Meiling Colorado's Blog

I must admit that upon starting When Darkness Reigns by Preston L. Marshall I was not sure what to expect. The Dystopian Fantasy genre is nothing if not varied, and quite frankly, not all of it is to my taste. I had no idea where this journey was going to lead, and I was pleasantly surprised.In the opening chapter I was inmediately reminded of an old favourite, George Orwell´s 1984, largely due to the dark flair of the monotonous life described, with a population under constant fire by a barrage of mandatory indoctrinating TV broadcasts. Preston L. Marshall does a good job of transmitting a heavy and suffocating atmosphere in the very first few pages. In the postapocalyptic world described, humanity is living in self-sufficient cities on the very edge of technological survival, partly underground, severely rationed on food and dependent on purification for drinking water. The Arch enemy is something called the Sarsaul, an alien species which is close to wiping out the few remaining human outposts, though apparently it hasn't attacked in a while. The populations of these cities carry out the jobs and daily routines on which the survival of the city is based, looking forward to the weekend for a few moments of leisure time, constantly defended by a heavily weaponised and technologically advanced human army.One of the things I appreciated about this novel was the way the story unfolds through the different points of view offered. The main character, Lumar Lee, is the perfect antithesis of a hero, and through him we are able to appreciate the finer subtleties of life in this postapocalyptic dystopian world, like the contrast between the spartan and sometimes stark living conditions of the general population and that of the soldiers, with their advanced weaponry and AI medicine. Though quite young Lumar displays a maturity which is surprising, yet on second thoughts coherent with the terrible events taking place throughout the novel. His best friend Nate Solaris also does his job in keeping our attention and sympathy centred, making sure we feel close enough to these two youths to want to know what is going to happen next. The soldiers portrayed add a touch of both humour and highly believable pathos, which anchor us to reality in some of the more fantastic scenes. My personal favourite is Radcliff, however. The fact this mysterious character is a black man is definitely refreshing, especially since he carries an important part of the story, and ushers the first hints that things are not the way they appear to be, leading to a plot twist reminiscent of X-men.All in all the story is a good one, propelled by a fast story and interesting dialogue, with characters which make us connect on a human and emotional level with the action which peppers the plot. There is a great description of the donning of a soldier's body-suit which I found fascinating; I consider this deserves special mention, since it managed to keep my attention when I am admittedly not only technologically challenged but also generally little interested in such matters.On a purely personal level, the one thing I would have appreciated is a slightly less diverse picture of what exactly the Sarsaul are. I tend to form clear images in my head of what I am reading, and the detailed descriptions of very different insectoid races threw me off at times, though this may not be a problem for any other reader, of course.I was glad to find out that When Darkness Reigns is but the first book of The Lion-Blade Saga, and the story is continued in Lion-Blade - Remembrance. I am looking forward to following this group of unlikely heroes on their journey.

Today at 19:00, Spanish local time, talking about Aftermath with two wonderful, and powerful women, Glynis German and Katja Lebelt, from the Voices of Damascus Project! Join us online, or tune in at Mallorca Sunshine Radio http://mallorcasunshine.radio.es/ ♥

The 23rd April was International Book Day, Sant Jordi here in Spain, and of course, my author copies arrived to celebrate!! I will be scheduling a book presentation soon ♥♥♥Thank you Mandy Merklein , Morissa Schwartz Lauren Johnson and GenZ Publishing for all your support ♥♥♥ You can find Aftermath at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07BNYYWTS

From whence I came, from the enfolding warm cocoon, Did I surge up, following a spell cast by the Moon. Like a spring my life gushed forth, Needing not a compass to find North.Wild and eager was my flight, crashing over rocks with frothy foam, Then slowing, calming down the pace so I could roam, The still reflective depths of some great lakes, Made me all too soon aware what were the stakes.Sudden spurts of motion, When again I'd lose all caution... And then again, as rockier obstacles blocked my way, It took all my life-force to not in one place stay.Some day I'll filter through all this, perforce, And add all this experience to The Source. Distilled from all my travels, drop by drop, Will I find myself again upon the mountaintop?

Yesterday was a crazy day, work, family, in one word, Life took over. It was basically evening by the time I was able to come up for air, and realise that....Aftermath is officially out and available both in paperback and Kindle! https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07BNYYWTS.

Yessss, at last! Giddy as a top! Aftermath release date set for the 27th of March! You can pre-order the Kindle edition at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07BNYYWTS ♥♥♥ As you can see, we are braving the waves of solar storms and Mercury retrograde. Will give you more information on the paperback as soon as possible ♥ Heartfelt thanks to GenZ, Morissa Schwartz, and Lauren Johnson for making this happen!

My debut novel Aftermath is due for release in a matter of days!. I imagine it is a common question, yet when I am asked if my personal life experience was a source of inspiration when writing, I find it thought-provoking, since it is a post-apocalyptic fantasy, after all.Yet, there is some truth to it.As a professional flamenco and Classical Spanish dancer, I have lived outside the system most of my life. I was brought up in a multi-ethnic family made up in large part of artists. My mother was half Chinese, half Dutch, born in Indonesia. My father was Spanish, which in his family’s particular case meant being part of the melting pot of Gypsy, Arab, and Jewish blood and culture prevalent in that country. My parents were also dancers, which meant I was home-schooled and spent a great part of my childhood on a tour bus.Hmmm…would that mean I was bus-schooled, then?Either way it went, it panned out between reading anything and everything which fell into my hands, lurking backstage in mysterious corners among a jumble of imagination-sparking props, and long hours riding the tour bus, village to village, looking out of windows at landscapes that were always ready to hint at fascinating stories, which I would then weave into some fantastic tale or another.And oh! the people I met, so many people… Some, like the members of the dance companies we toured with, were to become part-time residents of my itinerant existence, but so were those I would meet for a few hours, even minutes when the bus stopped at some forgotten hamlet for the night, or for a quick meal at a roadside inn. All these places, these characters, carved themselves a small niche in some part of my inner dreamscape.I consider myself privileged. I grew up on the fringe of society where my diversity was embraced and seen as a source of strength rather than a disadvantage. My perception of who I was had little to do with what society chose to project onto me.As an avid reader, books brought to light a different reality to the one I lived in of course, a different world to my own. A world where the colour of your skin decided your reality, where the tour bus had no more stops, and people were not even aware different realities existed. Though I had travelled through a great part of Europe by the time I was ten, I cannot claim to have suffered any serious prejudice due to my appearance, at least none that I was consciously aware of.Needless to say, my family was considered very strange. Spain was a very conservative Catholic country at the time, fully under the weight of the Franco dictatorship; my parents weren’t married and I wasn’t baptized, nor did I go to school. We had very little money, so yes, we were probably considered the dregs of humanity, and surely bound for Hell. Yet, who cared? We lived outside the system, constantly on the move, and as a child all I knew was there were good people, bad people, and downright nasty people, which I made darn sure I kept away from.My physical appearance can be somewhat confusing to those looking for labels, so I often have to answer the usual gamut of questions about my ethnicity. I still remember the one question which absolutely floored me as a teenager: ¨So, what does that make you? White? Asian? Latina?¨What the heck? My roots were deeply imbedded in countless cultures, and I had never even felt the need to consider my racial identity before.That was the first time in my life I looked, really looked at my skin colour. ¨Errr… maybe yellowish, in winter?¨Then I travelled to America. I remember staring at my visa application in bewilderment. Here we go again, Black, White, Asian, Latina…I did notice Native was not even on the list. What did any of that have to do with who I was, anyway?None of it fazed me. For some reason I still cannot fathom, after my first child was born I listened to the system’s siren call and decided to get a ¨proper¨ job, stop touring, and lead a ¨normal¨ life. All those ¨invisible structures¨ I had been largely unaware of suddenly slammed down on me. Hard. I had suddenly become aware I had wings, now that I was unable to use them!Queue a downward spiral from there…Pretending to be something I wasn’t, trying to fit in, I lost sight of what had been so clear before. Who and what I really as. A back injury ended my dancing days, and deep-seated depression took over. It still amazes me how fast the disconnection worked itself into every fibre of my being, and into every layer of my existence. The only thing that kept me going on was my growing interest in Permaculture, the understanding that here was a tool that could help my children find a way to avoid the very trap I myself had fallen into.And writing. Maybe it was desperation that led me back and forced me to seek a sanctuary I had all but forgotten for a while, the inner space from which I was able to start writing again. A platform from which I was able to send out a search party to find myself, too.It was definitely a blessing.Aftermath has allowed me to explore a series of concepts in which I have been interested for quite a long time: the possibility of human survival in a more sustainable manner, and the so-called supernatural powers which we may have latent within all of us, waiting for the right situation to trigger them. The fact my children are young adults now also lent an edge to my curiosity. The world I am describing could be the one they will inherit, and yet young adults’ perceptions tend to be diametrically opposed to those of the very people who have caused the mess we are in in the first place. Namely us, the adults. When it comes down to the crunch, how much impact will the generational gap have? This is a question which I find fascinating and, in light of the recent student protests demanding gun control in the States, appears to be of current relevance.Years have gone by, yet I feel I am back on the tour bus, watching the landscape fly by, making up stories as I go.Not a bad place to be.

This Path of ours.It opens up in all directions, and as the veil lifts, reality is polarised. The nature of Duality is magnified. No greys anymore, no sitting on the fence. Mankind wants to think we are ready to claim our Free-Will, to make our own decisions and go our own way. No problem with that, except...Just like the teenager that wants to leave their parents' home, we seem to be having difficulty accepting the compass we need to guide us: responsibility, and that concept which is almost stranger to us, Accountability.Time to grow up, Humanity.Independence comes at a price.Van Gogh's neighbourhood, Auvers-sur-OisePhoto credit to my wonderful friend Natalia Martina

A year ago today, my manuscript was accepted by GenZ Publishing, and I was doing my happy dance. A trifle stunned and disbelieving, but dancing, hahaha. It's been quite a journey, miles out of my comfort zone, but at last, I can say the release date is due for Spring.Heads up to those friends and followers waiting for news of Aftermath... you have all been so very patient! Warming up the motors now :) Meanwhile, I will be featured in February's GenZ Patreon page. There will be an exclusive preview of Aftermath, a Q&A and other interesting content!https://www.patreon.com/genzpub?utm_m...

You know the question...if you could go back in time, what would you tell your younger self? Having had a couple of life-turning events in my life recently, my mind has been turning this over. What would I tell her? No need to tell the child anything; she would be surprised to know her teenage self took a plunge into the dark side, but the fact her life will turn out to be a big adventure would not surprise her, at all. As for that very troubled and insecure teenager herself, well... This is what I wish I could tell her, if she were to shake off her misery for a moment and listen. Yes, you will be accepted, and loved, and the love you now hold fast, gripping it like a small live being, almost being choked to death, will have a chance to run wild and gush forth, beyond your wildest imagination. Stop agonising. You will find your path. Or your path will find you. Trying to control events is the worst thing you can do. Relax. You will have children, plant trees, and write a book. You will do things, many things. Meet amazing, wonderful people. Things will happen to you. Good things. Bad things. Terrible things. Wonderful things. But really, all that does not matter one little bit. What matters is you will have the capacity to rise from your ashes. Every. Single. Time. And that, that has always been within you. It is a skill you do not have to learn, just hone, and Life itself will do that for you. So, laugh a bit more. Stretch those wings. Learn to trust your ability to fly in the face of the storm. You will do more than survive. You will thrive.