reviews, Reviews, Reviews

“Hey, Rob, I bought your book!  Loved it!”

But . . . but . . . but . . .

I’ve actually been hearing this a lot, which is great.  It’s remarkable that people read my book and enjoy it.

That is the basic goal of storytelling, but it helps to have the affirmation.

More than that, it’s been so great to have so much support from friends, family, acquaintances and even some wonderful strangers.  I’ve received such an outpouring of assistance, you’d think the tap water was spiked with Xanax and nutmeg!

It’s not.

I checked.

Twice.

Sometimes, when I'm sad, I stop being sad, and start
being awesome.  True story.

So why do I seem so frantic?  Well, one of the things every author needs is reviews.  From Stephen King on down to little ‘ole me, reviews are what help drive interest.  Lots and lots of reviews.  Interest drives sales, sales drives success and success means more books!    Every notice those folk who come on The Daily Show or The Colbert Report usually just happen to have a book with them (unless they have a movie)?  Yeah, they’re trying to drive interest through Stewart’s or Colbert’s review.

The same thing applies to the indie author, but it’s much more important.  If my name was J.K. Rowling, getting people to review my writing would simply be a matter of letting them know J.K. Rowling has a new novel, no matter what name I originally published under.  It would actually be their job to tell the audiences if the book was awesome or really, really awesome.

In case you need help writing the review.

But my name isn’t Rowling, so I’m reduced to the time-honored tradition of begging, bribing and blubbering for reviews (like this article).

If you love an author, whether or not they can actually write, and you want to show your affection (or just get them to shut up about it), write them a review.  You don’t have to write at a Pulitzer-level, just have an opinion and share it.

While you’re at it, write one or two for me as well!

Vote for Tears of Heaven - New Authors to Read

Vote for Tears of Heaven!

What do you mean two guns are impractical?

Not certain what to give me for Christmas?  How about voting for TEARS OF HEAVEN on Goodread’s New Authors to Read list!

Thrilling danger, fast-paced adventure, high-seas action, and heart-warming romance fill this novel, with a page-turning story that won't let you put it down.

Del unwillingly works for the Throne, obeying the commands of the angel Ahadiel. She helps to keep the world safe from the horrors of escaped demons. At the same time, she keeps herself in the Throne's good graces. Whenever a rogue demon breaks free from Hell, she and her partner, Marrin, another Nephilim, work together to banish it.

Vote for Tears of Heaven!

Thrilling Adventure - Now on Amazon and B&N!

Tears of Heaven on Amazon
Tears of Heaven on Barnes & Noble

Aeolus grabbed Dami and pulled him back before a small ax would have smashed his head open.  Neither had time for discussion, but Dami gave him thanks anyhow, without meeting his eyes, and slashed his attacker’s throat open.  The Cilician dropped his ax and pushed his hands into the wound, desperate to stop the flow of his life blood.

"The Cilicians outnumbered them . . . It was only a
matter of time."

The stout sailor took a fresh grip on his single-headed ax but didn’t move.  He looked around at the battle.  They were doomed.  Already, Wavedancer’s crew had been reduced to three small pockets of resistance.  Aeolus, Dami and Gaul—whose name no one could pronounce, so they called him by the name of his homeland of Gaul—formed one ring on the upper deck near the rudder.  The second pocket held Paetur and one of the Nubians—Aeolus wasn’t certain which one—as they tried to keep the Cilicians from taking the stairs.  The third pocket was further away, cut off from everything.  There were three men, and their backs were all to him.  He thought it was Sillinian, Cerxes and Kiros.

It doesn’t matter, he thought.  We’re either dead men or slaves now.

The Cilicians outnumbered them four to one, and they hadn’t even fully emptied their ships.  It was only a matter of time.

“Dami,” he began, about to tell his friend that he should give the order for surrender and save as many men as they could.  With luck, only half the crew would die in irons from the battle.  That would leave ten or twelve with a chance, though slim, of a life.  It wasn’t much, but it was all they could do now.

Dying wouldn’t earn them anything.

“Dami,” Aeolus started again, and got interrupted by a sound that chilled him to the bone.  It sounded like a cross between a hyena’s shriek and an eagle’s call.  High-pitched, piercing and louder than any creature he’d seen or heard.

There was a demon onboard.

Tears of Heaven on Amazon

Tears of Heaven on Barnes & Noble

Marrin Never Looked So Good

Buy Tears of Heaven Today!

The pressure on her neck and head became blinding.  The pain caused her to convulse and thrash where she wasn’t pinned beneath the rogue.  The hallway dimmed and went dark.  There was an unhealthy pop between two of her vertebrae and a grind.

"Marrin, who looked like
some kind of Nordic god"

Then, Jenoa, the rogue, screamed.

The unearthly sound pierced her skull.

The pressure on her neck ceased instantly.

Her vision returned.  Jenoa reached behind his back with a full two feet of steel straight through his chest.  Then he was gone, lifted clean from her body.  Del sagged to the floor, her body wracked with pain.  She fought through the film of coming unconsciousness to see a sight she wouldn’t soon forget.

The rogue was on the business end of a sword, four or five feet of steel.  Marrin, who looked like some kind of Nordic god, held the rogue two feet off the ground.  Except for a hotel towel wrapped around his waist, he was completely naked.  His golden hair, loose from its usual scrunchy, hung down over his shoulders, bare chest and stomach.  Every inch of him was well toned with muscle that Del only now noticed.  An overhead light shone down on his hair and skin and gave him a kind of divine glow.

I must be delirious, Del thought.  I’m dying.  I’m already dead.  Marrin never looked so good.

Buy Tears of Heaven Today!