Henry's books.

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Wayseeker speaks...

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  What follows is not merely David Longley's review of The Winged Child that makes me feel good about my book. It is a beautiful piece of writing that makes me feel good about life. Precariously poised on our tip-toes, leaning out over the endless void, arms outstretched, hearts aflutter with anticipation, side by side atop the picnic table... We were what? 2 or 3 years old? Towel-capes diaper-pinned around our tiny necks. We knew we could fly. We just...knew it. We were so much lighter then: physically, ontologically, emotionally. Life...the whole world...was enchanted. Anything was possible. We lose that, don't we? 9 to 5's, mortgages, the weight of adulthood: it all piles on to smother the whimsy, curiosity and lightness of being. In Through the Ages by Cloud Cult, Craig Minowa sings: I'm done being stupid and worried and dramatic So I lay down my every disguise So if ever I can't see the magic around me, please take my hands off my eyes What Mitchell acc
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Every story has to start somewhere...

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    When I was shopping around the Winged Child manuscript, a publisher over the water read it and exclaimed "At last, a story that begins at the beginning." They promptly offered a contract and the only reason they didn't get the book was that by the time they read the manuscript and responded, I'd received and accepted an offer from my current publisher, Creative James Media . Sometimes, the beginning (or even the end) of a story is hard to pin down, because no story that is read or lived stands alone. Every story is a story within a story, exists in an endless chain of narratives. There's always a back story, a prequel and a sequel, if not written, at least implied and hinted at in the tale one is reading currently. As for this novel, The Winged Child begins- well, watch the video and I'll tell you.  Henry's books .
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Come with us...

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I have mixed feelings about hawking my books, even my favorite and latest, The Winged Child . Pumping it up on social media feels to me somehow demeaning and depressing, reeks of desperation. That's my problem, perhaps. I simply can't feel warm and fuzzy toward an algorithm. On the other hand, I love to talk about my novel, read from it, answer questions for people who have a genuine interest, who share a space and a connection, and I will happily travel some miles for a reading and discussion at a reader's group or an independent bookstore. A blog is somewhat more intentional than Facebook or Twitter. I'm assuming you are reading this because something I wrote resonates, and I'm grateful for your notice. If we can't meet in a realworld location somewhere soon, I'll be reading for you from The Winged Child on this blog over the coming weeks. Give me your questions, and I'll answer them, too. Welcome to this journey with Millicent McTeer and her author.
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