Blog Tour + Giveaway: The Wulf Chronicles by Wulf Francu Godgluck

The Wulf Chronicles blog tour visits Boy Meets Boy Reviews! Celebrate with author Wulf Francu Godgluck and Vibrant Promotions! The author shares the inner workings of his brain about his series! Learn more today and enter in The Wulf Chronicles eBook giveaway! (2 winners--good luck!)

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The Wulf Chronicles
Wulf Chron Book 1
Wulf Francu Godgluck
Gay Fantasy
Release Date: 06.11.18
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1 THE WULF CHRONICLES 3D Image of Book Cover
What if werewolves were real?
What if one of them was different?
What if you were a defective werewolf?
This is not the story of how one night I got bitten and my life changed. Nor is it the story of how I went on a savage killing spree that left me tormented with guilt and dread the next morning.
This is the story of a boy, a boy who’s spent his life running from the shadows of monsters. A boy who never understood why the world hated him with so much odium. Why his mother would throw away her only life to protect his. Why he was never allowed to have friends. Why he never had the childhood every child should. Why he was never allowed to cherish happiness.
This is the story of a boy becoming himself, embracing his vulnerability and learning to accept and love.
This is a story about a werewolf, trying to find the answers to why he was born defective.
And maybe that’s the very reason I become the main course on the menu.
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A lycan’s sexual orientation was a completely nonproblematic topic. Most lycans, before meeting and knowing the gender of their mates, tended to be bisexual, however, there were the few cases, as with Leo, where a lycan knew beforehand what gender they were drawn to. And, luckily, the mating call was never cruel in that regard.

Contrary to how prejudice and discriminatory the Council and lycan community’s views on females were, homosexuality had never fazed the lycan race. It was part of their ancestry, as natural and accepting as bleeding.

“Go,”she growled at him, “before you shatter my stoic façade and have me in tears. I’m honored to know this beautiful thing is happening in my presence.”

Leo smiled, turned, and ascended the stairs, his grin fading as he neared the bathroom the Beta occupied.

He clutched the doorknob, squeezing his eyelids and drawing in a shaky breath, willing himself to calm down.

The knob ripped from under Leo’s grasp as the door swung open, the momentum of Cooler’s movements and of Leo’s stumble at the abrupt occurrence, sent them colliding into each other.

Cooler grabbed Leo by the throat and shoved him against the bathroom wall, his one eye glowing a furious blue fire as he glared up at him.

“If the pretty puppy wanted a kiss, all he had to do was whimper.”

Leo swallowed against the clutched grip squeezing his windpipe, any response stuck in his throat. Cooler leaned in close, released Leo’s neck, and cupped the back of his head, pulling him down before sealing their lips together.

Fire screamed through him, heat gnawed to the tips of Leo’s fingertips and toes as Cooler wrenched open Leo’s lips with nip of his teeth, shoving his fat tongue into Leo’s mouth…

No one said a lycan claiming his mate was a pretty event.

The kiss that followed was a soft and gentle devastation of sweet hunger.

Cooler’s lips were pure lightning against Leo’s, every hair on his body pulsated to attention. His growl simmered through their mouths, giving Leo ample knowledge of how much power resided within his mate, the vibration, a thunder, rattled him to his soul.

He didn’t dare touch Cooler. Just because they were sucking lips, didn’t mean the Beta had accepted Leo as his.

Cooler pulled back, his eye a bone-chilling dark as he glared up into Leo’s gaze.

Fat fingers slid from behind Leo’s neck, mapping their way along his cheek to brush over his lips, only to catch him by the chin.

Leo closed his eyes, both needing and dreading the words about to spill from his mate.

But time stretched, and it stretched, and it stretched as he waited.

His lips moved involuntarily, quivering, ready to speak, but only a whimper undulated through him. Cooler grunted, halting Leo’s tongue and washing hot air up into Leo’s face, reminding him of how close the Beta’s lips were to his own.

His insides squirmed, anticipating, hoping and wanting Cooler to bless him with another taste.

No kiss came, no words either. Only the scent of his mate. A spicy, intoxicating, rugged musk. Prime Bloods tended to have a heavier, far more domineering scent than half-breeds. That and, of course, the raw power they emanated were the only physical truths that set them apart.


I want to thank everyone from Boy Meets Boy Reviews for this opportunity for a guest post on their blog.

I’m so happy to be here! Seriously, thank you guys.

I wanted to touch today on something a little different, a view into my chaotic mind and why at times my writing tend to be a little (or very confusing) to some readers.

Most readers who has stuck with me since my first book and every other book thereafter, knows my writing style by now. It's different than most native English speaking authors’, and that’s not only due to me having a foreign language as my primary language, but also how I’ve been taught to write and read. (See what I did there at the end, I’ll come back to this in a bit.)

Now some might ask how, what does having a foreign first language (mother tongue) have to do with English. English is English you say? Sure there is differences in American English vs British English. But all grammar rules should still apply!

And this is still true.

Let touch on the bit I had there in brackets up above. I suffer from dyslexia; it was never addressed during my upbringing because of the way things were seen almost 20 years ago in South African households. In South Africa it was brushed off and hoped upon that by working hard and doing well in school, dyslexia would just weed itself out, in and through school. It didn’t, not for me at least, thus, sometimes, I switch my words around. Normally one would say “read and write,” it’s easier on the mind’s tongue and flows better. It was worse in the past, I use to confuse my left and right, my b with d’s and vice versa. I tended to learn easier via visual examples, demonstrations, experimentation, and observation. You couldn't just throw a book at me and tell me to learn what was written there, I’d be bored in the first five min.

This changed how I perceived the world, and eventually how my thought process worked.

This surely influenced how I write.

Now let's bring in the language, being a native Afrikaans boere boy, I tend to think in Afrikaans first then translate it into English and that can caused a bit of a train smash. See, sometimes in the Afrikaans language things tend to be backwards, especially in more complex sentences, we have different verb order and make use of double negatives.

Here’s a quick e.g.
Afrikaans: Môre werk ek in die skool.

English: I will be working at the school tomorrow.

Lit. translation: Tomorrow work I in the school.

Wulfy’s translation: Tomorrow, I’ll be working at the school.

Afrikaans: Hy het gesê, dat hy dit gedoen het.

English: He said that he did it.

Lit. translation: He has said, that he it did has.

Wulfy’s translation: He had said, that he had done it.

But it’s not only the grammatical and sentence structure differences that plays a part in my writing, it’s the language itself and how it shaped my perspective of thinking. For primarily English speakers, readers and writers, this can be a difficult concept to grasp. But this is prevalent to all languages. The tongue we speak shape our perspective of thinking. Our very langue defines so much about our thought process, how we solve problems, and how we view and perceive the world around us.

To learn more about this topic, which is extremely fascinating and interesting as Lera Boroditsky explains it, take a look at his video:

So what does this have to do with my first chapters being confusing, I use a lot of figurative writing and undertone. (please, this is by no means a “how to read my (wulfy’s) books,” this is merely a view into how my mind and writing works.)

I’ll take two examples here from two of my works. (Please note; prologues don’t apply here.)

The first thing to note is how much thought goes into my opening line. I believe personally, and I feel that my opening line should be able to sum up my entire story within that line.

E.g. 1) Of Gods and Monsters: Komainu.

“A pitch-black pit lay in front of him, reaching through the darkness to pull him down into its depths.”

Let’s interpret this.

We know this is Hades.

Pitch-black; a darkness, this could be PTSD, depression, some unwanted predicament or struggle he needs to face that’s lying ahead of him. It might have happened already, or may still come to pass.

Pit; aka a hole, empty and vast, the unknown, uncertainty yet inevitable in its existence.

Reaching through the darkness: what is reaching? We don’t know yet, but it has darkness at its core, death maybe? A dark state of mind, uncertainty of the future? Past sins reaching, catching up with him? Darkness; bad, dismay, wickedness, evil.

To pull him down: inevitable, something is definitely coming or will come, falling to one's own darkness, down aka depressed.

Depths: note here how the word is plural, we don’t know how deep it is, how many levels of darkness there are, again the unknown and darkness comes into play.

By this short sentence we can gather that some of the prominent themes throughout the story will be darkness, the unknown, sinking in, pulled down, becoming one’s own darkness.

For those who have read Komainu now knows how the story goes, knows how these themes play into each other and what the ultimate outcome is.

E.g. 2) The Wulf Chronicles.

“I was going to die.”

We know this is the protagonist speaking by it being in first person point of view. He’s going to die? Well, we can’t really tell because this is past tense with the word ‘was’. Is he being over dramatic? Maybe he’s a teenage, cause they tend to be way over dramatic at times. But die, death? Why is he going to, or believe that he is going to die. Death also insinuates fear. Now for those who have read The Wulf Chronicles know Fear and Death are two major recurring themes with in this story.

Why do I do this then? Because it's what I grew up on, Afrikaans literature is riddled with undertones, we are taught to dissect an entire prescribed book and fish out its deeper meanings. Afrikaners tend to write and tell stories very metaphorically and colorfully, making use of figurative symbols, double negatives, litotes, oxymoron, personification, hyperbole and poetry, to name a few.

However creative this can be, it can also hinder clarity sometimes. Another reason I do this is for readers to slow down and pay attention to what they are reader. More often than not, we tend to complete a sentence we read in our minds, before our eyes had even reach the last word.

So there you have it a small insight into how my brain word words.


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They come to me in the night, creeping into my head. Their voices are all different, their stories all dissimilar, but they keep saying the same thing...
“Show us, tell us to the world. Bring us into yours, and make us known.”

Then I sit and they take over. They tell their tales of love, loss and sinister misfortune, not all of them get a happy ending, but they are pleased when their part is written.
I sometimes find myself lost in my own mind; a world very similar to our own yet so different. Things don't go bump in the night—they squeal, and crawl under your skin, making you grind your teeth, and your stomach turn over and put your nerves on edge. Then there's the drama. Oh, the drama!
I write because I must! There is so much inside of me that needs to get out. So many stories to tell, characters that want to be heard, and hearts lost and won. Words and art are my way of bringing my world to others. I enjoy telling tales of the human condition but working in elements of the supernatural. Werewolves, Vampires, Zombies, Witches and the unexplainable all set against the human world or worlds of their own.
Wulf Francú Godgluck hails from South Africa. His work is not for the faint-hearted! In his books, you'll find... all the beasties with their nasty claws and teeth, and some you didn't even know existed. But the monsters aren't all real. Some live inside us. Who knows what he will make you discover about yourself, lurking in your heart, behind the closed walls of the deep, black recesses where no light penetrates? Wulf will steal your heart and never give it back. More than likely, he'll pin it to the wall with a bobby pin and sit there sipping his tea while you writhe and squeal on the floor... STILL sure you want to read a Wulf Godgluck book?


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