I was contacted months ago by a friend, author Kevin Lucia , about doing the third annual Broome County Catholic Schools Barnes & Noble Book Fair.

It is an honor.

Aside from me, I will be sharing a table with critically acclaimed YA novelist, Claudia Gabel.

This will take place on Saturday, February 13th, at the Barnes & Noble in Vestal, NY ( 2443 Vestal Parkway East, Vestal, NY 13850. 607-770-9505).

The event raises money for Catholic schools in the area.

There will be events and activities all day long, from open mike for poetry written and read by students, as well as some contests, and -- of course -- book signings by Claudia and myself, which begins at 5:00 PM.

If you know anyone who lives in the Binghamton (Vestal) area, feel free to share the information. The more people that come out and buy books, the more money the schools will raise. It's a good, worthy cause. Support is essential!

It's a long drive. 172 miles one way. I'll take prayers for wonderful, sunny weather. Those who know me -- know what I drive -- know that my roller-skate of a car needs dry pavement to keep all four wheels on the road at all times :-)

Again, feel free to share this information with friends and family in the area!

Take care!

Thomas Phillips,
Author of The Molech Prophecy

In seventh grade, once a month we got what was called the "Weekly Reader." In it, among other things, were script portions from upcoming movies and TV shows.

I remember reading a portion of "Little House on the Prairie." This was just before the show made its way to TV. I also remember my seventh grade teacher bashing the show once it aired, saying that people in that time period were not as clean as the show depicted.

I will never forget the night the show was fist shown on television. My dad, a Michael Landon fan, made us watch it. I can remember not wanting to watch it, despite having done a read-along play of it in school. But after watching it, we -- my family -- was hooked.

Every episode was better than the last. And in every episode, as much as I tried to pretend it wasn't happening, I cried. Especially whenever Micheal Landon cried.

It was then, too, that my mother told me if I was going to be a writer, that I needed to be like Michael Landon, and write books that were wholesome, and impacting.

Recently, a dear friend of mine turned me on to a newer TV series. Friday Night Lights. I'd seen the movie. It was all right. Nothing great. Not like "Remember the Titans," or "The Express."

The series, however, contained more.

I registered with hulu.com and started watching Friday Night Lights from the beginning. Season one, episode one.

I am now just about done watching season one. And all I can say is ... Wow.

Not since Little House on the Prairie, have I ever been so emotionally impacted watching TV.

Yes. I love LOST and 24, bit Friday Night Lights is ... well, intense.

I am not afraid to admit that every episode, yes, every episode, has brought me to tears.

Does that make me a Sap. It might. It does.

But the passion and intensity of the show is inspiring and impacting. Yes. Impacting.

Many of you may already be fans of the show. Many of you may not.

I love football.

The show is about a Texas high school football team.

Football is a major part of the story, but only as a vehicle. It moves the plot.

I just wanted to take a moment in my blog and compliment the writers of this show for creating a cast of characters, and host of real situations, and putting it all together in a way that ... well, in a way that, as a writer, I can only dream of one day doing ...

Okay. That's my blog.

Thomas

I am not one to count chickens before they hatch. Eggs, maybe. Chickens, never.

Recently, after networking with a fellow author friend (at this point, I will not name names), I was asked to submit a proposal to a very prestigious publisher.

See. I am a huge fan of horror. And before ever realizing there was a Twilight epidemic, I'd begun writing the vampire novel I call, The Pulse of Evil. Unfortunately, vampires and Christian fiction are not seen as a great mix. However, the vampire's natural enemy has always been God. So I felt confident I might be on to something. My current publisher passed on the proposal. Thought it was too edgy. This is unfortunate. Whitaker House is an exceptional publisher with a long list of phenomenal authors, many best sellers, and a staff that is so friendly and helpful and responsive ... (But I hope to continue my relationship with them -- just not with the vampire books!!)

After looking at the proposal, the editor asked to see the entire manuscript. Which I sent. Breath held.

Staying current on books being released in my "field" or genre, I saw that Eric Wilson (I am a huge fan of his work), announced the release of a vampire series. Field of Blood. Wilson is one of the best Christian suspense writers I've ever read. (He is also the best selling author of the novel versions of the movies Facing the Giants, and Fireproof).

Anyway, timing is everything in publishing.

With the new found thirst for vampire novels (Stephanie Meyers, Eric Wilson, Charlie Huston, etc.), the publisher reviewing my submission scheduled a phone conference with me in early January. This, a good sign.

Although, to date, no contract has been offered, the editor and I have continued to discuss the idea of getting The Pulse of Evil into print.

Just today, just moments ago, we emailed. It looks promising, is all I can say. And the sales/marketing team at the publisher are interested in a three book series, where the book covers will be pre-designed to keep each in sync with the other ...

If they are talking cover designs at this point, and still talking to me, I can't help but feel hopeful. (I am praying about it, too. Night and day).

One thing I proposed was that Pulse of Evil be the series name, and that each book have its own subtitle. For example:

Pulse of Evil: Book One: Confession
Pulse of Evil: Book Two: Surrender
Pulse of Evil: Book Three: Redemption

At least, that's what I pitched.

Again, still praying.

I promise once a contract is signed, I will give you so much more information. For right now, know that I am hard at work trying to bring my next book to print. And know that the publisher considering my vampire tale is a quality press, with some extremely talented authors under them -- authors that I would love to be counted among, and some day be worthy to be alongside of!

Hey--thanks for listening. Enjoy the day! (In Rochester it is a sweltering 32 degrees and sunny!)

God bless,

Thomas Phillips

I meet a lot of people who, once they find out I write books ask, how in the world do you write a book? It baffles them.

If I am absolutely honest, most days, it baffles me.

I didn't start out writing novels. Not really. At fourteen, I wrote a horror novel about zombies trapping people inside a party house. I wrote that on an electric typewriter. Imagine.

But, at fourteen, I also wrote my first short story. It was about a busboy (working at a party house). It was published in the Cardinal Mooney High School magazine. I have a couple copies stored away, and right now the name of the publication escapes me.

From there I went on to write and sell short stories. Honed my skill as a writer, and slowly built a publishing portfolio.

I grew up with a reading disability. Hated reading. In 7th grade we read The Outsiders, by S.E. Hinton. That turned me around. After that I became an avid reader. I gobbled up books. I finished reading the other novels by Hinton (That Was Then This Is Now, Rumble Fish, Tex, Running Star), and then moved on to Stephen King, and Dean R. Koontz. Robin Cook and John Saul. Robert Parker and James Patterson. David Morrell and Joseph Wambaugh.

I had set a goal at fourteen, that by the time I turned 30 I would be a published novelist.

I worked on several book length stories. Most came in at around 50,000 words.

It was difficult making the transition from short-story writer to novelist. Whereas with a short story, you have between 1,000 and 5,000 words to tell your tale, a novel needs to be over 65,000 words.

When I was 29, I'd completed and submitted the manuscript of Mind Play, to more than 100 publishers and agents. And I'd received back as many rejections. Or so I'd thought.

Feeling a bit discouraged and like a failure, I accepted that I might not be cut out as a writer. I decided to quit. Step back. Re-assess my goals.

In the fall of 1999, I received a call from the publisher at Dry Bones Press. Jim Rankin. He said he'd been in a recent move and just came across my manuscript. Rankin explained that, over Sunday breakfast, he sat down and started reading Mind Play. He did not get up from the table until he'd finished the entire story. If it was still available, he'd like to publish it.

When I finished crying, I told him, yes. He could publish it.

Mind Play was released February 2000. That June, I turned 30.

While I still wrote and sold some short stories, my focus as a writer altered. I concentrated my efforts on novel-length works. In 2001, Tenth House was released by Dry Bones as well. Also in 2001, Third Ring was published by Barclay Books. And in 2002, Johnny Blade. In 2003, I got my first contract for a hardcover novel from Quiet Storm Publishing, and a deal for a Middle Grade reader series. Adverse Impact was a legal thriller. Hardcover. And Jay Walker: The Case of the Missing Action Figure, were both released that year.

(I wrote the Jay Walker book using the pen name, Grant R. Philips).

When I think about it, it has been a long, slow, but exciting career.

My first short story was published in 1984. My first novel in 2000. And here we are in 2009, and I'm still plugging away.

But the funny thing is, since 2003, I have not been able to write a short story.

So when I meet someone who writes short stories, I am baffled, and tend to ask them, how in the world do you write a short story?

It's all relative, isn't it?

Hey--have an awesome day and a wonderful and safe weekend!

God bless,

Thomas Phillips

It was time for me to take a seat on the set next to the two hosts that would be interviewing me, Kelly Morgan and Stefan Radelich. After the assistant producer clipped a mike to my sport coat, and attached the battery to the back of my pants, I stepped onto the stage, and immediately felt the heat from the lights. (This might explain why, off stage, the place felt more like an igloo.)

While we were still on a commercial break, Larry used my digital camera to snap photos of me with the hosts.

I'd asked the assistant producer earlier where I was supposed to look during the interview. Just make eye contact with hosts? Look at the camera? Keep my eyes closed?

I was instructed to constantly look at Kelly and Stefan. Never at the camera.

Naturally, as soon as I got comfy in the leather chair, the mike battery unclipped off my pants.

Ten seconds left of the last commercial.

I fumbled with the clip and finally just left it behind me and hoped if I sat on it by accident, it wouldn't cut out sound.

Then we were live.

Kelly and Stefan spent the next twelve minutes asking me questions that ranged from my growing up with a reading disability, and hating to read, to Wicca, research and the plot for the Molech Prophecy.

Luckily, they were questions I'd answered a million times before. Being comfortable with the questions helped me relax, and focus. And before I knew it, the interview was ending. It was over.

After the taping of the show, and Larry headed off to the airport, I was given a tour of the studio. LeSea is an impressive facility with stations across the globe. I will not get into all I learned, but encourage you to read up on the history of this network. Before leaving I was given a DVD of the show which included my interview and was off to the airport.

So. It's 10:30 AM. My flight out of Indiana is at 3:28 PM.

I have a book with me, Charlie Huston's Six Bad Things. (I'd finished reading Every Last Drop on the flights down). But I was tired and if I read too much, I knew I'd fall asleep.

The plan was to get something to eat, hit the gift shops -- because I knew my kids would expect something on my return -- and walk the airport people watching, read and eventually board my flight.

Unfortunately, if you have never been to the South Bend Airport, there is only one sandwich shop, one gift shop. So I ate, bought some small gifts and walked the airport twice.

Now, it was close to 11:00.

Uh-huh.

So I sat by United Express and took my book out of my bag. My airline tickets were my bookmark. I studied them.

Departing South Bend: 3:28 PM
Arriving O'Hara Chicago: 3:25 PM

I looked at it again. Panic filled me. Someone messed up my tickets. How in the world could I leave at 3:28 and land three minutes earlier? Impossible!

I ran up to the United counter. I showed the woman at the ticket booth my tickets. "Someone made a mistake on my tickets!" I wanted this cleared up. I didn't want to be stranded anywhere. I knew I had plenty of time before my flight left -- but you never know.

The woman smiled at me in the way older people smile at kids who have done something cute. "That's because Chicago's in a different time zone."

"Well, yeah," I said. I needed to pull this off so I didn't look too stupid. "I just assumed the tickets would show a consistent time ..."

Didn't work.

"But if you want," she said. "We can get you to Chicago on a flight leaving in a half hour?"

I exchanged tickets and took an early flight to O'Hara. I figured, at least in Chicago airport (which is Huge, Rochester, Huge), I could people watch, roam around and read if I wanted with plenty of activity going on all around. My flight out of O'Hara to Rochester was scheduled to leave at 4:54 PM ... or would it be 3:54? To be honest, at this point, no clue. I just knew that, no matter what, I'd be there and ready ahead of schedule.

I landed in O'Hara and thought, hey -- maybe I could exchange my late flight for an earlier flight to Rochester. I wasn't going to hold my breath. But when I asked at the counter, I was told a flight was leaving for Rochester in two hours. I was told they'd transfer my suitcase to that flight and that I'd be all set --but to check before boarding to ensure my suitcase made it.

I wasn't getting on a plane without my suitcase in the belly of the beast. As it turns out, you can't anyway. I suppose that makes perfect sense, when you think about it.

A half hour before boarding time, I checked with the United employee to see if my bag had transferred successfully. It hadn't.

Great.

She said she'd check again in a half hour. She made some calls. Put some stuff into the computer about my bag and told me to have a seat. (I thought, whoever she called, and what ever she entered on her computer, wouldn't make a difference. Looking for a single rectangular shaped, black suitcase was hardly any one's priority...)

I was the last to stand to board. I asked the woman if she could double check on my bag. This time, I did hold my breath. I did not want to sit in an airport any longer, and just wanted to get home.

The bag had made it. It was on the plane. I was assigned a seat on the 737--No one sitting near, or even across from me -- and before I knew it, I was landing, safely, back in Rochester.

Overall, the experience had been awesome. I love to travel. Had never been to Indiana (or Chicago, lol), and had never been interviewed on a National TV show. If I never write again, if I never have anything new published ever again, I don't care. I really don't. I've been blessed time and again, and have done things others have only dreamed of doing.

Listen, thanks for reading this "The Harvest Show" series. Please stop back regularly, as I am committed to blogging on a much more regular basis!

If you haven't read The Molech Prophecy, it is in stores nationally, and can easily be ordered online!

Have a wonderful week!

Thomas Phillips
Author of The Molech Prophecy

I had a fitful sleep. Tossed. Turned. Folded the pillows, hugged them, threw them. It's tough sleeping in a strange bed in a strange city. It's tough, that is, until the alarm clock goes off. At that point, all I can think about is hitting the snooze.

I was up, showered and in the hotel lobby by seven. Too nervous to eat, I poured a cup of coffee and laced it with five bags of sugar and cream. The biscuits, sausage, scrambled eggs, pancakes, muffins and bacon all looked and smelled awesome. Eating before an interview, or even a book signing, is something I stopped doing long, long ago. Silly reasons, really. First, I always fear a piece of food will be wedged between my teeth and everyone will know about it but me. And the second reason, throwing up. I think I am a calm person, and talk easily, can strike up conversations with strangers without a problem, but on a full stomach -- that might make for a different story all together.

Anyway, the ride to LeSea Studio was great. I had the same driver. We picked up our conversation right where we'd left off. We talked about South Bend history, my writing, and his son who is currently serving in the Marines in Afghanistan and dreams of, when he returns, writing novels for a living. So as he let me off at the LeSea front door, I gave him a business card and said to have his son contact me when he returned.

Once I checked in with the receptionist at LeSea, I was led to the infamous "green room". It looked like a studio apartment. Sofas, chairs, dining room table, refrigerator, bathroom and --this is what set it apart from a studio apartment --a make up mirror. I helped myself to a bottled water and sat on the sofa and read the local newspaper, thankful I passed on breakfast. My stomach fluttered, flopped and flipped the longer I waited.

After reading the entire paper, the receptionist brought someone else into the green room. Larry Julian. He's a non-fiction author who was also going to be interviewed on the show. With about fifteen minutes left to kill, the two of us talked. We covered topics ranging from our writing, books, and where we lived, to Indiana, the show and keeping in touch. It was good not to be alone in the trenches. (A little too over dramatic? Uh-huh. Thought so).

Regardless. The hosts of the show appeared one by one, along with a producer and the man who applied make-up (to us all). A round of introductions were made and right after I wished everyone wore name tags, because I couldn't remember a single name. (For those of you who know me, you know nerves has nothing to do with it. I just am really--I mean really--bad at remembering names).

We followed the assistant producer, a very friendly, helpful man, to the studio where The Harvest Show is shot. It may have been colder in the studio than it was outside. Two of the three cameramen wore winter coats, hats, scarves and gloves. Think I'm kidding? I'm not. The tip of my nose went numb while watching the show, and a new worry came to mind. Forget food in my teeth, or blowing chunks --those fears were put to rest when I skipped breakfast. No. Now I was worried about dripping ... well, snot.

Larry Julian was to be interviewed first. He's a professional speaker. Does speaking engagements across the states on a regular basis. I watched him answer questions with such natural, flawless talent, I couldn't help but wish I'd gone first. Mr. Julian, poised and confident, was going to be one tough interview to follow.

When Julian's interview ended, and the show went to commercial, he came over. He looked nervous, as if talking with the hosts had been terribly difficult for him. Which shocked me. I told him how good he'd done, and he said he was going to stick around and watch my interview. Very supportive. I appreciated that. And then he asked if he could pray for me, seeing as my nervous were clearly getting the best of me. We prayed, and I felt a bit relieved. A bit.

(Want more about my trip to Indiana and interview on The Harvest Show ... tune in tomorrow for the next installment, The Harvest Show Part III).

Thomas Phillips

It was ... maybe a month ago when my publicist contacted me asking if I wanted to appear as a guest author on South Bend, Indiana's The Harvest Show. Apparently, the international show is available to (TV, Radio) over 43 million viewers/listeners across the globe. Without hesitating, I agreed.

On Monday, January 25, 2009, I took an early flight (United Express) out of Rochester, NY to, first, Chicago, and a second flight to South Bend. I love to fly. Not a big fan of flying in winter. Luckily blue, clear skies made up the forecast.

Once in South Bend, I contacted the hotel, The Inn at St. Mary's, where I'd spend the night, for a shuttle from the airport. The driver, a friendly man, shared information about the city as we passed through. He pointed out the Studebaker auto plant and explained that while it used to take up most of the city, recent efforts to tear down old, abandoned buildings was under way in an effort to clean up the overall appearance.

We passed through the small downtown quickly, as I was told that the St. Mary's was across the street from the University of Notre Dame. Unfortunately, it was five degrees outside. And as much as I'd of loved to stroll the campus, the cold was something I'd disliked just a bit more.

The room I stayed in was fantastic. King size bed, sofa, coffee table, desk with internet hookup, large TV with cable ...

But I was hungry. A lot of the places I called had been closed down. The failing economy evident everywhere. I bought Chinese, had it delivered. It was expensive, but I hoped worth it. Again, unfortunately, it was not worth it. The food did not taste good. When I opened the fortune cookie at the end of the meal, the fortune was all right, but -- you know how now they put words in Chinese and then in english on the slips of paper, and then phonetically, so you can learn Chinese words, as well as how to pronounce them? Well, my Chinese word was Beijing. Guess what Beijing is in English? Uh-huh. Beijing. And, you'll love this, it is pronounced the same. Go figure.

Anyway. I made some phone calls home. Let everyone know I was all right, and settled in to watch some TV before falling asleep. Luckily, a new episode of HOUSE and 24 were on. Both were gripping and entertaining episodes.

They kept my mind off the morning, when I had to be up at six, and over to Lesea Studios before 8:20 AM.

Eventually, around midnight, I fell asleep.

(to be continued ... Look for The Harvest Show (Pt. II )
Thomas Phillips,
Author of The Molech Prophecy

I know many writers that require dead silence when writing. The slightest noise becomes an immediate distraction. They'd rather sweat in heat and humidity instead of listening to the hum of an air conditioner; or write in a vacuum to prevent the rattle of basement pipes from breaking a train of thought; or lock themselves in the attic if it will muffle the laughter of children playing outside from reaching their ears ...

And, I know other writers who will allow classical music -- as if trapped in an elevator -- to softly spill from tiny stereo speakers, a stereo kept in some other room, so that the sound just barely reaches the ears ... but is there. Still present. Ever so soothing.

Then, well, then there is me.

I can't write at home. Or rarely. Writing at home, regularly, is a distraction. The fridge is too close. The TV--right there. The bed--and the thought of a quick nap--too tempting.

No. When I write, it's in a public place. A loud place. A crowded place.

I saw an episode of Family Guy once. And in one of the (endless) flashbacks, it showed two guys in a Starbucks -- laptops open. One guy says, "Everyone look at me. I'm writing. I'm a writer..." And the other guy, says something along the lines of, "I need to let everyone see I'm writing...."

Yeah. I laughed. It was funny. I saw me in them. I do not write in public to "show off". I write in public because it inspires. I am a people watcher. A people studier. And as much as I enjoy listening to snipits of conversations as they take place around me ... I write best when I am listening to music.

There are really only two places where you can find me writing. At the Starbucks in Barnes & Noble in Greece Ridge Mall, or at Cafe Amenity on Ridge Road. I buy my coffee--what's that? Oh--yes, I like to buy a ... don't laugh ... iced vanila-flavored coffee with cream and heavy sugar. Heavy sugar. When you think enough sugar has been added. Add a ton more ...

Anyway, I sit with my coffee, turn on the laptop and --here's the important part-- pull out my Ipod and earbuds. While the computer boots up, I get the music started. When I write, I write with the music loud. My feet tap. My knees bounce. I sometimes sing along (tragic as that may be for those around me).

What happens is, the style of song I am listening to inspires the tempo and tone of my writing. Something fast, and hard has me typing fast and furious. The thoughts pouring from my brain quicker than my fingers can transpose them onto the LED screen. When a softer, slower song comes on, my brain down-shifts. My words are more articulate and timed, more careful and exact.

If my Ipod battery dies -- I'm done writing for the day. And if the battery was fully charged when I walked in -- and it still died, well then I must have had one heck of a productive day.

The art of writing is about your classic Three-Ds. Drive. Dedication. Devotion. Whether you write in the morning, at night, with music or in complete solitude -- I guess every writer needs to find what works best for them. The important thing is, if you have a story to tell, tell it. Without music, who knows, maybe I'd never have become a published author ...

What can you find on my Ipod?

Jars of Clay
Jeremy Camp
Fuel
3 Doors Down
Hawk Nelson
Casting Crowns
Goo Goo Dolls
Garth Brooks
Randy Travis
Avril Lavigne
Chris Tomlin
Kutless
Switchfoot
Todd Agnew
Tesla
The Fray
Chris Doughtry
Counting Crows

Thomas Phillips
Author of, The Molech Prophecy

My name is Thomas Phillips.  My first Christian fiction mystery novel, The Molech Prophecy, was released July 1, 2008 (Whitaker House).

 

You see, recently I held two book signings in Buffalo, NY.  At the first event, two women came up to learn more about my book.  As they read the back cover summary (provided below), I watched their facial expressions change.  The older woman told me she was offended and upset.  I asked why.  The women, it seems, were Wiccans.  The woman who was offended and upset said my book mocked and degraded her beliefs.  

 

Ironically, at the second signing (at a different store, in a different part of Buffalo), a couple approached the table where I was signing copies of my book.  They read the back cover summary of the book, and were smiling.  They wanted a book.  As I signed the copy, they explained that they were of the Wiccan faith, and looked forward to reading the book.

First, and foremost, my work is fiction.  It is meant as entertainment.  Can Christian messages be found throughout the story?  Yes.  Did I write the book set on mocking or degrading Wiccans?  Absolutely not.

 

I do not mind criticism – at least, not after someone has actually read the book.  If this is the case, I welcome it.  Good.  Bad.  Or indifferent. 

 

Had the women at the first signing tried the novel, I think they would have seen the obvious flaws of both faiths brought to light.  And realized the book is fiction.

 

In short, The Molech Prophecytells the story of a rogue Wiccan coven leader who takes desperate steps to ensure the fulfillment of an "ancient" prophecy.  (It is one "bad" guy running amok.  Nothing in the story indicates the entire faith is "bad," or "amok".

 

Is it more Hollywood-style story telling?  Sure.  It is.

The full back cover summary reads:

 

"Former gang member Tommy Cucinelle thought he had left his old life behind when he became a Christian.  That's why he's surprised when his pastor asks him to use his old "skills"--finding people who don't want to be found--to locate the church secretary after she mysteriously disappears and the church is vandalized.  The police don't have any leads. 

 

Tommy's investigation brings him face-to-face with the unpleasant memories from the past that threaten his new identity, but turmoil is soon the least of his worries.  A local Wiccan church is at the heart of the mystery, and Tommy's search uncovers a startling prophecy about child sacrifice to the pagan god Molech.  When the missing woman's sister--Tommy's newfound romantic interest--disappears as well, the quest becomes personal."

 

The last thing I want is to alienate anyone.  That is not my intent, or purpose as a writer.  The goal is to write and sell books that people will read and talk about and hopefully, enjoy.  Pretty simple.

 

So why am I writing this?  To be honest, I'm not exactly sure.  I guess I want to spread the word that my book is FICTION.  It is meant to entertain.  As factual as I tried to make things, I am sure there are key-point flaws that can be found within the pages, but that, overall, I was merely trying to put out a thriller, full of excitement and action.  Have I succeeded?  Still too early to tell.

 

Anyway—thank you for listening to me rant.  I appreciate it.

Hosted By: Thomas Phillips
When: Friday Jul 11, 2008
at 7:00 PM
Where: Barnes & Noble
330 Greece Ridge Center Drive
Rochester, NY 14626
United States
Description:
Thomas Phillips

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