10 Essential Tools for Authors

 

10 Essential Tools Every Author Should Have

As an author, having the right tools can significantly enhance your writing process, productivity, and overall success. Whether you're a seasoned novelist, a budding poet, or a content creator, these tools can streamline your workflow and help bring your ideas to life. We all have our favorites, and while I have used most of these, only certain ones have become staples. Here are 10 essential tools every author should try:

1. Scrivener: Scrivener is a powerful writing tool that allows you to organize your thoughts, research, and drafts all in one place. With features like outlining, corkboard view, and distraction-free writing mode, Scrivener is invaluable for authors tackling long-form projects like novels or screenplays. Learn more about Scrivener

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3. Grammarly: Grammarly is an AI-powered writing assistant that helps you eliminate grammar, spelling, and punctuation errors. It also provides suggestions for improving clarity, tone, and style, making it an essential tool for polishing your prose. Learn more about Grammarly

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5. Evernote: Evernote is a versatile note-taking app that allows you to capture ideas, snippets of text, images, and web clippings. Its ability to sync across devices makes it perfect for jotting down inspiration on the go and keeping all your writing-related notes organized. Learn more about Evernote

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7. Hemingway Editor: Hemingway Editor is a writing tool that helps you improve the readability of your writing by highlighting complex sentences, passive voice, and adverbs. It's particularly useful for authors who want to create clear, concise prose that resonates with readers. Learn more about Hemingway Editor

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9. Google Docs: Google Docs is a cloud-based word processor that allows you to collaborate with other authors in real-time. Its intuitive interface and seamless integration with other Google Workspace apps make it a popular choice for writers who value collaboration and accessibility. Learn more about Google Docs

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11. Scrivener Scapple: Scapple is a mind-mapping tool developed by the creators of Scrivener. It allows you to brainstorm ideas, organize your thoughts, and make connections between different elements of your writing project. Whether you're outlining a plot or fleshing out characters, Scapple can help you visualize your ideas in a nonlinear format. Learn more about Scapple

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13. ProWritingAid: ProWritingAid is a comprehensive writing tool that offers grammar checking, style editing, and writing analysis. It provides in-depth reports on various aspects of your writing, including overused words, sentence structure, and readability, helping you identify areas for improvement. Learn more about ProWritingAid

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15. Trello: Trello is a project management tool that allows you to organize tasks, set deadlines, and track progress on your writing projects. Its kanban-style interface makes it easy to visualize your workflow and prioritize tasks, ensuring that you stay on track and meet your writing goals. Learn more about Trello

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17. Thesaurus.com: Thesaurus.com is an online thesaurus that helps you find synonyms and antonyms for words, allowing you to enrich your vocabulary and avoid repetition in your writing. Its extensive database of words and user-friendly interface make it a valuable resource for authors looking to add depth and nuance to their prose. Learn more about Thesaurus.com

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19. FocusWriter: FocusWriter is a distraction-free writing environment that helps you stay focused and productive. Its minimalist interface and customizable settings allow you to eliminate distractions and immerse yourself in your writing, making it easier to maintain momentum and achieve your writing goals. Learn more about FocusWriter

Having these essential tools at your disposal can make a world of difference in your writing journey. Whether you're drafting your first novel or polishing your latest masterpiece, these tools can help you write more efficiently, effectively, and creatively.

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Seaside Romance: Celebrating Walk in the Sand Day

Today, March 23, 2004 is National Walk In The Sand Day.  

The beaches await lovers, dreamers, and those who wander to where the earth meets the ocean. 

Discard your shoes and step barefoot and free onto the beach. Feel the warm sand caress the soles of your feet, tickle your heels, and slip through your toes. 

Slowly inhale the tangy scent of salt and seaweed. Taste the sea brine on your tongue as the cool wind dances through your hair. 

Hear the roar of the ocean as waves crash against the shore. Listen to the call of seagulls. Their long, soft-gray wings glide their feathered bodies, white as seafoam, across the azure blue sky. Diving and soaring above the water. 

Feel the stresses of life melt away as you walk in the sand. 

To bring more romance and magic to walking in the sand is my historical fantasy romance set in 1st century AD Ireland. It includes a spicy love scene on the beach alongside the Irish Sea. With a Celtic Woman Pirate Captain and the Roman Merchant she captured. 

Click Here, Timeless Voyage

TIMELESS VOYAGE

Neither centuries that have come and gone nor the seas between us can keep us apart.

As the Celtic pirate, Anwen, presses her hard iron dagger against the Roman's throat, memories of fated lovers, druids, and sacrifice, stay her hand.

Kaeso is captivated by dreams of the woman he loved in a previous life, the mirror image of Anwen. In this lifetime they are foes, Roman and Celt. 

Can Anwen and Kaeso steer their timeless voyage to a happy destiny or will they be robbed of love once more?

New in Audiobook

Did you know I have audiobooks?

 

It’s true. Several of my paranormal series are available in audiobook. You can find them at Audible or Tantor books.

 

Audible: https://www.audible.ca/author/N-J-Walters/B004WW37IO

Tantor: https://tantor.com/author/nj-walters.html

 

 

The latest release is Taming the White Wolf, book one of the Lone Wolf Legacy series.

 

Taming the White Wolf

Lone Wolf Legacy Book 1

 

The lone wolf answers to no alpha or pack. From his first transformation, he knows his destiny: to be both judge and executioner for rogue werewolves. Welcome to the spellbinding first book in New York Times bestselling author N. J. Walters intense new werewolf series.

 

White wolf Devlin Moore has spent nearly the last century following his destiny: hunting rogue werewolves. His fate is to be the only one of his kind-hardened, feared, and brutally ruthless. Only now, Devlin's not alone. There are two others. And if that wasn't unsettling enough, Devlin is drawn to New York City for what appears to be a human . . .

 

As far as Devlin can tell, vibrant artist Zoe Galvani is no threat. But there's something about her—from her unusual eyes that look similar to the same shocking hue as his own, to his growing need to mark her as his that suggests magical forces may be at play.

 

Now there's no escaping each other, or the attraction that grows stronger by the second. But no one, especially a human woman, should have this effect on a lone wolf. And just when he's sure that having her could be his undoing . . . the truth steps out of the shadows.

 

Tantor Media: https://tantor.com/taming-the-white-wolf-nj-walters.html

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CWLTWY5D/

 

 

Legacy Series

 

Love comes howling when you least expect it.

https://tantor.com/series/legacy-series.html

 

 

Salvation Pack Series

 

Dangerous, deadly, and loyal--when these big, bad wolves find their mates, they'll do anything to protect them. Fall in love with the Salvation Pack today,

https://tantor.com/series/legacy-series.html

  

N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, assassins, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.

                   

Visit me at:

Website: http://www.njwalters.com

Blog: http://www.njwalters.blogspot.com

Newsletter Sign Up: http://eepurl.com/gdblg5

Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/N.J.WaltersAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/njwaltersauthor

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/NJWalters

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/njwalters

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/n-j-walters

 The ides of March? I can never remember if that's the fifth or the fifteenth. Apparently it's the 15th. It sounds so foreboding but it seems to just be that day in the month and it's not just March! It's also the ides of May, July or October...and the 13th of the rest of the month. I suppose the foreboding comes with "Beware" in Shakespeare's "Beware the ides of March" which refers to when Caesar was assassinated. That was also the day debts were settled in ancient Rome. I live in New England and settling of debts was done on January 1st around here.

Isn't it funny how platitudes are born? My sister once barked at me about my "pocket platitudes" which I took as a compliment since I had quite a few of them. When we learn later that we have the terms wrong or are using it wrong or it doesn't mean what we think it means, we just have to shrug. Life is too short to worry about such things.

What's your favorite saying? Did you ever learn you had it wrong?

Click here to purchase your copy today!

Mayhem's Making Another Stop

Hey all, AK Nevermore here. This month I've got another Maw of Mayhem MC book that's just been released to add to my erotic paranormal MC series. I hope you enjoy the excerpt, Darker gets pretty crazy! 

And if you end up wanting more, you can download a bunch of free goodies, including the prequel, The Maw of Mayhem. Link's at the bottom of this post!

Play games with a cat, and you're bound to get scratched...

So much for sanctuary. Kit Parson doesn’t feel any safer than she was before she first stepped into the Maw of Mayhem, and things are going from bad to worse. Something big is definitely going down in the paranormal community… and inside of Kit. Now that her inner beast has awoken, all it wants is out. The only thing Kit wants is Grim, but he’s got issues of his own.

Fingered for a crime he didn’t commit, and injured by the witch’s spell, his cat Darke has control of their form. He doesn’t play well with others, and tensions with the crew are at an all time high.

Especially after discovering the witches’ elite assassins are on their trail. Can Darke and the crew put aside their differences to keep Kit safe and get back to the MC? If they don’t, with the clock ticking toward the vote, and Grim’s reputation in shambles, there may not be an MC to go back to.

Excerpt:

Shades of the past tore through the consciousness Darke shared with his man, threatening to swallow Grim whole. He fought against their poisoned bite, but the witch’s spell had weakened the big cat’s skin-brother and freed the memories from their fetters. They lashed at Grim with inky black tentacles of torment. His agonized screams rose within the crescendoing squall, raging through their split psyche. A growl welled in Darke’s chest, ruff bristling at their assault.

-- Mine! -- he snarled, lunging into the fray. Sharp claws and teeth rent the shadowed memories of the bad time from his man, scattering them back into the depths of their mind. Grim was his. Him. A self separate, yet one. His skin-brother. Darke nuzzled him close, tongue rasping over Grim’s flickering light.

-- heal --

Kit… his man whimpered, curling into a ball. His light dimmed, giving up control of their form to the big cat.

-- ours -- Darke rumbled, shifting their body and sending Grim what strength he could. Fur sprouted, limbs cracking and reforming. Two legs became four, and a tawny gray mountain lion lay sprawled on the bed where the others had lain his man to recover.

Within, his skin-brother’s light strengthened, its low glow holding steady.

Darke ran a paw over his face, licking at his pad. He sneezed at the scent of old blood, the room thick with the patina of its tang and the decaying musk of the undead. A low growl rumbled in his chest, his pupils dilating to take in the room’s blend of muted color.

Heavy furniture dominated the space, its angles stark amidst the gloom. Tendrils of scent threaded through the room, age and linseed seeping from the wood to twine with the rest of the civilized rot assaulting his nose. He pushed off the bed, padding across the thick carpet. His shadow grayed the fingers of scant moonlight streaming in from long, amber-tinted windows.

Darke paused, his lip curling over his canines, disdainfully eyeing the city spread out below him before turning his face to the bulbous moon.

Had Grim’s female changed and released her animal?

Clay’s cat had promised Darke a mate. Teased him with her scent, captured within the weft of the afghan on Grim’s bed. The desperate longing it evoked proved the connection. The tip of Darke’s tail twitched. He’d trusted it would be so. Waited for so long. Too long. Kit’s scent matched the afghan’s. That meant the beast within her was his.

Darke chuffed his frustration. Sensing his mate without being able to claim her was torture. He paced the breadth of the room, eyes narrowed at the heavy oaken door leading out. Beyond it, faint voices pricked at his ears. Part of his skin-brother’s pride was near. His crew. Darke growled at the snippets of the MC’s inner cats’ near-unintelligible murmuring punctuating the two-legged babble. That he could understand the crew’s stupid yapping better than his own brethren’s yowls irked.

A pang of loneliness shot through Darke’s chest. He missed Clay. When his father’s inner lion had spoken, his deep rumble was clarion. The lynxes out there? Yowls and hissing. Darke could pick out maybe one hard-won word in six, and they couldn’t understand him at all. It had been the same with his littermates, Grapple and Shiv, leaving Darke to rely on instinct when forced to interact.

It got him into trouble. Lynxes were shady and the two-leggers lied. Said things they didn’t mean, then hurt you. Clay had been different, but he was dead while his murderer walked free.

Reaper.

Darke shivered, ears flicking back, remembering the bad time. The man who called himself their uncle needed to die, and Grapple and Shiv with him.

Darke’s temper spiked, his tail swishing. Keenly feeling the loss locked within his mind again, in this stinking place of undead. His skin-brother shared his sorrow at their father’s murder, but not Darke’s isolation.

And now Grim had left him, too.

Darke shouldered through another door into a smaller room lined with tile. It smelled faintly of excrement and strongly of fabricated pine, the water in the bowl stale and chemical-laced. Darke shook droplets from his maw and chuffed his distaste, returning to the window.

Soft footfalls approached from the beyond the oaken door.

Darke slunk into the deep shadow of an armoire as the heavy slab canted open, then closed. Kit limped to the center of the room, favoring a leg. Her arm was splinted, the opposite hand bandaged in gauze. A ruddy stain marred its whiteness. She wrapped her damaged limbs around herself with a low sob, the scent of fresh blood perfuming the air as she moved. Darke’s nostrils flared at that thread of wrongness twining within the delicate tendrils of citrus, cinnamon, and female musk.

His mate was presenting as wounded prey.

Darke bit back the growl building in his chest, fury pounding through his temples. His claws extended and retracted from the carpet’s thick pile. Healthy, she’d be a tempting prize for any predator. Injured… He was going to kill --

No. Darke’s ears flattened against his skull. His man would think before spilling blood.

But Grim thought too much.

Kit scanned the room, then dashed a hand across her face, stumbling to the bed. Her feet froze at its foot, head snapping toward the bathroom, then away. Another low sob eked from her throat, and Darke’s ruff stood on end. He would destroy them. Destroy them all. Starting with those who had failed to protect --

-- Hey! Boy Vengeance! You really just gonna let her think her think he’s gone? --

Darke jumped, fur bristling at the syrupy censure. He backed deeper into the shadows, eyes wide and pulse pounding.

-- Aww. Here puss, puss, puss… I don’t bite --

His lip curled over a canine, and a female’s mocking laughter flitted through his mind as clearly as the gravelly chuckle of Clay’s beast had. Darke’s heart leaped, his ears pricking forward, saliva pooling in his maw.

He could understand her.

The beast inside Kit, his promised mate -- when she spoke, her words were clear, and she wanted to play...

You can get your copy here: Darker

Want more? Download the prequel,  The Maw of Mayhem for free here: https://dl.bookfunnel.com/7mhr8w0xtd

and get your Bites of Mayhem here: https://aknevermore.com/bites-of-mayhem/

You can find out more about my books on my website, https://aknevermore.com/ or see what I'm up to on my sadly neglected socials:

Facebook    Twitter

Instagram   Tiktok

YouTube    Goodreads

BookBub     

AK Nevermore enjoys operating heavy machinery, freebases coffee, and gives up sarcasm for Lent every year. A Jane-of-all-trades, she’s a certified chef, restores antiques, and dabbles in beekeeping when she’s not reading voraciously or running down the dream in her beat-up camo Chucks.

Unable to ignore the voices in her head, and unwilling to become medicated, she writes Science Fiction and Fantasy full time. 

AK pays the bills writing a copious amount of copy, along with a column on SFF. She belongs to the Authors Guild, is an RWA chapter board member, volunteers for far too many committees, teaches creative writing, and on the rare occasion, sleeps.

Starting a New Project / Excerpt from Sudden Death

 

I admit I almost missed this month’s deadline due to real-life issues. Additionally, I have been trying to get into the mood for my next book in the Nick & Jacklyn series. Although I have written ten pages of notes, ideas, sentences, and even a few short scenes that will one day find their way into the story, I have not yet incorporated any of those sentences into the text. I’m unsure of how to begin and what kind of scene will attract readers to continue reading. Should I introduce a new character to create anticipation or stick with the three existing ones? The latter option would require reintroducing them to the reader or gradually revealing their relationship throughout the scene.

It feels as though my mind is trying to engage in creative thinking, but is unable to find the necessary tools to do so. If no progress is made, I’ll continue to gather ideas and create a timeline of the cases that the FBI will handle. I have found that I need a starting point to make sense of the plot and get it moving in the most effective way. Once I have that, the plot flows easily and I can complete the manuscript within three or four months.

One of my teachers once advised me to start a novel as if it were a short story - jumping right in, creating an explosion that catches the reader’s interest in a flash.

However, I have yet to experience that flash of inspiration.

The time will come when the story will flow (hopefully). For now, I would like to introduce you to an excerpt from a book that has already been written and published (thankfully).

 

The excerpt is from Sudden Death

You can only have fun if others let you.

 

The serial killer’s intention seems clear—murder as many hockey players as possible and cripple the teams.

The FBI team is hunting a ghostlike murderer who doesn’t leave any traces. But then the attempted murder of hockey star Wright changes the direction of the investigation.

Anderson Wright just wants to play hockey, but a criminal kidnaps and tries to kill him while he’s vacationing with his girlfriend in the Monongahela National Forest. He survives due to FBI Agent Nicolas Hayes’s courageous actions that save his life. The motive and the resources of the attempted murder remain a mystery.

While the team of FBI agents investigate, three young and talented hockey players are brutally killed, just as they were on the cusp of starting great careers. Public pressure on the agents mounts as all hockey players and their crews fear that the killer will strike again. Still, the murderer leaves the crime scenes without tangible clues to his identity.

On a private level, Nicolas faces his mistress’s growing demands for their love life and has to decide whether to follow her kinky wishes or deny her desires.

 

Excerpt

Though the arrogant bigot Brent Chaswick, a slightly overweight, half-bald and fully arrogant manager in his mid-fifties, could use a hundred-dollar bill to light his cigarette, he owned an old alarm system and neither cameras nor dogs to secure his overpriced property. Danny Jerulow needed ten minutes to get into the house, even though his hands were slightly trembling. He knew the floor plan. He had been here before. One time only, and the memory wasn’t a pleasant one, for his visit had not delivered the desired result.

In his snotty accent, Chaswick had claimed in words that nourished hope that he needed more time to convince his partners of Jerulow’s value for their team. In the end, Chaswick had told Danny that the choice had been made—but not in Danny’s favor. Chaswick, that damn liar, was a walking flowery word machine.

The verbose explanations for not having reached a decision in Danny’s favor and the hollow promise to call him again if the two team owners changed their minds added fuel to the already smoldering hatred Danny had developed against everyone with influence and money in the business. Everyone he spoke to failed to recognize Danny’s talent. They dropped him, neglected his qualities, and belittled his plea to give him a chance, mostly by stating that he did not show the virtue needed to be a top player. Other hockey players made careers, passed him by, went ahead with their lives, bathed in the limelight of success, and adorned the covers of sports magazines like freaking Hollywood stars.

Danny didn’t want to think about them now. Could not think about them. His trembling increased. He had to stay focused. Concentrated. He was here to show Chaswick that his dastardly behavior had consequences. Yes, really bad consequences.

The word had an enormous impact.

Consequences. Danny shivered, though it was pleasantly warm in the big kitchen. Breathing deeply, Danny dropped the thought of the word’s origin and went to work.

Chaswick had claimed that the interior of the kitchen looked like it was from the early twentieth century, but that was just its appearance, created because it reminded Chaswick of his grandma’s kitchen decoration. He’d rambled about grandma’s delicious cookies and unrivaled tasty pastries and whatever else. The oven, like the other devices in the cozy kitchen, was state-of-the-art and in good repair.

Danny pulled it toward the center of the room to open the valve of the gas pipe, making sure the pipe would remain silent. Any hissing sound would raise Chaswick’s suspicions.

Danny’s plan was simple, as all good plans were, and he had thought about it long and carefully. Chaswick was a heavy smoker. Back then, Danny and the two other guys—competitors more likely—had sat in the same roomy kitchen, drinking coffee and talking shop, and Chaswick had hardly been seen without a cigarette between his lips. He had confessed that he kept the rest of the house smoke-free, but the kitchen was his hideaway. He could open the door to the patio and let the smoke escape quickly so that his girlfriend—twenty years younger and fairly pretty—wouldn’t complain too much.

Danny hoped she wouldn’t be on his arm tonight when he came home.

If so, it was a pity. Collateral damage, as the newspapers called it sometimes. He also knew a movie by that name.

Danny didn’t intend to kill anyone else except Brent Chaswick, the traitor, the fucking smiling manager, who sugarcoated a lie so that it sounded like a pleasant piece of information. However, Danny didn’t care much for the girl. If she liked Chaswick so much that she shared his home, she was of the same kind.

Vicious. Malicious. Malevolent. Treacherous.

He had looked up all those words. He knew many more and recited them while he pushed back the oven and stood in the kitchen, listening to the silence. He had done it right. There was no sound of hissing gas.

When he knelt to wipe away the stains from the oven on the tiled floor, he heard a big car coming up the driveway, its engine roaring. Danny looked across the patio, stunned by the early arrival. It was no doubt Chaswick’s brand-new BMW M5 SUV, a monstrous vehicle that parked in front of the kitchen entrance.

Kneeling on the floor, Danny froze with the cloth in his hand, unable to decide where he should go. He held his breath. His heart thudded in his throat so fast, he feared it would jump out through his mouth. The break-in had been so easy. He had planned it to the last detail. He would escape from the house through the kitchen, leaving no trace of an intrusion, not even on the floor, for he would have mopped it. The plan had been perfect, yes, without calculating that this one night Chaswick returned too damn early from his poker game. The fucking manager had probably lost a hundred grand and left because he didn’t want to lose more.

The neon-bright lights of the SUV went out. In the darkness, Danny got up, stuffed the cloth in his jacket pocket, and turned to head for the living room, knees weak and his breath coming in short rasps. He suppressed a whimper. The exclusively furnished room had another door that led across a large porch to the garden and back to the street where he had parked the stolen car. He made two steps in the direction and heard three voices—Chaswick, that damn fucker, had not come home alone! There were male voices! He had brought company and not his girlfriend.