The Celwyn Newsletter Issue 27

In this issue, interviews with:
Steve Altier, YA mystery, suspense author
Mike DeLucia, historical fantasy, time travel romance
Aaron Ryan, sci-fi author

Tammy Komoff’s story, The Midnight Commuter, begins a 3-part serialization in this issue.
Gina Rae Mitchell’s article helps us make a quick and accurate book review

Next month: Interviews with Rebecca Weber, Tammy Komoff, Stacy Moe-Keon, and an article by Joseph Mistretta. And Part II of the Midnight Commuter serialization.

Celwyn’s Cats

Interview with Steve Altier

Whether told around the campfire or with a storm raging outside, ghost stories aren’t always just stories.

1. Of all your characters (real or not), which is the most like your own personality? How many of the char’s traits are already part of you, versus what you want them to be?

In many ways, Johnny is a reflection of me. This coming-of-age series follows his journey as he grows into a brave young man, learning to face his fears head-on and discovering strength he never knew he had.

2. Work-life balance against your writing muse: How much does real life affect your writing sessions, good or bad?

Balancing work, writing, and most importantly, family time is never easy. It’s a constant juggling act. But chasing your dreams requires sacrifice, discipline, and a whole lot of determination. Start small. Set aside just one hour a day that fits your schedule. Protect that time. Your future self will thank you.

3. Do you have advice for an author tackling a new genre?

I’ve always believed that when the voices in your head urge you to explore new creative territory, you should listen. Sometimes, they lead you exactly where you’re meant to go.

4. Do you consult a friend/other authors for advice on sticky writing situations? 

That kind of creative circle is invaluable. Having a trusted group of writer friends to bounce ideas off of can make all the difference, not just for problem-solving, but for staying motivated. It’s funny how often the solution is something simple, something obvious, just hiding in plain sight until someone else points it out.

Writers may work alone, but good stories are rarely created in a vacuum. You should keep leaning on that group, it’s a sign you’re serious about your craft.

5. Have you ever been on a ghost hunting trip?

I’ve been on several ghost hunts over the years, never alone, always with a group. Some have been casual, with novice investigators just looking for a thrill, while others have been more serious, leaning toward the professional side. I’ve even joined the Tampa Bay Spirits team on a few occasions, and those experiences have left a mark.

6. If it could be anywhere in the world, where would you write from?

I’d sit on a balcony overlooking the ocean, letting the breeze wash over me as I listened to the soothing sounds of Mother Nature at her finest. There’s nothing quite like the rhythm of the waves to quiet the mind and stir the soul.

Steve’s Lizardville Ghost Story Trilogy is set in a quiet Pennsylvania town in the mid-1970s, where ghost stories are more than just spooky tales told around a campfire; they might be warnings.

Join Johnny and his group of teenage friends as they uncover a dark, long-buried secret hidden deep within the woods. What begins as innocent curiosity quickly unravels into something far more sinister, opening a door to a world they were never meant to find.

Website: https://www.stevealtier.com
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7129880.Steve_Altier
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorstevealtier/
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Steve-Altier/e/B00FFLIJ3Y
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorSteveAltier/

An Interview with Mike DeLucia

When Navy SEAL, Brodi, is hurled into ancient Troy, he must choose between a future that needs him… and a past he can’t let go.

1. Which of your books was the hardest to write, and why?

Time Passages: Echoes of Troy was by far the hardest. My first four novels were intimate and took about three months each to write. Time Passages: Echoes of Troy took ten months—writing 5 to 7 days a week, six hours a day—followed by another three months of revisions. It’s epic in scope, and required building an entire world from scratch. I had a loose framework with the Trojan setting, but I still had to invent names, research the Bronze Age, and make it all feel alive. Toward the end, I started losing it a little—too much pizza, ice cream, and the occasional glass of Prosecco just to survive it.

2. Talk about where you get an idea for a book. It sounds like some of your books come from personal experiences.

Several do. My book, Madness, is about Hank Luisetti, the greatest basketball player no one’s ever heard of. He transformed basketball into the fast-paced game we know today and helped pave the way for March Madness and the NBA. The book is historical fiction, so while I knew his stats and achievements, I had to imagine his personal life. I drew from my own family—Luisetti and I are both of Italian descent, which made that part natural. Being Brothers is loosely autobiographical; it follows a kid growing up in the Bronx in 1973, just like I did.

3. Will there be a sequel to Time Passages: Echoes of Troy? If so, what will it focus on—and will it have a solid ending or leave things open for more?

There’s a strong possibility this could be the first in a series. The ending definitely leaves the door open. I have ideas for Brodi, my protagonist, returning to Troy—or slipping into an entirely different time period.

3. Do you have your next book’s plot already in your head? Could we get a preview?

I actually have a Word doc titled “Future Works,” and it’s packed with possibilities. I want Brodi’s story to continue. But if not, I’m also drawn to something in the supernatural thriller space.

An Interview with Aaron Ryan

“They silently descended through our skies one day. We thought they were angelic messengers. We were wrong.”

1. How would you compare your books to other styles of sci fi books? 
I’m told people draw comparisons between mine and A Quiet Place, or perhaps Bird Box. Bird Box because the protagonists cannot look at the aliens. A Quiet Place because our planet is invaded by hostile beings. Both tropes have been explored before of course. Mine perhaps fuses both of those concepts. The aliens – we call them gorgons after the mythical Medusa because you cannot lock eyes with them as they have a telepathic paralytic which will freeze you where you stand and allow them to consume you at their leisure while you feel every agonizing bite – are destructive and terrifying. They kill off 85% of all organic life including humans. However, where my story differs is that, yet again, the real enemy is man. The series is called “Dissonance” because, even 16 years after an alien invasion, we’re STILL not getting along. We’re still jockeying for position, throwing each other under the bus, assuring our own survival at the cost of others, clinging to power, etc. It’s a referendum on the lack of unity in the face of annihilation. 

2. Of all your characters, which is the most like your personality? How many of the char’s traits (good or bad) are already part of you, verses what you want them to be?
I think Jet is very much my book twin. He’s snarky, cynical, and yet has a good side, a heroism if you will, and knows he needs to do the right thing. He’s also willing to receive the truth and digest it, and let that form his opinion – and his path – which many people are unwilling to do out of stubbornness. I would say he’s got a lot of qualities that are already part of me. The main trait where we differ is that he’s fit and healthy, and I need to get back on the recumbent bike ASAP. 

3. What do you think new authors should decide before they begin their first book? Should it be who they are writing for (themselves or their audience)? Do you have other criteria you would suggest?
“Be yourself. Everyone else is already taken.” Oscar Wilde said that, and it’s so true. Be unique. Don’t try to copy Tolkien or Rowling or Asimov. Be you. Come up with your own signature style. Pay homage, certainly, if you must, but write from your own style. Additionally, steer clear of AI. It’s such a load of crap, and it’s taking away good jobs. I should know: I’m also a voiceover artist whose career is being eroded by AI. AI is a cheap substitute for humanity, and that’s why I have a fore note in each of my books urging fellow authors to avoid using it. Use your God-given talent to create! Don’t delegate that and offload it to a computer. It’s not right. And finally, develop thick skin. Learn to be rejected. And know that it’s not really rejection; it’s just selection. Your reader selected another book. That agent selected a different author. That publisher wasn’t ready for you. Keep moving forward and take those hits like Rocky; keep moving forward. You got this.

4. In your research for your series, did a particular historical/arcane fact stick with you, maybe becoming a standalone plot in the future?
Well, I don’t believe that I’m convinced that aliens exist, and if they do, I think I, like many, would prefer that they possess more traits like E.T. than like Predator. Not sure what will happen with that. Have aliens visited us? Not sure, because again, I’m not convinced that they exist. But I would be interested in perhaps exploring whether they’ve visited us in the past, and if so, perhaps that could be a spinoff book. I think we’ll cross that alien bridge when we get there. Or levitate across in a spiny, discy type thing with lots of lights.

5. Do you plan to write any nonfiction? (or another genre?)
I wrote my own biography and published it many years ago, but I’ve since unpublished it as I’m utterly uninteresting.

6. For your own reading, what genre (s) do you read?
Sci-fi, to be sure, although I will read The Lord of the Rings over and over again until the cows come home. That is the first creative work I remember ever influencing me, and there’s something utterly precious and sacred about it. It’s enormously complex and sculpted with such depth and breadth…for me, it’s the undisputed and quintessential work of fantasy ever created, never to be rivaled.

Visit Aaron’s website at www.authoraaronryan.com or the Dissonance trilogy website at www.dissonancetheseries.com

Playlist of Aaron’s podcast interviews:

Our podcast for 321 Author Chats: Brian D. Anderson and Lou Kemp

We talked about many things, from Tolkin’s poetry to Homer.  I still think Warhol was a genius–at marketing.

How to Write a Thoughtful, but Short, Book Review

2. Highlight One or Two Standout Aspects (2-3 sentences)
What made this book memorable? Focus on its strongest elements—characters, themes, writing style, or emotional impact.
Example: “The author’s prose is lyrical yet raw, making every emotion feel immediate and real. The themes of grief and resilience were handled with such depth that I found myself thinking about them days later.”

3. Include a Personal Connection (Optional, 1 sentence)
A brief mention of how the book resonated with you makes your review more authentic and relatable.
Example: “As someone who loves introspective character studies, this book felt like it was written just for me.”

4. End with a Simple Recommendation (1 sentence)
Suggest who might enjoy this book or summarize how it made you feel.
Example: “Perfect for readers who appreciate literary fiction with emotional depth and poetic writing.”

Putting It All Together (Example Review, 5 Sentences)
“A haunting and beautifully written novel that lingers in your mind long after the final page. The author’s prose is lyrical yet raw, making every emotion feel immediate and real. The themes of grief and resilience were handled with such depth that I found myself thinking about them days later. As someone who loves introspective character studies, I felt that this book was written just for me. Perfect for readers who appreciate literary fiction with emotional depth and poetic writing.”

By following this structure, you can write a short (under 100 words), impactful, and personal review—ideal for platforms like Goodreads, Amazon, or social media. Give it a try with your next book!

Serialization: The Midnight Commuter Part 1

Shadows passed over dark fields and pastures, through woods and across frozen dirt roads, slowly descending on the Oakfield train depot that lay on the outskirts of the village. The depot appeared a safe haven in the chill autumn night. Its carriage lamps cast a warm circle of light, promising fully stoked pot-bellied stoves and a place to rest within.

It was late, and the only person still around was the station agent, John McKinsey, Mac for short. He was in the office, seated at his desk, surrounded by a bay window overlooking the platform and tracks. His back was to the telegraph station where a half-transcribed message from the Secretary of War lay abandoned on the scarred oak surface. The machine’s final dots and dashes echoed in Mac’s mind, sounding more like the gunfire and mortar rounds he had survived in his youth. Less like the familiar combination that signaled Hitler had stolen another of the village’s sons.

It was a lie, that abandoned message, or a mistake. It had to be, Mac thought. And how could he transcribe a lie when every stroke of the typewriter’s keys was like a nail in a coffin Mac was hammering shut. The typewriter sat silent, waiting. It hurt to look at it or where it sat, on the smallest desk, the one closest to the stove—Johnny’s desk. So, Mac sat staring unseeing as the first snowflakes of the season blew sideways, bright white against the dark forest that lay beyond the tracks. He was paralyzed, afraid to go home to the empty house, where the whispers of loved ones still lingered, afraid to stay and face the message it was his duty to deliver.

The jingle of the door’s bell pulled Mac’s mind from the telegraph and the trenches. He didn’t bother heading to the ticket window; it had been closed since that afternoon, but instead used the door that separated the two halves of the station. His eyes fixed on the floor as he walked, afraid he wouldn’t recover from a glimpse in the wrong direction. A young man, maybe 20, sat on a wooden bench in the waiting room, watching through the grill as the flames danced in the stove. He was familiar in a fleeting way.

“May I help you?” Mac asked.

“Just waiting on my train, sir.” He looked up, and Mac realized he wasn’t much of a man at all. Just a boy really, two, maybe three years younger than Johnny, with a fresh face, yet unmarked by the pain of this world.

“I’m sorry, but the last train came through here hours ago.” Mac gestured to the timetable framed on the wall beside the ticket window. The list of trains was smaller than it had been before the war. Really just a handful of lines, but then again, it seemed these days there were only a handful of people. “Next one doesn’t arrive until 6:57 tomorrow morning.”

“Oh no, sir, I got my ticket right here.” The boy said and held up a yellow ticket with dark embossed lettering. Mac pulled his reading glasses down from the top of his balding head and took the paper.

It was a good job, he thought. Better than he’d seen in years. Come to think about it, when was the last time he’d seen a forged ticket? Had to be a decade at least, and they’d never been this beautiful. ‘The Midnight Commuter,’ read the words encircling a detailed print of a speeding locomotive. The rest of the ticket was standard fare and could have been lifted right off the tickets he sold for the Grand Trunk Railway, except for the fact it didn’t have the railway line’s name or logo on it.

“Son, I’m sorry, but…” There was an eager smile on the boy’s face; no wonder he’d fallen for a scam. He looked like he’d believe anything you told him. Mac had the sudden urge to protect that innocence, it was so rare these days, and the war would see it stolen soon enough. A memory of Johnny in his khaki uniform, that nervous smile on his face, clouded Mac’s vision. Or were those tears? He blinked them away, focused on the boy instead. “There must be a typo on this ticket. Trains don’t run at midnight around here. You come on back in the morning, and we’ll get you sorted out then.”

“Well, sir,” said the boy. “No disrespect, but I was given this ticket and told to be here at midnight and that a train would be coming through. So, if it’s all right with you, and again I mean no disrespect, I think I’ll just sit here a while.” The boy paused a moment, and a pained look crossed his face as if it hurt him to contradict an adult. “I mean s-sir,” he stammered, “If that’s all right.”

Mac realized he was smiling, honest to goodness smiling, not that plastered on pleasantry everyone seemed to wear these days. That he could smile tonight, of all nights…

“Sure, son,” he replied, surprising himself. “We can wait a while.”

Mac handed the ticket back. For a moment, his fingers brushed the back of the boy’s hand. There was a burst of light, and Mac was standing in the French trenches of his youth, muddy water up to his ankles, the lingering stench of smoke and feces. A boy sat in the mud, his back against the earthen wall. He looked like he was staring at the blood on his palms, but when Mac reached out, he found the boy dead. He stumbled back, the mud sucking at his boots, lost his balance, felt himself start to fall. The dead boy looked up at him with clouded eyes, then stood, grabbing Mac just as he was about to tumble.

“You all right, sir?” The fresh-faced boy asked. They were in the waiting room. The boy had let go of Mac, his arms outstretched awkwardly, unsure if Mac would stay on his feet. Augustus. That was the dead boy’s name. Auggie for short. He’d been the first of Mac’s company to go. Too sweet to survive the war, at least that’s what the rest of his platoon said after Mac found him. This boy looked just like him.

“How’d you do…” Mac stopped. That fresh-faced boy didn’t do anything. It was just the late hour playing tricks on an old man’s mind that’d been stretched too far already. “We’ll give it to 12:15,” Mac said, straightening. “If the train’s coming, it’ll be here by then.”

Back in his office, Mac gazed at snowflakes twirling in the wind. Did some other boy now have a similar memory of Johnny? He hoped not, couldn’t stand his son being someone else’s nightmare. But the telegraph had been vague. Those types always were.

The bell jingled. The boy must have looked at the timetable himself, put two and two together, and left. Mac made his way back to the waiting room to smother the fire, thinking of the boy and hoping he wouldn’t spend the night in the cold. Maybe, if he ran into him outside, Mac would invite him home for the evening. It’d be nice to have someone else in the house for a…

The boy was right where he left him, still watching the flames, only now he wasn’t alone. An old woman sat against the far wall. Her hair done up in a tight bun, a carpetbag clutched in her lap, an umbrella slipped through the handles.

“Ma’am?” Mac said. “Is everything all right?” She glared at him, lips pursed.

“I’m fine, thank you,” she said, words polite, the tone not. Teacher, the word floated through Mac’s mind, and as it did, he knew he was right. At some point, this woman had been a teacher and not the type students remembered fondly. No, she was a woman familiar with the various uses of a ruler. Johnny had a teacher like her, though Mac only met her on one occasion. Anabelle had always handled Johnny’s schooling.

“The station’s closed, ma’am,” Mac said.

“It had better not be,” the woman replied. “I am not waiting outside.” Mac paused a moment, confused at where this night was taking him.

“Are you here for the Midnight Commuter?” he asked, looking hesitantly at the boy, but the boy was still transfixed by the flames. The woman said yes, flourishing her ticket for Mac’s benefit. How many people had this con artist scammed? The man must have been first-rate to convince a woman like this.

“Ma’am…” he turned to the boy sheepishly, “Son. I am sorry, but there is no Midnight Commuter. You all have been sold phony tickets.” The boy looked at Mac with that innocent smile as if he hadn’t heard a word. The woman scowled.“You all have been scammed,” Mac said. And when they didn’t respond, “Whoever sold you those fake tickets stole your money.” They stared at him uncomprehendingly. “There has never been a Midnight Commuter. It would be a miracle if a train showed up tonight.” Still, they didn’t respond. Finally, as bluntly as he could. “There is no train coming!” The boy looked back at his flames. The old woman opened her bag and pulled out a novel, the cover a marbleized pink. “I…” Mac tried again. The woman licked her finger, turned the page. “You…” He was flabbergasted.

Outside came a jumble of footsteps on the stairs and platform. There was a laugh, and someone crashed into the building, the loud thud disturbing the woman’s reading. The door flew open, banging against the wall and vibrating back slowly as a trio of soldiers stumbled into the room. They laughed and held onto each other for support, the smell of liquor enveloping them like a cloud. One spotted the old woman giving them her pursed-lip glare.

“Shhh,” he said, holding a finger to his mouth and giggling. And then, in a stage whisper, “I think we’re too loud.”

“You boys can’t spend the night here,” Mac said. “There’s a barn up the road you can…”

“We’re not sleeping here,” one interrupted. And another said, “Our train’ll be here soon.”

“About damn time, too,” said the third. “We’ve been waiting…” He held up his fingers as if to count. “Four months now?” He looked at his friends; they shrugged.

“The Midnight Commuter?” Mac asked, and when the soldiers said, ‘Yes, that’s the one,’ Mac sighed and headed back to the office.

He heard more footsteps on the platform outside, the thumps echoing in the empty space beneath the boards before the bell jingled. More travelers, a pair this time, judging by the sound of it. And was that another behind them? Mac hadn’t seen this many people awaiting a train since before Pearl Harbor.

Part II will appear in the August issue.

Bio:

A Horror and Dark Fantasy writer, Tammy Komoff’s work has appeared in Abyss & Apex, DreamForge Anvil, Bards & Sages and more. When not writing, Tammy can be found chasing her semi-feral daughters and their escape-artist mutt across Central Florida while her husband tries to keep up. For more information, visit tammykomoff.com or follow her on Bluesky. @tammykomoff.bsky.social

The first installment of this serialization can be found here: 

http://tammykomoff.com/

ENGIN A non-profit helping Ukrainians learn English

• Over 3,600 people have tried ENGin’s new video chat feature on the ENGin platform — with improved sound quality and more positive feedback! If you haven’t tried holding your sessions directly on the platform yet, give it a try and share your feedback with us!
• Over 760 students and volunteers have joined ENGin’s themed Telegram hubs, sparking new conversations and connections across four online channels: the Language Learning Hub, Arts & Entertainment Hub, Career & Personal Development Hub, and Community Service & Global Issues Hub. If you’re looking to connect with more ENGin students without taking on a new buddy or contributing your skills to support Ukrainians in other ways, this is a great way to do so!
• There are fantastic ENGin Meet-and-Talks for Students & Volunteers, with nearly 140 participants joining these sessions focused on the topic of building connections and friendships at ENGin! This brand-new event format is designed to bring our community closer together. Attendees appreciated the unique opportunity to connect students and volunteers, the engaging themed breakout rooms, and the chance to hear ENGin updates and have their questions answered.

💙 ENGin encourages you to engage with these exciting new opportunities when you become a volunteer. Together, we are creating a more vibrant and connected community!

The Celwyn Series YouTube channel

What is New with the Celwyn Series?

In case you need some background:

Book 6 Swango Mini-blurb: The adventurers find Mrs. Nemo. Her twenty year- estranged husband, Captain Nemo, is a bit upset. The magician’s first encounter with Swango is also told as they plan for the Nautilus’ journey to the Castell de Ferro in Spain where Doctor Jurik Lazlo is hiding. Captain Nemo has been searching for him for a long time.

For book 7, Lucky and Mrs. Nemo, here is the unofficial blurb.

On Findbar, they’ve added another scientist. Dr. Martha Gluck (aka Lucky) who is a character, literally and figuratively. She enjoys a lively gunfight, doesn’t faint at the sight of magic, and accepts danger as a jolly good time. She finally draws the line when she meets up with the broadsword wielding ghost, Mrs. Spencer.