If you’re like me, you’ve wondered what it would be like to kill a yak, from 200 yards away, with Mind Bullets (‘That’s telekinesis, Kyle’), ever since Tenacious D released their song, Wonderboy in 2001. Well, now its time to find out! *No yak’s were harmed in the writing of this book.
It was just four months ago that The Dark was released. That’s not a ton of time, but I used to release a book a month, so the current three books a year feels slow to me…but also a nice change of pace. Means I get to work on screenplays, and relax a bit.
Novel series are all the rage. Some authors spend their entire careers writing about the same character, or team of characters, getting into and out of one predicament or another. Why? Because it sells. When walking into a bookstore, or browsing online, familiarity sells. Because consumers are risk adverse. We want to know that what we’re spending money on is exactly what we’re looking for. That’s why there are twenty-five Jack Reacher novels and nine Fast and Furious movies.
But there’s a new kid on the block, and I’m not talking about Donnie Wahlberg.
A few years years ago, after writing several series, including the five-book Nemesis Saga, the five-book Last Hunter saga, and the Jack Sigler thrillers, which are composed of ten novels and eleven novellas, I publicly declared that I was done writing series. Mostly because I get bored writing about the same characters over and over, and if I’m bored, you’re bored. It was at this time that I adopted a new (to novels) theory of long-term storytelling: Worlds, not series.
I’ve been a comic book guy most of my life, and I started my creative career as a comic book artist/writer who shifted to screenwriting and then to novel writing. Most comic book series inhabit the same universe under the umbrella of whoever publishes them (Marvel, D.C., etc.), allowing for crossovers and massive comic book events like The Infinity Gauntlet and Secret Wars. If you’re not a comic book reader, but this sounds familiar, it’s probably because over the past decade, Marvel has brought this method of epic storytelling to movies as well. They started with solo characters (Iron Man, Thor, and Captain America), and then they brought those characters together with others in The Avengers movies while, on the side, they introduced audiences to even more characters (Spider-Man, Black Panther, Guardians of the Galaxy, Doctor Strange,and Ant-Man) all of whom came together for the two-movie Infinity War/Endgame event.
It’s no secret. Writing a sequel to Infinite, my best selling and most reviewed novel ever (by a lot), has intimidated me for years. But fans have been wonderfully persistent, asking for the story to continue, and, well, sales justify it. But sequels are tricky, especially for a twisty novel like Infinite. In the long history of sequels, writers attempted to recreate the magic of the first book or movie, repeating a similar story, following the same beats, and hoping to strike gold twice. But most of the time, they fail. And not because they’re bad stories on their own, but because the very act of trying to recreate something—a little bit different—robs it of the magic that made it wonderful in the first place.
So, I went a different route, deciding that Infinite2 should be its own creature. It didn’t need to feel like the first book or have the same kind of surprises. Instead, it follows its own path, has its own vibe, and has very different kinds of surprises. The result is that Infinite2 is one of my personal favorite novels (of mine) that many advance readers are saying is better than the original.
If that’s not enough to convince you, here’s the summary!
William Chanokh is immortal…and he’s trapped on the Galahad, an interstellar starship on a never-ending journey through open space.
His only companions are Capria—mortal and in cryo-sleep—and Gal, an artificial intelligence, and the love of his life, with whom he spends every waking moment in the ‘Great Escape,’ a virtual paradise. After untold years living countless lives, Gal begins acting strange. Possessive. Violent. Paranoid.
Positive that something in the real world is causing her to malfunction, Will attempts to leave the Great Escape, but he finds himself a prisoner. Guided by a voice from reality, he is thrust into a series of torturous narratives, each one designed to break his will and keep him trapped in virtual reality.
Betrayed by his digital love, his long-term memory overwritten, and enduring violent manipulation, Will painfully peels back layers of simulation, fighting to reach reality 1.0—where the nightmares are real.
I STARTED my novel writing career with THE DIDYMUS CONTINGENCY, a time travel novel of epic proportions. I’ve been wary of writing another story solely focused on time travel because I wasn’t sure if I could come up with a concept as cool and meaningful, but when I dreamed up FLUX, I knew I had something that fans of Didymus would enjoy reading, and that I would love writing.
Set in Appalachian Kentucky, the characters and environment were fascinating for me to explore and bring to life. It’s a nook of the world we don’t talk–or even think–about much, but research turned up gobs of interesting history involving people, animals and…other things.
So prepare yourself for classic Robinson: frenetic action, crazy concepts, big surprises and yeah, I’m gonna make you cry, too.
Here’s the summary:
Lost in time, the town of Black Creek, Kentucky becomes home to temporal layers of people, creatures, and monsters from disparate eras. Journey beyond the time of humanity and witness the rewriting of mankind’s genesis.
For Owen McCoy, a typical day on the job as head of security for Synergy, a research company conducting mysterious experiments, is boring at best. And that’s the way he likes it. Patrolling the Appalachian mountainside, where his now deceased father taught him how to hunt, is relaxing and
connects him to the past.
But today is not a typical day on the job. It begins with asking a thief to join him for breakfast. Seeking to set the young man on a better path, Owen invites him to walk the perimeter with him and consider a more honest living. Before their patrol can begin, they discover evidence that the facility has been breached. When Owen’s truck explodes, he’s confused, but ready for whatever might come his way.
At least, he thinks he is.
A wave of light-bending energy–the Flux–rolls down the mountainside, transporting Owen, and everyone in the nearby town of Black Creek, to October 14, 1985, the day before his father died. Two hours later, the second Flux hits, and then a third, and a fourth, each time collecting Black Creek residents from various times. They’re carried through eras filled with wild animals, monsters of myth, ancient beasts…and then beyond.
Joined by a ragtag group of temporal stowaways, including family members, Owen fights to restore order, stop the Flux and return home, facing off against futuristic tech, primal killers, and the fear of losing his father…again.
International bestselling author of THE OTHERS and INFINITE, Jeremy Robinson combines science, action, and strong characters to create an ever-changing landscape that explores the past, the human condition, and the lengths people will go to save those they love.
It’s no secret. Writing a sequel to Infinite, my best selling and most reviewed novel ever (by a lot), has intimidated me for years. But fans have been wonderfully persistent, asking for the story to continue, and, well, sales justify it. But sequels are tricky, especially for a twisty novel like Infinite. In the long history of sequels, writers attempted to recreate the magic of the first book or movie, repeating a similar story, following the same beats, and hoping to strike gold twice. But most of the time, they fail. And not because they’re bad stories on their own, but because the very act of trying to recreate something—a little bit different—robs it of the magic that made it wonderful in the first place.
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