EVO Ghost, EVO Nation: Book One, EVO Shift, Writing Exercises, Zombie Playlist

Week Four: Fictional Flashback February 2017


For the past month, I have been taking part in #FictFBFeb17 hosted by Faith Rivens. You can find Faith and this challenge on Twitter and Instagram~ @faith_therivens. 

#FictFBFeb17 has now come to an end. I would like to thank Faith for hosting such a brilliant exercise. This challenge allowed us to take an indepth look at our characters, and offer readers insight into their stories. Not only that, as a result of this challenge, I have new names to add to my ARC readers list, and have had readers message me to let me know that they downloaded my EVO Nation series thanks to my posts! What a brilliant result. Thank you to everyone who has shared and commented on my posts, and a big thank you to those who have asked for ARCs when Zombie Playlist is finished.

I chose to feature Teddie Leason from the EVO Nation series, and Dagger, the protagonist from a novella I am currently working on, Zombie Playlist. Each day was a different theme, and here are my posts from the last week.

Day 22: Flop

Day 23: Flinch

Day 24: Frozen

Day 25: Fifty


Day 26: Fulfil

Day 27: Future

Day 28: Finish

Content belongs to K.J.Chapman

Picture Prompts

Picture Prompts


Over on my Instagram account, I post fortnightly picture prompts that I have snapped because they inspire me in my writing. I invite you to have a pop at writing a sentence or paragraph to accompany it. You can find me on Instagram by following this link.

If you do not have an Instagram account, but would like to join in, you can post your sentence/ paragraph in the comments, and I will feature them in the next Picture Prompt post right here on my blog with links back to you.

Picture Prompt:


They pollute their lungs, litter their environment, and all for what…an addiction? They don’t realise how easy they make my job. Each cigarette stub they flick to the ground is teeming with their DNA. Once it is discarded in this way, I can legally take them. What I do next is not strictly legal, but my creations need life, and what sort of father would I be if I didn’t give my children what they need?

Content belongs to K.J. Chapman


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Prompt Me Teasers!

I have been getting creative with some new promotional banners and images for my eBooks. This post is a teaser post for my writing prompts eBook:

Prompt Me: 150 Writing Prompts for Beating the Block

Prompt Me(1)

Buy your copy: here.

Here are some of the teasers I have shared on  various social media platforms:

The moon is an engineered structure built for the purposes of observation. Someone or something has been watching us.The first poison rain fell in 3035. Now, it’s a daily occurrence. The earth wants us dead.“What did I do so wrong as a mother to deserve a son as despicable as you_”“You married my father.”What would you do if... scientists discovered the origin of love and offered a cure for it_

I’m a huge fan of writing prompts and writing exercises, and some of the exercises featured on this blog are included in the book. Why not set yourself a challenge- 150 writing exercises using the prompts from my book? That is 150 blog posts… just saying.

Writing Exercises

What’s Your Name? Letter L

Today’s ‘L’ name randomly selected from the first ‘L’ page of my naming book is:

Lacey: A surname meaning ‘from Lassy in the Calvados region of Normany’. Used as a masculine or feminine first name (Old French).


Owen stood on the balcony, staring down at the dark patch that stained the concrete below- blood.  The police tape had been left in place, but he paid it no heed. They had rang him in the early hours of that morning to tell him that Lacey had jumped to her death whilst holidaying with friends. Not suspicious- a suicide- a troubled drug addict. He flew to Spain on the next available flight, needing to see for himself, to play detective if need be.

Just the thought of Lacey balanced on the thin railings, contemplating ending her own life, was a hard pill to swallow. He tucked his hands back into his pockets to avoid touching anything. Disturbing a crime scene was the last thing he wanted to do. It was undoubtedly a crime scene. He knew it as soon as he arrived. Lacey would never have committed suicide; knowing what it would have done to Owen would have stopped her. He was sure of that much.

Ryan placed a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, mate. It’s no good for you to be here. It’s not helping-“

He rang his best friend as soon as he got the call. Ryan was at his house in mere minutes with a holdall and booked flights. They had known each other since childhood. Ryan knew Lacey as well as anybody.

“Don’t touch anything. This is a murder scene.”

“If she was in trouble she’d have called you? Did you check your voicemails? What about your email? ” asked Ryan.

Ryan’s reluctance to accept another scenario irritated the crap out of Owen. Why would he even come if he thought it just a suicide?

“Of course I checked them,” Owen snapped.

Ryan held his hands up in submission. “Sorry, silly questions.”

Owen’s eyes found Lacey’s keys instantly. His heart missed a beat as he crossed the room, and his hands shook as he picked up the ornamental keyring. “Not silly,” he whispered. “She would have let me know.”

The miniature Russian doll felt cool against his sweating palms. “We’d write messages to each other as kids and tuck them inside this.” He showed Ryan the keyring. “I didn’t know she still had it.”

He unscrewed the top and retrieved a small, rolled up piece of paper. Ryan was at his side in a split second. They both caught their breath as Owen unravelled the note.

The black scrawl spelt out three words: ‘Don’t trust Ryan.’

All written works are the property of K.J.Chapman

Do you like writing prompts? Check out K.J.Chapman’s Prompt Me eBook, and discover 150 writing prompts for beating the block!


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SURPRISE!! My Side Project Has Come To Fruition…

Prompt Me(1)I finally have a writing prompt eBook for sale on Amazon Kindle:

Prompt Me: 150 Writing Prompts for Beating the Block.

Blurb: We have all stared at a blank screen or notepad, willing the inspiration to come. Not only is this the most frustrating, infuriating, time wasting thing that can happen to a writer, it is also avoidable. Whether, you need to beat the block, take a breather from your current work in progress, or just harness your inner creativity, writing exercises are the way forward. Take a prompt, give yourself a time allowance, and create.

I have been quietly working on this project alongside writing EVO Shift, book two in the EVO Nation series. I’m a sucker for writing prompts, as you probably know from my writing exercise posts, and I wanted to tap into that love and compile a writing prompts eBook. All the prompts are original and I have included some of my own writing exercise examples that have been featured on this blog.

Why not challenge yourself? Work your way through the book, expanding on one prompt a day. Ten minutes per exercise will amount to approximately 25 hours of writing time under your belt. Just saying…

Buy Prompt Me for just £1.49 on Amazon Kindle.

Images and written works are the property of K.J.Chapman

Writing Exercises

What’s Your Name? Letter D

Today’s name that I randomly selected from the first D page of the name book is:

Dáire: (pronounced darr-ya) a masculine first name meaning ‘fruitful’ or ‘fertile’ (Irish Gaelic).


Pulling her jumper over her head, and scrunching her hair back into a ponytail, Eva runs down the garden path, and volts the wall into the neighbouring field. The moon is fat in the sky, illuminating everything with clear brilliance. With one final glance at the dark windows to make sure her Papa is none the wiser, she races on through the long grass.

Her rucksack, as usual during these midnight escapades, is full of blankets, food, drink, and Papa’s clothes. The earth is boggy underfoot, and the breeze cuts through her jumper and jeans, but nothing can dampen her spirits tonight.

At the edge of the field she climbs the gate into Mr O’Hara’s field that borders the woods. A security light flashes on, and she shrinks into the hedgerow. She can’t be seen; not by a soul. Keeping low and avoiding the nettles, she skirts the field in ten seconds flat, and sprints into the woods.

She makes it to the clearing in less than ten minutes. Slumping down on the fallen tree to catch her breath, she admires the moon in all its glory. She had never appreciated the moon before all of this started. Now, she has the lunar cycles meticulously noted on her calendar. Her Papa made a joke about her being a werewolf, which amused her greatly. If only he knew.

It has been exactly twenty nine days since the last full moon. The longest twenty nine days in human history, or so it felt to Eva. Impatiently drumming her fingers against the tree bark, she nervously jiggles her legs. The excitement never dissipated, if anything it only grew with each full moon.

Then she felt it- the change in the air as if charged with electricity, the eerie silence that always fell over the woods, the pulsating, humming noise, and finally, the beam of light.

The light stretches from the sky, illuminating the clearing in beautiful green rays. The floating shape gives her goose bumps, and she holds her breath as the figure slowly tumbles through the light toward earth. The light disappears as quickly as it arrived, and she blinks away the dots in her eyes, allowing them to acclimatise to the sudden darkness.

He lies on the ground, pale skin and silver white hair aglow in the moonlight. He always arrives naked. It was part and parcel with the port ship; only organic matter could go through the port, or at least that was what she understood from his explanations.

He stands uneasily, straightening himself out, and getting re-accustomed to the increased gravity. “Eva?” he asks, blinking through unfocused eyes.

Eva rushes him, jumping into his arms. “I’ve missed you, Dáire,” she whispers.

He strokes her hair out of her face and kisses her. “Not as much as I have missed you,” he says against her lips.

Dáire’s gold irises sparkle in the moonlight making her tummy swoop. “How long can you stay for this time?” she asks, scared of his reply.

“Five minutes.” He judges her reaction, gripping a little tighter to her waist. “They know, Eva. They know what I’ve been doing, and have threatened your life. I can’t stay, and neither can you. You’ve got to come with me- right now.”

All written works are the property of K.J.Chapman


Writing Exercises

Prompt Me #7

Today’s prompt is another from Sarina over at Cookie Break. I cannot stress enough how you are missing out if you are not following Cookie Break. You’ve heard it here, folks. I am a huge fan of Sarina’s blog.


Write two prayers for your character: One to be said in private, one to be said in public.

I am going to use this prompt as a little EVO Shift insight exercise. EVO Shift is book two in the EVO Nation series, and my main character, Teddie Leason, is struggling with certain issues and situations. I am still working on EVO Shift, so I hope this exercise will further my progress, and help me take a deeper delve into Teddie’s mindset.

My Public Prayer

You ask me what I pray for at night? But that isn’t the question you should be asking. You should be asking if there is any point bothering to praying at all. I can’t answer that one, but when I look around at the state of the world, at the state of humanity, I want to scream at the heavens to help us.

EVO or Non-EVO shouldn’t be the deciding factor in this war. Wake up and see that humanity is dying. When did we start torturing EVO children in the name of science? When did we start believing we’re superior to the Non-EVO because of an extra chromosome? The planet is spiraling out of control and I want off.

If you feel the need to pray, ask for our humanity to be restored. Perhaps someone up there will take pity, but if it was down to me I’d wash my hands of the lot of us.

My Private Prayer

Are you there? Do you even care? If you can hear me, then hear this- I hate you. I hate you with every ounce of life left in my body! Why are you doing this? Why would you take them from me? They were good people, the best of people. God? Is that what we’re supposed to call you? Tell me what to do. Tell me how to get through this. 

I can’t watch anyone else die. Next time you feel the need to fill your death quota, please do me a favour and knock on my door. I’m done.

Oh, one small side note- I doubt I’d be seeing you either way. After today, I’m probably headed for warmer climes.

I am no longer accepting prompt ideas.

All excerpts are the works of K.J.Chapman.

Please request permission from the prompt creator for use of the prompt in this post.

Buy EVO Nation, book one in the EVO Nation Series for 99p

Writing Exercises

Prompt Me #3

Thank you to Gabriel over at A Little Me, Apparently for this week’s prompt. Check out Gabriel’s blog for fantastic, original poetry. Click that follow button, you won’t regret it.

I have just ten minutes to expand on the prompt, and I think you’ll agree that this is a GREAT prompt with a lot of scope to work with.

The Prompt:

“You’re crazy.”

“I may be crazy, but you’re insane.”

“What’s the difference?”

I laugh at Heath’s expression. “My craziness is just an extension of my eccentricity and I fully embrace that. Your insanity is an extension of your need to be institutionalised and that you can not accept.”

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s a good job you love me then, isn’t it?”

I pull him toward me and tangle my arms around his neck, pushing my lips against his. He still hasn’t lost the knack of making my knees go weak and he knows it. Lacing his fingers in my hair, he pulls me in closer still.

Dana scoffs. “The pair of you are fruit loops. Now, can you stop snogging and get back to work? These bombs ain’t gonna programme themselves.”

Heath offers her a mock salute and disappears down the corridor to find Judd.

“You still haven’t told him,” Dana states, without looking up from her laptop. I don’t reply. “So, he’ll want to take care of you, is that such a bad thing?”

“I’m not ready to admit it to myself let alone Heath. How can I be anyone’s Mum, Dana. I don’t understand babies and they certainly don’t understand me.”

“What’s to understand? Feed it when it’s hungry, change it when it craps, and don’t leave it in a locked car on a hot day.”

I chuckle whilst typing in what feels like the millionth code. She’s right, but if Heath knows I’m pregnant he’ll take me off the job. I’ve worked my butt off for the past thirteen months and I’m not going to sit it out now. I have the most riding on it. My Dad was one of the eight hundred and seventy six people who died because of that damned drug, and yet, they hushed it up, swept it under the rug, and are now making millions from the new and far from improved sister drug. We need to stop them, and I am sure as hell going to be there when we do.

“I’ll tell him tonight.”

“Tell me what?” says Heath. He lugs a chest of guns through the narrow passage, followed by Judd. I can’t catch my breath to speak. “Hallie, what is it?”

“I’ll tell you, but first you have to promise me that you won’t take me off the job. You know what this means to me.” He nods his head, concern etched in lines on his forehead. “I’m thirteen weeks pregnant. You’re going to be a Daddy, Heath.”

The look of concern is instantly replaced with euphoria. “Are you serious, Baby? I’m going to be a Da–“

A gun shot rings through the passage and Heath’s eyes glaze over. Instantly, tears of blood run from the sockets and down his cheeks. He drops to his knees and onto his stomach. The hole carved into the back of his head smokes, and Judd stands behind him with a gun raised.

“No!” I scream as Judd turns to Dana. The second gun shot is the last thing I hear before the world wanes and darkness beckons me.

If you would like to offer prompts for future posts, please check out the original post and leave a comment: Prompt Me

All excerpts are the works of K.J.Chapman.

Please request permission from the prompt creator for use of the prompt in this post.

Writing Exercises

Ten Weeks, Ten Prompts, Ten Minutes #8

It’s Tuesday again and that can only mean one thing- prompt writing exercise time. Number eight on the list from my Narrative Prompts post is a dialogue prompt. I have ten minutes to get creative and expand on it.

Prompt Eight:

“Do you see that woman at the bus stop, the one with the head scarf?”

“Yep, what about her?”

“Well, that is an issue. You shouldn’t be able to see her.”

“Okay, I think I better be going. Nice to meet you, err, Dale. See you around.” I hurry away from the dishy, but crazy guy. Why does that always happen to me? Why do I always attract the crazies? Katya is going to have a field day when I tell her about this one.

I wait for the tube and play Candy Crush on my phone. I hate Katya for introducing me to this time wasting, soul sucking, weirdly entertaining, new obsession of mine. The doors open and I step aboard, and for the first time in weeks I actually get a seat. I keep my bag on my lap, so someone can sit beside me. I’m not a total people phobe, just weird ones who tell me I can see invisible people.

After some minutes a man sits beside me. “Yasmine,” he says. “We have to talk about this.”

Oh shit, oh Christ, Oh Jeez. I’m being stalked. My lips turn dry and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. Dale turns in his chair, so only I can see his face. What the hell do I do? “Have you been following me? This is so not okay.”

“Aren’t you even curious as to why you can see these people?” he asks, tilting his head as he speaks.

“I’m curious as to why you’re clearly not on medication.” He recoils slightly. Okay, Yasmine, rein it it, don’t antagonise the psycho. “I’m sorry, but you’re scaring me,” I say in a small voice.

Dale stands instantly. “Of course. I’m sorry. I’ve gone about this the wrong way. You don’t need to be scared of me, Yasmine.” He hands me a business card. “You’ll know when to call.” His silver eyes swim with genuine remorse, and he turns and exits the train with the other passengers.


I lie awake listening to Katya’s snoring. She offered to stay the night after I told her about the weirdness from before. Mum is working nights and if I told her about Dale she’d have called the police, gave up her job, and set me up for home schooling in the blink of an eye. The strange thing is that I’m not awake because of how Dale acted, but because of the look in his eye when he apologised. He was sincere, and ever since I have had a niggling feeling that I can’t place playing on my mind.

A cat cries in the street, and I get up to see if Mum has locked Garfield out again. I peek through the curtains and see a line of cats positioned on next door’s garage roof. They all start mewing, their bodies rigid and defensive. Garfield enters the room and coils around my legs, and on hearing the mewing he springs onto the sill and joins in the chorus.

“What is wrong with him?” Katya moans, half asleep.

I ignore her, craning my neck to see further down the street in the direction the cats are staring. A man jogs up the road in ripped cargo pants, a black t-shirt and bobble hat. His face is twisted from the effort of running and he pulls a knife from his waist band. He signals to the wall across the street and Dale steps out of the shadows. He too is dressed all in black and has the obligatory black cap. My heart lurches from it’s position in my chest and rests in my throat like a wedge stopping the air getting to my lungs.

Dale hasn’t glanced at the house once. His attention falls on the cats, and then down the road. He moves forward as a woman in hot pants and a bikini top sprints toward him. She moves faster than I’ve seen another human being move. She holds out her hand toward Dale and his friend with aggression written all over her face. Shining wisps of light emerge from their bodies and drift toward her outstretched hand. The man falls to his knees in physical pain, but Dale staggers on, pulling his own knife out of his boot and charging the woman. He stabs her in the chest and she bursts into a firework of light.

The light holds such a brilliance that I scream out and stagger away from the window into Katya. She stands zombie like with birds nest hair, but her eyes tell me that she has seen it too.

“Ring him, Yasmine. Ring Dale, right now.”

“Did you see her? Did you see how fast she moved, what she did to them?”

Katya shakes her head in confusion. “No, but I saw something. I definitely saw something.”

All excerpts are the works of K.J.Chapman