Frank Talaber

“So how do you know you’re an author?” The question has been asked of me many times. “In my soul,” is always my answer. But no one has yet asked “When did you know you were an author?” To answer the question that no one has yet asked I would say “I guess in Grade Three”. The project that day was to write about a recent field trip. I won’t go into detail but my memoires had everyone in stitches laughing; a couple of my classmates said later that they’d never laughed so hard. Somewhere inside of me that little muse grinned from ear-to-ear and very quietly began to poke away at my sanity. Muses do that, you know. Later, in High School, is when my muse woke up. She hasn’t shut up ever since. The first day of a creative writing course our assignment was to write half-an-hour non-stop on anything and everything. Staring at the blank, lined, pages I could only ask “I have to write for half-an-hour non-stop? About what????” The teacher replied, “About anything and everything.” So used to being told what to do in school in those days, the idea that I could just do something on my own and be let loose, seemed beyond bizarre. “I’ll give you a zero if you don’t fill the page,” was his response. Incentive, then. The muse wrung her hands in mirthful glee. I simply stared in bewilderment at the blank page and wondered what kind of easy five-credit course did I think I had signed up for in a moment of insanity? My hand shook as I held the pencil to the paper and very thoughtfully put down, ‘the walls are beige; the girl in front of me is a blonde; I wonder how old the gum stuck under my desk is; and I am so frigging bored. (I thought if I can put anything down, then the odd cuss word should be acceptable). But at some point, after about a week, the muse lost patience and snapped. She (I know it’s a woman), whacked me upside the head and took over, controlling bitch. The flow began, just as the teacher had said it would. By the end of the day I’d filled four to six pages, my pencil a blur trying to keep up with the whirling dervish inside my subconscious. She hasn’t shut up since, and I don’t intend to have her stop either. You’ll probably find me on my deathbed, pencil in hand, a hundred and three years old, and there will be a long jagged line scribbling down the page, stating… …To Be Continued. Because some stories never end.

This is Book Three in the Ainsworth Chronicles: Into Dark Side. What if all the thousands of drug related deaths each year are not drug overdoses? This dark and gritty psychological paranormal thriller explores the depths of human despair and darkness as Carol Ainsworth tracks and is tracked by a cunning serial killer disguising murders as drug deaths. Along side her psychic Ms. Teak and her former shamanic ally, Charlie Stillwaters, face off against the enigmatic Martin Crowe aka Raven, as the team confronts a vigilante who is also targeting drug dealers while supernatural forces watch from the shadows. Reviews If you are expecting Harry Potter, read JK Rowling. However, if you are expecting Shaman and mysticism and spirit animals mixed up with Hercule Poirot, then Frank Talaber is who you should read. This is a stand-alone novel that draws on characters introduced in the other Ainsworth Chronicles books. The plot twists neatly and different situations are woven into a dramatic finale. What a great read! Paddy K. I just finished your book. I am floored! Your thought processes are way beyond my skills. But you did it again. I read your book while taking a bath, water was getting cold and my body was like a prune, but I had to finish it. You got me hooked and I couldn't put it down. Sandy Strebe “In the thick undergrowth the thump of padded feet echo to a full bloated moon as it cries out to the dark. Whisps of cold misting breath disturbs the stillness.” And with these few lines, Frank Talaber has me hooked again. All my favourite characters are back. While Carol Ainsworth, must solve a mystery of who is killing women and making it look like drug overdoses. The reading was so easy and riveting. I had to keep reading just to find out how the mystery gets solved. Oh, and Robin Hood?? Damn you, you’re still a bastard, Frank! Barry Harris It also features the return of one of my crazy characters, Charlie Stillwaters, from another series of mine. Stillwaters Runs Deep. I am also close to releasing my first sword and sorcery novel as well.