N. P. Ryan

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Delving Deeper into Genuine or Lie

March 17, 2019September 15, 2020 / N. P. Ryan / Leave a comment

How positive reviews for self-publishing services and products are easily obtained without being genuine and neither an outright lie:

Continue reading →

NOBODY Cares About Your Book!

February 17, 2019September 15, 2020 / N. P. Ryan / Leave a comment

After all the hours spent toiling over punctuation and grammar, never mind all the sleepless nights worrying about whether the plot’s as tight as a mouse’s arsehole, that’s a Hell of a statement to just fling in a budding author’s face. So let’s put the theory to the test: Continue reading →

The Great Formatting Swindle

February 16, 2019September 15, 2020 / N. P. Ryan / 2 Comments

One burning question for anyone coming to self-publishing for the first time: how to format.

There is plenty of advice out there.

But which is the right way? Continue reading →

Small Town Conspiracy

October 27, 2018September 15, 2020 / N. P. Ryan / Leave a comment

The Medusa Protocol, Book One, Wish You Were Her, Chapter One:

 

Her . . .  Her . . . Consumed by thoughts of Her – skin, breath, carbon.

“You’ve been got by the ol’ curse,” he said. Continue reading →

All Along the Watchtowers

October 27, 2018September 15, 2020 / N. P. Ryan / Leave a comment

Welcome to a world of anxiety, anger and insecurity; a place where Abandonment Issues rule the day unknown.

Whether a first time visitor or previous—maybe even current—resident, The Medusa Protocol hopes to show as much as relate and commiserate.

Continue reading →

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Drinking in a dingy bar by the sea, crumpled postcard from Her and World’s Biggest Ray Zero for company; then the son of a starts saying I’m cursed. Praise Be to lighting-up another smoke. Inhale, taste a foul brand: the Hex She put on me. Promised Heaven, delivered a dive nightclub Hell. Thank the Lord for liquor loving hot chicks. Though nothing compares to how it’ll feel catching up with Her.

Wanted a quick bit of business and gone. Bath had other ideas. First, battered and left for dead after a hundred heart-breaking truths. Then a Police Chief with a saggy old treasure chest of secrets to keep needs a scapegoat. Dumps me in the middle of corruption so deep it eases through bone to suck greedy at marrow. With every gun pointing my way, Hell, not even He’s gonna get me outta this one.

Recent Posts: N. P. Ryan

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There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time, but just haven’t found the right words or way. Today that changes.

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In an isolated corner of Wales there’s an unassuming shed with a humble wooden door and simple brass knocker; behind that door . . .

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