Expired Reality Holiday Gift Basket

Looking for the perfect gift for the book lover in your life or want a novel idea for treating yourself? The Expired Reality Holiday Gift Basket is being auctioned off just in time for the holidays! Inside this amazing basket of goodies is:

1 Signed copy of Expired Reality: Endangered Memories
1 Signed copy of Expired Reality: Lost Birth
1 Signed copy of Expired Reality: Drather’s Story
$25 Borders gift card
$15 Starbucks gift card
5.1 oz package of Lindt milk chocolate truffles
7 oz package of Walkers mint cream thins
“Hope” centerpiece

The basket is valued at $100 and will be auctioned off through bidding, the base bid starting at $75. Half of the proceeds of this gift basket will go to the Ignite Youth Group at Crosspointe Church. The bidding will begin on Friday morning, December 18th at 8am (Arizona time) and will end on Tuesday, December 22nd at 11:59pm (Arizona time). The highest bid that is cast for the basket at the end of the bidding time frame will be awarded the gift set for that bid price. Funds can be paid via cash, check or PayPal. If you live outside of the valley, you will need to cover shipping on top of the bid amount. If this is the case, the basket will be shipped as soon as funds are received via Paypal or check. At that time, a mailing address for the funds will be given.

In order to participate in the bidding, send your bid via email to my Facebook account or via email to dna@davidnalderman.com. Current bids will be posted via Facebook during the day every couple of hours and updated on the official website every evening.

Any questions? Just contact me via Facebook or email. :)  For more information on the books themselves, visit davidnalderman.com.

The Release (Finally) of Drather's Story

After months of technical difficulties, format changes and even a self-publisher switch, my first novella, Drather's Story, is finally off the presses and available for purchase. Originally released as a 9 episode short story mini series tying in with my Expired Reality series, I decided to compile the whole story in its entirety into a convenient paperback format. Originally I designed Drather's Story to be released through Lulu.com but then switched it over to Createspace because I was able to get it into a more practical size - 8" x 5.25" instead of Lulu's 9" x 6" and the more practical price of $5.95. Recently I have found that Lulu works for me when it comes to ebook format and Createspace works for me when it comes to paperback releases. But that's a story for another blog entry.

Check out Drather's Story here.

Do Demons Wear Santa Hats?

In celebration of the holidays, I felt it necessary to write a piece of comedic fiction. The story is tied to my Black Earth series and features Queen Evanescence, Lieutenant in the Dark Army...

Copyright 2009 David N. Alderman

Evanescence exited the meeting chamber of the Dark Lord and strolled down the grand hallway. Her black dress skated along the dark marble floor with haste. She was full of excitement, ready to start this new project of hers. The Dark Lord had just given her permission to move forward with her plans, and she couldn’t be happier. If there was such a thing as joy here in the depths of Hell, she was feeling it to its full extent.

She calmed her spirit, knowing full well that this was only the beginning. Getting permission to create new life was only the first step in what was going to prove to be a very long, very painful process. But she would stay committed. She would stay committed to the task if it was the very last thing she did. Knowing she was immortal, though, made her laugh to use that expression: the very last thing she did. 

She let out a little giggle as she passed underneath the arch and entered the lobby area where her assistant, the onyx-skinned demon Malrov, stood waiting for her. The large beast had thick-hoofed feet and dark, spiral horns with glowing embers at the end. She loved the appearance of him, although he wasn’t the smartest assistant here in the Depths.

He smiled with his sharp teeth. “Did you gain permission, my queen?”

She nodded and then floated right on by him, making her way out of the lobby area toward the large hallway of rooms. He followed her, his mighty hooves clacking against the marble as he rushed to keep up with her.

Evanescence stopped in front of a large door decorated with human skulls. One of them was positioned outward, as if it was there to stare at her every time she returned to her room. She smiled at it, cupping her palm and tapping her long nails around its chin. The bone was cold against her fingertips.

“Did you miss me?” Evanescence whispered to it.

The skull’s mouth moved as a wheezy voice came out. “Yesss, my queen. As alwaysss.”

“And what is the status of my room?”

“Your room hasss been violated today.”

Evanescence swung her arms out in rage, slapping Malrov in the face in the process. He neither flinched nor moved. Instead, he scratched an itch on his forehead.

“Was it those infernal demolings again?!”

The skull coughed, and pieces of hair and dust sputtered out in front of Evanescence. She waved her hands out to wisp them away.

“Yesss, my queen. They were here while you were visssiting the Dark Lord.”

Malrov clenched his fists together and snarled. “Would you like me to take care of them for you, my queen?”

She prodded her forehead with her fingers and closed her eyes, knowing her pupils were literally burning red with fury. She realized the task she had at hand was so much more important than those stupid little demons messing up her room again. She turned to Malrov and nodded, her eyes coming back to their blue tint.

Malrov smiled and took off running down the hallway, the clacking of his hooves disappearing into the distance.

Evanescence opened the door and strode into her room. As the door slammed shut behind her, she was surprised to find one of the demolings sitting on her bed—on her pillow no less—playing with her makeup. She stood, shocked as she watched the little demon apply some of her blue lipstick to its lips. Her cosmetics were strewn about her satin bed sheets, some of them already opened and applied to her sheets, to the posts of the bed and to the demoling.

“You have the nerve!”

The little demon looked up, startled at the intrusion. It was wearing blue eye shadow as well. It smiled wide at her, its little teeth blue with what Evanescence could only guess was lipstick. “My queen,” it uttered in its own demonic language.

“Yes! Your queen! Your queen, indeed!” She stormed toward the creature. It was already off the bed and leaping from the bed post. It sailed through the air across the room and landed in her dresser mirror, smashing into the glass with its head. Its fragile body tumbled to the dresser surface and stayed there for a moment, dazed at its miscalculation of trajectory.

Evanescence was past the point of being patient with these little mongrels. She was a superior being who didn’t need to put up with these little rodents scouring her room for what they thought to be treasures. She made it to the dresser in a flash and grasped the demoling by the neck, digging her cerulean-painted nails into its soft flesh. Its skin felt like a piece of rotted fruit.

“You will pay for your defiance, little one!”

The demoling’s face twisted and contorted as its claws gripped her hand. It was no use. Evanescence squeezed as hard as she could as its neck exploded and the demon fell to pieces in her hand. She dumped the mess on the floor and wiped her hand across her dress.

She would have to get someone to clean up this horrid mess. She glanced at the floor, saw the splotch of demon entrails and blood, and shook her head. “Let that be a lesson to the rest of you who want to intrude on my domain!”

She heard a weird scratching sound behind her. When she turned around, her wardrobe cabinet burst open, and a blur of red monsters leapt out at her, knocking her to the floor—right in the puddle of guts. She felt the little monster hooves and claws scrape across her dress and the parts of her skin that were bare, as a half dozen demolings stampeded over her and darted out the doorway, escaping into the hallway to their freedom.

She gathered herself together and stood to her feet, covered now in blood. “Curses, you little brats!”

Malrov burst into the room and stood at attention, staring at her. She glared at him, shaking her hands to rid herself of some of the filth.

“Your majesty, I wasn’t able to find the little brat who snuck into your room earlier.”

“Get out, Malrov. I would like to be alone.”

He looked confused. “I thought you wanted me to help you with your plans.”

“Yes, you can help by getting out of here! I need to be alone when I create my masterpiece.”

“What about the battle plans for Destinea?”

“What about them?”

“We have to prepare the troops for the surface landing in four hours.”

“I will be ready to do so in two hours, Malrov. Please…just get out of here.” She felt blood trickling down her face and was sure she was going to gag. The very thought of inferior blood having any contact with her own royal skin was atrocious.

“Well…the Legion is waiting in the war room for you.”

“The Legion can wait. I don’t answer to them. I answer to the Dark Lord. Now get out of my room! Your queen demands it!”

Malrov stumbled out of the room, slamming the door shut.

Evanescence grabbed a towel from her dresser and wiped her face and arms with it. Then she sat down on the bed and began picking up the cosmetics that were still intact. Her mind wandered to how wonderful it would be once her creation was done. She felt so honored that the Dark Lord had allowed her the privilege of bringing a new child into their ranks. Into their family. He was so gracious. She would do anything for him. He knew that, though. She hoped he knew that.

She glanced around at the black walls and reminisced about the time she had gotten her wings clipped. It was a liberating feeling to be considered one of the Dark Lord’s elite. She felt the warmth of his respect for her and smiled. She would do him proud by creating new life for their family. For their army. For the purpose of bringing destruction to the one planet she couldn’t bear to think about: Earth.

Their plans were to attack Earth months from now, which would leave plenty of time for her to create her first and only daughter: Pearl. That would be her name. As beautiful as the most precious treasure in existence.

Evanescence leaned back on the bed and closed her eyes, imagining what she wanted Pearl to look like. The girl would have pure white skin, and her hair would be long and black—blacker than the blackest night. Her eyes would glow a harsh blue, to indicate to everyone that she was a child of the great queen Evanescence. Her voice would rival that of their dark choir, and maybe even of the Dark Lord himself, although that was not something Evanescence actually wanted. He was their worship leader, so…

There was a knock on her door. She opened her eyes and huffed under her breath. Could she just get a few moments alone? Alone in her darkness, alone in her putrid soul? She slid off the bed and adjusted her gown, readjusting her breasts in the corset.

The knock came again, only stronger this time. She stamped her foot on the ground and bit her tongue in the process. The blood tasted refreshing, but the pain was not. She grabbed the handle of the door and swung it open in a rage.

Malrov was standing there...with a red and white Santa Claus hat on his head. “Your highness, the Dark Lord wanted me to tell you that your chamber is ready.”

She ground her teeth and shook her head violently. “What are you doing with that ridiculous thing on your head?”

Malrov laughed. “Yeah, my Santa hat? Reytha gave it to me. She said I could keep it if I promised to wear it in front of you.”

“Ooohohhhhh! You really piss me off sometimes, Malrov!”

“Why? I thought it might cheer you up.”

“Why would ANY reminder that it is Christmas cheer me up? The celebration of the birth of our sworn enemy? Why would I want to celebrate that?”

Malrov looked sad. He turned and shuffled down the hallway as Evanescence slapped her palm on her face and sighed. “I need a vacation from these idiots!”

She shut her bedroom door and started down the hallway, preparing herself mentally for what was about to happen. She would have to spend a full day in the Life Chamber to create Pearl. To create a child that would help them destroy Earth. And once Earth was destroyed, including all of the believers on that forsaken planet, she would be able to rest easily. She hated the thought of those fools worshiping anything other than her dark master. All in due time. All in due time.

Vector - A Novus Partum

From the recesses of my mind, from the abyss of my subconscious, shadows merge into one singular entity. She came to me a few months ago. She revealed herself to me in a story I was working on. I paid her no mind at the time and this angered her. She wants attention. She craves the spotlight and yet shrinks from the very idea of revealing her true form to me.

Who is she, you ask. I cannot say because I do not know. She wears a cloak and hides her face. Her body is scarred from her travels through time and space. Blood lines her pale skin. Her breath comes out in heavy pulses, her lungs weary from her journey. She has no control over her travels and her health decreases with every jump she makes. She has seen her savior on the cross, the brutality of Hitler, the Great War. She has seen many things, heard many sounds and felt the very fabric of time tear to pieces around her.

Her mind is unstable, moreso than anyone else I have ever met or created. And yet, she has the tightest grasp on what kind of danger her world is in. She knows what must be done and yet she has no control over where she goes or what she herself does. She is an enigma. She is a fleeting speck on the scope of our world, of our past. She has crossed the lines between Expired Reality and Black Earth and longs to live a life in the present instead of in the past or the future. Our past. Her future.

Her name is Vector. That is all I know. That is all she is willing to tell.

Christian Writers of the West

On Saturday, I attended the Christian Writers of the West meeting that took place at a local Marie Callenders restaurant, at the prompting of my online friend, Michelle Sutton. At first glance, I felt a bit intimidated - mainly because there were more than a dozen women in the room and only little ol' me and Michelle's son as far as the male population was concerned. But I soon overcame the intimidation when I settled within myself that we were all writers. It didn't matter our gender or our age...writing was in our blood. Writing was the one thing, if anything other than God, that could unite us.

The meeting was something new for me to do. Being a self-published author, I am always trying to find new ways to network, to meet new people, to explore different avenues my writing could be discovered through. There were two different guest authors there, Amanda Cabot who writes historical fiction, and Tosca Lee who writes speculative fiction (my favorite genre). As much as I enjoyed listening to both authors, I will undoubtedly admit that I favored Tosca Lee simply because she writes closer to the genre I write for.

When she arrived at the meeting, Tosca took a seat next to me at the table. I was at first humbled that a well established author was sitting next to me. I know it may seem silly, but I felt nervous to be near someone who had followed the rabbit hole down into the Wonderland of publishing and could confidently say she was a 'successful' author. This reminded of an experience I had about a month ago. There is a fan of my writing who attends my church, and I went to the local Costco with him and his family one day and I heard him say that it was so awesome that he was grocery shopping with his favorite author. It's always humbling to hear something like that, but it makes me wonder where that type of respect comes from. Is it from my writing? Are the words that I craft so incredibly good that they simply melt people's hearts into nothingness until all that's left is utter adoration for the very author who wrote them? Or is there something more at work here? Is there something hidden behind the words? Something in me, as a writer, as a human, that propels this type of respect, this type of awe?

You can ask my wife. Whenever we have company over, I dominate the conversation, not because I am controlling, but because I love to tell stories. It's in my blood, in the very makeup of my DNA. If something happened on our trip to the grocery store, I will craft the event into a full blown tale, an experience so to say, sometimes with sound effects, sometimes with props. But it's what I do. It's the gift I was given. And if I chose to blow it off as nothing - or worse yet - credit it to my own talent, I would be slapping God in the face. The very God who gave me this gift, who wired me this way.

As I sat at this meeting and listened to Tosca speak about her origins, her process of storytelling, her passion for writing, I realized that I have that same respect for her as my friends may have for me. Why? Because storytelling is a gift. And when it is used right, to bring to light morals and ethics, to tell the lost tales of heroes and villains, to paint a metaphorical and allegorical painting of the decay and/or redemption of our society, it can affect an entire civilization, heck an entire species. The power of words is a power that cannot be equaled by any weapon fashioned by man. Writing is power. My friend put it best the other day when he said that it frightens him the power I have as a writer. Maybe he's right.

One thing that Tosca said in the meeting that really stood out to me was when she mentioned how we as writers need to write as if nobody was going to read what we wrote. We need to be truthful to ourselves, to be honest with our writing and not hold back. Those words have never been so true to me. When I began writing Black Earth: End of the Innocence, I came across some scenes that really stretched me as a writer. I was afraid at first of being controversial, of offending the normal church populace, of making my friend's eyebrows tilt upward in surprise and possibly disgust. But then I made a vow to be true to myself as a writer. To write what the character is wanting me to write, to write what God is wanting me to write. That doesn't mean that I just decide to write certain things to shock or offend others. I simply write...and those that read will pull from it what they will.

I hope to return to the CWOW group when they have their next meeting in January. It was a blessing to meet some new writers and to grab a copy of Tosca's Havah, which I plan on starting today.

Acquire the Fire

This last weekend I was honored to be part of the leadership group that went with my church's youth group to Acquire the Fire in Phoenix. For those who don't know, ATF is an intense Christian youth conference that travels around the states during the year. It consists of worship, sessions, skits and interactive surveys. This year it took place at the state fairgrounds from 7pm-10:30pm on Friday night and 8am-9pm on Saturday.

Now, I've been to a couple of Acquire the Fires in the past with another youth group I used to help lead over, but this year there was something different in the air. It could have been the intimate melodies from the worship band, Unhindered. It could have been the sessions and skits that spoke to the youth about real-life issues like pregnancy and acceptance. It could have even been the close fellowship I had with the youth group I was with.

The more I think about it though, the more I realize what it was that made this year different than others I have attended ATF in: The theme this year was having an encounter with God. But the main subject that was spoken about was being smitten in love with God. Smitten. Rhymes with mitten and kitten, pigeon and rippen. Even rhymes with fitten. Not sure some of those are even words. Anyway, smitten. The definition of smitten is to be very much in love. Smitten with God. Very much in love with God.

I think we as Christians sometimes get lost in the rules and regulations of religion and overlook the three most important elements of life: faith, hope and love. Love. To be in love with God. To be in love with the One who created us. God knows the number of hairs on our head. Psalm 139 speaks of how God's thoughts about us outnumber the grains of sand. Zephaniah 3:17 tells us that God sings over us.

We overlook these things on a daily basis. That God thinks about us, that He sings over us. Who are we that God would take the time to do these things? One of the speakers at ATF mentioned how God woos us like a groom woos his bride. God knows our favorite things, our hopes and dreams, our passions and desires. He tries daily to bring these things to us, to surprise us, to rejoice in us. Do we have our eyes open to experience these things or are we so caught up in our daily lives that we don't even acknowledge that God is there - unless of course something is going wrong in our lives. Needless to say, this conference - though it was designed for youth - really opened my own eyes to who God really is and what He means to me.

On top of the awesome experience at ATF, I was able to hear and meet female worship singer, Sarah Reeves and her band. She was selling CD's and she and the band were signing them. I even took the photo op and got a picture with her. She has an amazing voice and her songs speak to the heart about drawing closer to God, breaking down walls and rising up in unity with each other. Awesomeness!

Interview with the Author

Just recently I was honored to be interviewed by my good friend, Paeter Frandsen. Paeter and I have been friends for a while now, but originally only knew each other through the grapevine at the local church we both attended. Back in those days, I was still penning the first drafts of Expired Reality and he was putting on a stage production of Spirit Blade, his acclaimed science fiction/fantasy audio drama.

Besides being a friend, Paeter is also the creator of Spirit Blade Productions, a company that encompasses his audio projects. In my own opinion, Paeter is an extremely talented individual. His knowledge for recording, mixing story elements and casting voice actors to bring characters to life in his work is unparalleled. Not to mention his avenue for telling his stories is one that I feel is untapped in this present day in age, bringing to life a fresh avenue for storytelling.


For those interested, you can learn more about Spirit Blade and Paeter's other projects at http://www.spiritblade.net. For those that are interested in listening to the interview that Paeter did with me, check it out here. This interview got me to open up a bit about some elements of my new novel, Black Earth: End of the Innocence that I wouldn't normally discuss with others. But, Paeter has a way of getting me to talk about my writing and to tell things that I would consider to be secrets. That's okay. That's his job as the interviewer and my job is to tell stories, so they go well hand in hand.

My First Book Signing...

This last Saturday, I had my very first book signing. Borders Books and Music in Mesa, Arizona was my first spot and I had a blast doing it there. The store staff was more than friendly, the accommodations for my signing were wonderful and I just had a great time overall.

All in all, I ended up selling 15 copies of Black Earth: End of the Innocence, 11 of those going to complete strangers. I had a great time meeting new people and seeing just how supportive some can be of independent self-published authors.

This signing really helped me to get over my nervousness of being in front of people I don't know. I managed to stand the 5 hours at the front door of the store and hand out fliers with my book info, cover, ISBN#, price and places online it can be bought at. I also took a break here and there and walked the entire store, handing out the fliers to anyone I may have missed. This location of Borders has two entrances, and since I was only able to cover one, it left a lot of people missed when they came in through the other entrance.

I think the 5 hour window was perfect for doing the signing in. I did 11am-4pm and I think that is a nice busy block of time to really get people's attention about my book and not wear myself out too much. I never took a lunch break, but that was because I wanted to make the most of every minute I had there in the store. Eventually, my brothers and sister showed up and they helped hand out fliers over by the other entrance of the store. Whether I sold a book with each flier or not, the fliers have my website address on them, so people can always check out my stuff online when it is more convenient for them.

All in all, it was a great experience, one I hope to repeat in the coming months at other local bookstores.

Nothing Beats a New Book

If I have one wish in this life, it's that books - in their physical form - never become outdated. Don't get me wrong here. I think that there is definitely a niche and a market for online stories. I have partaken in such things myself, writing short stories that are only available online. However, nothing really beats going down to my local bookstore (or ordering online) a brand new book that I can hold in my hands. A book that I can bring with me to the coffee shop. A book that I can sit on my patio and read. A book that will stare at me as it sits on my nightstand, begging me to open it up and read it's beautiful muse. Kind of like my cat when it wants to be fed, but more sincere.

The appreciation for the written word hasn't died down in my opinion. Even with the rise of online this and web that, I think there will always be a love for a physical novel in one's hands, a tome of endless adventures and romance that we can get lost in whenever we so choose.

Just recently, I headed down to my local Borders and, with one of their generous coupons, purchased a new novel to read. Granted, I have a half dozen novels on my bookshelf that are still only half read or haven't been opened up at all. But I love the experience of purchasing a new book and I don't think that anything quite equals the ecstatic joy that I feel when I do. And at only a couple of dollars, who could pass up such an opportunity?

 For those that are curious, I picked out Star Wars: Allegiance by Timothy Zahn. Star Wars books have been some of my favorite since high school and I don't think that will ever change. Timothy Zahn is a craftsman in the Star Wars universe, quickly becoming one of my favorite authors for the series next to A. C. Crispin who did the Han Solo Trilogy.

Expired Reality: The Dark Past

Well, I'm off to a good start for National Novel Writing Month (NanoWrimo). I have 7,127 words written (past my daily goal for today) and I could probably sit down and write out more for the rest of the day, but alas, I have other responsibilities, like 2 other novels I am already working on.

The story I decided to work on this year for Nano is a bit different than years past. I usually work on full novels that are sequels to the novels I have already put into play. One year I did a short story anthology. But this year I decided to mix things up a bit and have some fun. So I decided to do one novel, split in half, with each half telling a back story to a particular character. Both characters can be found in my Expired Reality series and both characters have been proven to be some of my readers' favorites.

The tentative title to my Nano novel is Expired Reality: The Dark Past. One story will be based on Turquoise - Wedge, detailing the life she had as a child shortly before she discovered her giftings and her life took a turn for the worse. The other story will detail the incident in the clock tower that almost took Carrie Green and Veronica Amorou's life. This story is hinted at in my first Expired Reality book, Endangered Memories in Carrie's diary entries. This event sparked off Veronica's life debt to David Corbin and pushed her to learn a dark means of protecting him, one that caused her to break her pledge of non-violent means to keeping the world of Anaisha safe.

Both stories show a lot of promise in keeping up 25,000 words each, equaling the 50,000 that I need to complete NanoWrimo 2009. But one thing that has taken me a bit off guard is how much fun the particular story I am working on is. I am currently working on the story of how Turquoise - Wedge was kidnapped from her family and stripped of her strongest powers to become the Wedge that you meet in the beginning of my series. It is a powerful story and I've noticed that a lot of my back stories that I've started working on are more powerful than some of the novels themselves. In the Expired Reality series anyway. And I've figured out what that more powerful entity is - character.

I am now diving into my characters back stories and truly finding out who they are. Instead of a name on a piece of paper, they are coming alive more so than they ever have before. When my characters are in their younger years, when they are children or teenagers, when they are in rough spots in their lives - spots that completely change the course of their histories forever - I realize that they are real people. They come alive on the page and they aren't merely a warm body to keep the plot moving.

Don't get me wrong. Before I write all of my novels, I always write out a full background for each of my characters, including foods they eat, music they listen to and who their love interests are. I even write out who their parents are and what appearance they usually take in their day to day lives. But something about writing their actual back stories just blows the profiles to the wind and really digs deep into who these characters really are.

I think, especially with my Black Earth series having just debuted, that my writing has started turning from plot driven to character driven. It is a most beautiful thing and I am happy that it is happening this way. So as I continue to work on this year's NanoWrimo novel, I encourage all my other writer friends out there to examine their writing and see - really see - who their characters are, where they've come from, and what they truly want out of life. They can become some of our best friends and some of our worst enemies. But then again, they're just characters...right?