• Skip to main content
  • Skip to primary sidebar
  • Skip to footer

Eric R. Asher

Author

  • Home
  • Books
    • Books
    • International Editions
  • Contact
  • About
  • Blog
  • Events
  • Chimichanga Knights

Blog

Water Dragon: Or How Dictation Saved My Productivity in the Flood of 2017

May 9, 2017 By Eric R. Asher 1 Comment

I’m going to give you a brief summary on why I’ve become a superfan of Dragon NaturallySpeaking, and then run down the exact setup I’ve used to optimize it for me.

My Dragon experiment with writing has been going on for close to a month now. I’ve been very happy with the results, and encourage anyone who has the resources to give it a try. It’s not for everyone, but if it’s for you, it can have a pretty amazing impact.

I’m a 1,000 word per day writer on average when I’m using a keyboard, which usually takes about two hours per day. I’m also a creature of habit, so if my routine gets derailed, my productivity often does too.

A flood cutting us off from our house for five days probably qualifies as a derailed routine. Not only did we have to worry about whether or not the basement would stay dry, but traffic was a nightmare. Enter my trusty Sony ICD-UX533 Voice Recorder. I clipped on a mic, pressed record, and dictated through my daily commutes.

After six days, I had 240 minutes of dictation that equaled over 10,000 words, handily transcribed by Dragon directly into my manuscript. And yes, thanks to Dragon, I averaged over 2,000 words per hour while my routine was stuck beneath Missouri’s swollen rivers. I’m still shocked by this, and every time I see Dragon finish transcribing an audio file, I assume I made a mistake. I must have accidentally loaded the same file twice. Something! But no, Dragon saved my deadline, and probably my sanity.

Huge thanks to Damon Suede for tipping me off about Dragon the last time I saw him at Coastal Magic Convention 2017.

You’ll find the breakdown of the gear I’m using below, along with links to their listings on Amazon.

Equipment on the go:
Sony ICD-UX533 Voice Recorder

Sony ECMCS3 Clip style Omnidirectional Stereo Microphone

WS10n Universal Furry Outdoor Microphone Windscreen

 

Equipment at my desk:
Dragon NaturallySpeaking Premium 13.0, English – You need to get a Premium version or better in order to get the transcription functionality (where you can load an audio file from a voice recorder).

Blue Yeti USB Microphone – I get the best accuracy out of my Yeti. It’s worth the price if you’ll be doing a lot of dictation at your desk.

Dell Inspiron 5558 Signature Edition i5 processor with 16GB RAM – less RAM will work, but Dragon works significantly faster with more RAM. The jump from 8GB to 16GB made a noticeable difference.

 

Alternative Mics / Headsets
While I don’t use these on a daily basis, I’ve had good testing results with the equipment below. I still favor the Blue Yeti microphone for the best accuracy at the desk.

Blue Snowball iCE Condenser Microphone, Cardioid

Andrea (NC-181VM) On-Ear Monaural PC Headset

Koss CS100 Speech Recognition Computer Headset

 

But what if I already have XLR microphones from podcasting or recording music? Use them! Get this wonderful adapter and save yourself the cost of a new microphone:

Blue Icicle XLR to USB Mic Converter/Mic Preamp

 

Want to read up on training Dragon and getting the most out of your setup?
You can’t beat The Writer’s Guide to Training Your Dragon by Scott Baker. I’d also recommend the following titles for really digging into some fantastic methods for dictating your novel:

Dictate Your Book: How To Write Your Book Faster, Better, and Smarter by Monica Leonelle

5,000 Words Per Hour: Write Faster, Write Smarter by Chris Fox

 

Dictation may not feel natural at first, and I found speaking punctuation awkward as all get out the first week, but you get used to it. Dragon becomes another tool for getting words on the page, and in my case, getting words on the page at a much faster rate.

Filed Under: Life, Writing

Mason Dixon: Monster Hunter – Episode One Available Now

April 25, 2017 By Eric R. Asher Leave a Comment

MASON DIXON: MONSTER HUNTER

EPISODE ONE

NOW AVAILABLE

A NEW NOVELLA SERIES FROM FALSTAFF BOOKS

Amazon, iBooks, B&N, and Kobo

“Out,” I said. “Get out of the pit. Safeties off.” I raised the stock to my shoulder and swept the area around us again.

Emma slipped and crashed into the pit, sending a cascade of stained white bones over the edge to clatter down into the limestone depression. We waited, and I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.

Boom.

We both froze. I don’t care how many times you’ve encountered something in the wild, you still freeze for a split second.

Boom.

“Move!” I hissed, backpedaling while keeping my tranquilizer aimed around Emma. She was almost out. We could get back on the ATVs and come back with bigger guns. 10cc darts? I should have brought the 50cc cannon. This was a mistake. The old man wasn’t crazy at all.

Boom. Boom. Boom. BoomBoomBoom.

The gowrow erupted from its lair like it had been spit forth by an angry god. Its stubby, bulbous body might have been humorous paired with its long scaly neck if not for the tusks fit for a mammoth gleaming in the dying sun. It would take that creature zero effort to kill us in one charge.

Its movements seemed awkward, but its attacks were practiced. The gowrow swiped at Emma with a four-toed webbed foot, a lethal claw extending from each digit. She fell backwards and rolled away, barely avoiding the attack.

Any doubt this gowrow was a maneater fled in a heartbeat.

I cranked the air pressure as high as it would go on the tranquilizer gun and fired. The dart rose slightly in a wind disturbance created by the massive creature and pinged harmlessly off the field of spiky scales lining its back. I cursed, flipped the butt of the rifle open, and loaded another dart.

Available Now

Amazon, iBooks, B&N, and Kobo

Filed Under: Mason Dixon Tagged With: Mason Dixon

Mason Dixon: Monster Hunter, a new series begins

March 14, 2017 By Eric R. Asher 4 Comments

MASON DIXON: MONSTER HUNTER

EPISODE ONE

COMING APRIL 2017

A NEW NOVELLA SERIES FROM FALSTAFF BOOKS

Pre-Order today on Amazon, iBooks, B&N, and Kobo

“Mason, I’d really rather not go to lockup tonight.”

The gowrows squawked agreeably from the back seat.

“Put your harness on,” I said.

“Mason?” Emma asked hesitantly as she pulled the racing harness over her shoulders.

I did the same, awkwardly buckling the crotch piece with one hand. “Drop a couple apples on the floor board. I want the gowrows as low as they can get.”

She pulled two out of the glove box and tossed them into the back. My seat bounced forward when the first gowrow dove for the nearest apple.

“Alright kid, let’s see what you got me.” I pushed the power button on the radio and held it down. Three seconds later, a panel slid out with a series of very much not factory approved features.

“What the hell are we doing?” Emma asked.

I floored the accelerator. We hit 60 pretty fast, at which point I said, “Nitrous,” and hit the big blue button. The engine screamed as the injection hit, and rocketed us up to 110 miles per hour, which is a really stupid thing to do on a country highway.

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit,” Emma said as the force of the acceleration smashed us into our seats. The gowrows squealed in the back, their necks stretched over the seat, and jaws widened like they were screaming. I ground my teeth together. It felt like we were leaving the earth as we crested the small hills, and the tires screamed around gentle turns that were barely turns at all.

In the end, it would only buy us a few seconds against the helicopter, but that might be enough. We soared through another two miles, and I crushed the brakes when I saw the turn off for Swinging Bridges Road in the distance. Smoke and screeches and the squeals of the gowrows filled the early morning air.

I wrenched the wheel and bounced off the highway as fast as I dared in the old truck.

“Gravel!” Emma shouted. “Why are there still gravel roads out here!”

“Wait until you see the bridge.”

Pre-order Today!

Amazon, iBooks, B&N, Kobo

 

Filed Under: Mason Dixon Tagged With: Mason Dixon

Steamborn Book One, Now Available in Audio!

February 1, 2017 By Eric R. Asher Leave a Comment

The Steamborn Book One audiobook is now available at Audible, iTunes, and Amazon. Narrated by the fabulous Saskia Maarleveld.

Jacob, a tinker’s apprentice, has never backed down from an adventure, but when a swarm of Deadlands creatures shatters the peace of Ancora, he’ll face trials the likes of which he has never imagined. Forced out of the Lowlands, Jacob and his friends seek shelter behind the towering walls of the Highlands, only to uncover a terrible darkness at the heart of their city.<

“A steampunk Starship Troopers! Filled with action, adventure and intrigue. A captivating story for readers both young and old.” – Mari Mancusi, award winning author of the Scorched trilogy.

Filed Under: Steamborn Tagged With: audiobook, Steamborn

Rattle the Bones is Live!

January 29, 2017 By Eric R. Asher Leave a Comment

Rattle the Bones, the sixth Vesik book, is now available at Amazon, iBooks, B&N, and Kobo. Damian is back with old friends, new allies, and, well, food.

Much has been lost in the conflict with the Fae king and his allies, a conflict we hadn’t known we were in until one of our own fell at his hand. And while a great Seal between realms may have been rebuilt, dark things slipped through in the chaos, creatures who would overrun this world. Our allies are many. Our enemies are terrible. And someone ate my last chimichanga despite the fact I had clearly marked it with a note that said it was mine.

I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It’s my favorite in the series so far.

Rattle the Bones by Eric R Asher

Filed Under: Vesik

Rattle the Bones (Vesik 6) Chapter One

January 15, 2017 By Eric R. Asher Leave a Comment

If you haven’t read Destroyer Rising, SPOILERS AHEAD!

GIANT HUGE MASSIVE SPOILERS!

Rattle the Bones

Coming 01/31/2017

CHAPTER ONE

“Of all the things I thought might happen, that wasn’t even close to being one of them.” I stared out the window at the front of Death’s Door, watching Aeros and the swarm of children surrounding him.

Zola patted my shoulder.

I slowly shook my head and marveled at the scene across the street. Aeros had been here less than a week, taking up his post at the corner of the parking lot. He’d intimidated the military patrols, as we’d hoped, but the kids had been a surprise.

A boy slipped as he reached the Old God’s shoulder, and I hissed, expecting to see him smack into the ground. Instead, a pillar of rock rose beneath him, cutting his fall short. Aeros glanced at the boy, and I could see the Old God’s craggy mouth moving.

The boy jumped off, laughing, and joined his friends by the curb. One of the girls made it up to Aeros’s shoulder and swung her legs to hang over his chest. They’d turned the old rock pile into a playground.

“You think he misses Vicky?” I asked.

“We all do, Damian, but she’s with her family again, and her bond to the Destroyer is broken. There’s not much more we can ask than that.”

I agreed wholeheartedly.

A man walked around the corner, dressed in a three-piece suit and bowler.

“Edgar?” I asked, watching him as he walked toward the front door.

“Ah’ve been expecting him,” Zola said. “Took him long enough.”

The bell on the front door jingled a moment later, and Edgar stepped inside.

“Waiting for him to flatten one of those kids?” the Watcher asked.

“You know damn well he would never do that to a child,” Zola snapped.

Edgar held up his hands. “My apologies. I had no intention of starting an argument.”

“Especially when you’ll lose,” I said.

Edgar shot me a sideways glance, but he didn’t deny it. “Are Foster and Aideen around? I’d like to speak with them.”

“It’s barely been a week since they lost Cara,” Zola said.

“Something’s happening in Falias. There’s been fighting inside the city over the past few days, and no one seems to know why.” Edgar hesitated, glancing toward the back of the shop before nodding. “They’re the only Fae I trust right now. The loyalties split between Glenn and Hern are confusing, and judging Fae intentions is little more than a guess.”

“Let me see if Foster and Aideen are up for visitors,” I said to Edgar. I walked toward the back, passing the glass countertops on the right and the large display case of gemstones off to the left. The saloon-style door creaked as I pushed my way past it.

Foster sat on the edge of the grandfather clock beside Aideen, his rage disturbing the ley lines around the clock, sending out sickly black waves from his aura. He had been like this for a week, teetering between rage and guilt, and I felt much the same. Cara shouldn’t have had to lay down her life for mine.

Bubbles and Peanut sniffed the air from where they were both crammed into their underground lair’s entrance.

“You hear all that?” I asked.

“We did,” Aideen said. She turned to Foster and placed a hand on his cheek. “It is time, my love. The seven days are over.”

Foster kissed his wife and slid off the edge of the grandfather clock, exploding into his full size. He sang, and the ringing notes sent shivers down my spine.

Seven days have passed, oh king.

Seven days I’ve seen.

Seven days I held the lost.

Seven days unseen.

Foster slammed the saloon-style doors open, and Aideen joined him. I’d heard the mourning song before. When Cassie died at the farm, something sang it for weeks in the depths of the woods.

In seven moons, the deeds be done,

Sheathed inside the king.

In seven lives, we know the boon,

What now forever sees.

I followed the fairies out into the store. Foster stared at Edgar, and the immortal stared back.

“Did you know?” the fairy whispered. “Did you know what Gwynn Ap Nudd intended to do to my family? My mother?”

“Gods no!” Edgar said, stepping back as if he’d been struck. “There was no hint of it. I’m not even sure he’d intended it himself. He acted when an opportunity presented itself.”

“She wasn’t an opportunity.” Foster bit off each syllable.

Edgar froze, and I stepped between them.

“That’s not what he meant,” I said, holding up my hands. “Foster, please, I don’t want to scrub Edgar’s brains out of the cracks in the hardwood.”

The fairy shifted his eyes from Edgar to me and slowly raised his eyebrows. “That is rather difficult, trying to clean the blood out of those little cracks.”

“Probably worse than armor,” I said, nodding vigorously.

The stony look on Foster’s face relaxed a fraction.

Edgar took his bowler off and ran his finger around the brim. “As much as we argued over the years, I considered Cara a friend. I may have kept some things from you in the past, but never something like this.”

“I need a fight,” Foster said, his voice verging on a growl.

Zola rapped her cane on the hardwood floor. “You’ll have them in spades.”

Foster frowned and glanced at Zola.

Aideen stepped up beside him and laid a hand on his sword arm. “What do you know? Is it Nudd?”

“Edgar can tell you. So long as you don’t stab him, of course.”

The front door opened to the quiet jingle of bells. We all turned to face it.

Frank froze as he stepped inside. “Uh, hope I’m not interrupting.” He held up a bag of White Castle. “I have breakfast.”

Sam blipped through the door behind him. “Yes, we have breakfast.”

A minute later, we were all seated around the old Formica table in the back room. Frank divided up the breakfast sandwiches. He’d bought enough for a small army. Clearly, he knew me.

Foster and Aideen sat to either side of a sandwich in their smaller forms, slicing off bits of bread and egg to build their own miniature breakfast.

“Nice to see you outside the clock,” Sam said.

“The seven days of mourning are a tradition in our family,” Aideen said.

Foster nodded. “She means thanks for not sticking your nose in any more than you did.” He stuffed his face with a bite of his breakfast sandwich.

Sam gave him a small smile.

“Thanks, Frank,” I said after a bite of warm gooey cheese. “But not Sam.”

She narrowed her eyes at me.

Frank nodded and glanced at Edgar.

Edgar wore a frown. He stared at the boxed breakfast sandwich. “This is … food?”

“You’ve never had White Castle?” I said, unable to keep the disbelief from my voice. “Be sure to take it out of the box first. That’s just decoration.”

Zola snorted a laugh beside me, the gray metal charms braided into her hair tinkling as she moved.

“It is square, virtually a cube of meat and cheese…” Edgar took a bite of his sandwich and chewed deliberately. He swallowed, frowned, and took another. He looked uncertain, but his sandwich kept getting smaller.

“Tell us,” Foster said, after finishing one of his mini sandwiches. “What did Zola mean about fights?”

Edgar looked up from his square sandwich and glanced at his watch. He grimaced and said, “It’s time. Turn on your television.”

I hadn’t tried to turn on the little television in the back of the shop in years, and was surprised when the tube whined and came to life. “What station?”

“I’m sure it doesn’t matter,” Edgar said.

A few flips of the dial on the front of the old set proved him right. Every station showed a stand of microphones and a sea of cables running away from the platform. Soldiers in uniform flanked the stage, and my stomach started to sour.

A reporter stepped into the frame. I snorted when I saw who it was.

“Well,” I said. “she sure knows how to step into some shit.” She’d been there when a leviathan rose from the Ohio River, when Ezekiel had executed Watchers along the Brookport Bridge. And yet she was still here, still reporting. I had to give her credit for that.

“This is Emily Beckers, coming to you live. We’re awaiting the first public address of the Fae. Stay with us for this historic moment.”

The light dimmed on the small screen, like a storm front had rolled in front of the sun. As it brightened again, two distinct forms took shape behind the microphones. The feed fell silent, and the cameras zoomed in on the newcomers.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered.

Glenn stood there, one arm raised in greeting to the crowd. He could have passed for a Watcher, wearing a finely tailored suit as he was. The only thing that looked out of the ordinary was the antlered helm he carried beneath his arm.

“Glenn and Hern?” Aideen said.

Foster sat down in the middle of the table and stared. “Hern … what are they doing?”

Sam was stock still on Frank’s lap. “He killed Cara.” Her hands paled as she clenched her fists.

“They’re working together,” I said. “They have to be.”

Foster leaned toward the television, his fingers strangling the hilt of his sword.

“Greetings,” Glenn said, wearing a smile that made him look more like a long-lost grandfather than a murdering psychopath. “I am the leader of the Fae city known as Falias, and yes, some will even go so far as to call me their king. That’s too impersonal a term, as we are here to form an understanding between our communities. So while my given name may be Gwynn Ap Nudd, I implore you to call me Glenn.”

“I think I just threw up a little bit,” Sam said.

“Shh,” Foster said, waving at her to be quiet.

“You lost a great many souls when our fair city was wrenched from its home. Please realize, I lost friends and family too in that great cataclysm. But you must understand, it was not me. It was not even one of the Fae.”

Murmurs filtered through the audience. They hadn’t shown the crowd before, and when the camera panned across them, I was taken aback at the sheer scale, the risers constructed to either side of the stage like some grand stadium. Like some terrible simulacra of the Royal Court.

“Though we of Falias may be powerful, we were not able to stop our shared enemy. In that very conflict, I lost my wife.”

Foster screamed at the television. “You son of a bitch! I’ll gut you from groin to lung just to heal you and start again!”

“Not long ago, your military felt their best course of action was to drop bombs on our fair city, killing more innocent families. Children.” Glenn hung his head and shook it slowly. The camera switched to a horror-struck middle-aged man and a younger woman, maybe his daughter, with one hand over her mouth. Glenn was playing the crowd like a goddamned fiddle. “It was an act of fear, but it is an act I can forgive. By the end of our short speech here, rest assured those bombs that did not find their targets will be returned, undamaged and ready to be deployed at more … appropriate threats.”

A massive green cylinder appeared in front of the podium, looking like a water tower laid on its side and capped with a cone.

Murmurs and shouts rose up from the audience.

“We are only returning what was lost,” Glenn said. He stepped to the side, and for a moment a black-cloaked figure stood hunched behind him, a hood pulled down to cover a helmeted face, and then it was gone.

“That’s a damn daisy cutter that just appeared,” Frank said. “That bomb could kill everyone there.”

Emily stepped onscreen again. “We’re taking you live to an aerial view from our news chopper.”

The image flipped to something I could scarcely wrap my head around.

“What you’re seeing are dozens of unexploded bombs, carefully laid out behind the stage.” Emily turned, and looked to be scanning for someone. “It’s unknown where these bombs came from, but we’re currently speculating that the Fae—”

Someone put their hand up in front of the camera, and the screen flashed back to a stunned-looking newsroom.

I flipped the channel. It was the same on every one.

“Well,” I said. “Glenn knows how to make an impression.”

“Peace,” Glenn said when the picture returned. “There is nothing to fear in this place.” He waited for the crowd to quiet.

Aideen crossed her arms and watched from Zola’s shoulder.

“It was not so long ago that I was at war with one of my allies. This man, here.” He gestured for Hern to step forward. “Our own realm has been scoured by battle, scarred by it. But we have put our differences aside, Hern and I, to work for the betterment of all people.”

The crowd’s murmurs broke into a polite applause.

“So please,” Glenn said, “do not fear us for our differences, but do use caution around the outskirts of our city. There are … bad neighborhoods, much like you have inside your own cities. I would not wish for any of you to be harmed, and it would not do for that to be a reflection on Falias itself.

“Hern will answer your questions about safety, and help guide us into a new era. A time of peace between your realm and our own. An era when our children may play together, grow old together, and bring peace to this fractured world.”

Something in the crowd shifted, and their polite claps broke into a raucous applause, the sound little more than static on the television.

Edgar took a deep breath before slamming his palm on the Formica table. “That was brilliant. That was bloody brilliant. If he plays this right, and I have little doubt he will, Gwynn Ap Nudd will look like an ambassador of goodwill between the commoners and Fae.”

“He’s a monster,” Frank said. He huffed and leaned back in his chair. “Edgar’s right. It was a perfect setup. Too perfect. What’s his game?”

Zola leaned forward and rested her chin on her knuckles. “Keep your opponent off balance, until the time is right.”

Hern stepped up to the microphone. “Thank you, Glenn. As my colleague said, you may ask me whatever you wish. We will be conducting tours of Falias, as I understand many of you would like to meet some of the local Fae who are now your neighbors.”

“It doesn’t even sound like Hern,” Aideen said. “How long? How long have they been planning this?”

“There are dangerous beings from our world. They are not Fae, but please use caution if you would happen to encounter anyone claiming to be a necromancer, vampire, or a witch. It is believed the group responsible for the tragedy in the East is based in Saint Louis. Thank you for your time today.” He inclined his head and walked off the stage.

Zola growled.

“He just put the entire world on alert,” Sam said. “For us.”

“Yeah,” I said, turning the television off. “Shit.”

Edgar rubbed his forehead and turned to Aideen as she hopped onto the table. “There has been more fighting in Falias the past two days. I hoped you or Foster may have some idea of why.”

“Our numbers are building at the Obsidian Inn,” Foster said. “There is more fighting because there is more resistance.”

Aideen wiped down her sword and sheathed it. “What do you wish to do?”

“We go to Falias.” A savage smile lifted the corners of Foster’s mouth.

Pre-order today at iBooks, B&N, and Kobo | Amazon coming 01/31/2017.

Filed Under: Vesik

  • « Go to Previous Page
  • Go to page 1
  • Interim pages omitted …
  • Go to page 3
  • Go to page 4
  • Go to page 5
  • Go to page 6
  • Go to page 7
  • Interim pages omitted …
  • Go to page 17
  • Go to Next Page »

Primary Sidebar

LIMITED TIME OFFER

Eric R Asher - Whispers of War Book Offer

Connect

Disclosure

Eric Asher is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn fees by linking to Amazon.com and affiliated sites.

Footer

Connect

Love Audiobooks? My Books Are On Audible Here

Search

Disclosure

Eric Asher is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn fees by linking to Amazon.com and affiliated sites.

Copyright © 2022 · Eric R Asher · Designed by Kate Tilton's Author Services, LLC · Privacy Policy · Cookie Policy · Datenschutzrichtlinie | Impressum