Trans Character by a Trans Author

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I’ve identified as trans for half of my life and when writing my second book, I wanted to raise awareness of trans issues by including a transgender character as one of the three main POVs. Charlie ‘Jats’ Jatson started his transition in a world where wearing clothes of the opposite birth sex would end up putting you in an asylum. Through his career as a politician’s secretary, he raised awareness and helped create a country where trans and gay people are accepted as well as contributing to support systems for drug addicts.

This book also features a war commander who balances military life with raising a family. The audiobook’s narrated by an ex-military serviceman who identified with the struggle to adjust to civilian life after experiencing the horrors of war. The character, Commander Shereve, also has to overcome her OCD and fear of flying to rise to the top in her field.

Finally, young carer, Paisley, has to live with the after effects of her magical powers after a harrowing incident between her parents. Her story deals with the mental effects of surviving a domestic abuse environment.

These three diverse character’s are all caught up in a political conspiracy that involves eyes dripping blood, mind control, a psychotically manipulative villain and the royal family.

For those who don’t have audible, you can listen to my book with a free trial and give audiobooks a go. You can listen to them while driving, performing household tasks or even when relaxing in the bathtub. I’m currently listening to ‘Chasm City by Alastair Reynolds and it makes washing the pots a ton more fun. If you join Audible today I’m certain you won’t regret it. Support trans authors, support indie authors and support all the big stories told by small minorities like me.

Stay safe.

Audiobook links

US: https://www.audible.com/pd/B08P26NZSL/?source_code=AUDFPWS0223189MWT-BK-ACX0-224391&ref=acx_bty_BK_ACX0_224391_rh_us

UK: https://www.audible.co.uk/pd/B08P26TCSJ/?source_code=AUKFrDlWS02231890H6-BK-ACX0-224391&ref=acx_bty_BK_ACX0_224391_rh_uk

FR: https://www.audible.fr/pd/B08P287HL4/?source_code=FRAORWS022318903B-BK-ACX0-224391&ref=acx_bty_BK_ACX0_224391_rh_fr

DE: https://www.audible.de/pd/B08P28QK52/?source_code=EKAORWS0223189009-BK-ACX0-224391&ref=acx_bty_BK_ACX0_224391_rh_de

Ebook link:

https://books2read.com/u/m2Z8Xr

Paperback links:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1691494526/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch_vapi_tpbk_p1_i1

Bol: https://www.bol.com/nl/f/political-nightmare/9200000120653578/

Books-a-Million: https://www.booksamillion.com/p/Political-Nightmare/Rainbow-Maccabre/9781691494521?id=7811126498917

ADDITIONAL PROMO

Take a look at all the lovelies and fill your minds with these thoughtfully crafted stories. From all these splendid books, you may find your brand new favourite author to dote on. https://books.bookfunnel.com/janbookreview/2c4dt458ks

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Political Nightmare on Audible

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My second book, Political Nightmare, is finally available on Audible. It’s been described as unique, interesting, bizarre, insane, over the top and with a prose of sheer fire. BBC Formula 1 Presenter, Richard ‘Spanners’ Ready, delivers an enthusiastic, captivating narration. Through his perfect elocution of different accents, character voices and his deep, dramatic tone, Richard brings the scenes to life with expert control of flow and tension.

The girl who was blessed when Daddy killed Mommy; the bird lady born with four arms and no wings; King Kess’s trans widower; the most forgettable prince who ever died; secret agents popping up everywhere: and the mind controlling bunny rabbit.

Who will put an end to Vasagne’s dark conspiracy?

Political Nightmare weaves a plot through past and present to arrange a story full of twists.

This isn’t just another book. It’s an experience like no other.

It costs £16.00 ($19.95 USD) or 1 Audible credit for over 8 hours of content that ”pulls out all the stops’. You can also listen to it without paying a penny if you sign up to Audible’s free trial (links below).

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US: https://www.audible.com/pd/B08P26NZSL/?source_code=AUDFPWS0223189MWT-BK-ACX0-224391&ref=acx_bty_BK_ACX0_224391_rh_us

UK: https://www.audible.co.uk/pd/B08P26TCSJ/?source_code=AUKFrDlWS02231890H6-BK-ACX0-224391&ref=acx_bty_BK_ACX0_224391_rh_uk

FR: https://www.audible.fr/pd/B08P287HL4/?source_code=FRAORWS022318903B-BK-ACX0-224391&ref=acx_bty_BK_ACX0_224391_rh_fr

DE: https://www.audible.de/pd/B08P28QK52/?source_code=EKAORWS0223189009-BK-ACX0-224391&ref=acx_bty_BK_ACX0_224391_rh_de

Fantasy Treasure Trove

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I’ve teamed up with some bestselling authors to bring you a collection of magical stories. Some of these stories go to dark depths, transporting you to worlds filled with banshees, necromancy and mythical abominations. If you’re brave enough to face Valkyries and reapers, this books may resonate with your darkness.

https://books.bookfunnel.com/deathisnttheend/nd5828ey7d

If you’re a fan of the wonderfully unique, the next link brings all types of Fantasy along with its close cousin, Sci-Fi. Arcane wonders, mythical creatures in space, heavenly beings and military battles featuring guns, blades or both (take your pick). The link below has something for everyone.

https://books.bookfunnel.com/sffg082020/rnk6h9e1ux

Finally, if you like audiobooks and you’re looking for a book that’s bizarre and over the top, keep your eyes out for my book, Political Nightmare. BBCs Richard Ready brings a captivating, powerful voice to make Political Nightmare’s prose of sheer fire burst into life. Listen to our audio sample at https://youtu.be/x-s7RE_QHt4 and for updates, follow me on Twitter at https://twitter.com/RMaccabre

Rainbow Maccabre’s Micro Fiction

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All of my stories, below, were written for competitions averaging 42 authors. We then voted amongst ourselves to pick a winner. I wasn’t allowed to vote for myself.

None of these tales have been altered. They appear as originally written.

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(100 Word Anonymous COMPETITION WINNER, written in 2015)

Ian the iPhone


Ian was the best iPhone ever.

Mum shouted down him sometimes. When she tossed him onto the sofa, he pulled faces, making me giggle.

He’d float by my bed and tell stories of princesses, goblins and heroic robots.

One day, Mum chucked him away. I told her he was alive; she said “Don’t talk stupid. If you go in that bin, woe betide.”

I knew I’d get in trouble, but I rescued him.

I took him to a charity shop and posted him through the letterbox.

He’s still out there, making other children laugh.

“Miss you forever, Ian.”

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(Personal Favourite, written in 2018)

THE TASTE OF DEATH

Gary never felt satiated. They had to feed him milk formula 2 days after his birth; he’d sucked his momma dry.


At a month old, his parents needed a hydraulic lift just to carry him up and down stairs. They couldn’t get nappies that fit, so decided to let him do his business on the floor, then shovel it into the toilet.


Then he got his teeth.


Eggs, chocolate, drywall, biscuits, chips, worms, cakes, bees, televisions, pastries, ovens, mattresses, doors, pigs and chickens (dead or alive), you name it, he’d eat it.


Age 5, he was the size of 20 blue whales. That’s when he ate his parents.


Being an orphan never bothered him. He’d roll around the street, eating houses, unaffected by the screams coming from his throat.


The queen sent an army to stop him. He swallowed the missiles, bullets bouncing from his many chins. Thousands of tanks, helicopters and military ships disappeared down his gullet, the remains of which were found in his feces. Millions of brave soldiers lost their lives.


No one can stop him. England, France, Sweden, Germany and many other countries are being digested as we speak.


His jaw’s stretched passed the equator. The only thing left to do is enjoy each other’s company, because sooner or later, we’ll see his teeth on the horizon and we’ll join our fellow humans, burning to death in his stomach acid.

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(75 Word COMPETITION WINNER, written in 2014)

RAZORLIPS

Daddy built me to fulfil his desires. He named me after the razors on my lips.

He sang to me when I smothered him with kisses. He liked it when the red oil dribbled down him. “It warms my skin” he said.

Now, no matter how much I kiss him, he just lays there.

I tried to recharge him; his skin turned to leather and started peeling, smelling like beef and sulphur.

“Wake up, Daddy!”

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(Personal Favourite, written in 2017)

GRANDMOTHER’S GARDEN


She often said, “That garden’s my life’s work.” And there I knelt in her most prized possession, staring at lips as blue as the coat of the lady who used to kiss me with them. Grandmother.

For days, I didn’t tell anyone, hoping it wasn’t real, waiting tables and joking with customers like nothing’d happened.

My uncle hammered on the front door, shouting, “Call an ambulance.”

When they came to remove Grandmother from her garden, I clung to her. She was like a mother and father rolled into one.“You can’t take her away from me.”

At her funeral, I dived into her open grave, slapping my palms on her coffin, tears soaking my hands. “Please, Grandmother, you’ve got to wake up.”

It took months of counselling until I was able to return home.

I walked around her garden for the first time in half a year, the flowers blossoming bright colours, vegetables ripe, the lawn evenly trimmed. A blue coat flapped in the edge of my eye.

I got married in Grandmother’s garden. I could almost see her sitting in the front row, hear her cheering as I kissed my new husband.

After I had my first child, I spent my time tending to Grandmother’s garden. Not that it needed tending to; it was always perfect. Working on that garden made me feel like I was helping her, like she was still with me.

I lost my husband when I was ninety. And now, I’m about to follow him into the afterlife. I lie near the rose bed, clutching my heart as it thumps its final beats. A hand clasps mine. “Grandmother? You’ve been here all this time?”

She nods.

“Shouldn’t you be in heaven?”

She laughs. “Heaven wouldn’t be heaven if you weren’t there with me, darling.”  

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(100 Word Anonymous COMPETITION WINNER, written in 2017)

Greater Good Ghosts

Old Sheriff’s hand shakes, rippling the whiskey in his glass.

Sure, he’s drunk, but he’s also concentrating. Listening. Listening for that first gunshot to drag him into action. He knows it’s coming. The fellers that rode into town earlier… Old Sheriff’s met so many bad ones to know that those fellers aren’t good.

Bang!

Old Sheriff sighs and picks up his gun. No, he isn’t afraid of dying. He’s just terrified of having to add new faces to the ones who haunt him. He never forgets the faces of the men he’s killed to protect his town.

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(Personal Favourite, written in 2016)

BEAUTIFUL AND FACELESS

I call her Raspberry.

Slice. Squawk.

The way she bites my finger… feels like it’s bruising. It seems she’s holding back. She could bite the flesh right off. Cute as a bunny in a bow tie.

Bonnie Tyler blasts through my stereo: “And I need you now tonight. And I need you more than ever.”

Slice. Squawk squawk.

Her claws dig into my wrist, sending red teardrops down my arms.

I tried to stop myself, succeeded for years, but I had to catch the birdy, had to. I cast the seeds and she came to me.

Slice.

That’s how much I respected her.

Her breaths become weak and wheezy . She flutters half her eyelashes at me…

slice. My hair tickles my ear and falls into her eyes. She tries to blink it out. Her eye whites turn raspberry red.

Slice. Crunch: she bites my knuckle. The throbbing sting sets my pulse racing, my stomach swarming, and me? I can’t stop smiling. And the blood… how it stains her teeth…

Raspberry, like the dress I first saw her in.

Those lips…

slice. Gush. My hands are getting slippy.

I’ve got Raspberry’s number on my phone, called her, said her mother had collapsed outside my house. “She can stay on my sofa until the ambulance arrives. Can you come quick? I’m worried.”

She came running, and I began slicing, just like I’d pictured it always.

That cute button nose…

slice, slice, slice. “I’ve watched you for so long, dear.” Slice. “Years and years.” Slice. “I was there,” slice, “to drive you and my daughter to your prom.” Slice. “I cried when you got your first boyfriend.” Slice. “And when I found out you was gonna get married?..” Slice. “I fell apart; I love you to pieces.”

Hack! Crack!

“Tiny, little, pieces.”

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(Personal Favourite, written in 2016)

STM

Such a sharp jaw. I trace her fingers along his stubble, her other hand pushed against his six pack.

I feel the crowd gyrating to the bass.

I run her tongue across her lips, and he kisses us. I slither out from her throat and bite onto his tonsils. No one bats an eye.

She furrows her brow, not remembering our union. She’ll be dead by morning. His body’ll last me at least a month.

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(Personal Favourite, written in 2016, apparently a very dark year for me)

The Trophy

He said I was beautiful, and that he loved me. He said it whilst holding my severed head, my neck stump throbbing. I screamed and tried to kick with legs that weren’t there.

I try to convince myself it’s just a nightmare, and every morning I wake, look down at him from my shelf, and the tears trickle. Why won’t I die? Why’s he forcing me to live like this?

I’ve stopped counting the days. I can’t help but scream when I catch my reflection. I’ve stopped biting when he kisses me; it only makes him more ravenous.

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Snowflakes fill my heart.

Frostiness consumes my brain.

My summer has gone.

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( 75 Word COMPETITION WINNER, written in 2018)

WHAT WAS I THINKING?

From the doorway, Trace watches herself sleep. Andrew smothers her with a pillow.

She runs to the kitchen and there’s Andrew, slitting her throat.

Clutching her stomache, she stumbles to the toilet. Andrew’s flushing bones.

“Let me out!”

The hospital room floats back. Andrew lies comatose.

The doctor asks, “Did the mindwalker work? Did you speak to your son?”

Trace rakes nails down her sore, tear-soaked cheeks. “He… wants us to pull the plug.”

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(Personal Favourite, written in 2018)

Stealing Beauty

Hayley giggles, dancing around the room with her teddy, Fluffy. “I’m so excited. Months of planning…”

Chardonney struggles against her bindings. “Please. I won’t tell anyone. It’s not too late.”

Hayley looks Fluffy square in the eyes. “It’s gonna hurt, but you’ll comfort me, won’t you, Fluffy?”

“Why do you hate me?”

Hayley turns to glare at Chardonney’s chest. “I don’t. I admire you. I want what you have.”

“Everyone’ll know.”

“Obviously. A few years in prison… it’s worth it.”

“I’ll sell my car; I’ll buy you some implants. Please-“

“Implants are fake.” She plunges the scalpel. “I want yours.”

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(Personal Favourite, written in 2015)

STAY OUT OF THE KITCHEN AT NIGHTTIME


I open the fridge door; light spreads into the kitchen. I grab a can of pop. Mum’ll shout at me in the morning for coming downstairs at night, but I can’t sleep and I’m thirsty.

I push the fridge closed; then I leave the kitchen.

I look and there’s a man standing on the stairs. I scream and my tonsils scratch. I’ve dropped my can onto my foot. “Ow, ow ow ow.” Tears blur my vision. The smell of freshly-cut wood creeps up my nose, to the back of my throat.


The light switches on and I shield my eyes. I peek upstairs and the man’s gone. I gasp when I see my mum’s head.., poking round the corner. She rubs her eyes and speaks in a voice too tired to be angry: “Mimi, put that back and go to bed.”

“But Mum-”

“Do you know what time it is? Put it back, now!”

With my sourest pout I wrench the can up. Humph. I stomp.., then hop back into the kitchen; my foot feels bruised. I put the can back in the fridge. As I turn to leave, the man glides towards me, wriggling tree branches binding him from head to toe. My stomach swirls as a branch grabs my arm.

I’m hoisted at the wall; I pass through like it’s a ghost.

My legs shake. I feel like I’m gonna be sick. My arm’s thrashing: twigs are digging into me. The man’s walking through a tree and the branches are pulling me in with him. I snap branches, scream-


I can’t move. It feels like I’ve been dragged from my body. I th.., I think I’m trapped in a tree.

I hear my mum in the kitchen: “Mimi..!? MIMI!”

I can’t answer. I can’t even cry.

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Thank you for reading my tales. I do apologise if one or two of them keep you up at night. Should you be interested in reading one of my longer stories, read the blurbs below.

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The girl who was blessed when Daddy killed Mommy; the bird lady born with four arms and no wings; King Kess’s trans widower; the most forgettable prince who ever died; secret agents popping up everywhere: and the mind controlling bunny rabbit.

Floppy-eared Noveren Aycker aims to retake control of Vasagne: a country that’s lost its traditional values and no longer respects its heritage. To win over this corrupted land, he ‘befriends’ their most influential leader. Can being around such a liberal individual alter the mind of a tyrant?

The Blind King created this more accepting society. He spent decades arranging his players to make sure Aycker’s power is destroyed once and for all. Nothing would prevent this king from fulfilling his mission. Not even death.

Political Nightmare weaves a plot through past and present to arrange a story full of twists. It’s available in paperback and on multiple E-book platforms, available from $2.99.

https://books2read.com/u/m2Z8Xr

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FORCED TO MOVE WORLDS

Discovering her powers was the worst moment of Brittany’s life.

If she used her magic again, she would be ‘removed’. Circumstances made it impossible not to utilise her healing light. She woke up in a different world, told she couldn’t go back. She was too far gone, demon magic irreversible.

Nigel did his best to help her come to terms, having gone through the same experience thirty years prior. Not willing to walk eight-hundred-thousand-miles through hell and risk apocalypse to get back home, she went with him to the Demon College of Yore.

She came to blows, a clash of words with the centaur, Feyneyrey. Danger struck a match to kindle their friendship. The two young women, under Nigel’s guidance, journeyed on a quest to destroy a corrupted deity.

Forced to Move Worlds is available in paperback and on multiple E-book platforms, from $2.99.

https://books2read.com/u/bQKvZ7

Paperback Bargain

Amazon UK are currently advertising the 254 page paperback edition for Forced to Move Worlds, for £5 (41% off plus free shipping to Amazon Prime members), with only two left in stock. Forced to Move Worlds: Amazon.co.uk: Maccabre, Rainbow: 9781393941132: Books

Target are also running a similar discount, where you can buy a Forced to Move Worlds paperback for $6.69 (less than half price) exclusively for orders over $35. Forced to Move Worlds – by  Rainbow Maccabre (Paperback)

Review from Netgalley:

‘this was a really interesting read, the characters were great and I loved the horror setting. I enjoyed the way the author writes and look forward to reading more in the future.’

Discovering her powers was the worst moment of Brittany’s life.

If she used her magic again, she would be ‘removed’. Circumstances made it impossible not to utilise her healing light. She woke up in a different world, told she couldn’t go back. She was too far gone, demon magic irreversible.

Nigel did his best to help her come to terms, having gone through the same experience thirty years prior. Not willing to walk eight-hundred-thousand-miles through hell and risk apocalypse to get back home, she went with him to the Demon College of Yore.

She came to blows, a clash of words with the centaur, Feyneyrey. Danger struck a match to kindle their friendship. The two young women, under Nigel’s guidance, journeyed on a quest to destroy a corrupted deity.

Book Cover Contest

They say not to judge a book by its cover but I need you to do just that. If you liked the cover of my book, Political Nightmare, please vote for it for the Cover of the Month contest on AllAuthor.com!
I’m getting closer to clinch the “Cover of the Month” contest on AllAuthor! I’d need as much support from you guys. Please take a short moment to vote for my book cover here: https://allauthor.com/cover-of-the-month/11388/

Book Cover Contest

They say not to judge a book by its cover but I need you to do just that. If you liked the cover of my book, Forced to Move Worlds, please vote for it for the Cover of the Month contest on AllAuthor.com!

I’m getting closer to clinch the “Cover of the Month” contest on AllAuthor! I’d need as much support from you guys. Please take a short moment to vote for my book cover here: https://allauthor.com/cover-of-the-month/10045/

What Kind of Royal Would You Be?

There are many different ways to rule a country throughout the worlds. You could be a kind king, spreading love and friendship through your citizens. Democracy could be your preferred method to win a war.

 Or maybe, you’d rather bear the sovereignty of a ruthless tyrant. Fear and hatred are the perfect weapons to keep your people in line.

Everyone tells stories of princesses seeking love, but what about those princes who long for their Princess Charmings. To be so close to the throne and yet, so far away can cause tensions between the royals.

Maybe you’d rather rule as a mad queen, soaking up the fashion of the land and executing all who accuse you of being fat. Of course, if you were a nicer, more humble queen, you wouldn’t have as many people saying bad things behind your back. The thought of you alone could spur an army to victory.

Whichever type of royal you would become, maybe you could use some inspiration. Me and a group of other authors have teamed up to bring you a collection of books featuring royals.

https://books.bookfunnel.com/royalpromo/u7n9f6m7zx

Before you go, feel free to share, with me, what kind of royal you would be.

Fantasy Gays

Two things about me: I’m gay and I’m trans. I love stories that include members of the LGBT community, allowing us to be heroes and villains. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if there were more diversity within fiction in general.

Maybe you are not a gay, but wish to support LGBT characters in fiction. The idea that only LGBT people can enjoy LGBT fiction is, I find, ridiculous. By not reading gay books, you could be missing out on some of the bravest, most thought provoking stories out there.

So whether you’re woke, or whether you wanna get woken, here are a selection of fantasy gays.

https://books.bookfunnel.com/lgbtfantasyparanormalbooks/9pmqw0pxez

The Accidental Psychic

The number ’53’. It’s the number I picked from the air inside my head. I needed some way of distinguishing one of my character’s houses from the uniformity of her terrace. A shiny number plate, I’m thinking faded blue on glossy white.

So I arrive at the charity shop, where I work. On the table, in the cloak room, do I really need to say what house numbers lie on the table? Lightbulb glaring, it’s hard to see the blue numbers without leaning over them. Sure, it could been intended as a number ’35’, but my. What a coincidence.

Now this one could have been a few days before or after; I can’t remember. Blasting through my headphones: ‘Yea, straight from the top of my dome, I still rocka, rocka, rocka, rocka, rocka micophone.’ The dogs ambushed me at the door, getting under my feet, wriggling hurdles and knotty tree roots. Through the chaos, I fell though the front door managing to keep a float. The dogs placed their chins on the boundary line. ‘We’ll get you later.’

I turned down my headphones. My mum needed to know that I acknowledged her existence, sat in her designated place on the sofa. Words from a kindle shine off her glasses. I don’t speak to her as often I should do, admittedly.

I asked, “Where’s Dad? Gone to see Nanna?”

“Yes”, she said, face scrunched like I’d told her my dirtiest secret. “How did you know?”

A shrug of my shoulders. “Guessed.”

She pleaded for my intel: “But how?”

“Didn’t Nanna break her shoulder?”

“Yes, but she’s back home now.”

Another shrug. “Dunno. Just guessed.”

See it’s not that I actually know I’m predicting things. It’s more a case of things coming together, making it so that I say the right things at the right times. All this could be boiled down to petty fallacies of fate, if not for the last thing. (I don’t wanna say co-incidence too much. ‘Fallacy of fate”ll have to do, pretentious as it may be.)

I’ve overlaid. Saturday, my charity day, and this twonk goes and overlays. I phone my manager, say, “Yep. I’ve overlaid. I’ll be in at one.”

Li’l J, as I like to call my manager, chuckles at the other end. “Okay, [Rainbow]. I’ll see you later.”

On a positive note, the post’d already arrived. I tear the postbag open, an alligator with my gold on its tongue. My new steampunk leggings. Today will be their debut. Go me!

#

The foxes on my neck stare across the ocean. Colourless snakes, the foxes’ tails, curling around their muzzles. Jax’s done a brilliant job on my chest tattoo, so why cover it up. I flip the ear of my headphones sideways and drop them down the dark cavern, it’s lips a scaled crimson. My handbag’s so big, when I bought it, I carried my old handbag home in it.

Time to face the music. It’s 12:00pm, so I’m kind of an hour early. Kind of.

At the till, I tower over L’il J, his eyes are anywhere but my face. “I wasn’t expecting you for another hour.”

“I told you I’d be here an one because it gave me an hour to play with.”

His hand fails to cover that smirk, staring at my leggings as if they’re clowns smashing pies in each others faces. “Rrright. So this is some sort of joke, because of the trousers. And you overlaying.”

“No…” I don’t see where he’s going with this.

“You’ve got clocks on your trousers, and you’ve overlaid.”

My steampunk leggings do indeed have clocks running down my calves. My legs make me into an exposed clockwork toy, bronze cogs and pipes reflecting the light on my thighs. I understand what he’s saying, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s still nonsensical. Why would I overlay as a joke! “No, I just slept too much.”

“Oh, alright then.” Business as usual.

At lunchtime, I walk back from Maccy Ds. The Frappe turns my fingers to literal ice. If I’m lucky, I’ll make it through three quarters of my New York Stack, bouncing around in my snake skin dungeon of a bag.

It strikes me, how it all fits together: an hour late, with clocks on my trousers, and the first thing I say is ‘it gave me an hour to play with’. It’s too perfect not to’ve been some sort of joke. I think my subconscious is toying with me.