Welcome, friend! Today I bring you a collaborative post with Canadian author Caleb Winterburn and we are chatting about his latest SciFi adventure novel, Ruin Maker.

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Get to know the author: Caleb Winterburn

Welcome Caleb! Tell me and my readers a bit about yourself!

Hi Kriti! I am a Canadian author, and I live in the prairies with my beautiful wife, two cats (named Leia and Maeby), and a dog named River Tam.

When I’m not writing I work full-time as a licenced Insurance Broker, which is a bit stifling creatively, but allows me to focus my artistic abilities on writing.

My wife and I love to travel and spend time outdoors, but we are also big nerds who like to play board and video games! We are also lifelong Pittsburgh Steelers fans and try to make it down south to see a game when we can.

Personally, I love to listen to punk rock, and my favourite bands are fellow prairie-Canadians Comeback Kid and Propagandhi.

What inspired you to write this book?

Honestly, it was a story in my head that just wouldn’t go away. I have a 30-minute commute to and from work, taking me through beautiful, but fairly uninteresting, flatlands. So, I have a ton of time to think, and often my imagination runs wild. For a few months the story built in my head, and after awhile I had no choice but to start writing it down!

How long did it take you to write this book, from the first idea to the last edit?

Just under a year, about ten months and change. A lot of work went into it, from concepts, to excel spreadsheets outlining the timing of moon cycles (read the book to find out why!), to drawing maps, and even learning how to graphic design using GIMP (which is mind-numbingly complicated). Ten months feels like a long time, but looking back at how much I accomplished, the edits, the revisions, etc, I’m amazed it only took that long. Now I just hope my wife can forgive me for obsessing over the novel these last few months! 😅

What makes your story unique?

There are a few things that make my story unique. The post-apocalyptic cyberpunk medieval setting for one thing. The shifting perspective for another. The story is told through the eyes of three different protagonists (and some guests), changing perspective almost every chapter.

I think the narrative also makes the novel somewhat unique. It’s a story about huge, macro world-events affecting real people on a micro scale. The world of Ruin Maker mirrors modern society in a lot of ways, geo-political events, dangerous ideologies, conspiracy theories, and their consequences. It’s a wild and diverse place, I can assure you that the Dawn and Dusk Lands hold many surprises within their varied realms. 

Who would enjoy reading your book? 

Technically it is a Young Adult novel, and certainly it would appeal to young people. The protagonists are between the ages of 16-18, and I have carefully avoided extreme adult themes like gratuitous violence, etc. But Ruin Maker has a much broader demographic than just young ones. If you like adventure, epic worlds, science-fiction, secrets, cults, and battles, then Ruin Maker is the book for you. If you want complex characters, whose relationships with themselves and each other evolves as the plot progresses, then you will also enjoy my book!

What’s something you hope readers would take away from it?

Mostly I would like them to enjoy the story! But I hope Ruin Maker also conveys a message to them, that choices and beliefs have consequences. Others, often innocent people, suffer when we subscribe to an evil ideology. We don’t live on this planet in our own little bubbles. Secondly, I hope it helps readers see that its ok to make mistakes, the important thing is to keep on trying to be a better person. The characters in my book make promises, or try to be a certain person, and sometimes they fail themselves and each other. But it’s ok, that’s part of the process of becoming a better person!

Do you have a favourite quote or scene in the book that you find yourself going back to?

Absolutely, I do. But I can’t include it here for plot reasons! 😅

My second favourite scene is also one I can’t include in your post, sorry Kriti! Suffice to say, it is a touching reconciliation between two of the main protagonists, one of them facing certain death, the other reconciling her past decisions. I’ve already said too much!

Ruin Maker is part of the Withering Blossom series. How long is the series going to be? Can you share more about your writing style? Have you planned it all out? 🙂

The series is going to be indefinite in length, I will flesh this world out until I grow bored with it, which certainly won’t happen for a good, long time. I have basic plots planned for next three books past Ruin Maker, and I have many twists and turns in store for the Dusk and Dawn Lands.

That brings me to my writing style, however. I like to have an idea of what the plot will hold, major events and the like, but then I allow my characters to experience those events, and they kind of guide the narrative. So while I know how things will begin to progress for the rest of the Withering Blossom series, my protagonists, Freyda, Amos, and Jasin will probably take us to some unexpected places!

What is something you have learned on your author journey so far?

Two things: Never edit/proofread your material yourself, and never design your own book cover. I, of course have ignored both of those lessons, and I’m happy with how things are now, but it sure was a wild ride! If you are going to do the editing yourself, go through each chapter at least five times. Then rest a month and comb through the novel at least two more times. Trust me, your work will need that much attention. And if you do design your own cover… you know what? Just hire an artist, they know what they’re doing, and you don’t. 😅

What’s the best piece of advice you have received related to writing?

Don’t give up! It’s cliché to say that, but honestly that’s the best advice. Don’t listen to the negative voices around you, there will be plenty of them (the loudest one coming from yourself more than likely). Get the book/story/novel done, you will feel great, and even if no one else acknowledges it, you have done something awesome and should be proud of yourself!

If you could give a shout out to someone(s) who has helped in your writer journey, please feel free to mention them below!

My wife! A hundred times over, my wife has been my biggest support and encouragement (and a model for one of my artworks in the book 😅). I honestly couldn’t have written Ruin Maker without her. In fact, the two female protagonists draw more than a little influence from the amazing woman who is my wife!

One thought from me:

I’d like to say a huge thank you to Kriti Khare, you do awesome and important work supporting independent authors, keep it up!!

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Book Excerpt from
Ruin Maker

The hooded figures climbed slowly down an ancient, rusty metal staircase, their boots clanging on the grated steps, robes rasping against corroded steel walls. A distant purple glow from far below lit their way, the light of ceremonial fires accompanied by the low sounds of chanting and a peculiar smell rising along with the smoke of the flames.

Jasin Gol recognized the smell at once. She was about a dozen or so ranks deep within a crowd of acolytes continuing deeper into the ancient cavern. Her long, dark crimson hair was tucked in under a black wool hood, and a fabric mask was pulled up over her nose, so that only her eyes peered out from beneath the dark ensemble. 

Those eyes were watering from the bitterly pungent smoke drifting upwards, causing Jasin to dab at them with her sleeves, smudging the kohl markings she applied around them daily. The dark cosmetics contrasted sharply with her pale skin, making her eyes glow luminously in the dingy underground light. A quick glance around at the other acolytes revealed their eyes were not watering like her were, making Jasin wonder what she was missing.

She knew what the smoke was, someone was burning Hael illegally. Across the Dawn Lands, the burning of Hael was universally forbidden, or at least it had been when people could still acquire the rare flower. As a child, Jasin remembered her mother burning Hael, despite the consequences such actions may have brought. Her mother had insisted that burning the purple flower protected people from the Sickness far better than drinking its sweet tea. Jasin sure hoped that was true now that she was deep within a cavern crafted by the Decrepit Ones. Their ancient, buried ruins were known for being saturated with the Sickness. There was no Hael left, supposedly, but she hoped that was incorrect, her life depended on it now.

Thinking about her family summoned a sudden pang of grief, although that emotional pain was felt somewhat dulled by the smoke. Years ago, Jasin’s father had discovered her mother was burning Hael one night. Both mother and daughter had then suffered under the drunken old man’s fists. He had screamed at them, accusing them of endangering the family. The beatings were not uncommon, but that night Jasin’s father had been unusually fierce. It was not a memory she would soon forget. The abuse had only intensified when her mother died a few years later. Jasin was an only child, making her the only object on hand to soak up her father’s wrath when his drinking and depression raged out of control. She was sure he must be dead by now. Not that it mattered, she had escaped her broken home three years ago when she was only thirteen.

The light of the fire and cacophony of chanting grew as Jasin continued along the stairwell, her excitement swelling with each step, until it reached almost unbearable heights, crowding out the unpleasant memories from her childhood. Receiving her acolyte robe and making the trip to the Great Temple had seemed like the end of a long journey, but Jasin now realized it was just the beginning of a new life.

There had been sacrifices along the way, some of which still made her bolt awake in the middle of the night, screaming and crying. She bit her lip as she thought of the final test. “Only blood can buy the robe of an acolyte,” she had been told as she was given a black dagger by a shadowy member of The Order. Her victim had been old and homeless, no use for society, but still his pleading eyes haunted every one of Jasin’s nights.

Try as she might, she couldn’t quite bring herself to feel the pain of that memory, her senses had begun to swim. What was mixed in with that Hael smoke? She didn’t have long to think about it because they had reached the bottom of the pit. 

Stepping off the final riser, Jasin saw the source of the noxious fumes flowing skyward, a pyre flanked by two members of the Order dressed in dark green robes embroidered with purple flowers. She shuddered, they were Ghouls, savage warriors of the Order. As she watched, one of them took a single purple Hael petal from a pouch and placed it in the fire. It immediately turned violet with a violent surge of flame. Jasin could feel the excess heat wash over her, and a burst of charged energy passed through her body. It was exhilarating and nauseating at the same time. So, there was a place where the coveted purple flower still grew after all.

The herd of acolytes swarmed forward through a small doorway immediately in front of the stairwell, Jasin was carried along with the rush. The huddle of feverish young men and women were charged with a visceral, manic excitement as they passed through a gigantic, cavernous chamber, walking a narrow catwalk with a sheer drop to unseen depths on either side, racing by without a moment of pause or concern.

Except Jasin.

It wasn’t the drop off or the immensely high ceiling that made her stop momentarily and work against the flow of dark hooded figures to stay in place. It was the monolithic, smooth metal object to their left. A colossal cylinder extended both upwards and downwards into obscuring black darkness, she had never seen anything so massive before.

On the monolith’s flank were faded, chipped symbols written in the language of the Decrepit Ones. Circling the entire cylinder was a large red spiral painted from the top to the bottom of the object. The paint had been freshly applied, but she could see the new work was following an ancient, worn design on the metal. ANH-T0R, the symbols said. What it all meant, Jasin could not tell. She couldn’t read the old language, and the painted shape encircling it held no meaning she could think of. Regardless, a cold spike of fear wormed its way through her heart and stomach.

However, the feeling was gone as quickly as it came, and whatever was burning in the Hael fire overrode her misgivings and she quickly rejoined the enthusiastic frenzy of acolytes heading deeper into the ruins.

At the end of the catwalk was a corridor tunneled directly into the underground rock face, with closed doors leading to more rooms and hallways on either side. Exiting that corridor, Jasin and the other acolytes entered another large cavern, although it was not as big as the previous expanse housing the ancient monument, and this time they were walking right on the rocky ground, not suspended high above it.

All around the cave were more Ghouls attending to fires fed by Hael. Scattered here and there were Wraiths, clad in robes the reverse colors of their warrior companions, dark purple fabric laced with green flowers. Jasin had never seen a Wraith before, she had only heard whispered descriptions of the mysterious assassin-priests. It was said the only ones to see a Wraith in the flesh were members of the Order, and the dead.

In the center of the room, a large cluster of Ghouls were huddled around an object, evidently the source of the eerie chanting that had accompanied their journey into the belly of these ancient ruins. Jasin craned her neck to see what they were looking at, but she wasn’t quite tall enough to get a glimpse. She couldn’t make out the words of the chanting either, but she now realized it was likely only one person talking, saying the same string of sentences over and over. The tone of the voice was vaguely unnatural, the words echoing about the chamber giving the impression of many voices chanting.

A man in a plain dark green hooded robe approached the group of acolytes, and they instinctively formed ranks to face him. Those who had been chattering to each other about the strange sights within the cave fell silent. The smoke was making all their hearts beat rapidly and their palms sweaty. Jasin felt thick beads of sweat roll down her face, further marring her kohl markings. It was unbearably hot in the cavern, and she felt like she might pass out if not for the Hael smoke, which was keeping her both invigorated and stupefied at the same time.

Without a word, the hooded man gestured, and scores of Ghouls stepped forward towards the acolytes, each one carrying a strange tube with a thin needle point attached to it. As Jasin watched, the Ghouls pierced the needle end of the device into the right shoulder of each acolyte and pressed down a plunger on the other end of the clear tube. 

When it was her turn to be jabbed, she instinctively tensed up. 

“Relax,” the Ghoul who had approached her hissed. His breath had a sickly-sweet quality like rotting meat, and his face was smeared with a thick, black paste. The Ghoul’s appearance made Jasin tense up even more, contrary to his instructions, but he plunged the needle into her right shoulder anyways, injecting a clear liquid into her body.

Immediately, Jasin’s shoulder began to burn with a searing hot pain. She could feel the skin puckering and scarring beneath her woolen robe. As the Ghoul moved away to his next victim, Jasin quickly felt around the affected area with her other hand. Her skin was bumpy, inflamed, and painful. She could feel the mysterious liquid coursing through her veins like molten lava. The pain made her gasp, it was difficult to breathe. Then, the sensation suddenly and rapidly dissipated, replaced again by the hazy, dulling heat of the Hael smoke.

The man in the plain green robe pulled back his hood, and the watching acolytes leaned forward involuntarily in anticipation, their aching shoulders suddenly and completely forgotten. The man’s face was pinched and thin, skeletal looking even.

“That’s the Grand Penumbra,” the acolyte next to Jasin whispered to her, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy. She wondered how he knew, and if her face looked as haggard as his did.

The thin man in the green robe clasped his hands in front of him and said, “Greetings young ones. Today your life’s journey finally begins.” He seemed to look directly at Jasin as he echoed her own sentiments during her descent into the ancient bunker. She shivered, with excitement or fear, she could not tell which.

“I would like to welcome you to the Grand Temple,” the man, apparently the Grand Penumbra, continued. “Your stay here will be brief, and I will be honest,” his eyes glinted dangerously, “it will be brutal. Not all of you will return to the surface. And none of you will return home, ever. Those of you that had homes to begin with.” He muttered the last sentence almost to himself.

The Grand Penumbra’s words penetrated Jasin’s drugged haze, not that she cared about never returning home. Hael had destroyed her home long ago. But an inkling of doubt slithered its way into her subconsciousness. Was she truly following the right path?

The Hael smoke once again wiped away her doubts, and she blinked, wondering what it was she had just been thinking about.

The Grand Penumbra gestured towards the cluster of Ghouls in the center of the room. “Soon you will leave here as a seasoned soldier, a warrior ready to take the sacred crusade of the Order out into the fields and streets of the Lands of Dusk and Dawn.” The Ghouls had all turned to face them, their eyes gleaming wickedly from underneath their hoods in the flickering light of the flames. Jasin’s right shoulder ached and itched, she thought she knew why, but couldn’t quite draw up the memory of what had happened to it.

“You will learn the secrets of the Order and of the spiral, the key to our survival, the key to the survival of all humankind. A better humankind.” The gathered acolytes were hanging on his every word, completely enraptured by the spectacle. The Grand Penumbra smiled a sinister, tight-lipped grin for dramatic effect. “Now come close young ones, witness the majesty of the Artifact.”

Jasin realized the chanting had stopped some time ago. The Ghouls in the center of the room parted into two groups, revealing the object of their strange veneration. It was a large, wide, circular black pedestal, made of a glossy material Jasin had never seen before. But it was what was on top of the stand that made every one of the acolytes gasp, for resting on the gleaming black surface was a human head.

Jasin stared in shock, not sure how to process this revelation. That’s when the head opened its eyes, looked directly at her, and began to talk.

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Interested?

Find Ruin Maker on Goodreads and Amazon.

Thank you for hanging out with us today. Connect with Caleb on his website, Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook.

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If you are an indie author and would like to do a book excerpt, check out my work with me page for details. Check out other book excerpts here.

Cover image: Photo on Unsplash