Erik Testerman is a Marine Corps grunt, a competitive shooter, and an admirer of fine arms and armaments. He lives in the mountains of North Carolina with his lovely wife, two rambunctious children, and a slobbery English Mastiff.
To learn more about Erik Testerman and read samples of his work, visit http://GunPowderAndInk.blog
It’s August 7th and holy smokes, where’d the year go?
More importantly… how is Book IV going?
Good. I’m on a writing roll, to the point where I’m forcing myself to stop and do a blog update instead of writing about someone getting eaten during a prehistoric river crossing. But words are going on computer screen at a nice rate, I’m excited, I’m vibrant, and I’m ready to get this sucker into the reader’s calloused and gun powder scented hands.
(Who am I kidding? I have soft keyboard and cubicle hands these days… nary a callous or sparkle of gunpowder on either one.)
First, on the sharper side of things – I discovered Scallywag Tactical. They make awesome pointy things for poking people with AND they are located a few hours away from me in NC.
I had to order the wife something… in Tiffany blue. (And a couple little push blades that go on your key ring.)
They make gorgeous blades, check them out. Arm your ladies, gents!
Second, on the boom boom side of things… I came across a SCREAMING deal of a Savage Stance without safety. Not a bad little piece. For the $300 it’ll make a nice truck gun… but meh. I can barely push the mag release in and I have YET to be able to get the slide release to work with my big mitts. (I’ve got to slingshot the slide to reload)
Neat, but… This thing will probably go down the road to another owner. I may make $50 on it, also.
Stuff I’ve read recently that didn’t suck. Drop Trooper series by Rick Partlow. We bumped into each other online in a FB group, friended each other, and exchanged signed books.
I’ve got a bunch of kindle copies of West of Prehistoric languishing in my Amazon account that need reading and ownership.
Back around early 2021, my first book went on a kindle sale for .99. I bought a LOT of them to pass out and I realized today that I’ve got some left over.
So, if you want one or have a kid that would like to read it… Let me know.
Contact me through the Contact Page or at AuthorErikTesterman@gmail.com.
In other news, WoP just passed 200 reviews and still rocking a 4.6/5 star average.
That’s just awesome. There are a lot of authors with bigger publishers whose books don’t pass 100 reviews, much less 200. (Some of those publishers passed my series over… but it’s hard to be bitter when you’re successful.) That being said, there are millions of books and authors more successful than me, so I’ve gotta stay humble and keep grinding.
ALSO… through some weird fluke of Walmart/Amazon relationship – Book III, “Taming Prehistoric” is now available online at Walmart…
Not sure how that happened. But it’s a feather in my cap and a future goal to have my books on their shelves in stores.
Now for some randomness.
I watched Thor: Love and Thunder last night.
First ten minutes were just plain stupid. They made Thor look like a clown.
The rest was pretty good.
Christian Bale and Natalie Portman were great as Gorr and the Mighty Thor.
The ending was not at all expected… but good. I don’t know if the Thor story arc is over now or not, but I hope it continues.
Popcorn is stupid expensive. I blame ethanol.
And finally, an excerpt from BOOK IV (Yet unnamed)…
If you know, you know this scene has been coming for some time…. 🙂
And for this holiday we’re all American. (Whether you like it or not.)
On this day, I love to post Patrick Henry’s famous Liberty or Death speech from March 23rd, 1775 in it’s entirety on social media. Because it is so much more than the last line that is often repeated. I highly recommend reading it.
“No man thinks more highly than I do of the patriotism, as well as abilities, of the very worthy gentlemen who have just addressed the House. But different men often see the same subject in different lights; and, therefore, I hope it will not be thought disrespectful to those gentlemen if, entertaining as I do opinions of a character very opposite to theirs, I shall speak forth my sentiments freely and without reserve. This is no time for ceremony. The question before the House is one of awful moment to this country. For my own part, I consider it as nothing less than a question of freedom or slavery; and in proportion to the magnitude of the subject ought to be the freedom of the debate. It is only in this way that we can hope to arrive at truth, and fulfill the great responsibility which we hold to God and our country. Should I keep back my opinions at such a time, through fear of giving offense, I should consider myself as guilty of treason towards my country, and of an act of disloyalty toward the Majesty of Heaven, which I revere above all earthly kings.
Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes, see not, and, having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst, and to provide for it.
I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the House. Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike preparations which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be called in to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation; the last arguments to which kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? Has Great Britain any enemy, in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us: they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry have been so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find which have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves. Sir, we have done everything that could be done to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned; we have remonstrated; we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult; our supplications have been disregarded; and we have been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the throne! In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free– if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending–if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained–we must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms and to the God of hosts is all that is left us!
They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. The millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable–and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come.
It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace– but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!“
And in the immortal words of Jack Burton:
May the wings of liberty never lose a feather.
Happy 4th of July.
Shoot the fireworks.
Eat the meat.
Love God, your family, and your country, and defend them all from those who would dishonor them.
Gonna try to hammer this out quick because I’m tired but still need to get some words down for WOP Book IV.
Went to the beach with my lovely family.
On the way, I was financially mugged at every fuel stop by Joe Biden and his environmental cronies.
(Democrat Party. 0/10 stars. Do not recommend.)
Otherwise, had a pretty good time. With the typical stress that having two kids cause. Got this picture with the forever lovely Mrs. Testerman.
(I not only love guns, I also love this shirt. My Vortex Optic hat off to Combat Iron Apparel for being such a bada$$ clothing company who ain’t afraid to make good stuff.)
Then I came home and created an official Author Instagram Account.
I tried to set my pronouns as (AR/15) but Instagram was on to us and wouldn’t allow it. So, I settled for not bothering to mock such lunacy as selectable gender roles. But hey, shameless plug. Go follow me. I’ll keep it entertaining.
Finally, last night I drove to Winston-Salem and had some more ink put on my toxic masculine, knuckle-dragging, behind-on-the-times, non-gender confused body.
With the help of my extremely talented and favorite tattoo artist, I had a ‘Vae Victus’ (“Woe to the Conquered”, uttered by Brennus the Gaul after he sacked Rome.) put across my collar bone, a trio of crosses on my right boobie, and a Roman Gladius sword slapped down the center of my chest.
It all hurt.
On the writing front, not much to add. I’m behind. Very unhappy with that, but I’ve a week long ‘stay-at-home’ vacation coming up over the Fourth of July(The anniversary of my beginning to write!) and I plan on hammering out a TON of words that week to get caught up.
Anyways. I hope you all have a wonderful rest of June, keep your powder dry, your gas tanks and larders full, and good luck surviving the next two years of a Brandon Presidency.