Richard Schiver

Category: Uncategorized

  • Club Thrillrror

    Club Thrillrror

    Every year Alix Kampen compiles a collection of Thriller and Horror novels to be sold in book boxes that feature autographed copies of assorted novels along with various trinkets provided by the authors. This will be her seventh year and I will be participating with my novel Cursed.

    From Alix:

    The lights flicker… and the countdown begins.

    Can we sell out before the shadows take over?

    Inside each box lurks signed horrors, chilling thrillers, and surprises sharp enough to draw blood (figuratively… we think).

    Only the bold dare to unbox the unknown.

    Only the fearless help us reach our goal before midnight falls on December 31st.

    🎃 Ready to face the fear? Fill out the google order form before these offers disappear into the dark. (Can ship internationally from Canada

    Order form; https://tinyurl.com/CTOrder7

    Join Club Thrillrror on Facebook to stay abreast of future offerings. https://www.facebook.com/groups/310590021371195/

    They are also on Instagram: @clubthrillrror

    The images below contain the lists of available titles broken down by genre. Along with the prices for each box. Use the order form above to order yours today.

  • This week in random ramblings. Back up, Back up, Back up!

    This week in random ramblings. Back up, Back up, Back up!

    For anyone unaware of what is happening I have recently gone through a change of computers. Wednesday before last I got up and hit the power button on my computer as I usually do. It didn’t start. I hit it again with the same results. Of course at this point the panic started to set in. I had some of my work backed up on a thumb drive, but not all of it. Call me old fashioned but I never really trusted cloud storage for backing up my work.

    Long story short I purchased a new computer, using my CC which I didn’t want to do, but what choice did I really have? Everything I had ever written was on that computer, as well as the covers I’ve designed in the past and piles of stock photos purchased over the years from various vendors.

    To give you an idea of how much was there when I finally got my old computer running again and started transferring from my old to my new, there was over 1.5 gigs of writing in 1,036 files spread across 206 folders. The folder I use to hold covers was over 36 gigs. It took me a good week to get everything transferred over.

    I’m the kind of writer who can’t work on just one thing. I’m currently knee deep, about 55,000 words into The Bad Place, a story that loosely continues the saga of Sheriff Paul Odenton who appeared in Cursed (I was warned not to use that title as it would get lost, but I’m stubborn that way. One of these days I’ll change that to The Witch of Porter Mines.)and the second book of my trilogy titled Parasite. I’m a sucker for one word titles.

    I know if I could focus on just one work at a time I’d be a hell of a lot more productive.

    I am also working on and off on an interesting little tale I call Bitter Hollow, that stands at just 50,000 words. I worry I’m not talented enough to complete it the way I see the ending in my mind.

    Then there’s Lair of the Broken Queen, book six of my post apocalyptic series This Lawless Land. I stopped at around 45,000 words as I wasn’t really feeling the story though I know exactly how the series will end. I’m torn between making this the last chapter of the saga, or adding a seventh book.

    It was this last one that caused me the most pain. As I’m transferring everything over using thumb drives I begin to notice that not everything is coming over as it should. Folders half empty and such. One piece of work that vanished was Lair of the Broken Queen. All I had left was the rough outline I wrote back when I started the book two years ago.

    I’ve been through this before, in 2001 I lost everything with a hard drive failure that wiped out over ten years of work in the blink of an eye. Tried having it recovered, but no one could help me. I’ve recreated a lot of the work through memory. My Cursed file was one that vanished and I rewrote the book from memory.

    I have spent the past week poring through my files looking for the missing work. Imaging my relief when I find out I inadvertently saved the file under a different name.

    I’ve bought a number of 64gig thumb drives I’ll use to back up my more important files. I just hope that if and when it happens again, technology has not moved on to the point the thumb drive is useless. Of course the second question would be, will I be around to see it happen. At 66 I’ve entered that stage of life where you have more time behind you than ahead. But that’s a subject for another time and place. Now that I’ve gotten this mess straightened out I can move forward once again.

  • My apologies

    Sorry I was not able to update my work in progress last Wednesday. The first thing I typically do when I get up is hit the power button on my computer to let it get warmed up while I get coffee. That morning all I got was a thunk. I tried again, still nothing. I had been sort of expecting this to happen, after all it was a cheap system that I’d had for nearly seven years,and it had done it’s job well in that time. I don’t need anything fancy.

    I did have some of my work backed up on thumb drives, I’m an old salt and I don’t trust the cloud. But not everything. After several times of failing to get it started I got on my phone and ordered a new computer. It came Friday and I spent an aggravating weekend getting it set up.

    It would appear I’m back now and will, barring any further complications, return to my normal posting schedule.

    Thanks for you patience.

  • The Secret to Consistent Writing: Keep Your Butt in the Chair

    The Secret to Consistent Writing: Keep Your Butt in the Chair

    Every writer dreams of inspiration striking like lightning. A sudden burst that ignites the imagination and resolves the mundane problems blocking your work. The page fills with effortless ease as the words sing to your soul. Unfortunately, inspiration is as unreliable as the lottery and only seems to strike when you’re in the shower, fully soaped up. By the time you manage to dry off and get to a piece of paper that brilliant idea has lost all its luster.

    The real secret to writing isn’t magic or muses. It’s much simpler, and far less glamorous. In fact, everyone is capable of doing it. Simply put. It’s keeping your butt in the chair

    Writing is hard work and distractions are everywhere. Social media, chores, even the temptation to reorganize your sock drawer suddenly seems urgent. But the only way to make progress is to sit down, stay put, and write. It doesn’t matter if the words come slowly or if every sentence feels clunky. What matters is showing up, day after day, and putting in the time.

    Some days, the writing will flow. Other days, it will feel like pulling teeth. But consistency is what separates those who finish their stories from those who only dream about them. Even if you only manage a paragraph or a few sentences, you’re moving forward. Over time, those small efforts add up to chapters, then drafts, then finished books.

    Embrace the discipline. Make writing a non-negotiable part of your routine. Turn off the TV, silence your phone, and give yourself permission to write badly. The magic happens not when you wait for inspiration, but when you commit to the process. Keep your butt in the chair, and the words will come.

  • Weekly Writing Challenge 10/01/2025

    Weekly Writing Challenge 10/01/2025

    God’s Chosen Contd.

    Reaching the doors for the church he glanced back over his shoulder. A crowd had formed behind him, a shambling assembly of the undead, wearing the faces of the people he had preached to during his tenure. Features twisted into caricatures of hate tinged with an unholy need.

    Mr. Feely who ran the stable, a gruff old man who sat quietly through his sermons in the aisle seat of the last pew. As if he wanted to escape his weekly duty as soon as possible. Sally Umstad was there as well as the Plimpton girl. He’d never learned her name and for that he was ashamed. His job was to provide comfort, and he couldn’t even take the time to learn a little about her beyond the reason she had come to see him. Most of the rest of the townspeople were present as well. The widow Barnes stood next to Carl Bisby who ran the saloon. Among the familiar faces was a scattering of those he had met beyond the walls of the church. These people did not attend his weekly services, but he knew them none the less as that was his job.

    All of them wore the same slack expression, their eyes glowing with an eerie light as he backed into the church and they followed him. Down the center aisle he moved carefully so as not to trip and fall. Surprisingly as the crowd entered the church they filled in the rows of pews, each taking a seat on its hard surface. Those who were not familiar with attending church wandered aimlessly until the others pointed out what they must do. In time they were all sitting, watching him with silvery eyes, the church filled with an expectant hush.

    Reverend Wickes opened the bible to a random page, surprised to find he had come to Ephesians chapter two. Clearing his throat he began to read, his voice clear in the silent church. “And you hath he quickened, who were dead in trespasses and sin; Wherein in times past ye walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now worketh in the children of disobedience:” He paused, aware that other forces were at now at play as those present grew restless with his silence.

    He turned back to the bible and continued reading, his voice loud as the world around him became still. It seemed even the birds in the trees beyond the church settled into an eerie silence as he continued.

    A tickle at the back of his throat warned him about a coming cough and he paused long enough to clear his throat before diving back in. He noticed in that brief moment of silence that those listening became agitated when he stopped reading.

    Is my voice calming them? He wondered and decided upon a small test.

    He stopped reading and closed the bible. The members of his congregation turned to one another as a restless wave washed across them. In the back he noted that several had pushed themselves to their feet and were even then making their way down the center aisle towards him.

    Stepping back up to the pulpit he opened the bible to the beginning and started reading aloud once more. Those who had been approaching turned back to their seats and settled in as he continued.

    What will I do when I get tired? Thirst? Hungry?

    To be continued!

    Read the entire story up to this point: God’s Chosen