Dan Levinson - The Fires of Man - Virtual Book Tour

Science Fiction

Date Published: June 17, 2014

In a world where a gifted few can manipulate reality with their minds, two great nations—Calchis and Orion—employ these psionic powers in a covert war for global superiority.

In the heart of Calchis, a powerful young psion named Aaron Waverly is kidnapped, and forcibly conscripted. To the north, in the capital, a plan is hatched to decimate Orion, to be carried out by the ruthless operative known only as “Agent.”

In Orion, fresh recruit Stockton Finn comes to terms with his incredible new powers, and learns firsthand how dangerous they can be. Meanwhile, officers Nyne Allen and Kay Barrett navigate the aftermath of their shattered love affair, oblivious to the fact that Calchis draws ever closer to destroying the tenuous peace.

Finally, in the arctic land of Zenith, Calchan archaeologist Faith Santia unearths a millennia-old ruin. This lost temple might just hold the hidden history of psionic powers, as well as hints of a deeper mystery . . . that could shake the foundations of all mankind.

AGENT

He ran toward the edge of the cliff.

The sun beat down upon him as his limbs pumped. Earth crunched beneath his feet, and a breeze blew across his black-stubbled scalp. His breathing was calm, meticulously measured.

When the ground slipped away, he felt only anticipation.

Plummeting, the man inhaled. Power flooded into him, thrilling, delicious. He reached out with that power, warping reality with an energy born from the depths of his being. Suddenly . . .

He winked out of existence . . .

And then reappeared at the base of the cliff.

Ahead lay a farmstead, awash in noontime light. Past its assorted buildings—barns and silos, stables and chicken coops—a field of wheat swayed like the hair of some sleeping giant.

It would burn soon.

Through his years of service, he’d been called many things: “raven;” “hellhound;” “black-hearted bastard.” There was but only one epithet that mattered—the one he’d earned with blood and devotion.

He was “Agent.”

A man with no name. A man who owed his nation everything.

Just then, he spotted his quarry—a teenage farmhand named Aaron Waverly. The boy had power—strong power, according to the readings.

Agent dashed toward the farm; dry winds kicked dirt and debris over his steel-toed boots. The expanse of greenery blurred past. He moved swift as a shooting star, his power saturating him with speed and strength.

When Waverly turned and saw, it was too late.

Agent teleported behind Waverly, and struck once, at the base of the farmhand’s skull. The young man collapsed, and Agent caught him, slung him over his shoulder.

“Stop!”

A frown split the crags of Agent’s face.

Before him stood a girl, no more than sixteen, a pitchfork clutched in her fingers. She was a pretty thing, her blonde tresses tied back in a ponytail, her face darkened by hours in the field. She was an innocent. Agent did not relish the thought of ending her.

“Run,” he said.

“I’ll scream,” she said, her eyes flitting to the silenced pistol at his side. She hesitated.

He laid a hand on the gun. “Run,” he repeated.

She ran.

He drew his weapon and shot her in the back of the head.

She pitched forward, hit the ground, dead. Blood spread in a widening pool around her. Waverly groaned, eyelids flickering. Agent holstered the gun and looked at the girl. Killing civilians was distasteful, but she had seen him. He’d had no choice.

Now, time to go.

Agent stepped toward the nearby barn, and pressed his palm against the red-painted planks. He sent his power into it, and a ripple spread through the wood, like a pebble striking the surface of a pond. Furrows of heat fanned out from his fingertips, crackling furiously.

He turned away and teleported to safety.

Back atop the cliff, he paused to watch his handiwork.

The barn exploded. Eruptive force flattened surrounding buildings and rocked the landscape. Screams broke out below, the sound carried on the wind. Again, Waverly stirred on Agent’s shoulder.

Agent smiled, and was gone.

Dan Levinson is a New York-based fiction writer, screenwriter, and librettist.

His debut novel, the sci-fi war epic FIRES OF MAN (#1 in the PSIONIC EARTH series), is due out June 17, 2014 from Jolly Fish Press.

Dan has studied with authors Irini Spanidou and John Reed, playwright Daniel Goldfarb, and screenwriter Jacob Krueger, among others. He is a sometimes-member of the Paragraph NY writer's workspace, and can frequently be seen attending their monthly events. He graduated from NYU with a BFA in 2007.

He currently resides on Long Island.

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/ReadDanLevinson

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/ReadDanLevinson

Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18755001-fires-of-man

Website -  http://www.danlevinsonwriting.com/

“The Power of Persistence”

By Dan Levinson

As a kid, my dream was to be a fantasy novelist. Books were my bread and butter, my constant companions. I wanted nothing more than to share the myriad ideas contained in my own mind with the rest of the world.

Years later, however, I emerged from NYU’s drama program; my dreams of writing had been briefly replaced by the allure of acting. Yet as I contemplated my future, I quickly realized that writing was indeed where my heart lay. What, then, to do with this excellent dramatic training I’d received? Why, I’d write screenplays, of course! Back then, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. 

I thought I’d write a brilliant comedy script, sell it for a million dollars, and life would be just grand! Never mind that I’d never written a script before; I was ready to conquer the world!Months later, things weren’t going as planned. While my first script managed to place in a handful of contests, this was as much beginner’s luck as anything—the power of the uninhibited writer. No preconceptions, no rules; just great jokes and a couple excellent, truly ridiculous characters. 

If only I’d realized then just how important that latter was. It wasn’t until years later, sitting in one of my teacher Jacob Krueger’s “Write Your Screenplay” courses, that I understood the significance of what I’d begun to grasp then. But it was better that I hadn’t. Because the years and scripts that followed taught me a lesson even more valuable . . . Persistence. 

As I sought to follow up my first script with something far superior, I focused instead on structure, on rules, on finding a “golden formula.” I read Syd Field, and Robert McKee, and many others. I transitioned from writing comedy to drama. 

I wanted to write that perfect screenplay, yet the more I tried to do that, the less and less success I found with my work. Still I continued to push, to fight, to write! What I didn’t understand back then was how much I was learning—as much “what not to do” as, indeed, “what to do.” 

Craft is a constantly evolving process. Every single word we write—good or bad—contributes to our growth. Somewhere along the way, I decided to return to my first love: writing fiction. I penned an utterly derivative piece of urban fantasy that, while containing a few novel concepts (pun intended), was largely a rip-off of Jim Butcher’s “Dresden Files.” I garnered a few requests for the first hundred or so pages from literary agents, but nothing panned out. So I kept writing. 

I went back to screenplays again, and traveled to LA for one of the many pitch fests, touting what was certainly one of my better scripts—a dark, twisty legal thriller about a young man who confesses to a crime he didn’t commit, and the brilliant, yet damaged lawyer who defends him. It was at this point that all the things I’d learned heretofore began to coalesce. Inspired to write organically, to make character paramount, and to produce pages, sustainably, no matter the quality of content, I finally began to find my way. 

In the month before I went to Los Angeles, I went back to the first chapter of a story I’d created as a teenager—one that had always inspired me. I’d even made an effort to adapt it into a TV pilot years prior, but it never worked the way I wanted it to. Armed with my new perspective, I wrote fervently, like a man possessed, completing four chapters prior to leaving for California. Then I went, pitched, and returned. The entire process solidified one thing for me.

Screenwriting wasn’t what I wanted to pursue. Fiction was. I felt a passion for it; a fire. It had been my childhood dream, yet it took me that long to come full circle. But I have no regrets. I needed that writing experience! I wouldn’t have been prepared to do the work without all that had come before. And, truly, I never would have even arrived at such a place if I hadn’t pursued screenwriting to the very end. 

It was the persistence to keep going, to seek out new teachers like Jake, to drive myself to constantly improve, that brought me to such a conclusion. It finally began to sink in that all of this was one gigantic learning experience. I asked Jake if he knew anyone that shared his philosophy, yet worked with fiction writers. This led to me becoming the pilot student of the studio’s private coaching for novelists. I worked with the wonderful Linda Roberts, and got my novel in shape to submit to literary agents. 

I could claim that the book deal came immediately after, but that’s simply not the case. I queried agent after agent; again, I had a few requests for material, but nothing serious. At this point, however, I had learned the importance of persistence! It would have been so much easier to get my back up, and say, “They just don’t get my work!” Instead, I took all the feedback I received to heart. I continued to refine the manuscript. 

I sent more submissions. Then more. And more. And lo, and behold, something wonderful happened. My persistence paid off. 

Persistence not only to keep writing, but to keep improving. If we hope to succeed, we cannot fall into the trap of thinking our own words too precious, too perfect to let go of. 

We must accept that as artists we are ever imperfect, aspiring to perfection, yet never quite achieving it. For perfection doesn’t actually exist; it’s simply the bar we must set for ourselves, so that we can persist in trying to reach it. Don’t stop writing. Don’t stop improving. Persist, and success will find you too.