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Happy Thanksgiving, my readers! Enjoy your blessings from God and your turkey from the store!


See you next week!

J. Dean

Greetings, Bearers!

So there I was last night, running up to a car parts store, and I happened to see something that brought out a laugh in me.  So, in deference to J.J. Abrams’ upcoming Star Wars film (which, btw, I have been trying to avoid any information about like the plague so as to keep it a surprise), I give you my homemade meme based upon my adventures from last night.

Enjoy, and see you in the Vein!
J. Dean



Greetings, Bearers!

No, I have not been quiet all this time due to grieving over football (believe me, Michigan is now 8-2, far beyond what we were supposed to be by anybody’s standards, and I’m taking a little comfort…and maybe JUST A LITTLE bit of revenge from Michigan State’s game against Nebraska ;) ).  But I have been writing, and I have been editing, and I have been trying to be as productive as possible, as well as trying to submit at least one story via print to a publishing company/house and also preparing for RadCon.  So I have not forgotten you, my loyal readers and occasional blog visitors.

And as a reward for your patience, I’d like to send you a little bit from the sixth book of the Vein series, which I’m currently writing, called The Summoning of Kainyn.  Read and enjoy!

See you in the Vein!
J. Dean






We congregate within the throng in order to hide from the wicked specter of Loneliness.  Yet even here, amongst friends and lovers, she seeks us, she finds us, and she never leaves us alone.

-Tamoth of House Taskaber,

“A Study of the Soul”


He ran as fast as he could.

Branches and thickets struck him, grabbed at him, did their best to hinder him, but he fought through each one.  Further and further into the dark forest he ran, dodging left and right, driving through branches.  When a tree trunk loomed before him, he sidestepped it.  So fast were his paw-fashioned feet that he felt as if he were flying.  If only he could do such a thing.

He knew it wasn’t real, that it was only a dream—a dream of a memory.  Yet that did nothing to alleviate the terror in his heart.  Because he had to run.  Or he would die.

A distant echo of logic ridiculed him, told him to simply stop and wake up.  This had already happened.  The script had already been written and followed.  There was no reason to harbor this fear within him.  Yes, he understood that.  But as he was rehearsing the memory through this unconscious state, he had to do so with every detail, and that meant taking upon himself the terror he had experienced that night.  That made no sense, but he did not care at the moment.

Ahead of him, illuminated with torchlight and a soft, surreal tint of sky, loomed the familiar sight of the castle wall.  He had arrived: good. Soon all would happen as he remembered.  Father would rise up from the other side of the wall, a frantic expression fading into relief as his eyes fell upon the young form of his firstborn son.  The relief would melt into concern as a breathless string of words exploded from the mouth of the running lad, informing Father of what came after him.  With a graceful motion, Father would jump the wall, warblade in hand, and urge his son to make his way toward the main gate while he would deal with it.  A savior as grand and mighty as any of the great heroes of lore, that’s who Father was.  A stern disciplinarian too, although it would be the last time that the foolish son would ever do something so idiotic as take an unescorted stroll through the Amber Forest ever again.  No switch to his backside would be necessary this time. 

But it would probably come anyway.

He made it to the wall.  Furry hands connected with the smoothed surfaces of the groove-locked stone.  Father should appear at the top any moment.

Father did not appear.

Father?  Father?  Where are you, Father!?

He tried to speak the words, but only silence spilled from his mouth.  No, this wasn’t right, he reasoned.  Father should be here: that great, shaggy mane of greying brown hair, made coarse by old age and countless battles.  He was supposed to rise up, hear the cry of his child and rescue him in a daring act of salvation. 

But Father was nowhere to be found.

He tried to cry out again, scream at the top of his lungs.  The word hung in his head, but failed to register in his ears.  It was as if he had no mouth.  Yet he must scream, or he would die.

Behind him came a familiar sound, the thumping, plodding sound of the monster that followed him.  He knew it by sight; even though he had only glimpsed it during his excursion into the forbidden layout of the Amber Forest, its image had been burned into him.  Tall, dark, hairless, with a limber build.  A pair of burning blue orbs that served as eyes.  Compacted legs that allowed it to spring into the air and upon the sturdy branches of the trees with a single leap.  For all that mattered, it may as well have been able to fly. 

It was behind him, getting closer every moment.

And Father still did not appear.

Something slammed into the ground behind him.  He dared not turn around, dare not look into its face, that horrible expression of unblinking rage.  He didn’t want to see it, didn’t want to know what it had schemed to do with him, but based upon the dead carcass of the forge beast it had been near when he first encountered it, a couple of unpleasant guesses dared to flash through his head anyway.

Father? Where are you!?!?!

Heavy, fingered things slammed into either side of him, crushing him.


A thousand sharp blades pierced into his back…


With a scream, Kainyn awoke, springing from his mattress.  Claws swiped blindly into dark air, attempting to ward off the fading blur of the nightmare.  He caught himself after the third attack, realizing that his efforts were both futile and unnecessary.  With each passing moment, his pounding heart relented a little more, siphoning away a little bit of the panic that had filled him with each additional beat.

The familiar shadows of his sleeping quarters illuminated by a single, dim candle began to take shape: the script table, the thick, blocky form of the wooden battle armoire, the square, black hole of the window that revealed the dark landscape of the Amber Forest and the mountain range concealing the Dread Lands beyond.  He looked upon it all with desperation, pleading that this was reality, and not the fading phantasm.  A look at the wall to his right revealed a comforting sight: the family paladin displaying the colors of deep blue and dull maze, as useful a shield as it was a decoration.  Crisscrossed beneath it were the two squire blades, resembling the warblades in their construction: long, cylindrical shafts protruding from guarded handles, with razor-sharp tips measuring the length and width of Kainyn’s own hand at their ends.  And though the weapons did not possess the energy capabilities of true Fyryn warblades, they served their purposes well enough in combat.  The sight of the cutting instruments brought some relief to the Fyryn youth; he knew well enough how to handle them, and could cut through any nightmare in a single, swift stroke.

A frantic series of booms came against the door, followed by an explosion of light as it opened.  Two feline-like bipeds stood there, one considerably taller than the other.  The shorter one held a liquid lamp in her hand, casting a comforting glow upon her crimson-stained face.

“Kainyn?” she asked.  “Are you alright?”

“Y—Yes, mother,” Kainyn replied, nodding.  “A bad dream, nothing more.”

“Are you sure, son?” asked the taller Fyryn.  Even with low volume, the voice seemed to boom through the room. “Do you require anything?  Food or drink, perhaps?”

“No, Father.  Thank you.”

The two inspecting Beings looked at each other, then back at him.  “Very well,” said Father.  “We’ll be taking leave to our chambers, if you need nothing else.”

“Would you like us to post Eravin outside your room?” Mother offered.  “He can assist you if you require anything else.”

Kainyn shook his head.  The old family servant would scale a mountain if Father and Mother ordered it, as much from love as from duty, but he needed his rest more than anything else, as he was far into his twilight years.  “I’ll be good,” he replied.  “Let Eravin have his rest.  If I require anything, I’m fully capable of rising and asking, if need be.”

Mother gave him a concerned twitch.  “He’ll be fine,” Father whispered, laying a paw-hand upon her shoulder.  “Let us return to our sleep, my dear.  We’ve much to do for tomorrow.”

The two wished him good sleep for the rest of the night.

A moment later, the closing door swallowed the room in darkness again, save for the patch of light provided by Kainyn’s candle.  With reluctance, he returned to his bed and settled in, curling his body into a position not unlike the forms taken by newborn kits when nestled against their mothers.

He looked around the room one more time, searching the shadows of the room for burning eyes staring back at him.  None did.  Fatigue settled upon him again.  He gave in.

He did not dream.

Greetings, Bearers,

I’m taking a break from writing to remind everybody that I am a football fan.  And I’m a Michigan football fan, who was basically turned into a Michigan football fan because of exposure to Michigan State football fans in my youth.

So if you watched today’s game, you know why I’m feeling a bit down right now.

On the plus side, we played great.  Dominated a team we were not supposed to dominate.  Harbaugh outcoached Dantonio.  Our defense kept the almighty Connor Cook on his heels, and despite a couple of really bogus ref calls (one which cost Joe Bolden an ejection, even though the replay clearly shows that he was pushed into the QB), we held a lead against a top 10 team that (according to some “experts”) was supposed to come into the Big House and kick our tails up and down the field. Yet despite that, we held the lead, right up to the last ten seconds.

And then our punter forgot how to field the snap.


Let me finish this with three observations.  First, life does not revolve around football.  There are other things in life that are far more important.  In the end, this game, like all other football games, pales in comparison to things far more important and far more crucial.   I know people who have been in serious accidents and I also know people who are wrestling with disease.  Whether the Wolverines or the Spartans win is far less important than prayer and concern for their health.

Now, having said that, let me say this for my second point: even in defeat, you can take pride in your team.  Yes, I know that the diehard fans of sports claim that there are no “moral victories,” but I respectfully disagree.  My Wolverines outmatched and outmaneuvered the Spartans for every moment of the game, save for the bad call at the end, and that’s a good thing to see.  This team, only 5-7 last year, is now 5-2, and I’m fairly confident that we’ll make more wins before the end of the season.  In fact, I’m pretty positive it will happen.

And the third point: to the Spartan fans out there, congratulations.  Regardless of how it happened, it’s a W in your column.  But it’s also fair and accurate to say that the better team did not win that game tonight.  Your win happened because of a Michigan misstep and nothing more.  So feel free to celebrate, but know that your win was given to you.

Okay, that’s enough for me to say.  I’m still writing and working.  In fact, I’m pretty sure my next villain will have attended college in East Lansing :D

See you in the Vein!
J. Dean



Greetings, Bearers!

So I’ve been planning on getting things ready for at least two potential releases, and then it happened.

My mouse died.

I have a Mac. I have used a Mac wireless mouse that came with that Mac for not quite four years. I loved that mouse.

And then it died on me. :(

And while I do know how to do some key commands, I didn’t know all of them, which added to my frustration. PLUS… on top of that, I’ve been going back to school (I’m also a teacher, for those who didn’t know) in order to get ready, which has also been an obstacle to my writing and editing.

Soooooo… finally today I get a new mouse. With a USB cord. Maybe I’ll get myself another wireless mouse in the future, but to now, I’m fine with being tied down (literally) to the computer like this. Not like I need to type from the other side of the room or anything, not yet at least.

And, I can finally show off my profile HERE on the RadCon site, under the “Rising Author Guest of Honor”. I’m quite pleased, and will be there on Saturday and Sunday, on the dates indicated. Count me as happy.

BTW, if my picture happens to break your screen, you have my sympathies ;)

So anyway, I’ll get back to the work, get back to hoping my Michigan Wolverines keep improving (that game against Utah was good, but I don’t just want “good,” I want wins in khakis). Keep an eye out for more information!

And once again, a heartfelt thank you to recent purchasers of my books and stories. If you like what you’ve read, tell somebody else about it!

Okay, back to work, and back to my mouse. With a USB cord. Batteries not included.

See you in the Vein!

J. Dean

Greetings Bearers!

As somebody who is deeply in love with the games Ico and Shadow of the Colossus (with the latter being part of the inspiration for the Vein series), I thought it fitting to put together a sketched theory of how the two games are linked (If you know anything about the games, you know what I’m talking about. If not, I strongly recommend checking these games out. Quite fun and rewarding!).

Anyway, the theory document is attached in PDF to this entry. Look below and Enjoy!

See you in the Vein!
J. Dean

SotC theories

Greetings, Bearers!

Yes, July came and went without any post from me (though without any lost fingers due to firework accidents), and while I do regret that sincerely, I am happy to say that I have now completed writing my fifth novel in the Vein series, and am well on my way to getting the fourth one completed as far as editing goes, and the third installation in my Surrealities series is on its way to being published.

My intended timetable for putting out the fourth Vein novel and the third Surrealities installment is early September, and God willing it’ll be a timetable that goes without interruption (pause for skeptical laugh). The writing has been progressing well, and those of you who have been patiently waiting will soon be rewarded for your anticipation.

In the meantime, summer is in swing for (officially) another month and a half: make sure you get out there and enjoy it. Except for you bums in states like California and Florida, who complain when the weather gets below sixty-five and put on fleeces and jackets (HA! We’re all in tank tops and bare feet in such weather in Michigan, and if you’d like to swap places with me for say, thirty years or so, I’d be happy to trade!)

Before I sign off, I want to extend a hearty welcome and thanks to first-time purchasers of my works! I hope you’re enjoying them and telling others about them! Feel free to drop me a line if you have any questions! I’ll get back to you soon! Promise.

See you all in the Vein, and soon!

J. Dean

Greetings, Bearers!

While in the middle of drowning myself in a great many writing projects (yes, but it’s a GOOD drowning… :D ), I wanted to throw out to you guys a reminder that I’m going to be appearing at the RadCon in Washington state next February. As this is my first convention appearance, I’m looking forward to this with bated breath!

If you’re a fan who plans to attend RadCon and would like to introduce yourself, please feel free to come on out and say hi! I’d love to meet you! So come on out and get your selfie taken with me (hopefully my face won’t break your smartphone :) ).

Okay, back to writing. I’ve got a great many things on my plate, and I’m loving them all. It’s official: I’m a writeaholic… if there is such a thing.

See you in the Vein!

J. Dean

Greetings, Bearers!

No, I’ve not died, I’ve not retired, and I’ve certainly not been abducted by aliens (although the government comes darn close to earning that one). I’ve been busy writing, editing, and finishing up the school year. I’ll be back soon with some more stuff, hopefully before the end of the month (Of course, this depends upon whether or not my wonderful daughter decides to give me back my laptop, which has the next pair of stories for Surrealities 3 almost ready).

So don’t worry, I’m still here. Make sure you check out my work if you’ve not already done so. If you have, I give you a big thank you and hope you’re enjoying it. Tell others about it if you liked it.

Okay, back to business. Don’t wait up too late for me!

See you in the Vein!
J. Dean


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