As the year comes to a close I was thinking about past New Years Eve's, where have I spent them, who was I with and which are my favorites.
For me a New Years spent in Venice, my favorite city, and one of the primary locations in Slow Boat to Purgatory, stands out as my all time favorite. Standing outside Hotel Danieli watching the fireworks over the bay, my wife at my side, surrounded by people from all over the world. Truly epic.
What are your favorite New Years locations? Leave a comment and follow the blog and my dear friend, Author Paige Pendleton, will pick the most interesting New Years location and the winner will receive a free e-book copy of Slow Boat To Purgatory
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Nice Review from Pete Morin, Author
Pete Morin, author of Diary of a Small Fish, wrote a nice review of Slow Boat To Purgatory:
"It takes a very brave - some might say reckless - novelist to attempt a story of such magnitude as this - giving life to Good and Evil in an eternal battle for our souls. Vernon Baker has done quite an impressive job at it in this riveting epic tale spanning almost a thousand years.
Imagine the task of describing a scene at the gates of Hell, where a soul lost is delivered. Or of purgatory. Or the gates of Heaven. And doing it in the voice of a man from the 13th century, or the 16th century. Baker did not shrink from that task. As far as I'm concerned, he succeeded well.
This is a fantastical tale, no doubt - but Baker is able to pull us along, disbelief suspended sufficiently to go willingly.
I do think there were signs of exhaustion slipping into the prose on occasion. Some word ghosts and repetition, a bit of slipping out of the age and such.
But they were momentary distractions.
This is a novel very much worth reading!" Four Stars
Pete is getting rave reviews for his novel Diary of a Small Fish. I haven't read it yet but it is in my cue and I will be posting a review as soon as I read it.
"It takes a very brave - some might say reckless - novelist to attempt a story of such magnitude as this - giving life to Good and Evil in an eternal battle for our souls. Vernon Baker has done quite an impressive job at it in this riveting epic tale spanning almost a thousand years.
Imagine the task of describing a scene at the gates of Hell, where a soul lost is delivered. Or of purgatory. Or the gates of Heaven. And doing it in the voice of a man from the 13th century, or the 16th century. Baker did not shrink from that task. As far as I'm concerned, he succeeded well.
This is a fantastical tale, no doubt - but Baker is able to pull us along, disbelief suspended sufficiently to go willingly.
I do think there were signs of exhaustion slipping into the prose on occasion. Some word ghosts and repetition, a bit of slipping out of the age and such.
But they were momentary distractions.
This is a novel very much worth reading!" Four Stars
Pete is getting rave reviews for his novel Diary of a Small Fish. I haven't read it yet but it is in my cue and I will be posting a review as soon as I read it.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
The Shroud of Turin
Click link below for article...
The Shroud of Turin is real!
The Shroud of Turin, is it the burial cloth of Jesus of Nazareth? Is it a fraud? How did the image, the unmistakable image of a man with injuries eerily similar to those said to have been suffered by a crucified Christ, come to be made?
I read this article with great interest. Why you ask? Well, The Shroud of Turin makes an appearance in "The Arimathean", the followup to Slow Boat to Purgatory.
The history of the shroud is full of intrigue, mystery and gaping holes in its chain of possession. The circumstances of its discovery are murky at best. Was it discovered by Templars? Perhaps stolen from the ashes of Constantinople? How old is it really? Irresistible fodder for your's truly.
Below is a snippet from "The Arimathean", an excerpt that just happens to dovetail nicely with this article.
Turin Italy, October, 13 1988
The press conference was held in a bland, anti-septic, room which belayed the history and importance of the subject matter at hand.
Four men sat behind a table with thin stacks of paper arranged in front of them. One of the men was dressed in the robes of a catholic bishop, the other three, all professorial in appearance, were dressed in suits and ties. Microphones and tape recorders had been placed on the table in a haphazard way. Approximately thirty reporters were crammed into the room which further served to impart the impression of a hastily called but somewhat important news conference.
Six hundred miles away, in the Saint Germain district of Paris, in a room three levels below the ground floor of an elegant Mansion, eight men were gathered in much more gentile surroundings. Comfortable leather chairs had been set facing a large television which sat upon an ornate mahogany table. The room was dark except for the light put off by the television and from a fire crackling within a large fireplace behind the assembled group.
The smell of cigars and the sound of clinking ice in fine crystal imparted a wholly different atmosphere from that of the news conference. All eight men sat watching the television in rapt attention.
A continent away, behind non-descript walls of mud and brick in the center of Marrakesh, another television was tuned to the same news conference. The space behind the walls contained one of the city’s oldest dwellings, a place of stunning beauty and architecture.
The television was set on a long, low bench. It sat along one wall of a courtyard set in the middle of the riad. A fountain, protruding from the opposite wall of the courtyard, spilled water into a mosaic-tiled pool. Intricate patterns and phantasmal creatures were depicted by the tiles and shimmered in radiant colors below the surface of the water.
The pool was surrounded by tropical plants and trees in a variety of pots and vases. A large citrus tree, laden with bright orange orbs, dominated one corner of the courtyard and below its spreading branches pillows and cushions were arranged on an exquisite oriental carpet.
Three levels of balconies rose above the courtyard giving way to a square of purple sky tinged with streaks of orange and gold as the sun began it’s ascent from behind the Atlas mountains.
Three men sat on the array of cushions and pillows, laid out in front of the television, sipping hot tea. A fourth man stood on a rooftop terrace above the courtyard his ears tuned to the competing calls of the muezzins, his gaze on the snowcapped mountain peaks that towered in the distance.
At precisely 12:00 p.m. the bishop, seated at the table before the reporters, cleared his throat and shuffled the papers in front of him.
“Good afternoon and thank you for joining us today. My name is Bishop Sergio Orviestre. I am the bishop of Turin. I am joined today by Dr. Marcel Janey, the head of forensic science at the University of Paris. Also with me today is Dr. Phillip Blance, the head of the medieval antiquities department at the London Musuem of Natural history, as well as Dr. Wilhelm Francks who is the world’s foremost authority on the science of Carbon Dating.
“As you know we have collectively been overseeing what has come to be known as “The Shroud Project”. It has been our goal though the use of the most current and advanced technologies, including Carbon 14 dating, to ascertain once and for all the approximate age of what is commonly known as the shroud of Turin.
“I will now defer to Dr. Janey who will give us the results of the testing.”
Dr. Janey paused for a moment to take a sip of water from a glass in front of him.
“This study could not have happened without the generous assistance of the diocese of Turin, the keepers of the shroud, who allowed us to remove a series of small pieces from the shroud with which to conduct our testing and research.
“It has been six long months but we have reached a conclusion that we believe to be definitive and without flaw.
“Dr. Francks will now explain the results.”
“Thank you, Marcel”, Francks said. “As I am sure you all know the shroud of Turin has been surrounded by speculation and religious veneration for centuries, ever since its discovery in 1508. The claim, by some, that it is in fact the burial cloth of the biblical Jesus Christ makes it one of the most controversial artifacts in the world.
“Our goal during this study was, through the use of carbon 14 dating, to ascertain the approximate age of the shroud. We believe we have accomplished that.”
Francks paused briefly and picked up a sheet of paper from the table before him. Silence gripped the room. He began to speak again, this time reading from the paper in his hands, “We have determined that the samples tested, which were collected from the shroud of Turin are from the fourteenth century, specifically within a date range of 1350 to 1390. They are not from the first century.”
Shouted questions and exclamations erupted from the reporters. Bishop Orviestre raised his hands and attempted to quiet the crowd.
In Paris, the men gathered in the subterranean depths of the mansion, likewise began talking among themselves, all except for two. One of the silent men, a stone faced man dressed all in black, with black hair and stormy gray eyes, simply stared at the television. The other man, a diminutive man in a tailored suit, quietly rose from his chair, went to the television, and switched it off, a move that silenced the others.
Turning to face the group he began to speak, “It appears once again that modern science is subject to the failings of men. Our source within the shroud team has confirmed that the sample for the testing was taken from the repaired area, the patches made after the fire. Of course the conclusion that will be reached, that the shroud is and always was some sort of fraud foisted upon gullible believers, is something that all of us know to be in error. As our predecessors always believed, the shroud is what it was reported to be. Our quest is true and what we pursue remains somewhere out there awaiting us.
“Let the rest of the world believe what they will. We know the truth.
“Now, brother Dominicus will give us a report of his latest efforts and discoveries. Dominicus.”
The man dressed in black rose, turned to face the rest of the group, and began to speak.
In the Moroccan riad all four occupants now stood on the roof top terrace. The three who had been sitting in front of the television were standing behind the man still staring off into the distance toward the mountain range. One of the three spoke breaking the silence, “Now that the shroud has been declared a fraud surely those who pursue you will abandon their quest.”
It was a question really and the staring man emitted a barely audible chuckle.
“No, Randolph. While the people, the faithful who believe in the shroud may now abandon it, those who have pursued me and what I protect, will never stop. They believe what they pursue exists and they guess at its power. In the end they cannot give up nor will I.”
Finally turning to face the three men he smiled, “Or should I say, we will never give up.”
Reaching out to the one named Randolph he put his arm around his shoulders and together they headed for the stairway.
“Come, my friend, enough of this talk. It is time for Breakfast. Malamek, time to work your magic.”
The Shroud of Turin is real!
The Shroud of Turin, is it the burial cloth of Jesus of Nazareth? Is it a fraud? How did the image, the unmistakable image of a man with injuries eerily similar to those said to have been suffered by a crucified Christ, come to be made?
I read this article with great interest. Why you ask? Well, The Shroud of Turin makes an appearance in "The Arimathean", the followup to Slow Boat to Purgatory.
The history of the shroud is full of intrigue, mystery and gaping holes in its chain of possession. The circumstances of its discovery are murky at best. Was it discovered by Templars? Perhaps stolen from the ashes of Constantinople? How old is it really? Irresistible fodder for your's truly.
Below is a snippet from "The Arimathean", an excerpt that just happens to dovetail nicely with this article.
Turin Italy, October, 13 1988
The press conference was held in a bland, anti-septic, room which belayed the history and importance of the subject matter at hand.
Four men sat behind a table with thin stacks of paper arranged in front of them. One of the men was dressed in the robes of a catholic bishop, the other three, all professorial in appearance, were dressed in suits and ties. Microphones and tape recorders had been placed on the table in a haphazard way. Approximately thirty reporters were crammed into the room which further served to impart the impression of a hastily called but somewhat important news conference.
Six hundred miles away, in the Saint Germain district of Paris, in a room three levels below the ground floor of an elegant Mansion, eight men were gathered in much more gentile surroundings. Comfortable leather chairs had been set facing a large television which sat upon an ornate mahogany table. The room was dark except for the light put off by the television and from a fire crackling within a large fireplace behind the assembled group.
The smell of cigars and the sound of clinking ice in fine crystal imparted a wholly different atmosphere from that of the news conference. All eight men sat watching the television in rapt attention.
A continent away, behind non-descript walls of mud and brick in the center of Marrakesh, another television was tuned to the same news conference. The space behind the walls contained one of the city’s oldest dwellings, a place of stunning beauty and architecture.
The television was set on a long, low bench. It sat along one wall of a courtyard set in the middle of the riad. A fountain, protruding from the opposite wall of the courtyard, spilled water into a mosaic-tiled pool. Intricate patterns and phantasmal creatures were depicted by the tiles and shimmered in radiant colors below the surface of the water.
The pool was surrounded by tropical plants and trees in a variety of pots and vases. A large citrus tree, laden with bright orange orbs, dominated one corner of the courtyard and below its spreading branches pillows and cushions were arranged on an exquisite oriental carpet.
Three levels of balconies rose above the courtyard giving way to a square of purple sky tinged with streaks of orange and gold as the sun began it’s ascent from behind the Atlas mountains.
Three men sat on the array of cushions and pillows, laid out in front of the television, sipping hot tea. A fourth man stood on a rooftop terrace above the courtyard his ears tuned to the competing calls of the muezzins, his gaze on the snowcapped mountain peaks that towered in the distance.
At precisely 12:00 p.m. the bishop, seated at the table before the reporters, cleared his throat and shuffled the papers in front of him.
“Good afternoon and thank you for joining us today. My name is Bishop Sergio Orviestre. I am the bishop of Turin. I am joined today by Dr. Marcel Janey, the head of forensic science at the University of Paris. Also with me today is Dr. Phillip Blance, the head of the medieval antiquities department at the London Musuem of Natural history, as well as Dr. Wilhelm Francks who is the world’s foremost authority on the science of Carbon Dating.
“As you know we have collectively been overseeing what has come to be known as “The Shroud Project”. It has been our goal though the use of the most current and advanced technologies, including Carbon 14 dating, to ascertain once and for all the approximate age of what is commonly known as the shroud of Turin.
“I will now defer to Dr. Janey who will give us the results of the testing.”
Dr. Janey paused for a moment to take a sip of water from a glass in front of him.
“This study could not have happened without the generous assistance of the diocese of Turin, the keepers of the shroud, who allowed us to remove a series of small pieces from the shroud with which to conduct our testing and research.
“It has been six long months but we have reached a conclusion that we believe to be definitive and without flaw.
“Dr. Francks will now explain the results.”
“Thank you, Marcel”, Francks said. “As I am sure you all know the shroud of Turin has been surrounded by speculation and religious veneration for centuries, ever since its discovery in 1508. The claim, by some, that it is in fact the burial cloth of the biblical Jesus Christ makes it one of the most controversial artifacts in the world.
“Our goal during this study was, through the use of carbon 14 dating, to ascertain the approximate age of the shroud. We believe we have accomplished that.”
Francks paused briefly and picked up a sheet of paper from the table before him. Silence gripped the room. He began to speak again, this time reading from the paper in his hands, “We have determined that the samples tested, which were collected from the shroud of Turin are from the fourteenth century, specifically within a date range of 1350 to 1390. They are not from the first century.”
Shouted questions and exclamations erupted from the reporters. Bishop Orviestre raised his hands and attempted to quiet the crowd.
In Paris, the men gathered in the subterranean depths of the mansion, likewise began talking among themselves, all except for two. One of the silent men, a stone faced man dressed all in black, with black hair and stormy gray eyes, simply stared at the television. The other man, a diminutive man in a tailored suit, quietly rose from his chair, went to the television, and switched it off, a move that silenced the others.
Turning to face the group he began to speak, “It appears once again that modern science is subject to the failings of men. Our source within the shroud team has confirmed that the sample for the testing was taken from the repaired area, the patches made after the fire. Of course the conclusion that will be reached, that the shroud is and always was some sort of fraud foisted upon gullible believers, is something that all of us know to be in error. As our predecessors always believed, the shroud is what it was reported to be. Our quest is true and what we pursue remains somewhere out there awaiting us.
“Let the rest of the world believe what they will. We know the truth.
“Now, brother Dominicus will give us a report of his latest efforts and discoveries. Dominicus.”
The man dressed in black rose, turned to face the rest of the group, and began to speak.
In the Moroccan riad all four occupants now stood on the roof top terrace. The three who had been sitting in front of the television were standing behind the man still staring off into the distance toward the mountain range. One of the three spoke breaking the silence, “Now that the shroud has been declared a fraud surely those who pursue you will abandon their quest.”
It was a question really and the staring man emitted a barely audible chuckle.
“No, Randolph. While the people, the faithful who believe in the shroud may now abandon it, those who have pursued me and what I protect, will never stop. They believe what they pursue exists and they guess at its power. In the end they cannot give up nor will I.”
Finally turning to face the three men he smiled, “Or should I say, we will never give up.”
Reaching out to the one named Randolph he put his arm around his shoulders and together they headed for the stairway.
“Come, my friend, enough of this talk. It is time for Breakfast. Malamek, time to work your magic.”
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Wow. Hello to my German friends!
Not sure why but I seem to have alot of German visitors to the Blog today. Someone drop me a comment as to why. And don't forget Slow Boat To Purgatory is available on Amazon.de. I'm still looking for my first German sale.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Name the character contest!
The followup to Slow Boat to Purgatory, The Arimathean", is moving along nicely. Like Slow Boat there are several angelic characters in the new book and one in particular is shaping up to be a real bad guy. I had a name in mind but it just doesn't seem to work for me on a gut level. So...I need your help!
Name the following character and I'll send you an e-book copy of Slow Boat To Purgatory:
Fallen angel. One of the original angels cast out of heaven. Tall, Alex Donovan is 6'2" and the angel towers over him. Tanned like he spends a lot of time in tropical climes. Long blond hair, rugged build, not muscle bound but strong. He favors oriental art, culture, architecture and clothes. Unlike most fallen angels he does not change his name when in mortal form.
He is known for his ability to recruit mortals to his side by promising great wealth, leisure and lives surrounded by wondrous beauty. While he rarely fails in his seduction he is capable of unleashing devastating violence which is usually imparted by legions of quite nasty demons at his disposal. There is no evidence that he has ever raised a weapon in battle.
Have fun and I look forward to seeing what you all come up with.
Contest ends on 12-20.
Vernon
Name the following character and I'll send you an e-book copy of Slow Boat To Purgatory:
Fallen angel. One of the original angels cast out of heaven. Tall, Alex Donovan is 6'2" and the angel towers over him. Tanned like he spends a lot of time in tropical climes. Long blond hair, rugged build, not muscle bound but strong. He favors oriental art, culture, architecture and clothes. Unlike most fallen angels he does not change his name when in mortal form.
He is known for his ability to recruit mortals to his side by promising great wealth, leisure and lives surrounded by wondrous beauty. While he rarely fails in his seduction he is capable of unleashing devastating violence which is usually imparted by legions of quite nasty demons at his disposal. There is no evidence that he has ever raised a weapon in battle.
Have fun and I look forward to seeing what you all come up with.
Contest ends on 12-20.
Vernon
Monday, December 12, 2011
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Review of Diary of a Small Fish...
Check out this great review of Pete Morin's new novel. This is next up on my to read list...as soon as I finish the collected works of H.P. Lovecraft!
http://www.amazon.com/review/R1KPWHDC3EWA3M/ref=cm_cr_pr_perm?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B005Q33C1K&nodeID&tag&linkCode
http://www.amazon.com/review/R1KPWHDC3EWA3M/ref=cm_cr_pr_perm?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B005Q33C1K&nodeID&tag&linkCode
Friday, December 9, 2011
Buy a signed copy of Slow Boat To Purgatory for Christmas
Struggling to find that one of a kind Christmas gift for friends or family members? There is still time to order a signed copy of Slow Boat To Purgatory. For the next week buy a copy of Slow Boat for $13.00 and I'll sign it with a personal Christmas message. I shipped out a couple of books this week, priority, and it was only $5.
I can accept paypal, mastercard or visa.
Just send me a message at vernon.baker@rocketmail.com and I'll get one in the mail for you.
Vernon
I can accept paypal, mastercard or visa.
Just send me a message at vernon.baker@rocketmail.com and I'll get one in the mail for you.
Vernon
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Winner of Thanksgiving Giveaway.
Congratulations to Anne who is the winner of a signed copy of Slow Boat to Purgatory.
Thanks to everyone who entered and as always if anyone who entered the contest would like an e-book copy of Slow Boat just e-mail me at vernon.baker@rocketmail.com and I will forward a smashwords coupon for a discounted copy.
Thanks to everyone who entered and as always if anyone who entered the contest would like an e-book copy of Slow Boat just e-mail me at vernon.baker@rocketmail.com and I will forward a smashwords coupon for a discounted copy.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Thanksgiving giveaway!
Welcome aboard the Slow Boat to Purgatory!
Thanks to everyone who is stopping by as part of the Gratitude Giveaway blog hop. For this event I will be giving away a signed copy of Slow Boat To Purgatory.
To enter just become a follower of the blog and then leave your name and e-mail address in the comment section. One winner will be chosen at random at the end of the hop.
Thanks again and good luck!
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Winner of Giveaway!
Congratulations to Mary Reiss who is the winner of a signed copy of Slow Boat To Purgatory.
Thanks to everyone who stopped by the blog and took the time to enter. As I always do, if anyone who entered but didn't win would like to buy an e-book copy of Slow Boat just e-mail me at vernon.baker@rocketmail.com and I will provide you with a coupon code for $1.00 off the regular price of $2.99.
Thanks again to everyone.
Vernon
Thanks to everyone who stopped by the blog and took the time to enter. As I always do, if anyone who entered but didn't win would like to buy an e-book copy of Slow Boat just e-mail me at vernon.baker@rocketmail.com and I will provide you with a coupon code for $1.00 off the regular price of $2.99.
Thanks again to everyone.
Vernon
Saturday, November 12, 2011
So long my friend...
There are things that are done in life that you can't comprehend when they're done. Things that seem frivolous, whimsical, maybe even rash. And then time shows you the truth of the moment, the seamless almost pre-ordained rightness of the choice.
Sometimes it takes a death to prove it, to render final judgement, and bring clarity; white-hot, soul-searing, clarity. It takes this moment to know that a right choice was made.
I have myself given up. Given up on giving into the surprise. I've been armored against this particular surprise.
It does not mean I do not cry. It just means that my tears are less salty and free flowing and my time spent in the moment of mortal friendship more intense and nurturing.
With each one of these passings I learn anew the lesson of life's fleeting flame and how quickly, how whimsically, it can be blown out, how capricious that ill wind can be.
I draw sweeter breaths, live more vibrant moments, try to impart more of me on those I love. In the end that is what they, those who have gone away, would want.
I owe them that.
Sometimes it takes a death to prove it, to render final judgement, and bring clarity; white-hot, soul-searing, clarity. It takes this moment to know that a right choice was made.
I have myself given up. Given up on giving into the surprise. I've been armored against this particular surprise.
It does not mean I do not cry. It just means that my tears are less salty and free flowing and my time spent in the moment of mortal friendship more intense and nurturing.
With each one of these passings I learn anew the lesson of life's fleeting flame and how quickly, how whimsically, it can be blown out, how capricious that ill wind can be.
I draw sweeter breaths, live more vibrant moments, try to impart more of me on those I love. In the end that is what they, those who have gone away, would want.
I owe them that.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
November Giveaway Hop
Just leave a comment, with your e-mail address, and follow the blog to enter. I will be giving away a signed copy of Slow Boat To Purgatory to the winner who will be drawn randomly. Welcome aboard the Slow Boat!
Monday, November 7, 2011
A review from a reader...
I had the pleasure of meeting this wonderful lady, a retired elementary school principal, last month at my restaurant, Papa J's. She bought the book and recently wrote this review she is posting to Barnes and Noble.com.
Thank you so much, Evelyn. It means more than you know!
"Slow Boat to Purgatory" by Vernon Baker Review
Vernon Baker has added new twists and taken the Templar story to another level. It's not just about the search for treasure and secrets. It's about redemption, salvation and consequences for ones actions. While Steve Berry and Raymond Khoury have a present-day Templar with a history reaching back to the past, Vernon has an immortal Templar from the past, reaching forward to the present. The past and the present are expertly woven together as this thrilling tale of Alex Donovan, Gaspar De Rouse, and Dominicus Bureau unfold. The reader feels fear and tension as Gaspar and Alex agonize over choices they must make. The suspense builds as the characters face dangers in the present and the afterlife. Gaspar finds there is a price to pay when one kills for God or what one believes to be a just cause. Supernatural angles and demons give an insight to the eternal battle being fought between good and evil and the fate of the soul. Vivid descriptions of mythical creatures allow fantastic views into realms that exist just beyond and sometimes coexist on our plane. This is a gripping, page turner novel. I look forward to the next novel and the development of the characters Gaspar, Dominicus and Alex."
Evelyn F.
Thank you so much, Evelyn. It means more than you know!
"Slow Boat to Purgatory" by Vernon Baker Review
Vernon Baker has added new twists and taken the Templar story to another level. It's not just about the search for treasure and secrets. It's about redemption, salvation and consequences for ones actions. While Steve Berry and Raymond Khoury have a present-day Templar with a history reaching back to the past, Vernon has an immortal Templar from the past, reaching forward to the present. The past and the present are expertly woven together as this thrilling tale of Alex Donovan, Gaspar De Rouse, and Dominicus Bureau unfold. The reader feels fear and tension as Gaspar and Alex agonize over choices they must make. The suspense builds as the characters face dangers in the present and the afterlife. Gaspar finds there is a price to pay when one kills for God or what one believes to be a just cause. Supernatural angles and demons give an insight to the eternal battle being fought between good and evil and the fate of the soul. Vivid descriptions of mythical creatures allow fantastic views into realms that exist just beyond and sometimes coexist on our plane. This is a gripping, page turner novel. I look forward to the next novel and the development of the characters Gaspar, Dominicus and Alex."
Evelyn F.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
My number one fan....
My number one fan waiting patiently in line to have his copy of Slow Boat To Purgatory signed. I never get tired of looking at this picture.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Amazon puts Slow Boat To Purgatory on sale!
For anyone who missed out on last months special price amazon just lowered Slow Boat To Purgatory to $0.99! Just click the link! Welcome Aboard!
Slow Boat To Purgatory on sale!
Slow Boat To Purgatory on sale!
The Arimathean...
Book cover for "The Arimathean", the follow up to Slow Boat To Purgatory, is in the works.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Friday, October 28, 2011
Firemen!
"Remember when the person you wanted to be most when you grew up was a fireman? Remember when the coolest thing you could think of doing for a day job was to stand on top of a roof engulfed in flames and saw through the roof into the rooms for flame below your feet? Yup. Me neither. Yet there it was."
Via American Digest and The Borderline Sociopathic Blog For Boys.
Via American Digest and The Borderline Sociopathic Blog For Boys.
BURN - Helmet Cam Teaser (Shot with Contour HD) from BURN on Vimeo.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Congrats to the winners of the Goodreads Giveaway!
Five signed copies of Slow Boat to Purgatory will soon be in the mail! Enjoy the ride on The Slow Boat! 741 people entered. Now if all those non-winners would buy the book...
Monday, October 24, 2011
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Only one more day for Goodreads book giveaway.
If you haven't already done so be sure to sign up for my Goodreads book giveaway. There's only one day left and over 500 people have entered the contest! There are five signed copies up for grabs!
Friday, October 21, 2011
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Tale of Two Cities...
THERE WAS ONE MORE STONE FACE TOO MANY UP AT THE CHATEAU.
The Gorgon had surveyed the building again in the night, and had added the one stone face wanting; the stone face for which it had waited through about two hundred years.
It lay back on the pillow of Monsieur the Marquis. It was like a fine mask, suddenly startled, made angry, and petrified.
Driven home into the heart of the stone figure attached to it was a knife. Round its hilt was a frill of paper, on which was scrawled: “Drive him fast to his tomb. This, from JACQUES.”
— Dickens, Tale of Two Cities
The Gorgon had surveyed the building again in the night, and had added the one stone face wanting; the stone face for which it had waited through about two hundred years.
It lay back on the pillow of Monsieur the Marquis. It was like a fine mask, suddenly startled, made angry, and petrified.
Driven home into the heart of the stone figure attached to it was a knife. Round its hilt was a frill of paper, on which was scrawled: “Drive him fast to his tomb. This, from JACQUES.”
— Dickens, Tale of Two Cities
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Monday, October 17, 2011
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Learning...
"Genius is less a matter of intelligence as it is a matter of letting a young mind explore and learn."
What to do with the small humanoids?...
Learning
What to do with the small humanoids?...
Learning
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Limited time offer...Book passage on the Slow Boat To Purgatory for only $0.99
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Don't forget the Goodreads giveaway...
Goodreads Book Giveaway
Slow Boat to Purgatory
by Vernon Baker
Giveaway ends October 25, 2011.
See the giveaway details at Goodreads.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Let me tell you stories...
That feeling you feel on the periphery of your consciousness, the weight, perhaps the light you feel without really seeing, that presence is me. I’m holding your hand, gently, trying to make a connection with you. I know you’re in there. I can sense you. It’s one of the many gifts bestowed upon me in that moment when I was raised up from the depths. Somewhere along that road I gained that ability to look within the minds of those around me.
Over the years, the hundreds that have past, I have learned to seek out those cracks and crevices in the minds of those who I circle about, never really alighting, just being there.
Over the years, the hundreds that have past, I have learned to seek out those cracks and crevices in the minds of those who I circle about, never really alighting, just being there.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Saturday, October 1, 2011
The remains of the book
"The sense of self-containment is what makes a good book so satisfying to its readers, and the requirement of self-containment is what spurs the writer to the highest levels of literary achievement. The book must feel complete between its edges."
Hyperlink Code
Hyperlink Code
Friday, September 30, 2011
Review Of Abyss of Chaos by David Beem
Abyss of Chaos by David BeemMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
The year was 1981, I was sixteen and I remember sitting in the balcony of the movie theater and watching spell-bound as Indiana Jones fought his way across the big screen in an epic story that grabbed me by the throat and wouldn’t let go. It was Raiders of The Lost Ark and I watched that movie at least fifteen times over the next year. To this day it is one of my favorite films.
I had a serious case of déjà vu as I cracked the pages of David Beem’s new thriller, Abyss of Chaos. I was instantly transported back in time to those days in the theater balcony and I soon realized I was off on another roller coaster, rock and roll ride. This is just plain fun and can’t put it down reading.
And when you add in the deft handling of historical information layered upon modern issues and dangers the world faces right now, it adds up to a masterful job of storytelling and writing.
Daivd has managed to create characters that we root for and those we would pull the trigger on ourselves if we could. But the best part is there is more to come. This is the first book in a series of stories that the author is working on and I for one can’t wait for the next one.
View all my reviews
Alex Donovan's 1952 Jaguar xk-120 convertible.
Alex Donovan's 1952 Jaguar xk-120.
Hard at work on book two and the car makes an appearance. Let's just say it will take Alex's mechanic in Boston, a guy named Tommy Stevenson, many months and a lot of money to bring her back. But Alex has the cash.
I want to write like a Honey Badger...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=4r7wHMg5Yjg
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Goodreads Book Giveaway!
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Sometimes it just doesn't happen...
This writing thing is hard.
Not hard in the sense that you need a degree or a piece of paper from some august purveyor of platitudes. No, it's hard as in carving out the moments that are real. The moments laden with the fatty, succulent, suck it off your fingers and savor it, cooked just right results, where everything seems to flow from your fingers onto the page in just the right tenor and pace.
I tried to force those moments today and they gave me the finger. They told me to come back later.
And so I shall.
Not hard in the sense that you need a degree or a piece of paper from some august purveyor of platitudes. No, it's hard as in carving out the moments that are real. The moments laden with the fatty, succulent, suck it off your fingers and savor it, cooked just right results, where everything seems to flow from your fingers onto the page in just the right tenor and pace.
I tried to force those moments today and they gave me the finger. They told me to come back later.
And so I shall.
Finally up on Goodreads...
Finally got my Author info uploaded at Goodreads. If you've read the book and feel like leaving a review I would appreciate it.
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3992893.Vernon_Baker
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3992893.Vernon_Baker
Thursday, September 22, 2011
My guest post is up at David Beem's blog site. Check it out!
http://davidbeem.wordpress.com/2011/09/22/guest-blog-vernon-baker/
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
I will be guest blogging on Author David Beem's blog Thursday 9-22
Check out David's blog here:
http://davidbeem.wordpress.com/
http://davidbeem.wordpress.com/
Friday, September 9, 2011
Back to the Books Giveaway Hop Winners.
Congratulations to Lisa and Kim! They are the winners of signed copies of Slow Boat To Purgatory. Thanks to all of you who dropped in. I hope you'll stay involved with the blog and for those who didn't win check your e-mails for a special e-book promotion just for you.
Thanks again.
Vernon
Thanks again.
Vernon
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Back to the books giveaway hop. Enter to win a signed copy of Slow Boat To Purgatory!
Friday, August 26, 2011
Upcoming interviews...
Looks like I will be doing a couple of interviews in the near future. The first will be on September 2nd at http://writingunhooked.wordpress.com/
Then I will be guest blogging for my friend and fellow author David Beem on September 8th at http://davidbeem.wordpress.com/
Come by both blogs and check it out and please leave comments or questions.
Then I will be guest blogging for my friend and fellow author David Beem on September 8th at http://davidbeem.wordpress.com/
Come by both blogs and check it out and please leave comments or questions.
Friday, August 19, 2011
A little taste of book two...
So, I've been getting some requests for samples from book two. So...
Red and silver bands of light, cast by a prism of blood and steel lit the way as they walked toward the gathering; an immortal, a midget and a giant.
Undeterred by the demonic hoard that awaited them, in fact urged on by the prospect of riding humanity of this unholy scourge, their pace quickened as their hands touched the steel and bone sheathed tightly to their sides.
They had searched him out and placed someone he had come to love in mortal peril. In fact it was his love that had exposed a mortal to the machinations of unfettered angels; angels cut adrift by heaven and hell.
Tears streamed down his face as anger boiled inside him knowing what lay ahead. As they neared the abandoned Palazoo and the music within grew louder he drew two blades, Damascus steel won in mortal combat from a Saracen prince so many years ago.
The pace was no longer a walk, but now a slow run that gained in speed. Slowly building, marshaling force, imbued with anger and righteous mayhem, they hit the ancient wooden door with the force of a hurricane blown tidal wave...and the battle was joined.
He had no reason to worry about his comrades. They had danced this dance of death before and so, blades working like scythes wielded by a maniacal madman, he worked his way through the demonic horde, desperate to find her, knowing deep down that it was too late but letting that knowledge fuel his rage.
They had known he was coming but that gave them no advantage. Angelic beings imbued with supposedly everlasting life fell by the dozens in his wake. Centuries of dealing death wrapped up in one human being driven by love wreaked havoc on a pantheon of demons and their lesser beings.
In the end it was as he knew it would be.
He had fought his way down a series of stairs, into the subterranean depths of the decrepit Palazzo appropriated by the vagabond angel Cyrus for his attempted snare, until he was standing in a cavernous room filled with the dankest, darkest vanguard of the fallen one’s followers. Armed with a satanic array of weapons gathered for the sole purpose of bringing Gaspar to bay they stood, to his momentary satisfaction, nervously awaiting his next move.
The sound of deathly silent footfalls on the stairs behind him gave him not a moment’s pause. He had lived with those steps for over five hundred years. The midget Sabaticus took up station on his right, his tiny sword covered in gore, while the giant Malamek eased by him on the left, the first rank of demons shrinking back in obvious fear.
A commotion in the middle of the horde arrayed before them erupted momentarily until Cyrus stood before the trio. A long dagger, Gaspar noticed that it dripped blood onto the stone floor, was gripped in his left hand.
“Welcome, Templar. You realize that you are too late don’t you,” the demon hissed.
Gaspar sensed the giant’s charge before the Arab had even moved a muscle and his hand shot out, restraining him.
“I knew the moment I received your messenger in my courtyard she would not live out the night” Gaspar answered. “I also knew that neither would you. This will be your end, demon; here in a stinking cellar in the realm of humans, a million moments away from the throne you once sat upon. In this place I will take your head and your heart, and any evidence that you ever existed will end here, now.”
The demon’s face betrayed his fear. He had marshaled his forces for one last attempt at grandeur. The chance to stride up to hell’s gate with the head of Gaspar in one hand and his soul in the other would have been his offering; the offering that would have bought his way back into his master’s graces.
He had gambled and broke all the rules. He had taken Gaspar’s woman and torn her to pieces knowing he would come for her. This was the moment he had orchestrated and now that it was here he realized the human was right; he would not live out this night.
With a cry of rage born of a thousand years spent basking out of God’s light in the deepest bowels of hell, and then cast even from that infernal place, he raised the dagger and propelled himself forward toward the human, his horde of followers moving as one with him.
He never felt the blade as it cut through his neck. He did though see the eyes of the human as he swung the blade. They shone wet with tears; tears an Angel like him had never been able to shed. In that last moment before the dark took him Cyrus smiled. He had taken something from the human that he would never have again. And then the darkness like a torrential rain flowed across his eyes and it was done.
Gaspar and his companions stood amongst the dead, some still writhing in their final spasms but dead none the less. They stood before a low stone alter.
Gaspar stared at the tattered and torn body that lay upon the cold white stone. The stone now streaked with her blood.
He had known the danger. He had feared the pain and the hurt. None of it could even begin to touch what it was he felt.
She had trusted him. She had believed him. She had loved him.
He fell to his knees the midget catching him just before he hit the floor.
The tears fell then. Like a river. Seven hundred years of walled in emotion burst forth in this one moment. He had failed again and this time it had resulted not in his death but in the death of the one woman he had allowed himself to love in all these centuries.
He saw a flash of light on steel on the floor next to him. The demon’s dagger still covered in her blood lay within reach. He reached out his hand for the blade his fingers closing over the cold bone handle. He raised the weapon pondering the razor sharp point and drawing a breath he closed his eyes.
At some point this had to end…
The giant’s hand closed like an iron claw, clad in a glove of satin, on his wrist. He raised his eyes staring into the coal-black eyes of the Arab who had walked beside him for over half a millennium. Tears flowed across the giant’s brown, time weathered face and for the first time since the day Gaspar had saved his life five hundred years ago he spoke, “I loved her to Gaspar. Not like you did but like I love you. Would you break my heart twice this night?”
Gaspar felt the light touch of Sabbaticus’s right hand on his shoulder. He watched transfixed as the midgets left hand reached out and took the demon’s blade from his hand. Staring straight into Gaspar’s eyes he slid the blade under Gaspar’s belt tucking it firmly in place.
The Giant released his wrist and walked slowly to the alter, and with a tenderness and gentle grace that seemed surreal for a being so huge, he lifted the wrecked body of Solare and cradled her to his chest. Without a word he headed up the stairs out of the cellar and away from the death and destruction of the place.
With Sabatticus’ help Gaspar stood and followed after the giant. He stopped at the body of the demon Cyrus. He stared down for a moment before kneeling. Drawing the demons own blade from his belt he plunged it deep into his chest carving out a space where the Angel’s heart should be. Reaching into the cavity he tore the still warm organ from his chest and crushed it in his hand until it was nothing but a gelatinous mass of blood and tissue unrecognizable for what it once was.
“I think we are done here, master,” came the soft voice of Sabbaticus.
Gaspar said nothing. He turned and headed up the stairs after the giant and the body of his love.
They buried her, three weeks later, on a hill overlooking the valley of Gaspar
As the sun set they sat drinking, each from his own bottle of wine. No one said a word until finally Gaspar stood, “Thank you my friends. Thank you for being here and for saving my life.”
He turned and walked down the hill toward the old Manor house leaving his friends to mourn. This life of his would not end by his hand but it would end. It was time.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Slow Boat To Purgatory Launch Party
Thanks to everyone who came out for the Slow Boat To Purgatory launch party on Saturday night. It was great to meet so many new people and to see so many familiar faces. I was able to talk with a lot of people about the story, characters and the sequel "The Arimathean", which should be out around the end of the year.
Thanks again for coming out and check out some great photos of the event at: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1254398899
Thanks again for coming out and check out some great photos of the event at: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1254398899
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Friday, August 5, 2011
Monday, August 1, 2011
The Arimathean rises...Book two on the way.
Clear the decks.
When you be conjurin the best of mankind, and the worst as well, who knows what mayhem follows. Ill winds from the pits of hell and sweet songs from heaven's glades when mixed in my bouillabaisse can drive a sane man mad.
But its the brew, that brew made from the best of Languedoc's vines, mixed with the pulverized bone and marrow of seraphic warriors...that is the piece de resistance.
When you be conjurin the best of mankind, and the worst as well, who knows what mayhem follows. Ill winds from the pits of hell and sweet songs from heaven's glades when mixed in my bouillabaisse can drive a sane man mad.
But its the brew, that brew made from the best of Languedoc's vines, mixed with the pulverized bone and marrow of seraphic warriors...that is the piece de resistance.
Print book is available!
Well, the print version of Slow Boat To Purgatory is available. Just go to the link and you can purchase the book through my createspace e-store. Book will be up on Amazon .com within the week as well.
https://www.createspace.com/3632246
https://www.createspace.com/3632246
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Winner of free e-book!
Congrats to C.G. Powell. Your the winner of an e-book copy of Slow Boat To Purgatory. Enjoy!
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Free e-book contest!
Just click the link, fill out the info, and you will be entered to win an e-book copy of Slow Boat To Purgatory. Winner will be chosen by random. Tell your friends!
https://spreadsheets.google.com/spreadsheet/viewform?formkey=dHMzS19OTnJLNHE0NnB3blVtZm8xb3c6MQ
https://spreadsheets.google.com/spreadsheet/viewform?formkey=dHMzS19OTnJLNHE0NnB3blVtZm8xb3c6MQ
Monday, July 18, 2011
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Welcome to the Blog!
Well, here we go. Here is where I will try to keep folks up to date on my writing. Feel free to post questions, comments or links to writing related stuff. Welcome.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)