Thursday, December 27, 2012

Why We Love Adventure... Stories

Finally was able to see The Hobbit - An Unexpected Journey. Finally.

To say I loved it would be an understatement. I've loved these books since I first read them back in high school. (Please don't ask me when that was.) Honestly, I think I've forgotten.

I love the call to adventure Bilbo Baggins is offered, and his reluctant, yet willing, acceptance to take to the wild road and the possibility of what might lay ahead. Something about the Dwarf's song, the tantalizing thrill of something beyond his mundane life of comfort and security, drew him into the unknown. Later, this same hobbit would tell his young nephew,




“It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.” J.R.R. Tolkien - Lord of the Rings


No knowing where you might be swept off too...





Why Do We Flock to Read These Books and See These Movies?

Perhaps we enjoy the experience these movies and books offer us... The not knowing where we'll be swept off to. So, maybe, the reason is escape?

Perhaps there's an inner desire to live a life outside the mundane. Secretly, we wish the adventures were happening to us. So, maybe, reason is to feed our inner thrill-seeker?

Or perhaps, it's the fact that anything goes in story, and in truth, our real lives are pretty boring, standard, set in a pattern whether we like it our not. Stuck. So, maybe, the reason is to feed our dreams of there being something more out there.

In The Two Towers, Samwise Gamgee summed up something I find fascinating about stories:

“The brave things in the old tales and songs, Mr. Frodo: adventures, as I used to call them. I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of a sport, as you might say. But that's not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually — their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn't. And if they had, we shouldn't know, because they'd have been forgotten. We hear about those as just went on — and not all to a good end, mind you; at least not to what folk inside a story and not outside it call a good end. You know, coming home, and finding things all right, though not quite the same — like old Mr Bilbo. But those aren't always the best tales to hear, though they may be the best tales to get landed in! I wonder what sort of a tale we've fallen into?”
J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers

What Kind of Tale Can You Fall Into?
In all honesty, we all have our own tale that we live out each and every day. I know you might look around at your life and think, boring. Maybe horror story? Could be, you'd call your life more of a mis-adventure.

Don't discount your importance in this world. Despite how big or how little, you have a story to live out. What you make of it... well, that's up to you.

This one part in the Hobbit movie touched me deeply. Jackson always manages to get in some thought-provoking line, not found in the book, but powerful all the same.

While Gandalf the wizard was speaking to the elfin council, the beautiful Galadriel asks:
Galadriel: Why the Hafling?
Gandalf: Saruman believes it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found. I found it is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay... small acts of kindness and love. Why Bilbo Baggins? That's because I am afraid and it gives me courage.


It's the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep darkness at bay.


Oh, Yes You Can
Adventures do not have to include dragons, treasure hunting, or epic journeys. It's the simple acts, as Gandalf says, that make for great stories. The helping someone in need. The working hard at what you do best. The finding your dream and chasing after it. With everything you have. Despite the risk. Knowing you might never come back the same as when you left, if you come back at all.

Actor Martin Freeman, left, confers with director Peter Jackson on the set of "The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey." (Warner Bros. Pictures)

You. Do. Not. Have. To. Settle. For. Mediocrity.
Everyone has a place and purpose in this life. Find it. Follow your passion. Do what makes you most happy. Don't be afraid. Don't settle for good enough. Don't.

There is an adventure waiting for you. Right now. Here, in real life. And it's called just that...

LIFE

Is there something you wish you could do more than anything else in this world? Go for it. Even if it's small steps. If each of us lived our life to it's fullest, what kind of world would this be? If we actually lived with a yes on our lips and bravery pinned across our chest... what might happen?
"Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined." - Henry David Thoreau
 
Go on, just do it.
~~*~~


Book News: 

Holiday Sale between now and New Years!

That's right, Illuminated is now only .99 cents for the holidays.
If you are looking for a book for that new (or old) Nook or Kindle, now is a great time to check out this fun adventure.

Alyra is fleeing Racah for freedom, seeking the truth behind who she really is and the mystery behind the medallion she's kept secret during her years of slavery. On the road, she faces many challenges, but finds great friends, and the possibility of true love along the way.

As much fun as I've had writing this book, I'm eager to start on the next installment after New Years. Right now, I'm giving myself a short break to just enjoy the holidays.

But starting next week, I'll be heading back to Alburnium to work on Luminous.

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

When Tradegy Hits, What Can We Do?

In the aftermath of the Connecticut elementary school shooting, I've heard this over and over.

What can be done? What are we to do? What can I do?

And even more questions, I know plague people's hearts.
I can't imagine that there's anyone who has heard this story that hasn't been touched in some way. I've even read of people in other countries who have set up memorials to express their condolences and support. Imagine, all the way across the world, this little elementary school has impacted people.
Over the course of this weekend, I've also seen much debate going on about gun control, securing schools, providing better mental health services....


Still, in all the debate, I keep coming across the four words... What can we do?

I'm not even going to pretend I have an answer to any of these questions. However, I do have a basic belief that nobody is helpless. Nobody should discount themselves as being able to bring about change.

We each have a road to take in our lives. Where that road goes, is up to us.
Our choices. Our choice to live for the betterment of others. Or, our choices to live for ourselves. Even worse, our choice to hurt or hinder others from making their own life journey.

What can be done? Simply put, choosing the be the best You, that you can be is a big start. We can't sit by helplessly, wringing our hands, wondering if the world will ever change.

The CHANGE starts with us.

Who Are You?
Everyone has a purpose in this world. If you don't believe that, then you've bought into the great lie that is determined to convince you that you don't matter. Well, I refute that lie. Everyone has a purpose. Find yours. It's there. I promise.

And do what you're meant to do to the best of your ability.

In Lord of the Rings, there's I scene I have to pause at every time I watch that movie. It's when Frodo and the fellowship are traveling through the dwarf halls and the weary hobbit sits beside Gandalf for a short, yet very powerful conversation:

Frodo: I wish the ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.
Gandalf: So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. There are other forces at work in this world Frodo, besides the will of evil. 

We can't control the evil in this world, or the bad things that happen. We can't. We can only decide to make the best out of the time that's given us. To make the best out of our own lives. To choose to work for the greater good of this world, instead of letting our bad choices add to the turmoil, or to drag others down.


Julie Hedlund in her post - Guardians of Childhood,
Encouraged writers of the importance of their work. The need for us to write our best because:
"We who write for children are the ones who, with our words and our stories, provide children with hope, happiness, and empathy. When children face fear and hardship with us, it is cushioned by the covers of our books. We show children the world as beautiful and forgiving and glorious, even as it is sometimes cruel and treacherous. Each time a child sees him or herself in the pages of one of our books, we’ve touched the universal human spirit that lives inside of that child, and in all of us."
Wow.
So for me, writing my best words, finding ways to comfort with my stories, is how I can fight back against tragedy. Is this a big feat? No. We are each a small part of a whole. If we all strive to do our best, at that little thing we have a passion for, wouldn't the overall result be positive?

President Obama, in his attempt to bring comforting words to the hurting families said this:  "For those of us who remain, let us find the strength to carry on and make our country worthy of their memory."

I say attempt, because in light of what happened to those families, there are no words. However, I was encouraged by his challenge to "Make our country worthy of their memory."


 How? By doing our best, to do our best. It's that simple. Choose kindness. Choose love. And stand firm against what's wrong. Live your life to it's fullest. Don't be afraid. Don't let fear rule your steps. Find your passion and go after it with everything you have inside of you.

 Who will rise up for me against the wicked? Who will take a stand for me against evildoers? 
Ps. 94:16

Who? Will You?
Oh, I do hope so. 

~~*~~





Book News:
The Print version of Illuminated in now available at Createspace and Amazon

I know not everyone has an e-reader, and there are still some die-hard book fans. YaY for You! 

I haven't received my own copies yet, but I hear the cover is fantastic. I can't wait to see for myself. Soon! I have my nose plastered to my front door window when I'm not working. lol. Waiting, waiting, waiting....
Happy Journeys!
Jackie

Friday, December 14, 2012

Tips For The Journey #1&2

Alyra started on her journey with absolutely nothing but the travel pack she carried on her back. All she knew was that her home and the strange land from her dreams lay ahead. She also knew the journey would take a long time, passing though many forest, towns and ... mountains.

However, she was up for the journey.

Where are you going? Here's a few lessons the characters of Illuminated learned along the way. Maybe these tips will help you as well.

Alyra, Lotari and Jerin traveled through many woods just like this.

Tip #1
Stay On The Road!

Life is full of distractions. Family, friends, work and other responsibilities all pull from different directions. What's a traveler to do?
Well?....
Do you have a goal in mind? Stick with that goal, friend. Don't follow rabbit trails, and don't be distracted by shiny objects or strawberries. Know what you want and how to get there. Sometimes this requires plans or list... maybe a map. Mostly, it simply requires knowing what you want and running after your dream.

So, get on with it and stay the course.


Tip #2
Pack Lightly!
Don't overburden yourself with a bunch of extra baggage. Truth is, if you're on the right trek, provisions will be provided along the way. Trust me.

Haven't you ever read? 
 "So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well." (Matthew 6:31-33 NIV)

So... don't worry. Just keep going. Live with arms open... both willing to give and receive. Then what you need will come to you. You'll see.

Come back for Tips #3 & 4.

Are you up for the Journey? 

Happy Travels!

Learn more about Illuminated- book 1 of the White Road Chronicles

Available on Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Print book


Thursday, December 6, 2012

Illuminated is Shining Bright!

Yes, I'm thrilled to announce that Illuminated is finally live at Barnes and Noble on Nook and Amazon.com on Kindle.

Here's the way to find it on Amazon:

 



And, here is the link to Barnes and Noble

Click here for Nook Edition



Isn't the cover beautiful? Stay tuned, I'll be announcing when the print version is available by the end of this week.

Here's a sample of the first chapter. You can view more chapters on the sites listed above.

~~*~~

Illuminated
Book 1
White Road Chronicles

Chapter 1

Winter’s grip on the mountain realm crept along the stony dungeon floor and seeped through the girl’s thin slippers. A biting chill encircled her legs, as gooseflesh spread up her back and down to her chapped hands. Shivering, she wished spring would hurry and show itself. 

She pitched fresh hay into what were once stalls for horses and other livestock. Now King Darnel, ruler over the city of Racah, used the area to hold new slaves captured from the neighboring towns his forces had overtaken. 

Her hand slipped over the weathered handle. A sharp jab sent tears welling in her eyes. She dropped the pitch fork, sucking at her splintered palm, covered in scrapes and scabs from previous injuries. To think, she’d traded a life of fine warm clothes and leisurely work for this. She picked the sliver from her hand. Every last injury was completely worth it. 

“Hey, Princess.” 

She spun toward the voice. Tarek stood in the doorway. Four pheasants hung by their legs from a strip of leather tied around Tarek’s belt. He wore the customary gray trousers and black shirt of the kitchen help. A spiteful grin crinkled the edges of his green eyes as he took in her work. Long, wheat-colored hair fell in his face and over the collar of his tunic. 

At nineteen, he towered over her by nearly a foot in height and possibly two years in age. She had no memories of her past, including when and where she was actually born, or even more disturbing, her real name. From what little she did remember, she placed her own age somewhere around seventeen summers.
Darnel, who’d somehow managed to steal her memories, had ordered everyone to call her Princess, and they did so with much snickering and laughter. His little joke, she was sure.

Tarek pushed open the sliding door. A wave of cold air swirled in, stirring up dust and flecks of hay. “Ben wants you to bring a bucket of water out to the new arrivals. Right now.”

She replaced the tool on its peg, then grabbed her thin cloak before heading outside. 

Tarek blocked the exit, leaning against the frame with arms crossed over his strong chest. While she spent most of her time cleaning, taking care of Ben, her overseer, or searching the various tunnels worming beneath the mountain fortress, he hunted outdoors or chopped wood. Her pale white skin stood in complete contrast to his darkened sun-kissed color. Oh, what she’d do to trade places with him. Yet she’d not complain. Her job in the dungeon was much more preferable to the one she previously held.

“Looks like this group came a long way. What a wasted bunch of bones. Though something about them must be important, if you ask me.”

Wanting to get away from him, she darted around and hurried toward the pump. The charcoal-gray castle towered hundreds of feet above, the stone walls blending into the cliffs. Below, nestled amongst the crags and plateaus lay Racah, consisting of stonework buildings and forlorn homes surrounded by high ramparts and steep peaks that circled the city.

Tarek trailed her like a lost puppy. “That Baykok Captain, the creepy one they call Bezoar? He brought them in himself.”

She froze, her gut twisted. She had no desire to meet the inhuman creature-man today. Grabbing the pail, she set it under the spout. Her splintered hand burned when she grasped the lever and pumped. 

Tarek leaned closer until his tanned face was inches from hers. “And,” a taunt hid just below the surface of his words. “You’ll be happy to know your father is out there to greet our new guests, as well.” He bit his upper lip, keeping the mocking grin in check.

She gave the pump two more good pulls. “Aren’t you suppose to help cook for tonight’s banquet? Wonder what Darnel would say if he found out you were shirking your own responsibilities to play messenger boy?”
His annoying grin grew slack. Brows furrowed, he spat, “King Darnel. And I work hard. Even his majesty has bragged on my hunting skills. Unlike you, I appreciate my position and only want to serve my King to the best of my ability.”

“Such a good little lap dog you are. Why don’t you go fetch a bone or dig a hole and leave me to my own work?” She took up the pail handle and made her way toward the front of the prison where Ben would be waiting.

The weight of the bucket lightened as Tarek held the handle from the opposite side. She glared at him, despite being somewhat grateful for his help. He said nothing more as they walked. When the group came into view, nearly fifty people dressed in dreary, ragged clothing, she stopped a moment to gather her wits and steady her panicked thoughts. Just as Tarek said, Bezoar and Master both attended this group’s arrival.
Why?
 
“He’s not my father.” 

Tarek’s brow arched. 

“I wasn’t born to him.” She met his narrow-eyed gaze. “I wasn’t. I came from another place, like them. And like you. This isn’t my true home.”

His chest rose with a deep intake of breath which he slowly blew out. “Perhaps, Princess, we are better off here in Racah. I am. My family now has work, food to eat, decent shelter. Where we came from, nothing grew. Everyone was starving.” He brushed away the blond bangs from his face with his free hand. “Look at them. Their clothes are torn, ragged. Bet they will be glad, as well, once they see the King means them no harm.”

Princess shook her head. Tarek had no idea the evil Darnel was capable of. She hoped he’d never find out.
When Tarek left her, she paused needing to completely clear her mind. Humming a silent tune, she headed for the gathering.

Bezoar sat upon his huge black steed. He resembled a living skeleton with grayish skin that clung to his thin body like a grubby, wet sheet. His long, boney fingers hooked around a leather whip hanging from the saddle horn. Deep-set, yellowed eyes peered from beneath the hood of his black cloak.

“Sire,” the Baykok hissed, pointing to a man thrown over the back of a packhorse. “The messenger was a bonus. He’s been spreading his propaganda amongst the towns. I ordered his life spared for the time being. You did request I bring such filth to you when we found them.” 

Lord Darnel chuckled with satisfaction. “Yes, that is a bonus, my good captain. Anytime we can stop such liars is indeed fortunate.”

Keeping the silent melody playing, Princess moved toward the group, making sure the dungeon master Ben was between herself and Master Darnel. Ben wore his colorful robes, the purple, red, and yellow striped fabric billowing in the breeze. As she approached, she noticed his hand gripping his cane so tight his chestnut-colored skin paled. Though Ben was known to have a terrible temper, age and arthritis had tamed his angry outbursts. Since she’d taken over many of his responsibilities, he generally treated her decently. 

More importantly, he ignored her long disappearances while she searched new tunnels for a means of escape. 

Ben nodded toward the chained group, then ordered in his deep, throaty voice, “Give ’em something to drink, girl.”

Behind the messenger’s horse stood a long line of men, women, and children, all thin and haggard. Their condition most likely resulted from their trek across the barren land that surrounded the mountain. The castle itself, built into the heart of the cliffs, was nearly impenetrable, as well as inescapable. Climbing the only road leading into the city was difficult on horseback… and even more-so on foot. No telling how long they’d gone without food or rest. Bezoar didn’t concern himself with such human needs.

The prisoners clustered around her, eager to quench their dry mouths. They grasped the ladle greedily in their scraped, bloody hands. Princess avoided the scared expressions on the children’s dirty faces as they gulped the cool water. Yet one dark-haired girl, about the age of five, reminded her of the first time she’d entered this forsaken city. Had the same look of terror been in her own brown eyes?  

Princess dared a glance toward the man strapped on the horse. He raised his bruised head. A long cut tore down the side of his cheek. With his one good eye, he stared at his surroundings in defiance. A gold medallion hung from his neck. 

Her breath caught when her heart lodged into her throat. Forgetting the prisoners, Princess stepped closer. Water sloshed over the rim and onto her feet. She steadied the bucket, then handed it to the eldest man in the group to hold. She had to see that pendant. 

The messenger’s face softened when he caught sight of her staring at him. She quickly turned, not wanting him to know she’d noticed him. 

She chanced a glance at Master Darnel, surprised he wore his finest attire to greet a bunch of shoddy prisoners. He stood tall, a smile plastered on his smooth, handsome face. His deep purple button-down coat was trimmed in silver thread. Upon his head sat a silver crown, inlaid with rubies and emeralds, which had been collected while digging the tunnels throughout his mountain lands. His polished black boots stopped just below his knees.

Several large, brutish men flanked Darnel. She’d heard the newly appointed governors, who would run the new towns, were being presented at tonight’s banquet. 

She shuddered when one of them grinned at her and elbowed a trollish-looking man, who stood beside him. They whispered something, then broke into chuckles, all the while never taking their eyes off her. Princess’s gut twisted, wondering what they found so humorous. She took the bucket from the elder and stood to the side, searching Ben’s face to see if he’d give her the go-ahead to take them inside. 

Ben remained a statue. 

Darnel motioned to his men. “Release the messenger so he may stand with our other guests.” His mocking smile widened.

Two soldiers untied the messenger’s hands and feet and shoved him off the beast headfirst. He crashed to the ground with a loud groan. One man grabbed the pail from her and tossed the remaining water in the man’s face. He staggered to his feet. 

His nicely tailored clothes were bloodied and torn. Dirt caked his beard. The medallion hung outside his shirt, the symbol of a horn glinted in the morning sun. 

The disk was different, yet similar. What could that mean?

Darnel stepped closer, scanning the group. She felt his stare and despite all attempts not to look, her eyes finally met his cold blues. His hateful laughter sounded inside her head. Think. Fill your mind to keep him out!

“How fortunate-” Darnel addressed the crowd, “-for all of you to be brought here at this exciting time in the history of my empire. We are, this very day, in the process of establishing new cities and villages in the western frontier. And you, most fortunate ones, are to be the first to inhabit them.”

Now she understood why Bezoar and the governors were there. This group would be forced to build those cities. Maybe that was the reason behind his increased attacks on the border lands. He needed more slaves to send out west where he hoped to increase his kingdom. She gazed toward the rising sun, knowing something hindered his progress in that direction. Something that plagued her dreams and pulled at her heartstrings. 

“My territory is expanding. My governors and I-” Darnel waved to the beast-men standing behind him, “-are discussing how best to achieve this. We petition you, good people of Racah, to listen to our ideas and consider joining the quest to revive these lands under my rule.”

Princess shook her head and muttered, “Working as slave laborers.” 

With a gasp, she snapped her mouth closed. Those standing around her whispered to each other. They’d heard her! An outburst like that might result in more lashings. She chewed her lip, daring a glance at Ben whose brown eyes narrowed on her in silent warning. 

The messenger’s voice boomed over Darnel’s speech.  Lies! Do not fall for this imposter’s deception.”
The closest soldier shoved the butt of his spear into the man’s gut. “Shut up, fool!” 

The man fell to his knees wheezing. 

Princess gaped at him. He’d be the dragon’s supper if he didn’t quit. 

The messenger took in a winded breath and continued, “Resist him! For the army of the true King is at hand! Do not give in to this evil traitor and his ways! Stand firm while time remains.” He leaped to his feet and darted out of the soldier’s reach. His steel-gray eyes scanned the frightened prisoners. 

Don’t listen to the ranting of a fool, daughter! Darnel’s voice rasped in her head. She flinched, and tried once again to control her thoughts. The man continued talking, but she couldn’t separate his words from Master’s. 

“The time of this evil one’s reign….”

Foolish girl, have you not learned your lesson yet? Darnel stood still as a statue, an amused look on his calm face. His cruel eyes flicked in her direction. I would be prepared to forgive your insolence and restore you to your rightful position.

Her head pounded from trying to block his thoughts. 

“…his army approaches as I speak.” 

The snap of Bezoar’s whip cracked the air as it tore into the messenger’s back. He flicked again, and another streak ripped open his shirt and skin. The man bowed over, going down on his knees in the mud. 

“Enough,” hissed Bezoar, drawing his sword from the sheath. “I’ll take care of this, Sire.” 

Heart racing, Princess stepped between the dark hooded creature and the crouched man. “The dragon hasn’t been fed in awhile, Master.” She met Darnel’s arctic glare.

Her mouth went dry at her own audacity. She’d have been better off staying out of the way and as quiet as possible. But she couldn’t let them kill the messenger. Not yet.  

“The dragon doesn’t care if he’s crazy or not. She’ll eat him all the same.” 

The people standing around her gasped. 

The eldest prisoner spoke up. “Perhaps we should listen to the Messenger.” He pointed a dirty finger at Darnel. “That tyrant ordered our towns to be burnt to the ground, then says he wants us to help rebuild? Shoulda left us alone in the first place if you ask me.”

Darnel closed the distance between himself and the old man. His hand clamped around the prisoner’s neck. “I did you a favor. You’re homes were crumbling, you had nothing to eat—”

“That’s ’cause you’ve stripped this land of all that’s good. I remember what it was like. I remember when we followed King Shay—”

With one quick movement, a dagger appeared in Darnel’s hand and swept across the man’s neck, splattering the bystanders in blood. The old man crumpled at Master’s feet, red puddling into the ground. Darnel, ignoring the screams coming from the on-lookers, turned to Ben, his blue eyes flashing with rage.
“I’ll expect you to convince them to accept my offer. If there are others who wish to join the messenger at my dragon’s dinner, don’t hesitate to comply.”

Ben nodded, then motioned for a couple of soldiers to escort the remaining group inside. Bezoar ordered the body to be dumped in the pit and the messenger to be taken to the holding cell until the dragon’s feeding time. 

Princess moved to follow Ben when a strong hand clamp down on her arm. Darnel yanked her around so she was face to face with him. 

“It’s your fault that man died.”

She started to protest that he had the dagger not her, but he cut off her words. 

“Stupid child. When will you learn that I mean to sever anything or anyone who denies my authority? If you refuse to serve me, I will find other means of curbing your disloyalty.”

From behind her, the messenger yelled, “Don’t give in, freedom is at hand!” 

She watched as the soldiers dragged him to the dungeon.

Darnel gripped her chin, his fingers still wet with the man’s blood. He turned her face back to his. “You are running out of time, daughter. My patience with you wanes.” 

“Will you also feed me to the dragon, Master?” she asked, emboldened by the messenger’s chants of Freedom! filling her heart. 

“I’ll not give you such an easy way out, my dear.” He shoved her away, then strolled toward the castle with his governors following. The troll-man kept looking back over his shoulder at her, smirking. 

Princess reached into the inner pocket she’d sewn into all her skirts and pulled out a small golden disk which fit perfectly inside the palm of her hand. A tree had been engraved on one side. The other side had a fire flame surrounded by what might be a burst of light. Her medallion was similar to the messenger’s yet different. 

“For freedom!” He continued to chant. Suddenly, the sound of a loud smack brought complete silence from within. 

There wasn’t much time. She needed to hurry.


~~*~~

If you want to read more, hop on over to your nearest e-readers and get yourself a copy. 

Are you up for the journey?