Thursday, September 21, 2017

The Walking Man Hits 20K Words

I crossed the 20,000 word mark on The Walking Man. It's looking like it might end up around 30K. I'm having a blast writing the finale. This is my first horror title in a while. The next one will be horror, as well. I'll likely alternate a few horror titles with some thrillers/crime stories.

I saw IT for the second time last weekend. Loved it even more the second time around. The film captured the spirit of The Losers' Club and the kid who played Richie Tozeir killed it. The new Pennywise was creepy as hell. There were also some nice touches, like Georgie's Lego turtle, Bill's Tracker Brothers t-shirt, and the 1990 Pennywise head in the clown room. I can't wait for the second movie.

I also have a book signing coming up. More details to come.

Friday, September 15, 2017

Die Trying by Anthony Izzo Now Available

My latest thriller, Die Trying, is now available.


John Regal doesn't know what to make of the strange auras he sees around people. He's developed a knack for spotting bad people and stopping crimes as they're about to happen.

John soon discovers he's not the only one with strange abilities. A killer with ties to John also sees auras around his victims.

As the link to the killer becomes clearer and John's strange ability intestifies, he will have to unravel the mystery of his new talents. Two competing government agencies want to make John a weapon. As he soon finds out, John is in danger from both the killer and those who want to study him.

$4.99 on all e-book platforms. Links below.




Kindle

Kobo 

Nook


Sunday, August 20, 2017

Read an Excerpt from The Walking Man

Thought I'd share a snippet of The Walking Man. To put it in context, Regina, the mom, is trying to track down her teenage sons. A killer is preying on people in the town. They've missed their curfew and she's grown worried.



The road out to the powerhouse sent a chill through her. Dark as a closet, there was trash strewn at the sides of the road. The road hadn’t been used on a regular basis since the power company was in operation back in the 50’s.
Every few years the town council had a meeting to discuss funding for demolishing the powerhouse. The cost, with asbestos and environmental cleanup, was always deemed too high. So it still stood.
Regina came to the weedy lot where employees once parked. Looking at the powerhouse, she reflected that if Dracula had designed a power plant, it would look like this. There were weird gargoyle-looking statues jutting from the upper stories. Lots of shadowy arches and ornate designs in the concrete. She thought the place dated back to the late 1800's.
The stacks were so high you had to crane your neck to see the very top. She wanted to get the boys and go home.
She pulled the Kia up to the edge of the lot. Beyond the lot was packed dirt. As she got out of the car, she saw their bikes lying on the ground. Regina ducked back in the Kia and grabbed a mini flashlight from the glove box.
After popping on the beam, she approached the bikes, stepping over broken glass and a used condom. She really needed to rethink giving them so much freedom.
“Tim! Brian! You here? You’re both in trouble!” she called.
No response.
Regina moved toward the entrance. Something went sploosh under her foot, the ground wet. She shined the beam on it.
Please don’t let that be blood.

Monday, August 14, 2017

Draft of Die Trying is Done

I finished up the draft of Die Trying, my 18th novel. It's around 52,000 words and ready for the proofreader. I'm also working on a horror novella called The Walking Man. Cover art for Die Trying below.


Tuesday, June 27, 2017

The Novel Continues

The current draft of Die Trying is around 45,000 words. I'm guessing the final version will clock in between 50-60K words.

Writing this post while watching America's Got Talent with the family.

Got in a 15-minute kettlebell workout after dinner.

Currently reading: End of Watch by Stephen King

Also, I have an article with some writing tips up at the SFWA blog: http://bit.ly/2sOrIp6

Monday, May 29, 2017

Why Expectations Are The Writer's Worst Enemy (And What To Do Instead)

Expectations: The Writer’s Worst Enemy

Next to not writing, expectations can be a writer’s worst enemy. If for no other reason than a writer has no control over expectations. What do I mean?

You’ve written a book, put it through its paces with revisions and editing, and now it’s ready for public consumption. Here’s how expectations can trip us up:


If you’re indie publishing it, expecting to sell hundreds (or more) copies in a day, week, or month.

Expecting a publisher to give you a large advance and tons of promotion.

If you’re submitting to an agent, expecting them to take you on and get a huge book deal.

Expecting all of your family and friends to be supportive of your writing dream.


After I sold my first novel to Pinnacle, a well-known agent took me on. I was excited. This was it. He negotiated my next two books with Pinnacle. After that, I was sure a deal with one of the big five (at the time) publishers awaited. I decided to switch genres and write a crime novel. The book just didn’t work, even after I cut the thing in half and revised the hell out of it. I was expecting the book to sell. Eventually, I parted ways with the agent and went indie.

Instead of focusing on what you expect in a writing career, look at what you can control. Set some measurable goals for yourself, such as:


  • Reading one book on writing craft a week
  • Reading two books per month in your genre and studying the author’s techniques
  • Writing X amount of words per day
  • Blogging a certain number of times per week
  • Sending out two short stories per month to different markets



There are tons of other goals you can set for yourself as a writer. Make these your focus, do the work, and results will come.

Sunday, May 07, 2017

Read an Excerpt From Die Trying, My Latest Thriller

I thought I'd share a snipped of my work-in-progress, Die Trying.

John Regal is a man with the unique ability to spot dangerous people. They carry a dark aura around them. In this scene, a government agency seeking to study John sends an agent out to capture him.

Uncorrected copy from Die Trying
Copyright 2017 Anthony Izzo

He drove home and approached the house. The house was dark. He watched it for a moment, weary. Did someone move behind the front window? He had the gun.
He pulled into the driveway and got out. Went to the front door and opened it with his key. Darkness greeted him. He could’ve sworn he’d left a light on.
John flipped the switch. He smelled someone. Cigarettes. John didn’t smoke. He pulled out the Beretta, crept through the living room.
He passed through the dining room. As he entered the kitchen, he felt someone bearing down him. He turned and swung, fist smacking someone’s jaw. He stumbled across the kitchen.
When he turned, he saw a guy in shades and a leather jacket staring him down. John raised the gun. The guy was quick, did this thing where he turned the gun towards John and then it was in the guy’s hand.
Before they guy could level the gun, John threw a right, popped the man in the nose. The guy countered, swept John’s legs from under him and he hit the floor, head smacking the tile.
Looking up at the guy now, whose nose bled. The gun in his face.
“Don’t move or I’ll hurt you,” the man said.
“Nice shades. You know it’s nighttime.”
The guy kicked him in the ribs. John curled into a ball.
“Anything else to say?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Get up. Slowly,” the man said.
John got to his feet, a hot blade in his ribs.
“Outside. My truck’s on the street.”
John went first and the guy followed, the gun on John.
“Now we don’t want any neighbors seeing the gun. Just know I can pull it in a hurry.”
“Are you with the woman? The Indian one?”
“Don’t worry about that.”
That was a yes in John’s mind. “What do you want with me?”
“Shut up and stop talking.”
“You’re the bad people I was warned about,” John said.
“I’m the person that’s going to shoot you in the leg if you don’t move.”
“You won’t though.”
“Move. I can think of other ways to dish out pain. See.”
The chop caught him in the Adam’s apple. His windpipe seemed to seal off. He gasped, clutched his throat.
“That was just a tap,” the man said. “Now move.”
John moved along, wheezing and gagging. After a moment, his windpipe opened back up. He coughed again. Spat.
He saw the car roll past. Got a glimpse of the woman in the vehicle.
Allie.
She spun the car around, gave it gas, and jumped the curb, coming right at them. John hit the deck, watched the car bear down on the man like a shark on a swimmer. The car launched him backwards, the gun catapulting through the air. His head smacked the ground.
John looked over at the car. The passenger’s side window rolled down.
“Don’t sit there looking pretty. Get in.”
John scooped up his Beretta. Lights came on in the houses across the street. Neighbors were going to be peeking out soon.
He flung open the door and threw himself in the car.
Allie spun it around and sped off.

The Walking Man Hits 20K Words

I crossed the 20,000 word mark on The Walking Man. It's looking like it might end up around 30K. I'm having a blast writing the fina...