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Greetings, Bearers!

No, I did not forget about my RadCon update, but I do apologize profusely for not making the update.  Between Real Life and switching internet plans, I’ve been a bit thrown off.  But I WILL do the update THIS coming week even if it kills me (And it just might).  Promise.

On a better note, I’ve been  cruising along well with the writing, and want to give a shout out to the MANY people who have made recent purchases of my works, particularly The Summoning of Clade Josso.  It’s always fun to see the first time reactions of the brave souls who venture into the Vein and see what kind of a world awaits them, a place unlike anything else they’ve ever experienced.  So thank you again, and I hope you enjoy the travels through the Vein!

Alright, getting back into gear here.  I will surface soon with more information.  Until then, write on and carry on!

See you in the Vein!

J. Dean

Very tired greetings, Bearers!

Back from RadCon and back to the daily grind (unfortunately I don’t mean writing when I say that at the moment).  I have stories and pics to share with you, and intend to do so later this week.  For the time being, however, I must subjugate myself to the rigors of work all on two hours and forty-five minutes of sleep (had a little delay on my flight home).  Rest assured, however, that sometime between now and Saturday I will catch up with that elusive sleep (hopefully not while driving) and can present you with a summary of the wonderful time I had at RadCon as a Guest of Honor.

In the meantime however, I’ll be giving zombies a run for their money in moaning and slow walking.

See you in the Vein!

J. Dean

Greetings, Bearers!

Yes!!!!!! It’s almost time for RadCon, and I hope to see many of your faces out there come February!  I’ve been busy making some last-minute preparations for the convention, so hopefully all will be set when I make my way out there on February 13th and 14th.

This is my first Con ever, and God willing it will lead to bigger and better things.  That I’m getting a chance at all to do this is a great honor for me, and I’m hoping that you who will be out there will have as much fun as I hope to in meeting people and talking about writing in the scifi/fantasy genre.

So with that, I will delve back into writing and working hard.  In the words of Willy Wonka, “The suspense is terrible!  I hope it lasts!”😀

See you at RadCon (and in the Vein)!

J. Dean

Greetings and Merry Christmas to you, Bearers!

As a special treat for all of you (and especially for those of you who have not yet purchased my works), I’d like to offer up all of my Vein novels as well as Alternate Endings on Smashwords for half off between today and January 25th!  Simply log in the coupon codes listed below for the works you’d like to purchase from Smashwords, and enjoy!

Well, back to enjoying Christmas for me.  Tonight I’m going to be seeing the new Star Wars movie for the first time, so I’m pumped about that.  Friends of mine (who are old enough to remember like I am) said it was like going back in time to see A New Hope as a kid all over again.  Needless to say, I’m geeked.

And I’m still trying to invent the lightsaber, too.😀

So look below, use the coupons, enjoy the stories, and pass them on to anybody who you think would be interested!

Hopefully, next year I’ll have some more new works ready for you to enjoy.  And for those out in the Seattle area, looking forward to meeting y0u at RadCon!

See you in the Vein!

J. Dean

Books and coupons

The Summoning of Clade Josso: TE44F

The Summoning of Old Velt: JM69S

The Summoning of Kran: JG34A

Alternate Endings: AF27N


Greetings, Bearers!

After many delays, I am pleased to announce that Surrealities part 3, my third installment in the Surrealities series, is now available for purchase on Smashwords! Check out the description below and enjoy!

See you in the Vein!

J. Dean

From the mind of storyteller J. Dean comes the “Surrealities,” short story series, a concept rooted in and inspired by weekly television serials such as The Twilight Zone, Night Gallery, and The Outer Limits, and classic radio serials such as Suspense, Dimension X, Lights Out, and other regular tales that take the imagination to the heights of exhilaration and the depths of fear.

In the short story “Sliver,” a woman preparing for an illicit meeting encounters a distraction requiring more than just a little medical attention. “Charity work” tells the tale of a college professor who stumbles upon a startling discovery while attending a benefit dinner.



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😀

See you in the Vein!
J. Dean