I’m best known for writing an R-rated blend of science fiction and humor, but my current work in progress is literary fiction, and my Cold Cosmos series is intentionally kept at a PG-13 level. I’ve been known to write fantasy and slice of life stories as well, so I don’t tie myself down to a single genre. I write whatever story is demanding to be told at the time, and my muse can be quite demanding.
A critic once called my work “exceptionally entertaining” and that really struck a chord with me. Who wouldn’t want to be remembered in terms like that? I strive to mix the action, dialog, and exposition in a way that keeps everyone entertained, and I use a simple “Need to know” decision process. What does the reader need to know at this point? Is it important that there is political unrest within the empire, or during this scene is it enough to know there are bad people on the other side of that door with guns?
When all is said and done, I write to entertain, and I hope that I’m remembered that way. I want my books to be an escape that keeps the reader constantly engaged.
What is your writing Kryptonite?
Self-doubt, for sure. I’ve written five novels now and dozens of short stories, and the reviews are mostly positive. Rationally, I should be confident that with each book I write I get better, and from the feedback I get I believe that is true. I should also know that when I start a novel I have the perseverance to finish it.
But there’s always that little demon in the back of my mind saying, “You aren’t good enough. You’ll spend thousands of hours writing a novel that nobody will read,” or, “What if you can’t pull this story off? What if you don’t have what it takes to tell the story you have in your head?”
I know I’m not alone in this. Sometimes I have to go back and read a few positive reviews to regain my confidence.
How long do you write each day?
This has recently changed significantly, as I just transitioned into writing full time. Now I have my day dedicated to writing, I tend to write in two-to-three-hour bursts. In a perfect day and when the story is flowing, I’ll do three of these bursts a day, and may end up creating new content for eight hours or more.
What was the weirdest thing you had to Google for your story?
In Black Swan Empire, my main character is exposed to a lot of radiation at one point. That led me down the radiation poisoning, treatment, and symptoms rabbit hole. In there, I learned a lot about Prussian Blue, which is known for both its vivid color and its use in removing some types of radiation from the human body. That was one of those days I expected to do five minutes of research, only to end up spending an hour poking around on government and medical website learning about radioactive materials. I’m probably on someone’s watch list now. I swear, I’m just an author!
What would you like to say to get folks to try your work?
I’d ask them to give me 30 minutes, even if you’re not a big fan of the genres I write in. Pick up anything I have to offer and set a timer for a half hour. Read until the timer goes off, and then decide, do you want to continue? Did I do my job as an author to draw you into the story? Do you want to know more? My goal is to have the readers so caught up in the story at that point they don’t want to put the book down.
Raka Varoule, Maven Blackheart, and Marco return for one final adventure in Black Swan Empire!
When Maven nearly starts WWIII as a result of an international nuclear incident, she and Raka are forced to flee from Earth and return to the Galactic Empire, but they aren’t exactly welcomed with open arms. They are quickly drawn into a plot that just happens to involve the assassination of Emperor Caligula himself.
With the help of some old friends and a few frenemies, they face their biggest challenge yet when the entire Empire is on the line.
About the Series:
Raka Varoule is a second-rate investigative reporter and just an average citizen of the Galactic Empire. When he weasels his way on the Emperor’s own Star-Cruiser and exposes the illicit activities of this very adult party, his life takes a minor change of direction.
Escaping with the help of a leather-clad dominatrix, the Emperor’s own ganja runner, and a chimpanzee wearing assless chaps, Raka makes it to a barbarian world some call “Earth”, only to find himself very alone and very vulnerable.
Raka survives and has a series of hilarious adventures before learning that it’s up to him to protect Earth from an Imperial retrieval team, set to destroy everything. He’ll need the help of his Imperial companions to do this, but can he trust them?
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To my great surprise, I found myself on a warm beach watching the waves pound repeatedly against a rocky shoreline, while winds whirled around me making a repetitive and comforting pattern of sounds. I was completely alone, yet I felt a sense of contentment just to be. Just to be here, just to be alone, just to be alive.
A lemon-yellow sun smiled down upon me, and a few cotton-candy clouds dotted a perfect blue sky. A wave washed up just far enough to tickle my toes; the water was warm and welcoming. I took a few steps into the ocean to see small fish schooling around my legs. When they looked up at me, they seemed happy.
A dolphin crested over a distant wave. It turned toward me, approaching quickly but I felt no sense of fear. The dolphin raised up out of the water in front of me and spoke, but not in Dolphinese, instead, he spoke in perfect English. “What do you do if you don’t have enough cash to buy a coffee mug?”
I didn’t waste my time considering the concept that an aquatic mammal was talking to me. Instead, I simply responded, “I don’t know Mr. Dolphin. What do you do if you don’t have enough cash to buy a coffee mug?” “You write a cup-check!” The dolphin said as it slammed its nose into my crotch with enough force to shatter the side-window of an ’83 Escort.
I screamed and flailed to find myself snapped into reality, and it wasn’t a pleasant one. I was laying on my back in a bed with dozens of electronic sensors connected to me, an IV line in my arm, a hospital-style light shining in my face, and a fat little fuck of a kid laughing at me. He was maybe twelve years old and he still had his hands on my junk. He had black hair, raging acne, a triple chin, thick glasses, and he repeatedly sniffed as if he were snorting black pepper.
“Now the stinky man is awake!” the kid said and made a snorting sound like he was hawking up a loogie. “Fifty buck says I can hit you in the eye with this.”
“Fifty bucks says if you don’t back away from me immediately, I’ll beat you into next year, you little shit.” I began ripping off the electronic sensor pads and tried to get up, only to find I didn’t have the strength.
“You think you’re a tough guy? My bodyguard could rip you in two long-ways and not even break a sweat.” He sniffed, then wiped his nose down his black shirt sleeve. An eight-inch-long trail of mucus glistened in the light on his shirt sleeve.
I grabbed Tubby McZitface by both arms where his biceps should have been and tried to shake him. “You ever touch me again you’ll regret it for what little is left of your sad, pathetic life.”
The kid’s eyes opened wide and his lip quivered in fear. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks, making a roundabout path between fat and pimple. His mouth opened for several seconds before any sound came out, but finally he screamed an ear-piercing wail of “Smiles!”
The door flung open, rattling against its stop. A huge gorilla wearing a perfectly tailored gray suit stepped inside. He had a scar across his cheek, and as he approached I smelled the pleasant fragrance of his shampoo.
“Rip the bad man in two!” Tubby said to the gorilla.
“I’m sorry, Master Filbert. I’m unable to harm Mr. Raka, as I’m sworn to protect him.”
“Can you at least give him a super-atomic wedgie?” Filbert wiped big wet tears from his cheeks.
“No,” the gorilla replied.
I felt a sense of relief. “General Smiles. It’s good to see you again. Be a sport and toss this evil little turd into the street, ideally into traffic. Thanks buddy” “I can’t do that either.”
“Why not?”
“I’m sworn to protect him as well.”
“Why?” I asked, as a deep sense of nausea and dread flushed through my body as if I were in a porta-potty in the act of being tipped over, balancing on its edge for just an instant before engaging maximum shitstorm.
“Because sir, he’s your son.”
James Peters fell in love with Science Fiction at a young age, becoming hooked on the works of Asimov, Anderson, and Pohl (among many others), as well as the mixed bag of anything labeled Science Fiction on television or at the movies while growing up. While in grade school, he was given an assignment to write a journal about anything he wanted. He quickly filled the pages with a Buck Roger’s type adventure of robots, spaceships, and pew-pewing lasers, discovering his inner passion to write.
He writes with a gritty blend of character-driven action, wry humor, and social commentary that transports the reader through wild worlds of speculative fiction and fantasy. He’s known to cross the borders of different genres into new territory, along with an occasional ‘wink and nod’ to pop culture and other authors, then shock the reader with an unexpected turn of events.
Sit back, open your mind and enjoy the ride. Your adventure awaits.
Author Website: https://authorjamespeters.com/
Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/BlackSwanPlanet
Author Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com): https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/james-peters/
Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/~/e/B017TQ8VUS
