OUT NOW - The Underground

Ladies & Gentlemen, The Underground (Jordan Kennedy: Book One) has now been released worldwide in hardback and eBook editions on Amazon.com, iBookstore, Barnes & Noble and local bookstores.

Happy reading!

The Underground - Due out late 2014

I began writing The Underground in August 2008. I was a nineteen year old, working full-time while studying on the job. In between my hectic schedule, I managed to finish writing the first Jordan Kennedy novel in July 2009.

And then? Nothing happened for a long time.

After submitting my work to half a dozen publishers, I received a few rejection letters, and some didn't even bother to reply at all. However, I never gave up. I'm not afraid of failure - I'm afraid of never trying.

Yet now, five years later in 2014, The Underground will finally see the light of day, along with the entire Jordan Kennedy series. The first book is due out late this year.

Thank you to all of those have that supported and encouraged me over the years. Without doubt, you all kept my dream alive.

- JD

2014 is the year...

 So, this is happening. Very Soon. After all these years.

Stay posted.

- JD

Amazon and beyond!

 Hi folks!

Just had a book launch at Rouse Hill Dymocks today, and I am thrilled to announce that in just one month, I have already sold 120 copies of my children's book. It's unbelievable the amount of support I've had so far! If you would like a copy yourself, they can be purchased here:

For Australian buyers:

http://www.vividpublishing.com.au/snoozysam/

For international buyers:

http://www.amazon.com

Thank you all for your support!

- JD

Cigarette Burns - Completed!

Standing at 134,423 (and my longest to date) I finished writing my latest book - Cigarette Burns. It's the third book in my Jordan Kennedy series, and has taken just under two years to complete from start to finish, but the inception of the idea dates back to 2010. Now, reflecting on my work, I think this may be the best one yet.

I plan to "finally" publish the start of my crime series at some stage next year.

But for now? I party.

*cracks open a bottle of champagne*

(Yes. Quite literally.)

- JD

At last...it's done!

For any of those following my blog, you'll know that my children's book Snoozy Sam has been a long time coming. There have been a lot of set backs and a lot of disappointments, but today I am thrilled to announce that I have finished the book in it's entirely. It's taken three years, but it's done. Not only did I write the book, but I illustrated and hand-coloured every picture. I've already begun to prepare the book for publishing, and it will be made available for purchase very soon. Watch this space for announcements of book launches and signings! In the meantime, here's a behind the scenes seek preview;

- JD

Set Backs

Remember how I was saying the illustrations to my children's book were nearly finished? Well, unfortunately it hasn't worked out, so it's a little set back in my plans.

So, what now? I've decided to make matters into my own hands. I'm by no means a great drawer (and I think this point was established during the 52 paintings in 52 weeks project) but I do have a lot of determination. I've got the drive to get this done, and I've been sketching draft copies of the illustrations all day. So far, I've already drawn 1/4 of the book in just half a day. Within three weeks, I hope to have it completely finished - coloured and all. I've already got a publisher lined up so by the end of winter, "Snoozy Sam" should be on the shelves.

Sometimes, if you want something done, you truly have to do it yourself.

- JD

Writing & Editing + Music

I am very excited to announce that after ten long years, I am just months away from completing my goal - publishing a book. Illustrations for my debut children's picture book "Snoozy Sam" are almost finished, and I am in the final stages of editing the manuscript for my adult thriller novel "The Underground."

Everything is happening at once!

To top it off, I've been writing draft chapters for the 3rd Jordan Kennedy book "Cigarette Burns", and it is turning out to be some of my best work yet (and I know every author says that, but I actually do mean it! haha)

But what about my music project, Graffiti Dragons? I'm finished two out of three new demos, and I'll be recording them very, very soon. Oh, and I'm in the process of making a website. So watch out for that! ;)

Until next time!

- JD

Writing: Male characters

I have been writing prolifically for the past decade.

First I started out writing poems, then short stories and then I turned my attention to full-length novels. In the past ten years, I've learned a lot about writing. In fact, I'm still learning, and I don't think it ever stops. A few months ago I tried re-read some of my early work; and most of it I couldn't even read. Why was that? Because it was written so damn poorly that it was unbearable. A cringe-worthy moment for sure.

I've written every genre from romance to sci-fi. I have learned where my strengths are, and I'm in my element when I write crime fiction. In case you haven't worked it out yet, yes, I am a female writer. You might assume that my lead characters are female - but they are not. I have written from the perspectives of both males and females, and I honestly enjoy the challenge of writing as a male character.

My debut novel The Underground is mostly written in first person by a male character named Jordan Kennedy. Until yesterday, I truly believed I'd created a great male character. I've always been a bit of a tomboy, I've played in a band with all guys and I've observed the behaviour of men. So, I figured I had finally cracked the male mind, and I understood how to write as the perspective of a man. However, even though I finished writing the book two years ago, professionally edited and all, I suddenly realized yesterday that Jordan was a goddamn sissy.

My aim was to create an unstable/vulnerable character, but I'd created him too unstable/vulnerable. I realized this when I re-read my book last night. Just two chapters in, Jordan Kennedy cried. Not once, not twice but THREE times in just two chapters. Now, yes, men cry at times, but I can count on one hand how many times I've seen a man cry this year. Sure, Jordan's gone through a tough time and suffers depression, but he was wayyyyy too weak. A female audience probably wouldn't mind, but the male audience would be banging their fists on the table while shouting, "Harden the &#$! up, Kennedy!"

So, two years after completing my novel, I found myself editing The Underground...again. I have had to go back through each chapter and well, "man up" my main character. No, it's not easy, but I now understand what I have to do - I have to think like a man.

Since going back and re-editing my work, I am now pleased to say that Jordan no longer cries three times in the first two chapters, and I've actually given him more of a personality. He still has that bit of vulnerability, but on the whole he is tougher. But, what I really need to do is to find some male friends to proof-read my book. I want The Underground to be appealing to both sexes, and with the latest edits, I think I've achieved that.

See what I mean? The learning process never stops.

- JD

Dream Seeker (2006)

As I begin work on the 3rd Jordan Kennedy novel, I decided to go back and read through where it all began. In 2006, I wrote a short story in second person about a young man on his way to attend an audition. The story was called Dream Seeker. This one story alone then gave me the idea of a bigger story, and after years of planning and research, I completed The Underground in 2009. I finished the second book With The Enemy this year, and the storyline for the next book Cigarette Burns is quickly coming together.

Even though Dream Seeker is an outdated piece of writing, I still love it. In fact, I love it so much that I incorporated this very scene into The Underground. Although, yes, it's not the best thing I've ever written, I still wanted to share it with you.

Without spoiling too much, the ending of this story is probably not what you would expect, but it's important to know that failure is always a reality. I have failed many times in my life, but I haven't given up. I'll probably fail many more times before I succeed, but that's life. Even in the darkest of times, I've held onto my dreams.

After all, I'm a dream seeker too.

- JD

Dream Seeker

Your hands are already shaking. It won't stop, it's like you've lost control of your actions. The nerves are already taking you over. It's a mistake. How can you deal with this level of stress? Exactly…you can't. Why did you ever try and take this chance? You are bound to fail.

This is stupid, Dylan. You haven't got a chance.

The train comes to a sudden halt, and more passengers climb on board. You look out the window, just trying to find a sign or an indication of what station you've stopped at. You can't seem to find one, but you know you're so close to your destination. Just the thought causes destruction in your mind. Even though this is your dream, your aim, your mission…you know the odds are against you. The train doors close and your hands shake a little more. Your heart beat seems to increase each second, and sometimes, it becomes so unbearable it gets hard to breathe. The train slowly crawls along the tracks. You just wish time would go faster, so you can get this over and done with. For a moment, you close your eyes and try to visualize your piano. You can almost feel the keys beneath your fingertips. You smile. Music gives you a reason to live, a reason to believe that one day you can make a difference. For the last two years, you've been working on an album. Each day you sit by your piano and write songs, and your few friends are amazed by your talent. Your friends constantly try to convince you to perform at clubs and bars, but you can't do that. You just can't.

Maybe it's not too late to turn back? No, you've gone this far. It's too late to turn back now. Go for your dreams, Dylan. Just believe.

The trains stops at another station, more passengers come and go. As you look out of the window, you try to make sense of what you're about to get yourself into. Today's the day you will try and complete your dream. An audition in London this afternoon. The prize is a recording contract. If you just make it past this first hurdle, you'll overcome your worst fear. Your stage fright has always held you back, but today, it is time to rise above and beyond and tackle your phobia. For a moment you pull a piece of paper from your pocket. Your lyrics are written out on it. You've never forgotten your lyrics before, but fear can mess with your head. It can make you forget things you thought you knew so well.

You often ponder about fame. What would it be like? If your album ever did skyrocket, how would you cope? Probably not well. You don't want the fame, the fortune and all that jazz. You just want to make beautiful music, and have your fans approach you and tell you how they were moved by your songs. That's all. You get a real buzz from those sorts of comments. The trouble is, your fear gets in the way. Your nerves and stage fright almost seems impossible to conquer, but maybe one day you'll get there. You sit back in your seat and try to relax a little, but it's hard knowing the audition lies ahead of you.

***

This city seems so alien to you. It's not often that you roam the streets of London, because this place is too fast-paced for your liking. You check your watch. 2:17 pm. Your audition is in just thirteen minutes. That fact makes your heart almost explode from your chest. You can feel it rising and falling at an alarming rate. As you race down the streets, your destination is in sight. There are dozens of people already standing outside the building. Some are singing, some are playing guitars and others are smoking.

You stop in your tracks. The same nervous sick feeling returns. Going through this torture and torment doesn't even seem worth it. You will fail. So why bother to try? Another choice lies ahead of you.

Do you turn around and go home, or do you chase your ultimate dream? Putting it in that perspective, the answer seems clear. You push your doubts back down, and enter the building. Crowds of people swarm everywhere. Once again it gets hard to breathe. You know you have to sign in somewhere, but where? As you whip your head around, you see a woman with a clip board. You cautiously approach the woman. She looks up at you with demon green eyes. You freeze.

"Name? Please?" the woman grunts.

You remain frozen for another moment more.

"Dylan Kershaw," you croak.

"You're late," she says. "You're up next. Get going."

*** 

Your name is called. It is time. You push open the stage door and step into the bright lights. The lights are so bright you are blinded for a moment. Seconds pass and your eyes adjust to the glare. You can spot three judges sitting in the front row, directly in front of the stage. As you meet their gaze, you begin to feel dizzy. Your head spins. Without even realizing it, you scan around the stage, looking for all possible exits. In the middle of the stage, you find a piano. Just the sight of it creates a soothing effect. You briefly close your eyes again and try to unwind, but nothing seems to be working. You open your eyes again and try to move, but you can't. The fear has made you lock up. All three of the judges stare at you with a look of puzzlement on their faces, and they seem impatient. You look over to the piano once more.

"Can I use the piano?" you ask.

One of the judges gives you a dirty look.

"Of course you can. That's what it's there for," hisses the judge.

The unexpected hostility makes your legs work, and you amble over to the piano. The room is so silent that the only noise you can hear is your own footsteps. Finally, you sit down at the piano. You pull your lyrics out from your pocket and lay them out in front of you. Time freezes again, and your heart beats violently in your chest. You sneak another glance over to the judges. They don't look pleased. You're going to be sick. You know it. Your knees jackhammer on the pedals, and you can't stop them. You panic. This was a stupid idea, now you'll just humiliate yourself.

"Are you going to start anytime soon?" snaps another judge.

Once again, you've got another decision to make. You can either run off stage and be sick, or remain where you are and give it your best shot.

"We ain't got all day lad!" yells the same judge.

"S-Sorry. Uh- I'll start now," you stutter.

At that very moment, the lights change. All lights switch off apart from one bright spotlight. The spotlight pours down at you blinding you momentary. As you wait for your eyes to adjust again, you prepare to start your song. This is the moment you've worked so hard for, but your anxiety won't stop rising. You gently place your hands on the keys, and begin to play. It is a song you wrote ten years ago, and you've rehearsed it over a million times. You know this song off by heart, but since your hands are shaking so much, you hit the wrong starting notes. You stop. Already you've messed up, and you can see the judges are making note of it. You start again and hit the wrong keys, but this time you don't stop. Your whole body trembles under the pressure, and you feel faint. The spotlight pouring down on you is too hot, and the heat seems to be making it harder for you to breathe. The colours in your eyes start to drain away. You continue to accidentally hit the wrong keys on the piano, so maybe you'll amaze the judges with your voice? You try to open your mouth to sing, but you can't. You can't seem to get the words out at all.

"Is that all you have to offer?" shouts one of the judges.

Your eyes burn with tears, and all your hopes and dreams come collapsing back down to reality. Not only are you a total failure, but you've totally embarrassed yourself too.

What would your friends say if they could see you now? Words of encouragement, or words of shame? Tears stream down your cheeks, but you weep in silence. Finally, you stop playing the keys, and slowly turn your head to look at the judges. None of them look impressed, and you can understand why. You've just wasted their time. Time stands still.

"I can't, I can't. I just can't," you say, your voice just a whisper now.

A second after you say that, the judges begin to talk amongst themselves. You can hear their insults and negativity from where you are sitting. The judge's harsh words make your self-esteem sink lower. You've learnt a valuable lesson today. Your dreams aren't worth this humiliation. In fact, considering you can't even perform in front of three people, you aren't even an artist. You have no talent. You are worthless. As your heartbeat begins to slow down, thoughts of failure start sinking in. The spotlight over you slowly fades…

(C) Copyright, J. Dennis 2006

The Underground

I figured it was time to upload the preface and first chapter of my debut novel. Enjoy.

The Underground

Preface

Staggering to my feet, I loaded my gun and aimed it into the darkness. I would not be killed without a decent fight. I knew my enemy was watching, waiting to strike at any given moment, but I was ready.

The warehouse had fallen into silence. I glanced over my shoulder. There was no one to watch my back now. I called out, challenging my adversary to step forward and face me. No response. For a brief moment I thought that maybe I'd won. I thought the battle was over and at last my pain and suffering was at an end.

I managed to summon a little hope, daring to believe I would live to see another day. But the fleeting optimism quickly died away when I felt the cold metal of a gun barrel pressing into the back of my neck.

Chapter 1

Ten months earlier.  August 11^th

My memories, like scars, fade with time. But they will remain; reminders of past mistakes. One such memory is all consuming, constantly playing out in my mind when I'm awake, and haunting me as I sleep. It is even more unbearable when I'm asleep, because I cannot control its influence. It seeps into my subconscious, manipulating my dreams.

I still wonder how one day could change my life so radically. There are things I lost on that day that I will never regain.

A sister, for instance.

It was a Thursday morning, and it had started out like just the rest, but my life took a turn I just didn't see coming. It happened over three years ago, but the memory still feels raw. I'd tried to forget it. I'd done all I could to block out the tormenting thoughts—but they were always there.

On that Thursday morning, I'd called in sick for work to attend a music audition near Aldgate. And, against my parents' wishes, I had taken my fifteen-year-old sister Amy with me. I had arranged for her to skip school. Was that a smart move? Probably not. I would get anxious at auditions, so I'd bring Amy along for moral support. She didn't really care about my music that much, she just loved the idea of getting out of class.

The two of us caught a bus into London, aiming to take the Underground from Kings Cross. We bought our tickets, bickering like any brother and sister, and waited for our train.

As we stood at the platform, I prodded my ear buds deep into my ears, listening to my compositions. Listening to my own music comforted me before auditions. It always reinforced my belief that I was capable of great things.

Just before the train arrived at the station, Amy said the last words I would ever hear her utter. Elbowing me in the rib cage, she scolded, "Turn down the music, I can hear it from a bloody mile away!"

I obeyed her request and lowered the volume a few notches.

The train stopped, opened its doors, and instantly released a swarm of people. Amy and I forced our way inside, and for a moment I lost her, the strangers blocking my view. Looking over a man's shoulder, I spotted her standing near the front. Amy glanced in my direction, then rolled her eyes and looked away. She was avoiding me; evidently it was 'uncool' to be seen with her big brother.

I daydreamed as the train pulled away from the station. I was crammed right up against one of the windows, but it didn't bother me. I closed my eyes and focused on my own soothing music.

People always ask me, did I have a suspicion of what was coming next? Did I know my world was about to teeter off its axis? No. There were no signs. No warnings. If I'd known, I would have done something to prevent it.

When I opened my eyes, more people had squeezed into the already jam-packed carriage. As I scrolled through songs on my iPod, trying to figure out which one to play next, I heard an ear-bursting explosion.

Instantly, darkness descended on the train carriage. A thick cloud of smoke quickly filled it, and I felt a warm, sticky liquid trickling down my forehead and cheeks. After the blast, there was chilling silence, but it didn't last long. I tried to call out to Amy, but the smoke was choking me. My head started spinning, my legs throbbing. I thought I was dying.

This is where my dream ends. I always wake to my own panic-stricken screams.

***

When I awoke, my heart was beating rapidly and the familiar cold sweat had completely drenched my shirt. My entire body quaked.

 I lay in complete darkness, part of my brain jumping to the conclusion that I was still on the train. I tried to move but I was wrapped up in something. I panicked.

My thrashing between the bed sheets had woken Sophie. She flicked on the bedside lamp and a flash of light burst into the room. I could see again. I wasn't on the train. I was safe.

"Jordan, it's alright. You're OK," she cooed as she grabbed my trembling hand.

My heart rate began to slow. Even though I was alert and awake, I could still hear the echoing screams inside my head.

 The screams rarely stop.

"It's OK. You're safe," Sophie whispered.

"I ju-just d-dreamt—," I gasped, but I couldn't get the words out.

"I know, I know. Just be quiet now. It's all over."

But it wasn't over. I remembered the anguish, the panic consuming the country, and the media frenzy. My suffering was far from over.

Sophie let go of my hand and pulled me closer to her body, murmuring reassuring words in my ear. But I wasn't listening; I was just concentrating on my breathing. As I felt the air returning to my lungs, the panic faded and normality was restored.

I glanced at the bedside table, checking the time. 4:07 AM. The sun wouldn't be up for a few more hours.  The image of Amy lingered in my mind. I could see exactly as she looked before she died. She had her jet-black hair in a neat ponytail and holey jeans and a dreadful, skimpy singlet. Despite being a typical teenage girl filled with adolescent angst, Amy smiled a lot. She had a brilliant smile.

Why did she have to go?

The thoughts of Amy fuelled my anxiety, and it sparked up once more. Sophie held me tighter and continued to reassure me, before turning out the light. I wished she hadn't, but I kept my mouth shut. After a while, my convulsions stopped, and my heart was no longer exploding from my chest. I closed my eyes and I felt Sophie's warm arms holding me in a secure lock.

Yet, I couldn't fall asleep. The perpetual fear never leaves me.

(C) Copyright, J Dennis, 2009