Hello, I’m John Cordial and I love to write. I’m trying to get better at it and publish a novel. Currently I’m writing Urban Fantasy Noir, my own genre twist of high magic and low morals.
My first release will be the Caldur Prayers series, about a fairy refugee just looking to solve crimes and live a better life in Stockton, California. Things aren’t so smooth, and with the Trickster Reynardine helping they’re about to get a whole lot rougher, and more magical, than even a fairy could imagine.
Here first case is the Tybalt Perdition (Looking for beta-readers, email or shout on twitter if interested) and her second is Captured Prayers, which is in editing. I’m working on the third now.
Stumptown Noir is just after that. And then who knows? (Me, I’ve actually got two more planned for after, and a side novella set in the 1920’s, I just said that for dramatic effect.)
I’ve got a few free stories up here. Also a few unrelated flash fiction bits.
So personal facts:
Cordial is a pen name, my real first name is John. My last name is already taken by another author so I picked something from one of my favorite, and first, fantasy series I ever read, The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis.
I love leaving references and Easter eggs in my work.
Coffee and music keep me going, besides this crazy hope I keep nursing. I love folklore and mythology too, I even write the odd post on it.
I’m trying to get over my fear of social media. You can watch me fumble around twitter if you like: @john_cordial
Or if you’d just like to chat you can email me at: firstname.lastname@example.org (Or hire me, I freelance and can write, edit, proofread, ghost write, dance, whatever for metaphorical peanuts. But some real cash would be cool.)
I’m here to tell stories I love. Dark fairy tales with hard choices and strong characters to make them. Gritty, noir, and weird as I can get. Probably a little funny too.
Deep red is the most gorgeous color, besides the odd shade of blue, this color is my favorite. Firebrick, it feels really warm and like hope bristles from it’s hue.
It’s just always been my dream to write. To be a storyteller, one of the greats and to know that I’ve left a mark on someone the way all the words I’ve consumed have left me. And dreams aren’t meant for cupboards and nevers. Dreams need room to breath, and they’ll grow on their own, I swear they will. One day they’ll run away, as mine did, and I mean to give a merry chase.
Will you run with me?