The Summer the World Ended blog tour: Interview with Matthew S. Cox PLUS Giveaway

Today we're taking part in the blog tour for THE SUMMER THE WORLD ENDED by chatting with author Matthew S. Cox. Grab a seat and a cool beverage and get to know all about Matthew and his book. Don't forget to enter the rafflecopter at the end of the post!

Hi, Matthew! Welcome to We Do Write. Tell us a bit about yourself.

Hi! Thanks for having me on your blog! I’m in my early forties, have two cats, a fondness for writing, video games, roleplaying games etc. I suppose one could argue I’m a ‘geek,’ but for whatever reason I never got into comics. Once, my addictive energies got sucked into the vortex that is World of Warcraft, but I jumped ship shortly before the panda stupidity occurred. Now, I throw that same energy into writing. Most of my books are sci fi/cyberpunk, though I’ve written one other YA, and I have a middle grade fantasy coming out toward the end of this year as well.

Author links:

http://www.matthewcoxbooks.com/wordpress/

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7712730.Matthew_S_Cox

https://www.facebook.com/MatthewSCoxAuthor

https://twitter.com/mscox_fiction

Tell our readers a bit about THE SUMMER THE WORLD ENDED.

The book is about Riley McCullough, a shy, introverted fourteen-year-old who has retreated into her bedroom and the safety of video games to escape teasing at school. (She’s got a high metabolism and gets picked on for being anorexic even though she isn’t.) Being non-confrontational, and already dealing with emotional issues stemming from her father leaving them when she was eight, she preferred to hide.

Her epic summer starts off on a sour note when her best (only) friend is taken on a surprise graduation gift/vacation to Mexico for two weeks, leaving Riley “alone and bored.” Before she can bemoan that too much, her comfortable suburban life gets turned on its head. With no choice in the matter, she winds up going across the country to live with her estranged father, who – much to her shock – wants and loves her.

Riley’s shy, but she’s not stupid. She can tell he’s hiding something, and she’s hurt that he wont trust her with the truth about why he left her and her mother. He lives out in the middle of nowhere, a few miles outside of a fictional town in New Mexico. With nothing but horizon on all sides of the house, Riley feels more alone than ever before. Cut off from the Internet, and everyone else she knew, she attempts to fit in with the local kids but feels like a duck hanging out with swans.

One of the locals, Kieran, shares her interest in video games. Despite her father’s disastrously tactless attempts to be helpful, the two become friends. The news paints a scary picture of an unstable world, and Riley witnesses military convoys driving through her new home town on the way to Holloman AFB, carrying nuclear missiles. Soon after, bombs knock her out of bed in the middle of the night.

Fortunately, her father had been preparing for such an event – and saw it coming. He hauls her out the back door to the safety of an underground shelter he’d prepared with enough food to last them five years. Huddled in the dark, staring at the red-glowing light of a radiation sensor, Riley struggles to deal with everything that’s happened, everything that’s turned what was supposed to be the best summer ever into the end of everything.

Cool. And I really like the cover! How did the idea of the story come to you?

A while back, I wrote another young adult title, Caller 107. The original cover that book released with didn’t go over too well, so I was looking for ideas. I had met another author, who also makes awesome covers, in a writer’s chat room. I asked him what he’d do for a cover for a story with Caller’s concept, expecting he’d give me some advice on layout or themes. A couple days later, he sends me a cover. I thought it was awesome, though it had a strong post-apoc vibe to it that didn’t fit well (and CQ agreed) with the tone of Caller.

So I had this great cover that I couldn’t use. Caller had been a one-off as far as I’d thought, being YA, compared to my other writing. However, I had this girl staring at me (not the release cover for Summer btw – we ran into some issues using his cover and had to redo it) and I wanted to put a novel behind that cover.

At the time, I was elbow-deep in the writing for the Awakened series, but I kept ideas simmering around the back of my head. I was searching for a story with a post-apoc feel, a young female protagonist, and something to do with a radio. (The original cover suggestion he sent me had radio stuff on it.) Once I finished writing the Awakened series, I sat down and stared at this cover for about two weeks. The story formed in my head from the picture. While I was writing down the outline, I had an a-ha moment that wound up changing the direction of the entire thing. I don’t want to say anything about what that a-ha moment is, but when you read the book, I’m sure it will jump out at you.

Are you a plotter or a pantser?

Plotter. Though, perhaps I’m a bit of a hybrid. At least ten years ago, when I sort-of wrote a novel, I had a lot of false starts. Back then I just sat down and tried to write. It didn’t work for me. I’d get stuck in a snarl of ideas and wind up being unable to decide how to proceed. I read something about outlining, and decided to give it a shot. With a road map to follow (or a spine upon which to layer the meat of the plot), I found I had the ability to finish the story.

What I mean by hybrid is that I don’t slavishly outline every tiny little detail. Some chapter notes can be as simple as “fight with demon here,” while others can be quite long and detailed. I don’t think I could’ve finished a book like Virtual Immortality without an outline as there are a lot of complex threads going on throughout the story.

Also, I am open to changing things. Althea (the MC of Prophet of the Badlands) got mad at me for the direction the outline was supposed to go. About 60% of the way through (approx) she put her foot down and demanded I change the story. I wound up pausing in my drafting and reworked the outline to suit the direction she wanted to go. Considering that story was about her transition from timid, meek little thing that does whatever people tell her to someone with the courage to protect herself (and those she loves), I couldn’t not change it. That change wound up affecting the entire series in a not-small way.

What’s the hardest part of writing for you?

Getting started on page one of the draft. For some reason, the urge to procrastinate is high there. Like I’m standing at the top of a rollercoaster and afraid to push off. Another issue that complicates the start for me is that I’ve somehow come up with this habit or quirk where I have to have the first word of a novel (heck even my short stories do this) be something meaningful to the character.

For example, the first word in The Summer the World Ended is ‘oblivious.’ Riley starts off as oblivious to the world around her. She’s a sheltered, shy, “forget the world, I’m just going to stay in my room” sort of person. She doesn’t care about the news, the world at large, or anything that doesn’t directly affect Riley Dawn McCullough.

Another example would be from Division Zero. The first word of the book is ‘adrift,’ which describes the main character’s feeling about her life at that point. She feels adrift in a sea of humanity, with no clear idea of who she is or where she’s going.

What do you absolutely have to have nearby when writing?

Blood of the Sacred Bean. (Coffee.)

Haha. I worship at the same church. ;) If you could have any super power, what would it be?

The ability to heal others.

What's the weirdest thing you've googled?

“Goat Hugs.” – CQ has this thing for goats… and some times strange conversations on Facebook require stranger images.

Finish this sentence: If I'm not writing, I'm probably ...

Sleeping.

Sleep? What's that? Here’s the part where you thank the people who are supporting you. Let's hear your shout outs.

As a relative unknown, I have to thank everyone who has purchased a copy of any of my books. It’s not an easy thing to get started as a writer, and I truly appreciate the support of people who find my work interesting enough to read. Also, a massive thank you to anyone who takes the time to post an honest review. Reviews help a lot.

Second, I had a lot of support from the people at CQ (Lisa Gus, Eugene Teplitsky, Andrew, Nikki, Clare, and everyone else) as well as some writerly friends I’ve made online along the way. Thanks go out to Ann Noser (author of How to Date Dead Guys) for her feedback reading an early draft. Tony Baker (author of Survivors of the Dead) who helped out with keeping the police characters realistic [he’s an ex-cop.] Joe Cautilli was an invaluable help with the psych stuff. Last, and most significant, Sam Hunt (author of the Outlaw King series) who made the original cover that inspired the story.

Thanks for stopping by the blog!

You’re welcome ☺ Thanks for having me.

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Book Blitz: Killshot by Aria Michaels

Killshot by Aria Michaels

Genre: YA Apocalypse Fiction and Dystopia

When seventeen year old Liv Larson and her brother are sent to separate foster homes, she gives up on her old life, her old friends, and her faith in God. The only bright spot in Liv’s new life is her energetic and obnoxious foster-sister, Riley. When Riley convinces her to come to the rooftop party to view Icarus, the up-coming solar flare, Liv meets Zander. For the first time in months her troubles take a back seat…that is until what should have been a small flare, erupts into a full blown solar storm.

Now, Liv and her rag-tag group of not-quite friends must find a way to survive the sweltering heat, lingering radiation, and the mysterious virus that appears to have found an ideal host among their ranks. Alliances will be formed, and battle lines will be drawn as Liv and her new friends set out on a perilous journey to save their loved ones, find answers, and reach salvation.

But, something sinister awaits them in the dark—and it’s undeniably connected to Liv.

Will Liv be able to keep her promise and reunite with her brother? Will her brave determination be enough to save them all from a rogue government, a terrifying virus, and the things that go bump in the night?

…Or was Icarus, indeed, the KILLSHOT.

           

Trailer: http://youtu.be/TV_7K7ZYqiM

About the Author:

Aria Michaels lives in a small town in Illinois with her loving, patient husband and her six (yes, SIX) energetic boys. Always the creative type, Aria fed off the encouragement of her mother, and started writing and illustrating her own stories at a very young age. Aria’s passion for creation and love of the human spirit followed her to the university level where she graduated with an Associates Degree in Fine Arts, and a Bachelors Degree in Communications, with a minor in psychology. After years of juggling parenthood with her a career in higher education, the universe finally called Aria back to her original passion…writing. When she isn’t glued to her computer, or painting her next masterpiece, Aria can be found playing in the dirt with her kids, snuggling up to a good zombie flick with her husband, or sipping a glass of wine by the fire with friends.

                 

  
The Giveaway: (2) $5 Amazon Gift Cards (2) swag packs (1) mystery gift
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Read below for a teaser from the authors prequel Novella, to be released at the end of January!

I rushed across the tile floor, keeping my head as low as possible. Stepping over a burning stool, I ducked beneath the singed remains of the swinging doors, and out into the main entryway of the house. Fire trickled up the walls, like an orange waterfall flowing backwards, sending bits of flaming paint and wall paper, fluttering to the floor around me. Like me, the flames were seeking higher ground, and I needed to hurry if I was going to beat them. I tightened the towel around my face again, and took a deep breath. My lungs screamed in protest, but I fought the urge reject the toxic air as I dove forward into the unknown. Flashbacks of grade school fire-prevention assemblies flashed through my mind as I staggered towards the stairs. The fire fighters always said the same thing— stay low to the ground, cover your mouth and nose, and never, ever go into a burning building. Two out of three ain’t bad. Mrs. Tate’s prized oak railing was still miraculously intact, and I ran one hand along its smooth surface as I army crawled to the top of the staircase.

 

When I crested the top step, I slithered along the floor, keeping my hand against floor molding that ran the length of the hallway. I followed it past the bathroom, toward where Riley and I slept. Unable to see through the wall of darkness, I found my way to Riley’s room by touch alone. The heat was all-consuming. My eyes watered uncontrollably, though I had no idea where my body had found the moisture, and it did little to soothe the burning beneath my lids. My throat felt raw and tight, each breath like swallowing sand. I hacked and gagged as the smoke tried to force its way into my lungs. It tasted of burnt plastic and chemicals, and my tongue began to swell in protest. The paint above the trim was peeling away at my touch, curling in itself as if it, too, was trying to escape the flames. I held the towel closer to my mouth, and crawled on knees and elbows down the hallway. I pulled myself up onto the balls of my feet, lunging head first through Riley’s open door. I caught myself on the foot board of her bed, my left eye narrowly missing the sharp prong on a studded belt that hung there. I coughed and sputtered against the poisonous black cloud, as I followed the edge of the mattress to the old base drum Riley used as a night stand. I sifted frantically through the tumbling stack of books, hair ties, and make-up until I found what I was looking for. I shoved it deep into my pocket, and ducked back out into the smoke-filled hallway. The cloud of poison had grown thicker now, forcing me back down to onto the floor. My backpack flopped from side to side, banging into my ribs as I skittered across the rough wood floors. From my vantage point I could easily see beneath the door to my room, to the orange glow that awaited me on the other side. I shifted around so I was laying against my pack on the hard floor, the soles of my boots resting against my door. I held my breath, cranked my feet back, and thrust them as hard as I could into the door. On the third kick, it swung open, and I rolled to the side as the knob slammed hard against the wall inside my room. “Gah!” A wave of heat and flames burst through the door and into the hallway. As soon as the back-draft subsided, I scrambled across the floor into my room, which was almost completely engulfed in flames. It was so hot, I could barely think as the smoke strangled and pressed me into the floor. The walls and ceiling bubbled under the bright orange tendrils. Pieces of plaster crashed down around me, as the texture disintegrated above me. The end of my bed was walled fire, and the flames crept their way across my room. I inched forward on my hands and knees, to my bedside table, and swiped blindly at the items on its surface. The lamp clattered across the table, one of the table’s legs gave out, and the entire thing crashed to the floor. The lamp shattered, sending shards of pink porcelain and broken glass hurtling towards my face. The rest of my bedside items scattered across the floor in all directions. I slapped aimlessly at the floor around me, unable to see through the blackness closing in. I barely flinched when the rosy lamp shrapnel embedded itself in my hand, but nearly I lost it when my hand finally landed on that stupid stuffed lion. I grabbed my courage by the tail, stuffed him into the front of my shirt, and made my way out of the scorched remains of the princess bedroom, gagging as my lungs burned in my chest. I crawled along the old wood floor, board by board and by the time I reached the top of the stairs, they were fully consumed by flames. I nearly lost my balance and fell over. “Shit,” I choked out, grabbing onto the railing for support. The flames licked at my heels, and without thinking, I threw my leg over the solid oak railing and pushed off. I held on for dear life as I sailed down the thick banister and landed with a thud at the bottom of the stair case. Nothing was recognizable anymore through the trenches of smoke, but I instinctively headed back the way I had come. The swinging door crashed to the ground behind me, sending shards of flaming wood my direction. I rolled to the side to avoid them and slammed my already sore shoulder into the corner of the breakfast bar.

 

“Ahh,” I groaned as I inched my way along the tile floor. I orienting myself towards the only light I could see; a shred of night sky that peeked through glass doors ahead. The moonlight seemed pale in comparison to the smothering darkness of the black smoke around me. My head was buzzing, and my vision was blurry. My hands and feet felt numb, but somehow I dragged myself over to the sliding door. I tried to get up, but found I could not reach the handle. I shoved at the frame, but the door would not open. Desperate and disoriented, I rolled onto my back, and kicked at the glass. It laughed at me, and held firm. I felt myself sinking into the floor, my limbs no longer responding to commands. My eyes would not open but I could feel the heat closing in on me. I always heard your life flashed before your eyes when you died, but in my case, it was more of a random, fleeting thought…I died trying to save a stuffed animal. Tiny diamonds rained down on me and a breeze tickled across my face. “Liv, hold on!” My body floated weightlessly through the flames. “Oh my god, is she—” Small hands touched my face. “Damn it, Sarge,” croaked another voice. “Open your eyes.” The ceaseless spasm in my throat, refused to let me speak. My head tilted back, but I didn’t issue the command. My lungs ached as though someone were standing on my chest. “I don’t think she’s breathing,” a voice cracked. “Do something!” “Liv, please.” Stubble brushed lightly against my ear. “Do something!” I was floating, and it felt nice. “Come back to me, Liv.” Lips on lips My chest felt warm, and light. Though it rebelled at the intrusion, relief flooded my body, pulling me back towards the ground. I felt my chest rise and fall, defying my paralysis. Those warm lips left mine for just a moment, and my entire body ached at their loss. Soon enough, coolness spread through my chest again, bringing with it tiny crackles that tingled through my fingers and toes. The fuse lit and inched closer and closer to my heart, bringing with it the weight of earthly pain. Every cell in my body was electrified, welling with energy. Then, like a dam, everything seemed to burst at once, sending a wave of agony rippling through my body. My body shot upright of its own volition and tears flooded my eyes. I gulped greedily at the midnight air, starved for what I had been denied. Despite the burning in my chest, my heart sang at the sensation as it filled. My stomach, however, had had enough of the abuse and retaliated. With my last ounce of energy, I rolled onto my side and threw up. Right in Zander’s face.

   

Book Blitz: The Artful by Wilbert Stanton

A post-apocalyptic spin on Oliver Twist? Heck yeah, that sounds cool! Take a look at THE ARTFUL by Wilbert Stanton.

The Artful by Wilbert Stanton
(Shadows of the City #1)
Published by: Curiosity Quills Press
Publication date: May 27th 2014
Genres: Post-Apocalyptic, Young Adult

New York City, 2025: Everything is changed. The city that never sleeps is now a land of death and decay. A rampant virus has taken over and the survivors have become carriers, quarantined from the rest of the world.

Twist and Dodger grew up in the streets, the sewers and underground tunnels – their playground. They aren’t heroes. They just like attention; and stealing meds from the rich and giving them to the poor is their golden ticket.

On their latest raid, they unknowingly steal a cure that puts them square between the ailing Emperor of Manhattan and the war hungry Governor of Brooklyn and forces them on a quest into the darkest shadows of their putrefying world.

AUTHOR BIO
Wilbert Stanton was born and raised in New York City. From an early age, Wilbert decided he would either write books or take over the world; everything else was just a precursor to his end game.

Along the way, he has studied Psychology, English, and Computer Science. He’s held jobs in a wide range of fields and met people from all walks of life. Wilbert is constantly learning and growing as a person, in order to solidify his dreams.

In the end world domination was a bit tedious, so he decided to focus on writing books.

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Book Excerpt: Resurrection by Laury Falter

Happy belated Valentine's Day! I hope you each had a special weekend filled with love, be it romantic love, parental love, or friendly love. Today we have a double-header featuring two pretty awesome sounding books! Check it out!

Resurrection by Laury Falter
(Apocalypse Chronicles #2)
Publication date: January 18th 2014
Genres: Horror, Post-Apocalyptic, Young Adult, Zombies

The second and final installment in the two-book series, Apocalypse Chronicles...
a dystopian romance about five high school seniors who set out to cure an apocalyptic world of a contagious infection.

Bestselling author Laury Falter finishes off this two-part series--a dystopian romance filled with an electrifying plot, a powerful romance, and unexpected twists.

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EXCERPT

He laughed to himself. "You're always my strongest supporter, Kennedy, and therein lies the problem. That blind loyalty could get you…" He closed his eyes and seemed to swallow back the words, or one in particular. "Could get you killed."

"What are you saying?"

"Kennedy," he exhaled patiently but with a great deal of effort, "I'm not sure how much venom my body can take, what the effects of it have been on me, or even how it is merging with the antibodies. Every time I'm bitten I put you in danger, everyone who is near me is in danger." He exhaled in frustration. "Why do you think I wait for sixty seconds after I'm bitten to come near you?"

That had never occurred to me, but he was right. I remembered seeing him move away from me after an attack; he'd gone so far as to put a muzzle to his head. I'd even caught him positioning himself within range of Doc, Mei, and Beverly.

"Wait…," I mumbled, an understanding of something forming in the recesses of my mind. "Wait a second…"
Then it hit me. He had been training them to defend against the Infected's strengths…the same traits that he possessed. He had trained them to detect weaknesses, the same weaknesses he possessed.

"Wait…" I said again, bile rising in my throat.

He had done this in front of me, with my help, and I hadn't even realized what he had been doing.

"You…," I whispered. Clearing my throat, I tried again. "You…"

He was watching me now, waiting for me to wedge free the statement that was so rigidly stuck in my throat. "I…?" he said coaxingly. "I what, Kennedy?"

What began the fire of infuriation in the pit of my belly was that he knew. He knew what he'd done and he knew I'd figure it out sooner or later. This was that moment.

The memories flooded back to me then. The shift in his positions around the group after he'd been bitten, the line of sight he'd  maintained with someone, anyone but me on our team to take him out if it was needed.

"You trained them to kill you," I uttered.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Laury Falter is a bestselling author of young adult romantic suspense and urban fantasy. She has three series out: the Guardian Trilogy, the Residue Series, and the Apocalypse Chronicles.

Find out more news and information about Laury and her novels on her:

Website: www.lauryfalter.com
Twitter page: twitter.com/LauryFalter
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Laury-Falter/196033543803745