Jon’s Author Diary – 047 – August 26, 2018


Jon continued re-drafting The High Priestess, has chosen a narrator for the Blind Gambit audiobook, and has been promoting his story Clockwork Titan.
Email your questions to Jon (at) joncronshaw (dot) com.
Check out Jon’s other podcast Stop Booking Around!, where he his mentoring an old school friend through the process of writing his first novel.
Get your free copy of Addict of the Wasteland, the prequel to his Wasteland series, by visiting tinyurl.com/addictofthewasteland.
You can find out more about Jon Cronshaw and his work by visiting joncronshaw.com or Jon’s author page.
Like his Facebook page at facebook.com/joncronshawauthor
Follow him on Twitter @jlcronshaw.
If you want to help the show, please consider telling a friend or leaving a review on iTunes.

Jon’s Author Diary – 037 – June 17, 2018

Jon completed the first novelette in his epic fantasy series.

He answers a difficult question about Blind Reset and reflects on the balance between art and business.

Email your questions to Jon (at) joncronshaw (dot) com.

Get your free copy of Addict of the Wasteland, the prequel to his Wasteland series, by visiting tinyurl.com/addictofthewasteland.

You can find out more about Jon Cronshaw and his work by visiting joncronshaw.com or Jon’s author page.

Like his Facebook page at facebook.com/joncronshawauthor

Follow him on Twitter @jlcronshaw.

If you want to help the show, please consider telling a friend or leaving a review on iTunes.

Announcing: Clockwork Titan is now live!

My contribution to the Alteruvium Expense has just gone live!

Clockwork Titan is a fantasy story set in the same world as my novelette Her Name Was Red.

When a power-hungry lord reawakens an ancient titan, things don’t quite go to plan…

The titan’s mind forms a magical bond with an unintended new master—a lighthouse keeper’s young daughter, Anna.

Seeing through the giant’s eyes, Anna must come to terms with her new power, but with Lord Krauss willing to stoop to any depths to take control of the clockwork giant, Anna must give everything she has to keep her home and family safe.

For fans of epic fantasy who don’t have the time. If you enjoy short stories packed with magic, wonder, and intrigue, you’ll love Jon Cronshaw’s contribution to the Alteruvium Expanse.

Click HERE to order your copy today.

I was on the Fantasy Fiends podcast!

I joined the guys on the Fantasy Fiends podcast to talk about the many faces of addiction, a theme that crops up again and again in my fiction.

During the show we talk about compulsion and addiction and the ways authors can use those themes in their work.

Andy and Stevie also gave a rousing performance of my short story Basilisk on a Yellow Field from my short story collection Her Name Was Red.

https://fantasyfiends.podbean.com/e/the-fantasy-fiends-podcast-ep-025-the-many-faces-of-addiction-with-jon-cronshaw/

Find the Fantasy Fiends podcast on iTunes, Stitcher, YouTube, and Podbean.

Basilisk on a Yellow Field featured on the 600 Second Saga podcast

My short story Basilisk on a Yellow Field is now available on the 600 Second Saga podcast.

The story was first published on this website and features in my collection Her Name Was Red.

Listen to the story on series 2, episode 16 of the podcast here:

Announcing: Her Name Was Red and Other Fantasy Tales

With no knowledge of her identity, the mysterious messenger known only as Red travels the land in search of her past. An urgent delivery puts her on the path to the secretive Gottsisle monastery, where she is captured by slavers.

She fights back to save her dark glass blade, the only connection to her forgotten past, and unwittingly awakens its dormant magic. Can Red control the power or will it control her?

Her Name is Red and Other Fantasy Tales brings together nine stories of magic, dragons, and wizards – all released from the imaginative mind of Jon Cronshaw.

Do you believe in magic?

Click HERE to buy Her Name is Red and Other Fantasy Tales today. Available in Paperback and Kindle formats.

The Lady of the Mound

The Lady of the Mound settles like dust between certainties, holding court on the boundaries of life and death. There’s a lantern, more ancient than time; its light is brighter than a thousand suns. The lantern guides her, comforts her: ever-present, endless. She draws her wisdom from its warmth, her sense of time and space from its inexorable glow.

She squints through the light at the Dark Lord’s approach. His wings shroud all in blackness: endless dark horizons twisted by hate.

“You have become complacent,” he says, his voice echoing beyond time. “You linger in light because you are weak. Embrace me.” His voice is a command, seductive and spiteful.

The Lady of the Mound turns away from his foul breath, sulphuric and bilious, the stench of billion corpses. “Never,” she says.

“Then you leave me no choice.” The Dark Lord swallows the light of the lantern, engulfing it until it is no more than a fragile shell against the infinite. The lantern shatters like a dried petal at the beat of wings as the Dark Lord takes his leave.

The Lady of the Mound becomes a shadow, deep and smooth. She closes her eyes, creates her own darkness, mourns for the light. For millennia, she holds in the loss, shielding herself from the infinite nothing with the infinite reality of her grief.

She trembles, opens her eyes, scans the emptiness, chokes down a tear. The shadow of the Dark Lord, somehow blacker than the blackness, approaches vulture-like as its wings ripple against the heavens.

“You have opened your eyes and I am here,” the Dark Lord says. “Embrace me.”

The Lady of the Mound turns. “Never,” she whispers.

The Dark Lord growls and rises through the infinite, leaving the Lady of the Mound with only her sorrow as reality.

In the silence, she sees the faintest of dots, a tiny glow darting like a dragonfly across the emptiness. She draws hope from its flight, watches as it bobs and whirls, iridescent against the eternal. There’s joy in that light. A second orb emerges, then a third and a fourth. Before long, the void is teeming with swarms of eddying lights, burning with love and happiness.

She draws from them, feeds into them. They expand and grow with each century. The lights drift towards her, coat her in brilliance and warmth. The void floods with her tears.

Time unhinges from itself when the Dark Lord returns. His wings bristle. His voice is filled with the pain of a thousand holocausts. “You have defied me,” he screams.

The lights flicker out with fear and the Dark Lord brushes their husks aside with his wings, returning everything to darkness. He offers his embrace, but the Lady of the Mound turns. The Dark Lord sighs a storm, then leaves.

“All is lost,” the Lady of the Mound says. “All is lost.”

She holds herself and listens for the Dark Lord’s return, watches for the lights. Neither come.

“I beseech thee. Return to me. I beg you to return. I will protect you.”

Centuries pass until the first light twinkles, dim at first, then bright white as it embraces the Lady of the Mound. More lights emerge and coil around her, filling her with love and brilliance.

She shudders as the Dark Lord returns.

“You dare to embrace light? You embrace me,” he says, spreading his monstrous arms.

The Lady of the Mound faces him, breathes out her light, brilliant and white. Its beam tears through the Dark Lord’s body, ripping off his limbs, slicing through his torso, searing his flesh and wings to nothingness. He falls into the light, nothingness in nothingness in nothingness, an infinite fractal shattering beyond the dust of dreams.

The lights embrace the Lady of the Mound. They warm her, protect her, become her.

This text is copyright 2016 by Jon Cronshaw, released under a BY-NC-ND Creative Commons Licence.