We’ve been looking at high schools for Joshua, and it’s come into play how schools have changed from when WE were kids to now. He’s been looking at an alternative charter school called Wausau EGL (Engineering & Global Leadership) Academy, which occupies one SMALL eastern wing of Wausau East. Now, my husband is a hard-core traditionalist, and is resistant. But I’m hoping the Parents’ Open House on the 30th will convince him that this might be a good fit for our son.

With his ADHD, he’s not the kind of kid who does well sitting in a classroom having a teacher yap at him all day. When Josh & I took a tour, there are only like 6 classrooms and a lounge. Each student has their own Dilbert cubicle and their own computer. There were only 49 students this year – six in graduating class. The teacher who showed us around took us into a room with lots of strange items in it, asked Josh if he knew what a Tesla coil was. When Josh said yes he took him over to a copper-wire wrapped contraption and said, “You want to meet the kid who built this?” Turns out it actually worked.

They learn hands-on. Classes multi-task. Like they learn the science of friction, resistance (and probably gravity) by skiing. We never got to mix PE & science! They do a lot of technical reporting & writing, which counts towards English. Their scores in standardized tests are WAY above the state average, even our district average. They use Rosetta for foreign language and have 2 hours of math a day. They get to choose their own science projects to do – like making Tesla coils. Josh wants to design computer games – they’ll probably teach him the basics. Maybe he can build his own computer.

They also do community service and have internships with local Wausau businesses in various engineering and technical fields that the kids might someday be working in. I can see Josh volunteering in the computer room of the Boys & Girls Club, and going on to a summer apprentice program with some design company.

Kids now have options for learning, and can gear what they do now towards what they want to do later. It’s up to us parents to listen to our kids, know what their strengths and weaknesses are, and be an advocate for them – help them find the best path for them to achieve their dreams. Most of all, keep an open mind, open ears and eyes.

I almost can call this “Confessions of a Contest Slut…er, Diva.” Because I worked my way up through the pre-published ranks by entering RWA writing contests, being critiqued and judged, and eventually finalling, WINNING and getting requests for more. (Leah Hultenschmidt read my stuff a LOT!)You find a contest: (1) you can afford, (2) has a category your particular baby fits into, and (3) has a final judge you’re dying to submit to. The problem w/publishing today is a lot of traditional places are “agent only” or “by request only” which meant you either pitched at a conference or finalled in a contest. With the explosion of epublishing and indie pubs/self-publishing opportunities that’s not as much of a problem, but if you want to hit the big guys, that’s still the drill.

The deal with contests is, you have to FINAL to get in from of that agent/editor judge. Which means you have to make it through the first round of judging by your peers–other authors who have been in your shoes and now man that magical gateway. The first round judges are former contest winners, experienced judges and published authors. I once got judged by Suzanne Brockmann! (Very scary, cool moment…) They not only comment, critique, ask questions & make suggestions but also assign numbered scores and rankings–top three go on to Agent/Editor So-and-So and everyone else goes back to the revisions board.

I’ve never had a contest that wasn’t worth the $$$ critique. It was always interesting to see who picked up on what. So I submitted, and revised, and practiced and learned. And I finally had a slew of requests, as many “no thanks” but at last…a contract offer from Samhain for Duality. And then Hedda’s Sword. And so I hung up my “diva” award and became a published author.

And then a really weird thing happened. I got asked to JUDGE a contest. Huh? Me? What did I know? (According to some emails from my beloved-but-tough editor, some days not so much!) How could I possibly judge someone else’s work? The coordinator was merciless. “You READ, right?” Well, yeah. “You write ROMANCE, right?” Uh-huh. “You have opinions, right?” Umm…maybe? Okay, yeah. “Well then, READ THIS AND SAY WHAT YOU THINK!”

My family will tell you I have opinions about everything. My friends will say I’m not exactly shy. But, to me judging isn’t just telling a writer what you think of her work. THAT’S a critique. (I do those, too.) To me, judges are the guardians of that magical gateway. It’s a big deal to have a major publishing player as the final judge–for most serious contestants, that’s the draw. They want a shot for so-and-so to see how brilliant their stuff is. I know, I was at the head of the “stalking-Leah-Hultenschmidt” camp once upon a time. But those first round judges are the gatekeepers. They block the not-ready and advance the truly-ready so those final judges really do get to see those brilliant stellar masterpieces. I did a stint as a coordinator and I loved hearing my final judge say, “these are really GOOD” and do THREE requests, two partials and a full.

And so it’s a juggling act of critiquing enough to help the author get better, assigning scores to weed out the “there” from the “not quite there yet.” Most contests have three or four first round judges. The lowest score is dropped and not considered, so if you score too low, you’re the one who gets tossed and everyone else’s scores get added together and averaged. Top three scores advance. There are no such things as perfect manuscripts. There’s always strong points and weak points. What I HATED as a contestant were the ones who said, “I love it – it’s perfect.” Liars! No such thing as perfect, and not getting feedback is very frustrating. So the feedback and rationale are crucial. What works and why. What didn’t work and why. Mention what you loved. Mention what stopped you or made you scratch your head. Try to be kind–honest but not mean.

It takes courage to put your stuff out there for someone else to critique and judge. Rejection stings. Having someone NOT like your baby, your blood sweat and tears, can be hard. As a judge you influence, encourage, educate and lead. Have to remember how it was when you first started out. When you were still learning POV and GMC. What’s cool is when you get the same entrant in two different contests and can see suggestions you made in the first time around were followed and you can see the changes the next time around. (Of course the ethical thing to do is to tell the coordinator you’ve got an entry you can’t judge and give it to someone else, but I always READ it, I just didn’t judge it.) Some people have no qualms about judging the same entry over and over, but I always tried NOT to. I figured, they already GOT my opinion, so better to get someone else’s viewpoint.

Judging to me is a moral obligation, a way to return to the industry medium that got me where I am today. I hope to see some of the stories I’ve   enjoyed in print somewhere someday, and I hope my feedback does help. I’m a tough judge, but I think I’m fair. Contests you get feedback. In the regular submission prcess you usually get a form rejection; you know they didn’t like it but they don’t say why. You can’t fix what you don;t know is wrong. Teach and guide–highlight examples of what works (and why) and what doesn’t (and why). Strengths & weaknesses both.

It’s time consuming and there are times when you’re hated as well and loved. The process of code letters and numbers in lieu of names is there for a reason. I’ve cut back on judging b/c of time constraints but there are still a few here and there. I still get excited to open that email & check out the new entries, find those diamonds-in-the-rough (right before I mark it as a cliche! <LOL>) Contests are all about the possibilities, the passion.

So it’s time to get back into the swing of things. Had a pretty horrific autumn 2011 and it’s time to put that all behind me and start fresh. Get back into a writing routine. That being said, I make the following vows:

1.) To read a book a week and review it on Goodreads. Last year’s reading goal was 100 books, impossible w/my schedule. A book a week is much more attainable. My Goodreads account has a lot of people following my reviews – and I’ve let them down. I vow to do better in that regard. I am already working on J.A Jance’s “Rattlesnake Crossing.”

2.) To got on Twtter daily with an update of either life or writing origin. Again, have been slacking and have lost a couple of folllowers who probably thought I died or something!

3.) To write DAILY. I am working on 2 manuscripts and will alternate days. I work on Marek Sn/T/Th and Dax M/W/F. I give myself Saturdays as an off day – running, skating, shopping, whatnot.

4.) To blog weekly. I plan on doing a personal piece on Sunday and a writing-related piece on Wednesday – a regular schedule.

5.) To attend one writer’s conference and enter one writing contest a year. Thinking of entering Marek in the Sandy, since they’re opening it up to published authors this year…

6.) To call my mother every week.

RIEVER’S HEART came out on Tuesday, 9/27/11.

 

The hero Daq Aryk is a man with a dream—a warrior prince who dreams of peace. He loves his children, his people and his land. He’s tired of his people being cold & hungry, of warriors dying young and illness taking its toll. They’ve been professional raiders for generations but Aryk has a vision of their children growing up to other career options. The problem is old habits die hard. His own people can’t see themselves doing anything else. Even Aryk’s best friend Valkyn accuses Aryk of turning his back on their fathers. The outside nations are clearly skeptical of a message of peace coming from a riever leader.

 

The only ones to give him a shot are the elves in Poshnari-Unai. King Loren assigns his best warrior Verdeen to accompany Aryk back to Isadorikja as a helper and witness. Part bodyguard, part counselor and part spy. Aryk has enough on his plate with stubborn clansmen and skeptical neighbors. The last thing he needs is a beautiful cadet with no real battle experience. She’s a distraction he can’t afford. Even though she makes him burn with desire, he has to focus on the mission. He’s got to no time to think of his own needs. With everything he’s got against him it would be so easy to give it up, to just continue things as they are. Unpopular leaders can be replaced. He takes a big risk following his dream but sometimes a dream is all a man has.

 

Ask Martin Luther King, Jr.

 

How many things have changed in history because someone stood up and said, “You know what? This is wrong. I think we can do better.” A dream can make change happen. Everyone has dreams. What they do about them is what defines who and what they are, and can define the future for everyone else. We have to believe in the power of the possibilities of their dreams. Words like “can’t” and “never” should never enter your vocabulary. Dreams can inspire change. Dreams can affect change. Don’t laugh at the dreamers—embrace them. Join them. Become them.

 

I’ve always loved to write—I was writing horse stories when I was six, and I was the only kid in school who got a maximum word count in school. I always dreamed of being a published author and even though the odds were against me (I got a LOT of rejections when I was first starting out) I never gave up on my dream. RIEVER’S HEART is Book 5 of the Guardians of Light series for Samhain Publishing! Can’t have Book 5 without Book 1. What if I’d given up? Quit? Never give up. Ever. No matter what other people say, you have to believe in yourself. Don’t ever listen to the naysayers. I hope Aryk’s and Verdeen’s story can inspire you to keep your own dreams alive.

Riever’s Heart came out Tuesday, 9/27/11 from Samhain Publishing. I have a lot in common with the elven heroine, Verdeen and thought I’d share a bit about the both of us. Maybe you’ll see a bit you can relate to as well.

 

Verdeen was born to high parental expectations. Her parents were so proud when she became lady’s maid to the queen, Dara, in Duality. They though “queen” but she saw “lady’s maid” and it wasn’t enough for her. Dara asked what she wanted and Verdeen was honest and told her. So Dara helped her enter the military academy—first female to do so in generations. Her parents were…disappointed. I used to be a waitress, and living off tips getting pinched by drunk businessmen was not where I saw for the rest of my life either. So I went back to college—and became the only vet tech in a family of nurses.

 

We’re both black sheep, following our own dreams instead of that of others’.

 

Verdeen and I are both tomboys. We’re both bookworms, both inclined to “look it up” when we have a question. I’m terrible about never wanting to stop research to actually WRITE. There’s so much interesting stuff to learn! But she and I both learned that sometimes, there’s no substitute for actually getting out there and LIVING life instead of just reading about it! Research is also EXPERIENCE. (And we both love to read just for fun, too.)

 

We’re both major horse lovers. I’ve always had Arabians and have two half-Arab mares now. Temptation Fyre N Ice (aka Sassy) is a gray 7-year-old Morab and Moonlight is a white 20-year-old half-Welsh pony who technically belongs to my daughter Tami. Verdeen’s always dreamed of having an elven war mare select her to partner in becoming a full elven ranger—those beautiful, glowing white, sentient war mares. Only when she graduates from the military academy, Verdeen DOESN’T get her war mare. None of them choose her. For me, I just had to buy one. Verdeen
doesn’t have that luxury and her disappointment is crushing. What to do when the one thing you want most in the world is denied you? How to come up with Plan B? I’ve also had to deal with disappointments and roads not taken.

 

Sometimes it’s not about what you want. It’s about what you need.

 

I’ve started gaming on Dragons of Atlantis with my son, but because I never do anything halfway I’m now second in command in our mutual alliance. I’m basically the go-between between the overlord and the rest of the tribe. I’m counselor, resource allocator and diplomat. I also fight when necessary to protect what’s ours and defend my fellow alliance members. Verdeen is assigned by King Loren to accompany the human riever Daq Aryk back to his kingdom of Isadorikja and help him unite his warring clans into a single cohesive nation. She also is a go-between between Loren and Aryk. Part counselor, part spy. But she’s also right there to guard his back and defend him when threatened. Diplomacy when
you can, war when that fails, diplomacy again when the war is over.

 

Always have a plan, and a backup plan, and a backup to the backup. Turn disappointment into triumph. See a failure as a new opportunity.

 

We both struggle to balance “warrior and woman.” Career vs. family. Time constraints. Choosing one thing means NOT choosing another. Time management and prioritizing. Coming to grips with the realization that you can’t do everything. Recognizing that every day you set an example, both good and bad. Learning to accept that your best is all there is, but it’s always enough. If you can look yourself in the eye in the mirror every night then you have nothing to apologize for.

 

We’ve both faced our fears. Verdeen had to climb a mountain, face her fear of falling. I’ve gone rappelling and faced my own fears of heights and falling. We both trusted the person holding the other end of the rope (belaying) not to let us die. Sometimes it’s out of your hands and in the hands of another. Sometimes you just gotta check that rope and step over the edge.

 

Both of us have dealt with the insecurity of wanting another’s approval, not getting it and slowly coming to the painful realization that we can’t please everyone all the time. You have to be secure within yourself. You can’t let others’ opinions dictate who and what you are.

 

The best characters are like real people with the triviality burned away. They’re multi-faceted. They have insecurities, weaknesses, moments they’re not proud of and things they want to do over. But they’ve got a good heart, learn from their mistakes and always try to do the right thing.

 

Learn and grow. Be open to change. Be able to adapt. Celebrate life’s triumphs both great and small.

 

I loved hanging out with Verdeen, seeing how much she’s grown between Duality and Riever’s Heart AND how much she’s grown from the beginning of Riever’s Heart to the end. I hope you all find some part of her and her story to relate to your own life.

Daq Aryk’s gaze swept the battlefield as he stood at the edge closest to his village. Too close. They’d brought the fight to his very doorstep this time. If it weren’t for the scouts’ warning… He eyed the scattered sod roundhuts, picturing the women and children huddled within, awaiting the outcome, and rubbed the back of his neck with a hand that shook from the aftereffects of the lia, the temporary surge of battle energy. Corded strands of tawny hair, sticky with blood, clung to his fingers. Every muscle ached. He clenched his jaw at the number of dead littering the frozen ground, including the rival daq, Ulryk. Another attack thwarted. Another day still standing. The constant raiding—what a waste. Would it never end? He shook out his tattered red daq cloak and frowned at the stiff layers of bloodstains that never came out. ’Twas not how he’d imagined his new reign progressing. There must be more to life than this. Could his son, Joro, look forward to naught else than a future of endless combat?

 

His second, Valkyn, strode up to him, boots crunching in the trampled red snow. Aryk frowned at the drying blood splashed across his friend’s braided beard and oft-repaired, slightly rusted mail shirt, but thankfully none of it appeared to be Valkyn’s. Valkyn shouldered his—new?—axe. “Belonged to Daq Ulryk’s second. He won’t need it anymore.” Valkyn’s ice-blue eyes gleamed with the lia’s lingering bloodlust, his smile a wolfish flash of teeth. Valkyn always got more energized after a battle. Aryk just felt tired, burned out.

 

Aryk motioned the rest of his warriors over, tallying the fallen. Just three of their own for the funerary pyres. Of the wounded, Erlynda looked worst. Tisht. He took a deep, calming breath. The sword slash to her ribs could be sewn, though, thank the gods. Their daughter, Birgit, wouldn’t be motherless this day. If the wound didn’t sour, Erlynda would recover to fight off the next wave of marauders.

 

So it went on, year after year. Aryk eyed the heart of his windswept territory—Svaaldur, a fair-sized village at the foot of Widowmaker Mountain. Eking out a living, fighting off others who’d steal what was theirs. How long could they continue like this?

 

“Erlynda, kyra, we owe you our lives. Were it not for your warning, things would’ve been much worse.”

 

Her blue eyes were glacial in her rawboned, windburned face. “You owe me naught. ’Tis my home, also.”

 

“Go see the healers about that cut.”

 

She hesitated, hissing in pain as she pressed the blood-soaked binding cloth harder against her injury. “We protected our children. But what of Ulryk’s villages? What of the Blood River women and children who no longer have his protection?”

 

She’d always been stubborn when it came to standing up for what she believed to be right. ’Twas why he favored her so. Creataq help him, Birgit was turning out to be just like her.

 

“You’re not on warrior council, woman,” Valkyn snapped. “You need a sponsor to challenge a daq’s order.”

 

If looks alone could kill…

 

“I’m her sponsor. I give the kyra Erlynda leave to speak.” Aryk frowned at Valkyn. His second refused to use the title “kyra” for the women warriors who’d earned it, not even for his own twin sister. She’d proven herself this day. Aryk pulled the daq’s medallion from Ulryk’s thick neck, held it up and placed it over his own head. The fool should’ve stayed home. Now Ulryk’s overweening ambition had just doubled Aryk’s responsibilities. He sighed. “Gather handcarts. We return their dead and claim Ulryk’s villages.”

 

The men cheered.

 

Erlynda’s ice-blue eyes spat fire. “Aryk, you promised. I hold you to it.”

 

Aryk raised a hand, quieting them. “No claiming the women. They deserve to mourn and burn their dead in peace.” His men weren’t the ravening riever beasts outlanders thought them. He’d restrain the celebration. “We slew fathers, brothers and sons. Though we but defended our own, and they struck first, we gain more by welcoming their kin. First man lays a hand on Ulryk’s women, I cut it off and leave him bleed in the snow.” His glare caught each man’s gaze in turn, held it ’til one by one they yielded. “They’re now under my protection. We show mercy to Blood River.”

 

He turned to Erlynda. “Kyra, it shall be done. Now go see those healers afore you fall over.”

 

Aryk had won leadership of the Widowmaker clan by the strength of his sword arm and sheer force of will. None challenged him now. Valkyn wouldn’t confront him afore the men, but he’d restate his own opinion in private. ’Twould be yet another heated discussion. Claiming conquered women was but one tradition Aryk hoped to change. Valkyn liked women in their place. He’d opposed them taking up arms, blocked their attempts to join warrior council—Erlynda’s in particular. Doubt gnawed at Aryk. Did Valkyn believe in Aryk’s vision at all, or did he just make a show of support for the sake of ties stronger than blood?

 

I’m one of the first 10 authors to sign up for a New Release Party giveaway for September!  The party this month is Sunday, September 4, 2011 at http://goddessfishparty.blogspot.com/.  Posts run on Sunday between 9 a.m. – 9 p.m. Eastern Time.

I’ll be posting several times throughout the day (guest blogs, excerpts, fun info, etc) and I encourage you to visit and check for comments so you can respond.  They’ll be providing a $10 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to one commenter, but I’ll also be doing an author giveaway during the day – reader’s choice of Guardians of Light backlist ebook.

Make sure you tell everyone to come by and visit — the more you promote, the more everyone benefits.  It’s going to be crazy fun!  Thanks for joining us and let us know if you have any questions!

Holy Hannah! This morning Marty Mathews from Samhain sent me the following:

http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/BookReviews/DualityGuardiansofthelight.html

DUALITY: GUARDIANS OF THE LIGHT BOOK 1
RENEE WILDES
ISBN# 1-60504-216- 1
October 21, 2008
Samhain Publishing
www.samhainpublishing.com
E-book
$6.50
333 Pages
Fantasy Romance
Rating: 5 cups

Dara Khan Androcles is a healer who was adopted by peasants. Unlike
many women, she is a warrior.

Loren ta Cedric is an elven prince come to aid Dara’s king against
the coming enemy. The first time he sees Dara, he knows that she is
more than she seems.

When Dara finds a wounded Loren, she has no idea he is not just
another soldier. After she heals him, his glamour falls away and she
truly sees him. She takes him home with her, and Loren binds his life
to hers shortly thereafter. However, Dara has no real understanding
of what he has done, though she does wonder if the attraction to
Loren that she is feeling is part of it. Other survivors trickle in,
and Dara is called upon to use her healing powers, but when one of
her patients dies and Loren has to leave her, she is forced to flee.
Unfortunately, she is captured by the enemy. It is then she learns
that a demon is on the loose in her land. Only time will tell if she
is strong enough for what is to come, and/or if she will see Loren
again.

Duality is a stunning read with glorious mental vistas. While the
book is a fantasy, it has a definite message we all can easily relate
to—that love can be found during great adversity. I enjoyed reading
about how Dara gains her strength to be who she truly is from her
love for Loren and her ancestors. Loren as the valiant warrior who
loves his lady in spite of her differences brought tears to my eyes
on more than one occasion. This book has the best of everything in
the romance genre, and I highly recommend it. It is a keeper!

Regina
Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance
Reviewer for Karen Find Out About New Books

Okay – the BIG DAY has arrived! DUALITY’s release day! Thought it would be fun to have a little contest with a drawing. Since I’m a HUGE F/S&S fan, even of the BAD movies, I thought I’d do this:

Just leave a comment ON THIS POST as what your favorite Fantasy/Sword & Sorcery Book AND Movie are. (I’m an equal-media employer!)

I absolutely adore the movie WILLOW. I’ve watched it with my kids so many times we can practically reinact it start to finish. I love a quest story, I love a character who denies his destiny and then embraces it & becomes stronger for it. I love a villain turned to good. (I’ve used all three in my own books!)

Other Movies I Like, in no particular order (even the bad ones have SOME good points!):

• LOTR (all 3 PJ)
• Dragonheart
• The Hobbit
• Princess Bride
• Ladyhawke
• Kull
• Krull
• Clash of the Titans
• Beastmaster
• Red Sonya
• Conan
• Legend
• Dark Crystal
• Labyrinth

For books, I’ve already mentioned Barbara Hambly’s ”The Ladies of Mandrigyn.” In addition, I grew up on Mercedes Lackey – love the Valdemar series. Probably my favorite book is “Exile’s Honor” and my favorite trilogy is The Mage Storms:

• Storm Warning
• Storm Rising
• Storm Breaking

These four ML/V all feature Karsite citizens relocated to Valdemar. For those out of the know, Karse & Valdemar are bitter “I Wish You’d All DIE!” enemies. When enemies become people, then friends, it leaves the question, are there enemies in the world, or just friends who haven’t met yet? How much “hatred” is simple misunderstanding? A Karsite calvary captain can become a Chosen of Valdemar, and a Karsite priest can become an ambassador for peace. LOVE these books. “Exile’s Honor” makes me cry every time I read it.

So what are YOUR favorites? Everyone who leaves a comment will be entered in a drawing at the end of today for one of three prizes:

• free copy of DUALITY
• Barnes & Noble Gift Card
• Bath & Body Gift Card

Thanks for livening up a fun day. Thanks to everyone who entered. And the winners are:

 

free copy of Duality goes to:  Brenda ND

B&N gift card goes to Donna

Bath & Body Works gift card goes to Theresa

 

Congrats!

Renee Wildes

Genre: fantasy romance ISBN: 978-1-60504-216-9 Page Count: 333 Price: $6.99 Reviewer: Susiq2
	Sensuality Rating: Sultry Star Rating: 5 Stars Author’s Website: http://www.reneewildes.com/

Duality,by Renee Wildes, is the best fantasy story that I have ever read! This story has it all: Heart stopping adventure, True evil versus good, Love, Handsome Fae, and a gorgeous dragon. What more could a reader desire? This fabulous story is to die for!

Quote: “Duality: Pride, Beauty, Unbreakable Spirit, Overwhelming Spirit, and Undisciplined Passions. Dara brings passion to reason, conflict to peace, chaos to order. Duality be in her blood, her soul, her very nature.”

I cannot remember when a story grabbed me, and held me to the very end as this story has. Let me begin to tell the story of how and why:

Rufus Quickblade, Dara’s father figure, had not returned from warning the King about the Boar invasion. Dara is a Safehold healer, so she prepares herself to go to the battlefield to help any injured. Dressed as a woodman, carrying her medicines, and her knives, she searches the battlefield for her father, and any injured that she can help. Hearing from others about a blond warrior who had saved many lives during the battle, Dara finds him injured, and attempts to help him. Dara is attacked, and must fend off 3 Boar warriors to keep herself, and the blond man, named Loren, alive. Finally able to tend his injuries, and to drag him to her humble hut, Dara is shocked when Loren claims life debt to her, and speaks these word to her: “My life I owe you. Life Debt. I bind myself to you. Whenever, whatever your need, I shall come to you. To you do I answer with sword, bow, or blood. My life for yours. My soul to yours, ’til our last breath. Never again shall you be alone. You are mine, in this lifetime, and the next. I shall be ever yours, for always. We are one” as he gently kissed her.  Then Loren’s horse appeared, almost  breaking down her door to reach the man in her bed. Thus Dara meets her first “talking horse”.

This story, while epic in scope, is so thoroughly engrossing, that the pages are blurs to the eye as the trials and tribulations, adventures, and heart stopping rescues occur at such a pace that time is all but forgotten as the reader is lost in the beauty and adventures of this remarkable tale of good versus evil.

Dara discovers her amazing heritage and skills, and as her love for Loren grows, will she be able to accept his heritage as he must accept hers?

This story is like  taking Terry Brooks, Robert Jordan, and C.L. Wilson,  mixing up the very best that they have to offer mixed in with the “new voice”of Renee Wildes to produce this masterpiece.

I stand humbled at having the honor to be able to review this story. My words could never do it justice. This story is a marvel, it will be a tremendous best seller when word gets out about this book’s release. Please find this book. This is truly a once in a life time event.

Finished the first week (which really was only 3 days’ worth of sales, since it came out on Tues & list posted on Fri) at #7! Not too shabby for a newbie no one knows yet. Feel like a backyard breeder who just found out her modest homebred can run! Nice high, of course, brought back down to earth by OT @ the RLJ, dirty socks, burnt meatloaf, and kids needing help w/”new math.” New Math? I barely conquered the OLD math! I can balance a checkbook and call it good!<sigh>

At least one thing’s going great this week! YAY!

Duality by Renee Wildes Reader Reviewed by Sandie

Duality is Renee Wildes AWESOME debut publication so she needs a round of applause!!

This book can be purchased at My Bookstore and More

Duality gets one of my highest recommendations. This is the first book in the Guardians of the Light series, and it sets the bar very high. This story takes place in a magical world that will enchant you, while horrifying you with the evil let loose in the land.
Dara has had to conceal her half-dragon mage fighting skills behind the guise of a healer. Now a demon threatens all that she cares for and she must find help, and also learn to use her powers to fight this evil. She finds Lauren who is an Elven warrior prince and a powerful empath. His sentient war mare Hani’ena is able to talk with him telepathically. There are many more different magical beings then I could count in this powerful and compelling tale of danger, death, self sacrifice, and heroism.

Do not let all the action and danger fool you though. Renee has given us a story of deep and abiding love. This was an edge of your seat book at its very best. If the second book was already out, I would already be reading it. Duality is a book that you do not want to miss out on.
sandie

HEDDA’S SWORD (book 2 of Guardians of the Light) releases through Samhain Publication 1/6/09

Author’s Blurb

Love will give them strength—or prove to be their fatal flaw.

Guardians of the Light, Book 1

Dara Khan Androcles is really in over her head this time. From childhood she’s been forced to hide her half-dragon mage fighting skills behind a public persona as a healer. Now, with a traitor and his demon threatening the throne of Safehold, Dara has no choice but to turn reluctant warrior—and seek help.

She strikes a bargain with runaway Elven prince Loren ta Cedric and his sentient, pain-in-the-butt war mare, Hani’ena. Loren’s not only too handsome for Dara’s own good, the powerful empath can see right through to the pain that drives her.

Loren can’t help but feel Dara’s every hurt, physical and emotional. Though his need for her drives him half mad, he must stay his course to see justice done for his people. Even if it means swearing a Life Debt to the distracting mortal.

That vow, made in the heat of their parallel quests, carries more power than either of them guessed. The power to bond the unlikely pair as Life Mates. The power to lay bare the fears and desires that could bind them to a single purpose—or tear them apart.

All the while a demon awaits, ready to destroy all that they hold dear.

Product Warnings
Contains patricide; noble self-sacrifice; one bad-ass, demon-possessed despot; a bad-tempered dragon; and a water mage who likes to “rain” on her husband’s parade—literally. Downside: A quest for a magic book (written in blood) that nobody wants, and a talking war mare with the warm, fuzzy voice of Judy Densch. Upside: Serious ass-kicking. Be prepared to learn to curse, cry and laugh—in Elvish

Posted by Ebook Addict at 10:25 PM 0 comments

Labels: fantasy, Sandie

Did dragons exist? There are so many references throughout the world, that it’s hard to fathom they didn’t. But what happened to them? Did they all die out, or are they like other mythical beings, still living in secret amongst us?

In celebration for all Duality’s growing popularity, I’m running a new contest. Just leave a comment as to what you believe happened to the dragons in the world. All commenters will be put into a drawing for a pair of red Depression-era glass goblets, which one lucky winner will win Halloween morning! Come toast to future successes!

Sorry there was a delay in the drawing. Trick or treating, work and my anniversary all on the same day. Put all the names in a hat and the winner was…

MEAGAN HATFIELD!

WooHoo!

A little birdie told me this morning that I managed to sell my werewolf short story “Marek’s New World” on Halloween, based on TWRP GOT WOLF? Contest. Go to http://www.thewildrosepress.com/publisher/ for the following:

Got Wolf Contest Results!

Congratulations to our winners and thank you to everyone who entered our Got Wolf Contest.

In the long category (25K- 40K)y the winners are:

Helen Hardt – Blood Wolf (40K)
Ria Ellis – My Lord Werewolf (32K)

For the short category, the winners are: 

First Place - Isabel Roman – “Shadow State” –  (23K)
Second Place – Dawn Raspberry – “Raven’s Shelter” – (19K)
Third Place – Karen Holck – “Werewolves in London” – (19K)

We had a tie for Fourth Place:

Fourth Place – Renee Wildes – “Marek’s New World” – (24K)
Fourth Place – Autumn Shelly - ”Blood Moon” – (20K)

[edit] As James Clemens

I don’t know about you, but I was a great fan of Michael Crichton. I looked up a list of his books – it’s a formidable list: (compliments of Wikipedia)

1966	Odds On
1967	Scratch One
1968	Easy Go
	A Case of Need
1969	The Andromeda Strain
	The Venom Business
	Zero Cool
1970	Grave Descend
	Drug of Choice
	Dealing
1972	The Terminal Man
	Binary
1975	The Great Train Robbery
1976	Eaters of the Dead
1980	Congo
1987	Sphere
1990	Jurassic Park
1992	Rising Sun
1994	Disclosure
1995	The Lost World
1996	Airframe
1999	Timeline
2002	Prey
2004	State of Fear
2006	Next

He was a fellow Midwesterner and the king of the scientific “What If?” He wrote true science fiction, that made the improbable plausible. He kept me up late many a night, on the edge of my seat. Many filmakers tried to capture his magic, but no film could possibly do the books justice. A sad day for us all.

For anyone looking for a similar vein, I can wholeheartedly endorse James Rollins, a veterinarian-turned-novelist. The same science/action combination, with such titles as: (compliments of Wikipedia)

As James Rollins

1. Subterranean (1999)
2. Excavation (2000)
3. Deep Fathom (2001)
4. Amazonia (2002)
5. Ice Hunt (2003)

SIGMA Force series

1. Sandstorm (2004)
2. Map of Bones (2005)
3. Black Order (2006)
4. Judas Strain (2007)
5. The Last Oracle (June 24, 2008)

The Banned and the Banished series

1. Wit’ch Fire (1999)
2. Wit’ch Storm (1999)
3. Wit’ch War (2000)
4. Wit’ch Gate (2001)
5. Wit’ch Star (2002)

Godslayer series

1. Shadowfall
2. Hinterland

Michael Crichton will always be the one all future writers of this genre will be measured against.

The PBR Finals just finished up this weekend. Guillerme Marchi was runner up 3 years in a row – 2005, 2006, 2007. Like Moonlight, he stuck to it, dug deep and FINALLY came out on top as World Champion! I bawled like a baby. It was SO deserved! He never gave up, never settled for second best.

Veteran Adriano Moraes retired. The greatest ambassador the sport has ever seen pulled his rope for the last time. He was crucial in bringing up young guns from Brazil, he was role model and a fierce competitor, yet always gracious with his fans. Bawled like a baby for that too.

They retired my favorite bull Reindeer Dippin too. A young classic bull named Crosswired looks to be the heir-apparent. Bucking style is very similar – wild and crazy.

So who do we pass the torch to? Robson Palermo won the Finals, Reese Cates won Rookie of the Year and Bones won Bucking Bull of the Year.

I love cowboys. I love their straight up honesty, how they don’t make excuses or put on aires. I don’t know how many times an interviewer asks a guy that got bucked off what went wrong and they say “I got bucked off” or what they’ll do differently “Hold on tighter” or what it’ll take to finally win an event “Ride better.” Those are the shortest interviews in the the world!

My favorite rider is Wiley Peterson, from Idaho. Mr. Calm Cool & Collected when he rides, but he loves to ham it up for the camera. Mr. Consistency when he’s healthy. I’ve woke my kids up cheering for him when he rides. He won the Finals last year, was Top Ten this year.

My biggest kudos go to retiring Justin McBride. He made the decision b/c his heart wasn’t in it. He said he used to ride selfish, then realized it wasn’t about himself anymore. He wanted to spend more time with his family on the ranch. You’ve gotta respect a guy who puts family first.

It’s been all over the web this morning. Multiple Yahoo writer’s groups. Since I now belong to 65 of them, I have had a BELLYFUL of sour grapes. The gist of it is, RWA National doesn’t consider us Epubbed authors “real” PAN authors. There are requirements to joining – you have to make at least $1000.00 in royalties and advances. We don’t make it on advances. But we can make it in royalties. Check out the RWA’s listing of qualifying publishers. Most of our houses are on that list.

PER RWA:

Option Two: Any General or Honorary member who has earned at least $1,000 in the form of royalties or a combination of advance plus royalties on a single published romance novel or novella published by a non-subsidy, non-vanity publisher may join PAN as a full member following the publication of the title. In order to prove publication under Option Two, the member must submit a copy of the novel’s or novella’s copyright page to the RWA office, together with proof of earnings of at least $1,000 on the qualifying novel or novella. Proof of earnings may be shown in either of the following ways: (1) royalty statement(s) from the publisher showing earnings of at least $1,000; or (2) a letter from the acquiring editor stating that the author has earned at least $1,000 in the form of royalties or an advance plus royalties. Documentation must reflect earnings on a single novel or novella. In the case of a multiple-book contract, or in the event royalty statement(s) show earnings on multiple books, the earnings on the qualifying novel or novella must be shown separately. Any percentage of earnings deducted by an agent shall still be considered earnings to the author; however, the pre-deduction figure must be reflected in the documentation.

Most of the big epubs are go-to-print and through hard work and marketing we can make the sales requirements. I’m published w/both Samhain & TWRP and both of them can get into the big bookstore chains, and I’ve seen Cerridwyn & Ellora’s Cave titles, New Concepts, etc.

I think RWA National has a lot to offer. For networking and new author education they’re second to none. Great local chapters – I belong to WisRWA & FF&P RWA, educational magazine, the PRO program and wonderful conferences. I came up through the RWA contest circuit w/Duality & Hedda’s Sword. I sold Duality to Samhain b/c I went to the 2007 NJ RWA PYHIAB Conference and pitched to Angela James (same conference where Hedda’s Sword came in third in PYHIAB Contest/Paranormal).

Are epubbed authors considered not quite as “worthy” as NY authors? Yes. Does that make me personally unhappy? Yes. But the way to fix it is not to snap and snarl at each other about it. That’s just a mob mentality. Let’s PROVE to them how professional and organized we are. Write emails. Write letters. Speak with your local chapter officers to bring that up when they have their board meetings. Buy a board member a drink at the next conference you attend and voice your concerns. Encourage your publisher to step up their networking w/RWA. The more we make our presence felt, en masse, the more power we’ll have. We’re professional. We’re organized. We’re calm, but determined.

http://loveromancesandmore.blogspot.com/search/label/4%20hearts?updated-max=2008-10-28T04%3A38%3A00-07%3A00&max-results=20

Monday, October 27, 2008

DUALITY: Guardians of the Light Book 1 by Renee Wildes

Publisher Samhain Publishing
Date published October 2008
ISBN 978-1-60504-216-9
Genre Fantasy Romance
E-book

Reviewed by Dawn

CLICK TO PURCHASE!
Dara Khan Androcles never fit in no matter where she was. Always different, always adrift, healing and doing what she could to ease a person’s suffering, Dara finds out soon enough what she really is and what destiny has in store with her when war rages across her land and her friends and family brutally slain or cowered. Then she meets Loran, an Elven prince who helps Dara find a way to fight the encroaching evil that covers Dara’s homeland. Secrets abound, passion is scorching and powers unlike both have ever seen before are coming full circle as Dara and Laren race against the clock to stop a madman from enslaving them all!

Wow is all this reviewer can say after reading DUALITY. It was a spellbinding story full of elves, magic, demons, war and love among other things to keep the reader enthralled from start to finish. With each page, get drawn in a world where a demon possessed madman is determined to cause havoc and chaos before destroying everything in his path that opposes him. It takes Dara, a Halfling who has no idea what her destiny holds or why she always felt out of place in her homeland, to tip the balance in favor of the light as darkness grows. Throw in a handsome Elven prince, some magical elemental mages, and you’ve got a story that will keep you on the edge of your seat as the twists and turns captivate you.

Ms. Wildes delivers a fast pace ride so hang on tight as you read DUALITY. This is the first book in this author’s Guardians of the Light series and this reviewer is anxiously awaiting the next chapter in this riveting tale. With complex characters that fairly leap off the pages to magic that will wrap itself around you, the story itself grows with each page. This reviewer was hard-pressed not to bring out Tolkin’s Lord of the Ring’s books. This is an author who delves deep into the souls of her characters, giving them vulnerabilities that had me weeping at times and laughing at others. With each page, DUALITY delivers a spellbinding story that will keep you entertained till the very end. I am looking forward to the next chapter of the Guardian’s of the Light Series and hope I don’t have to wait long for it. If you enjoy a wonderful, lyrical story that seems to melt as you read it with captivating characters then run to grab DUALITY. It will keep you enthralled from start to finish!

http://www.booksonboard.com/index.php?BODY=viewbook& BOOK=290811& v=ratings

MadKatter
Blurb sounded good, so I bought it book is even better than I hoped!
Classic good vs evil, but very well done, well written, great
characters (likable & neither perfect nor too stupid to live),
interesting plot with plenty of twists and turns. Warning: given the
whole light vs dark nature of the plot, the dark bits are quite dark–
gives the book some of it’s strength, but can be hard to read… Pretty
much devoured it, and now waiting impatiently for the next in the
series.

“Hedda’s Sword ” by Renee Wildes

Read An Excerpt Online
Genre: Fantasy Romance

ISBN: 978-1-60504-371-5
Length: Novel
Price: 5.50
Publication Date: January 6, 2009
Cover art by Anne Cain

She’s known nothing but pain—but love waits in the arms of one man.

Guardians of the Light, Book 2

Maleta is a true survivor. Attacked and left for dead at a young age, she has traded her heart and emotions to become the ultimate weapon of vengeance for the Grey Goddess, Hedda. She swears to depose Queen Sunniva and restore her ancestral home to her brother, no matter the cost.

Cianan is drawn to the mysterious land of Shamar on the power of a vision—the death of a beautiful swordswoman to an army of skeletons. When he meets Maleta, he recognizes two things. She is his true Life-Mate. And she is the woman fated to die this horrible death.

He vows to change her fate.

Cianan must unite the diverse people of a fragmented land to overthrow a vicious despot and convince their true queen to take the throne. Falling in love with a mortal woman who’s buried her heart and shies from his every touch—that’s the real challenge.

Maleta knows she can trust Cianan to save her country. Can she trust him to help her save herself?

Warning: Take one narcissistic queen bent on genocide, an assassin nun made of ice and a hero convinced he can change the course of Fate by his will alone. Add a true queen with an aversion to power and a mercenary with a secret that threatens to tear the land in two. Stir briskly. Season with a child-Seer who never shuts up and a tree sprite looking for an apprentice. What do you get? Either a rollicking rebellion or a recipe for disaster. Look for a few familiar faces from DUALITY. Be prepared for tears and laughter. Contains murder and mayhem, drugs and slavery, patricide and references to a memory of rape.

Read An Excerpt Online

I have a lot to be thankful for this year. My family most of all. The chance to share my love of reading, writing and horses with my kids. I grew up with the Wisconsin Arabian Horse Association, and now my children have the pleasure of growing up around horses, too. My father-in-law just doesn’t get it, but I’m just like my mom. The barn was always perfect and the house was a wreck, but we were always in the barn anyway so who cared?

Tami & Todd w/Sassy (Temptation Fyre N Ice) 4 yr old Morab mare

Josh feeding Sassy

And then we got a new horse – a 15-yr-old Welsh/Arab mare named Moonlight that we bought for the kids. The younger the rider, the older the horse.

Josh & Tami w/new pony, Moonlight

She was skittish and hard to catch, had one kamikaze run-in with a tree branch that just missed the jugular when it impaled her neck, but she was real easy to treat and is great with the kids. My husband Todd recently rode a horse for the first time in his life.

Horses are great for bonding, for teaching kids responsibility and caring, and they’re friends and partners that never criticize or judge. It’s only natural that I feature horses with strong, distinct personalities in my stories. It’s as natural to me as breathing. The smell of horses, hay & apples, and leather is my favorite scent. It’s impossible to be stressed around them. They don’t have bad days. They don’t care what people say to them. They just ARE. I can just watch them playing in the pasture, or groom them, and the stress just melts away.

I had a bad wreck w/Sassy this summer when she got spooked by a Harley that passed too close and kicked gravel up into her face. She dumped me in the ditch but never left my side. I had to walk her in – slowly, couldn’t breathe, but she was very solicitous. Stopped to let me catch my breath, didn’t balk or pull. She seemed to know I was hurt. Turned out to have broken ribs and a collapsed lung. When I got back on her for the first time after two months, I was shaking. Very weird feeling for someone who’s ridden her entire life. Rode Sassy around the round pen, and the yard. And she’s as gentle as if I’d placed a baby on her back. Both my kids ride her in the round pen and up and down the driveway. She reins a little better than Moonlight, but they’ll graduate to Moonlight next year.

I could never not have horses in my life, my world or my books. Even when that $1000.00 winter hay bill lands on my doorstep. I’m proud to be a “horsey nut” and I hope my kids always feel the same way.

I’ve been a huge fantasy fan & voracious reader my entire life. I was a Tolkien fan WAY before Peter Jackson jumped in. If Joseph Campbell had had disciples, I would have been one. Fantasy is mytholgy and mythology is people. Mythology is truth.  The basis of all classic fantasy for me is good triumphing over evil and an ordinary someone accomplishing something extraordinary.

Doom and gloom are all around us. The war, the economy, political dissention, religious dissention. Seems you can’t turn around without someone telling you how horrifically tragic everything is. Some people are saying book sales are down – people won’t buy books when they can’t afford essentials. But they’re wrong. Readers will read regardless. Readers will read MORE to escape their own reality.

Why not with a fantasy book where an honest man can bring down a tyrant, an evil dragon can be turned to good, good and Light can triumph over evil and Dark? Shea uses the Sword to defeat the Warlock Lord, Alias discovers she’s as human as a born being, Esmay discovers the strength to rally a crew in mtiny and win a battle, Mahree becomes a beacon for peace in an intergalactic misunderstanding (In order: Terry Brooks’ Sword of Shannara, Kate Novak’s Forgotten Realms – Azure Bonds, Elizabeth Moon’s Once a Hero, & A. C. Crispin’s Starbridge).  Each of those characters decided they’d had enough of their situations and if no one else was going to do something to fix it, then they were going to suck it up and do it themselves. “It starts with me.”

I think that’s a great attitude. “It starts with me.” Make a ripple of positive in the negative pond. Instead of thinking about what’s wrong in the world, think about what’s good in your life. In your home, in your family, in your church or school or work or community. What’s good in the state, country, world. Smile at the Salvation Army bell ringer. Hold a door open for someone. Compliment a coworker’s new hairstyle. Thank everyone who does something nice for you. Smile at everyone. If there’s something you want to change, make a resolution and fix it. Like those characters in our favorite fantasy books, “It starts with me. I can make a difference. I will make a difference.”

Less talk. More action. You’d be surprised who can move mountains!

Think about all those presents you’ve received over the years. The ones you’ve adored, the ones you’ve hated, the ones that made you go “Huh? What were they smoking when they thought THIS would be a good idea?” What are your most memorable gifts ever?

The best/most romantic?

The worst/most awful? The one you couldn’t wait to regift fast enough?

The just plain WEIRDEST?

I’m giving away a $20 B&N Gift card for each category. So go ahead – Share! Spill! Let’s have some fun with this one!

Best Present: Kelly

Weirdest Present: Crystal

Worst Present: Beth

Congrats, Ladies!

The Ultimate Ladies Man Meets The Ultimate Challenge…

 

Genre: Fantasy Romance ISBN: 978-1-60504-371-5 Publication Date: January 6, 2009 Cover art by Anne Cain ORDER! Love will give them strength—or prove to be their fatal flaw. Guardians of the Light, Book 2 She’s known nothing but pain—but love waits in the arms of one man.

Maleta is a true survivor. Attacked and left for dead at a young age, she has traded her heart and emotions to become the ultimate weapon of vengeance for the Grey Goddess, Hedda. She swears to depose Queen Sunniva and restore her ancestral home to her brother, no matter the cost. Cianan is drawn to the mysterious land of Shamar on the power of a vision—the death of a beautiful swordswoman to an army of skeletons. When he meets Maleta, he recognizes two things. She is his true Life-Mate. And she is the woman fated to die this horrible death. He vows to change her fate. Cianan must unite the diverse people of a fragmented land to overthrow a vicious despot and convince their true queen to take the throne. Falling in love with a mortal woman who’s buried her heart and shies from his every touch—that’s the real challenge. Maleta knows she can trust Cianan to save her country. Can she trust him to help her save herself? Warning: Take one narcissistic queen bent on genocide, an assassin nun made of ice and a hero convinced he can change the course of Fate by his will alone. Add a true queen with an aversion to power and a mercenary with a secret that threatens to tear the land in two. Stir briskly. Season with a child-Seer who never shuts up and a tree sprite looking for an apprentice. What do you get? Either a rollicking rebellion or a recipe for disaster. Look for a few familiar faces from DUALITY. Be prepared for tears and laughter. Contains murder and mayhem, drugs and slavery, patricide and references to a memory of rape.

Renee Wildes Signature

It’s -20 today and all the area schools are closed. When the schools close we parents can opt to stay home from work, too – perk my employer grants. Those with teens don’t, but it’s a godsend for those of us that also use grade school as daycare, LOL.

Can we spell FREE WRITING DAY?

Funny thing is, it’s sunny and gorgeous when you look out the window – until you stick your head out the door and your nose falls off! I have to take the garbage out but I’m too chicken yet. I also have to take my daughter shopping for a present for her friend’s b-day party. Wimping out on that score, too. Why I live in WI when I’m such a big baby is beyond me. but the only other place I’d consider moving to is Maine, and it’s just as balmy there, too.

Check out this blog from  http://www.ninapierce.com/romanceblog/ - there’s a frightful picture of deer “swimming” through snow.

AH WINTER!

Just got the invite for the WisRWA “Love Is In The Cards III”  25th ANNIVERSARY Conference in Green Bay, WI on June 5-7, 2009. It’s at the Radisson Hotel & Conference Center by the Airport. There were 77 published members’ names listed. Now I know for certain there are at least 2 I know of who don’t live in the WI arctic, but I can’t help wondering if we have so many writers because it’s TOO COLD TO DO ANYTHING ELSE HERE? My favorite author Sherrilyn Kenyan is the featured speaker. I am in awe of that woman. Want to say hi and have her sign my books. Will probably sound like a dork if I open my mouth. <sigh>

The horses look like woolly mammoths. Hay bill is HUGE because they eat more to stay warm.

The cat keeps trying to sneak outside. I let her. She high-tailed it right back inside and is now cured for another year.

Wonder if my car will start?

I’ve started another blog, one strictly populated and posted by the characters from the Guardians books. It’s in it’s infancy, but I plan on posting there every M-W-F http://guardiansoflight.wordpress.com/  and here every T-Th.

It’s not about the books, it’s about the characters themselves. From their POV. What they’re thinking about – hopes, fears, dreams, disappointments.  How they see their world, and react to it.

Hope people will find it and check it out!

Okay, let’s have a bit of a treasure hunt/trivia contest. The answers are either here, at my regular website http://www.reneewildes.com or at my new character blog http://www.guardiansoflight.wordpress.com

The questions are:

1.)  What are the names of my two horses?

2.) What are my favorite flowers?

3.) What book won the Ecataromance Reviewer’s Choice Award?

4.) What’s the title of my newest sale (not released yet)?

5.) Which 3 characters have blogged so far, and on what topics?

Whoever posts a comment here, with the correct answers, enters a drawing for  a belated Valentine’s Day goodie basket. Drawing to be held tomorrow morning.

Good Luck!

Okay, everyone knows I’m a huge PBR fan and an even bigger Wiley Peterson fan. I got to drive my kids nuts (and deaf) this weekend cheering on my favorite guy in St. Louis, MO.

Round 1 vs SMOKEY = 86.5 pts (4th in round)

Round 2 vs WHAT I SAY = 86.75 pts

Round 3 vs KABOOKIE = 86 pts

Championship Round vs PEARL SNAP = 88.75 points (4th in round, but 1st place in the average w/a total of 348 pts and was one of only three men to ride all four of his bulls.

Even better, it bumped him up to #4 in the world at the moment. Yay! Been a bit of time since his last win, and I’m thrilled to pieces for him and his family.  Although on behalf of your wife, mister, I hope you DO wash those jeans! <LOL>

It was a great weekend in MO, ID and WI!

March Madness has NOTHING to do w/basketball. Not in MY world.

Every March we go through this. My son’s birthday and my daughter’s ice show. Together. Simultaneous. In direct conflict. First, I work 10-7 so my HUSBAND had to take Tami to the rehearsals, on the city bus - with Josh in tow. Because the 18-year-old w/the car is completely undependable as to whether he’ll be around or not when you might actually need him for something.

By Friday night, after four hours “technical rehearsal” Josh had a meltdown. Saturday morning he stayed home alone during “dress rehearsal”. Alone for 3 hours. Todd and Bryan were working. I was locker room mom at the rink for 20 girls, changing costumes, spraying hair, pinning belts, velcroing mondors, fixing lipstick. Tami’s eight. She does NOT wear makeup, ever – even for shows. She’s a little girl. Period. The other moms can call me a prude. I could give a damn. I don’t. Wear makeup OR give a damn. (I wore makeup for my wedding. That was twelve years ago.)

Joshua had a peaceful, quiet, girl-less morning watching Star Wars. He got his balance back. He’s a lot like me – he needs alone downtime sometimes, with no one in his face. When Tami and I returned to the rink for the 5-9 first show marathon, Josh stayed home w/dad to cheer on HIS PBR fav, J.B. Mauney.

Sunday was the afternoon show where I get to WATCH, not work. Bryan actually showed up. Josh sulked the whole time. Tami yawned in the middle of her second number and got caught by the woman sitting in front of us. I almost smacked her – the woman, not Tami. Tami was exhausted – a bad cold didn’t help – and it showed. Those little girls are troupers, but between school, homework, practice…I’ll bet Tami wasn’t the only one too tired to finish her mac n cheese by Thursday. She got a note from school for snapping at a sub. She does that when she’s tired. Snaps at anyone and everyone, then collapses in a corner.

Josh’s birthday was yesterday. Star Wars presents…MN Vikings cake. Yes, you can get them in WI! (Much to my GBP-loving husband’s chagrine!) He’s wearing the Clone Wars shirt this morning. All is right with the world once more…until NEXT March.

http://longandshortreviews.blogspot.com/2009/02/duality-by-renee-wildes.html

5 BOOKS!!!

WooHoo!

We have a Paperback Release Date: 11/1/09!!!

http://www.paranormalromance.org/reviews/review.php?id=30257 WONDERFUL

http://www.ecataromance.com/?p=816 5 STARS

http://blog.lyndacoker.net/2009/02/22/wrdf-review-of-heddas-sword-by-renee-wildes.aspx MEMORABLE

http://loveromancesandmore.blogspot.com/2009/03/heddas-sword-guardians-of-light-series.html 4 STARS

Go to http://samhainpublishing.com/authors/renee-wildes and find out what all the ruckus is about!

Just thought I’d have a little fun here. If you could have any dream birthday present you could conjure up – no holds barred – what would it be? For yourself, personally? Nothing universal like world peace, either. That’s too easy, Miss United States! (Says the closet fan of Miss Congeniality.)

Horseback riding through the woods with Viggo Mortensen? A picnic in the Scottish Highlands with Gerard Butler? Being stranded in a snowy mountain cabin with Hugh Jackman? (Oh, right – those are MY wishes! LOL!)

C’mon – spill! Let’s have some fun and go nuts. The sky’s the limit! Seriously – if you want to joy-ride with the Blue Angels, that’s cool. Today anything goes. Dream away!

VIVI ANDREWS!

Have home Internet again – just in time for Tuesday’s new release of LYCAN TIDES, Bk 3 in Samhain’s Guardians of Light series. Hero Trystan was secondary character in Duality (Bk 1 – Queen Moira’s brother) and I knew then he’d have to have his own book.

Coming Tuesday 7/14/09!

The Anne Cain cover is shown as an example of a lovely cover: http://cerebralreviews.com/

 

“Lycan Tides” by Renee Wildes

Read An Excerpt Online
Genre: Fantasy Romance

ISBN: 978-1-60504-623-5
Length: Novel
Price: 5.50
Publication Date: July 14, 2009
Cover art by Anne Cain

Giving in to the lure of passion could lead to disaster…

Guardians of Light, Book 3

 

Selkie princess Finora is all too familiar with betrayal. Betrayal by her curiosity, which led her from the sea. By her body, which yielded to a handsome human under the full moon. By the human, who hid her skin and took its location with him to his grave. After seven years of searching, she no longer believes in miracles.

 

Trystan is a werewolf on a mission to find and return dragons to his homeland. He follows a slim lead westward across an unfamiliar sea. Gravely wounded in a pirate attack, his ship foundered in a storm and sinking fast, he comes face to face with the most unexpected rescuers—Finora and her two half-human children.

 

Selkie and werewolf. Both creatures ruled by the moon. The attraction is instant, mutual, undeniable…and impossible. Trystan is destined to return to the mountains and Finora can’t leave the sea. Their only gift to each other is one night of searing passion—which could lead to the greatest betrayal of all…

 

Warning: Contains searing passion, bitter betrayal, hard choices, seven-year curses, and lost seal skins. Throw in an impending selkie war and one wicked ship-wrecking storm. Add a cranky sea-goddess, soul-stealing dragons, interfering mermaids, and children in peril.

TODAY’S THE BIG DAY! LYCAN TIDES is now available at http://www.mybookstoreandmore.com/shop/product.da/lycan-tides

LYCAN TIDES is dedicated to all the single moms out there who every day make their own miracles happen. Their strength inspires me every day to emulate their example. My heroine Finora’s first husband was lost at sea. She’s raising two kids on her own when Trystan enters her life.

I’ve decided to give half my proceeds of LYCAN TIDES ebook royalties to The Women’s Community, a local shelter who help abused women and children on their first step to safety, freedom, and self-esteem. I stand in awe of their strength and courage in the simple declaration, “I deserve better.”

Take a moment to think about the strong women in your own life, who have influenced you to be more than you were at the time, who helped make you what you are today. A relative, a friend, no matter. Sing out their praises! All comments will be entered in a drawing to win 1 of 2 $25 Barnes & Noble gift cards. Let your own personal heroines shine today!

NANCY & BARBARA!

I had a reader on one of the Yahoo groups I belong to challenge that fantasy writers don’t have to do any research because we just make stuff up as we go along. HUH? Maybe THAT’s what I’ve been doing wrong b/c I’ve been wasting all this time RESEARCHING for YEARS! Hmm… So I took a look at my shelves, and here’s what’s there for all my unnecessary research:

MYTHOLOGY:

• JOSEPH CAMPBELL
• Kalevala
• Saga of the Icelanders
• Celtic Myths & Legends
• Myths of the Norsemen
• Nordic Gods & Heroes
• Edith Hamilton’s Mythology
• Encyclopedia of Gods

HISTORY:

• Encyclopedia of the Ancient World
• Life In Ancient Egypt
• Alexander of Macedon
• Warfare In The Classical World
• On Sparta
• The Spartans
• Thermopylae The Battle For The West
• Attila King of the Huns
• The Year 1000
• Surviving the Iron Age
• In Search of the Dark Ages
• Warriors of the Dark Ages
• Mysterious Lands & Peoples
• Western Europe in the Middle Ages
• Europe In The Central Middle Ages
• Penguin Historical Atlas of the Vikings
• The Vikings In History
• The Ancient World of the Celts
• A History of Their Own: Women in Europe From Prehistory to the Present
• The Concise History of Costume & Fashion
• Medieval England
• What Life Was Like Among Druids & High kings
• The Celts (actually have 5 different bks/authors – same title)
• The Vikings
• Daily Life In Medieval Times
• ALL THE EDWIN TUNIS BOOKS, Esp.:
  • Wheels
  • Weapons
  • Oars, Sails & Steam

MEDICINE/HEALING:

• The Way of Herbs
• The Herb Book
• Earth Medicine
• The Medicine Way
• Culpepper’s Complete Herbal & English Physician, Enlarged
• Coyote Medicine
• A Midwife’s Tale

MAGIC:

• The Writer’s Guide to Fantasy Literature From Dragon’s Lair to Hero’s Quest
• The Writer’s Complete Fantasy Reference
• Magickal Mystical Creatures
• Earth Air Fire & Water
• Celtic Traditions
• By Oak Ash & Thorn
• The 21 Lessons of Merlyn
• Encyclopedia of Celtic Wisdom
• Wisdom of the Elements
• The Book of the Dragon
• The People’s Guide to J.R.R. Tolkien
• Witches & Witchcraft
• Magical Arts
• Ancient Wisdom & Secret Sects

And this doesn’t include my two shelves of WRITING books (characters, plotting, dialogue, conflict, editing) or reference books (distionary, thesaurus, baby names, punctuation) OR my colonial America collection!

Sad to think all those books wasted…

But THEN I got an email from someone asking if my books were set in a real place/time, they seemed so real, and I had a couple reviewers comment about my worldbuilding, (and I got compared to the lovely Bianca D’Arc with both of us being named worldbuilding champs in the same sentence/breath. I LOVE Bianca D’Arc’s books, so that made me sniffle a bit to be mentioned w/HER!) so maybe I’m going something RIGHT.

Right or wrong, I think I’ll keep doing it!

MARY’S QUESTIONS: send answers to mary@MaryHughesBooks.com
1)    In the YouTube trailer for Biting Nixie, what color is Julian’s tie
(not including the chroma shot)?
2)    In her review of Biting Nixie, JoyfullyReviewed.com‘s Shayna wants to
learn more about which character?
3)    In the free short story A Biting Christmas Special linked to on
MaryHughesBooks.com, what ring tone does Nixie use for her mom?
4)    In the blurb on MaryHughesBooks.com, Bite My Fire may contain what food?
5)    In her review of Biting Nixie, fallenangelreviews.com‘s Hayley’s icon
has what color wings?
6)    Biting Nixie is part of what Samhain Samhellion program?
7)    Bonus question! What is the time period for the dance tune used in the
Biting Nixie Trailer? Bonus-bonus—what’s the name of the dance?
8)    Bonus question! What Taekwondo form is described in the posted Biting
Nixie excerpt?
9)    Bonus question! What is cussing for?

RENEE’S QUESTIONS: send answers to http://www.reneewildes.net/contact.html 

1.) What are the names of my two free holiday reads on my website? Hint: They were Samhellion freebies…

http://www.reneewildes.net

2.) DUALITY won the 2008 Reviewer’s Choice Award from which review site? http://www.reneewildes.net

3.) Who is my favorite PBR cowboy? http://www.reneewildes1.wordpress.com

4.) What review site did an expose on book covers where LYCAN TIDES was sited as a good example of Anne Cain’s work? http://www.guardiansoflight.wordpress.com 

5.)In HEDDA’S SWORD, whom does Cianan suggest might be able to help Maleta’s brother Jovan?

Hint: Excerpt  http://www.reneewildes.net 

6.)In LYCAN TIDES, what’s the name of the sea goddess Finora rails against? http://www.guardiansoflight.wordpress.com

2 BONUS QUESTIONS: (Gets an extra “name ticket” in the drawing)

Who’s the “model” for Loren in DUALITY’s book trailer? Hint: His eyes are Photoshopped a different color

http://www.reneewildes.net 

What artist provides the music for my book trailers? http://www.reneewildes.net

My kids and I have always recycled, but our latest thing is to volunteering at the New Life Pet Adoption Center, a local (well, okay, semi-local) no-kill humane society. They’re totally dependent on volunteers and donations. So I signed me and the kids up. I figured it’s a good way for them to learn how to make a difference in the world around them. They love animals, and it’ll teach them empathy and responsibility. Josh loves cats. Tami wants to be a vet and it’s never too early to pad a resume for them. We’re working weekends, cleaning cages, feeding & watering, & just “socializing” which is the technical term for grooming/petting/exercising (playing with) the critters. It’s the perfect job!

We’ll be selling soda at the county fair this Sunday afternoon as part of their fundraiser.

We went to the Milwaukee Zoo this weekend, and they got to see a whole variety of endangered species, and what zoos are doing to help. My kids grew up watching my hero, the late Steve Irwin, so I want to make sure they have an appreciation for the planet and everything on it.

I hope everyone who buys a soda appreciates a couple of kids trying to pitch in and make their world a better place. I try to follow their good example!

DUALITY

Go to my Guardians of Light character blog and leave a comment on any of the entries thus far. My heroines have commented on a variety of topics important to them, and would love to hear your opinion on their subjects.

All who enter go into a drawing for one free ebook of choice of my titles,

Duality-Hedda’s Sword-Lycan Tides

Simply go to http://www.guardiansoflight.wordpress.com and comment to enter, enter to win!

You always hear about what a lonely profession writing is…sitting alone w/your computer…praying to (whomever) that inspiration strikes…

Yeah, right!

Now I sit at my computer every day, but I’m never alone. I have my family at home and my friends at work. I have a whole community online. I have my local and state writers groups. I have my critique partners. I go to conferences. I have my editors, and a slew of contest coordinators as I’m always judging an RWA writing contest for SOMEONE.

And I have all those voices in my head…<LOL> The characters in Bk 5 are trying to push the characters in Bk 4 out of the way so they can have THEIR turn. Although, one of my characters in Bk 4, Dust of Dreams, is a troll and he doesn’t push very far! (Don’t think trolls are sexy? Picture Ronan Dax in Stargate Atlantis. I think Jason Mamoa is totally HOT!)

So don’t feel sorry for us writers. Envy us for getting to work in our jammies! Hey, casual day takes on a whole new meaning…

So, next time a writer bemoans their “lonely existence” – ask them about any of the above!

http://howlinggoodbooks.com/index.php?id=86

Reviewed by Nicole Hicks

Genre- Paranormal Romance/ Fantasy

 

5   PAWPRINTS !

Dara Khan Androcles has learned the art of fighting. Because it is a forbidden for women to learn she must hide her warrior’s heart beneath another art, one of healing. But even that she must be careful of, for even within the traipsing of her ability to heal are forbidden arts. Can she handle the ways of the warrior with the heart of a healer?

Loren ta Cedric knows he must warn the mortal king of the danger that he knows of. What he doesn’t expect is to be brought down. Or for a young mortal to be willing to sacrifice their life in order to save his safety. Or for the debt bond that he offers to bind them so completely. Or to feel some much for one person, other than his War Mare Hani’ena.

Love and loss proceed change. A change of knowledge, destinies, and the possibilities. When Dara is thrust into the middle of her world changing, can she manage? Can she follow her path, as convoluted as it may seem, to the end? Can she follow her heart?

Renee Wilde surprised me thoroughly. I found myself drawn into her world by the descriptions and lively characters.  I ended up drowning within her world by the emotions that the story conveyed. Her writings remind me of Michelle Sagara; an innocence with a touch of seduction rolling in the endless possibilities. The world she introduces is one filled with life, good and bad. She weaves a story that makes the reader not want to put the tale down. I found myself unable to sleep, reading until 4 in the morning so that I could see where she took the characters, as well as me. I enjoyed being so wrapped in the story that I cried at the end.  I look forward to the continuation of the Guardians of the Light series!

Hedda’s Sword by Renee Wildes

http://longandshortreviews.blogspot.com/2009/08/heddas-sword-by-renee-wildes.html

NOMINATED FOR BOOK OF THE WEEK AT LASR!

Hedda’s Sword by Renee Wildes
Publisher: Samhain Press
Genre: High Fantasy
Length: Full (290 pages)
Heat: Sensual
Rating: 5 Books
Reviewed by Eglantine

She’s known nothing but pain—but love waits in the arms of one man.

Guardians of the Light, Book 2

Maleta is a true survivor. Attacked and left for dead at a young age, she has traded her heart and emotions to become the ultimate weapon of vengeance for the Grey Goddess, Hedda. She swears to depose Queen Sunniva and restore her ancestral home to her brother, no matter the cost.

Cianan is drawn to the mysterious land of Shamar on the power of a vision—the death of a beautiful swordswoman to an army of skeletons. When he meets Maleta, he recognizes two things. She is his true Life-Mate. And she is the woman fated to die this horrible death.

He vows to change her fate.

Cianan must unite the diverse people of a fragmented land to overthrow a vicious despot and convince their true queen to take the throne. Falling in love with a mortal woman who’s buried her heart and shies from his every touch—that’s the real challenge.

Maleta knows she can trust Cianan to save her country. Can she trust him to help her save herself?

How can you tell, within the first few pages, whether the ebook you’re reading is likely to be good? Usually, clean editing, easy-reading language and a story scenario that draws you in, are good indicators. But how can you tell if it is likely to be really good? If you have all the above, and in addition to that you find a sentence as beautifully descriptive as this one: “All around him, the skeletal branches of trees loomed. They clutched at his clothing like the wasted fingers of the dead…” on the very first page, things would have to change dramatically for the worse from there for the book as a whole to not be brilliant.

Ms Wildes builds a world for us which is believable and real. She peoples this world with characters which have been shaped with the same care, so that their challenges and motivations stir our sympathy and open a place in our hearts for them. While there were two incidents which, in my opinion, wobbled a little, seemed too underplayed for the great significance they held, the story’s strong points were sufficient to compensate for my momentary frown.

Favourites from the first book in the series, Duality, make some brief appearances, but Hedda’s Sword definitely stands alone, you can enjoy it without having read the first. I would recommend you do, though, as I will be surprised if anyone comes away from this book not wanting to track down more of Ms Wilde’s stories. Definitely worth buying.

Folks who know me know I got a double whammy in the guardian genetics category – I’m a Navy brat and a cop’s kid. My dad was a cop. My landlord’s a cop. Several friends and neighbors are, too – active and retired. A state trooper lives right around the corner from me. A guy in my church is a sheriff’s deputy. They’re all family, friends and neighbors. They have wives, girlfriends and kids – some have grandkids. And they all face the “today might be my last” with honor and fearlessness.

What’s the most dangerous threat to a police officer? Not bullets. It’s cars. Cars driven by stupid people. Cars driven by inattentive cell-phone-talking/yelling-at-the-kids-in-the-backseat people. Human vesus moving vehicle? NOT good odds.

So do them and their families a favor. When you see an officer has pulled someone over, move into the other lane AWAY from them if there’s one available. If not, slow down and give them a wide berth. If there’s no oncoming traffic, cross that yellow line. Give them room. We’ve all seen the reality TV videos where rubber-neckers rearend or sideswipe the parked squad car with all it’s lights flashing. Don’t do that. Slow down. Move over.

Mind your own business…

Slowing down won’t kill you. NOT slowing down might kill them – or really hurt them. So watch out for the ones watching out for you.

Hubby worked inventory yesterday. Note to self: NEVER schedule a booksigning on the last Saturday of the month. EVER. Came downstairs in black pants, burgundy-and-black print blouse, & black jacket w/my Barclay Sterling & Where the Magic Begins pins. (Okay, Hedda won them and not Duality, but who’s counting?) My son told me how nice I looked. (Wonder what a hag I usually appear to warrant THAT from Mr. Oblivious?) My daughter’s comment? “Ma, why are you wearing your riding boots?” Umm…because they’re the only thing I have with heels?

Three hours in car w/2 kids and 1 gameboy. (2nd note to self: buy gameboy for next-closest holiday…) Box of granola bars not big enough. Next time buy case. Music to listen to on the way down: Nightwish and Jaded Heart’s “Synical Minds.” Josh fell asleep. (Only HE could sleep through hard rock!)  Tami stole the gameboy. Rain threatened. Left at 8:15 in case something happened.

Nothing happened. Arrived early. L or R on 76th street? Haven’t been in this part of Milwaukee in over six years. Flipped a coin. Turned L. North. Shoulda turned R. South. (Note to self – spend coin. Next time use another.) Wound up in residentialsville. No businesses. Turned around after Josh woke up and asked, “Where are we?”

Can tell my kids live in a small town. They were totally overwhelmed by the FOOD COURT and were WAY too entertained by the escalator. Best babysitter in the world!

Everyone at the book store was really nice. I had a pretty little table right at the front of the store so I could meet and greet everyone coming and going. They had 20 copies of DUALITY and a nice sign in plexi. I brought my 2006 WisRWA FabFive Silver Quill award (THAT WAS won by Duality), excerpt brochures, reviews brochures, business cards, bookmarks and Samhain pens. I also had Hershey’s Nuggets chocolates in a crystal candie dish, my blood-red depression-glass goblet, and the framed covers of Hedda’s Sword and Lycan Tides. Made a nice display.

Fellow Samhain authors Liz Kreger and Mary Hughes stopped in to say hi – and they bought Duality. Liz was tremendous help getting me through my first Samhain contract – I will always be grateful. And her scifi romance “A Part of Tomorrow” series ROCKS. I have both titles. Found out Mary’s “Biting Nixie” comes out in print 11/1/09 – same date as Hedda’s Sword. I’m in awe of Mary – she managed to hush up a certain editor at the WisRWA conference who’s legendary for always finding SOMETHING wrong w/a manuscript…until Mary’s. Mary’s now LEGEND! Definitely want to  do a double signing with her. Both paranormal – she’s got the snarky sassy voice and I’ve got the drama. We did a Samhain chat party together and it was a ball. I soooo want to do one LIVE…

My sister stopped in dragging two of her friends. A WisRWA friend Marilyn stopped in, as well – awesome surprise! Had a lot of people stop, and ask questions. They all took some literature about the book – heck, I gave a bookmark to everyone who left with a book-in-a-bag. I figure they could always use a bookmark WHATEVER they were reading…

If one more teenager asked if Duality was like Twilight, I woulda screamed…

I told people Duality was my Cinderella story and Hedda’s Sword was like Sleeping Beauty…(That analogy ran thin when I got to Lycan Tides, however!) But what “Cinderella For Grownups” didn’t win over, there’s always “total escapism” and the guaranteed good-triumphs-over-evil and the HEAs. Sold 8 books and gave away probably 30 bookmarks or brochures, so some of those might come back. Wonder how many people will check out the website?

The kids got bored. Tami curled up with some teen mag featuring Hannah Montana and Josh rode the escalator and ogled girls. Help! Puberty’s coming! I must have heard “I’m hungry” at least 7 times. Ate “Big Easy” down in the food court. Pouring rain on the way home. Josh again fell asleep. Tami again hogged the gameboy. I sang along w/David Redman/PC69 and managed to miss my exit (29 off 39) and had to turn around in Rib Mountain. Coulda been worse. Could have ended up in Merrill…

Lesson learned – chocolate’s good, but attracts kids. Plus side – kids usually followed by moms. Anne Cain covers are REALLY good eye-catchers. (If she ever quits or dies, my writing career is over. Anne Cain, may you live forever!)<LOL> Really DO need 2 gameboys. Only do book signings is stores near escalators. The “Cinderella” and “Sleeping Beauty” angle works well – easy for people to grasp. Riding boots only comfortable while SITTING.

Am making a sign that says “Duality is NOT like Twilight” to save me the trouble of repeating myself…

What did I do when I got home? Put my feet up, waded through 1500+ emails and watched Ladyhawke!

Just got home from Maine a couple hours ago. Cat is currently SLEEPING in my not-quite-emptied suitcase – what’s up with that? Flew out EARLY Friday morning. Like got-up-at-three-A.M. early. Tried to save $$ on cheapflights.com. The tradeoff to that is…LOTS of connections and layovers. Wausau-to-Chicago-to-Portland on the way out and Portlands-to-Dulles/Washington, DC-to-Chicago-to-Wausau on the way back. United charges $$ to “check” bags. Didn’t know that. Didn’t have it on me. Fortunately the suitcase was small enough to qualify as a carryon. The security guards threw away my 4-oz. thingie of toothpaste.

Went out to lunch at Old Port, ate at a restaurant with an outside patio. Seagulls and pigeons kept divebombing people & stealing potato chips. There were two cruise ships in port. Biggest boats I’ve ever seen. According to the waitress, they were little ones. Yep – hick from Wi, that’s me, gawking at the li’l ol’ cruise ship. There’s a “whale wall” done by Wyland that’s apparently going bye-bye b/c the building’s being torn down. Sad. <sigh>

Had a great impromtu party at the Elks Club. Gave away a bunch of bookmarks and business cards and brochures (excerpts & reviews) until I ran out. Then we had a fantastic dinner at the Admiral’s (Admiralty?) Steakhouse. Wonderful place to celebrate – not really for every day for most folks. (Okay, poor people like me!) Had a ball. Met a lovely couple, friends of my dad’s, who’d been to Scotland <sigh> and Ireland <double sigh>. They had all kinds of interesting ghost stories – and more mundane stories about, like, forgetting to plug the electricity meter and having all the power go out!

The book signing was a great success. Sold every book Borders had – could have used a few more, as a couple folks left empty-handed and will have to order it. I’ll get some book plates to sign, and told them to email me their addresses so I can still get them “autographed copies” since I’m not really in the neighborhood, as they say. Borders did a lovely job, with a table complete w/tablecloth (very pretty) right up front, and they made announcements. Bill, the coordinator, rocks – VERY nice to work with. they let me leave bookmarks & business cards. The local paper did an article advertising the signing – I got copies. And the party afterward at the Elks Club was a whole lot of fun. Both bartenders are fantasy fans, so maybe they’ll check out the books.

Called home Saturday night – missed my kids. Joshua’s first football game was that day – his team won, and one of their 6 touchtowns was his! Then he played street-football at his friend Ryan’s  b-day party & skinned up his knee. His adult half-brother Bryan showed up and watched Josh play, so Josh had a pretty good day. Tami had a terrible day – TOO MUCH FOOTBALL is what I heard. (Until her Giants beat my Redskins – she was entirely too gleeful about that one! Josh’s Vikings and Todd’s Packers won, too. (Everyone but me!)

Broke my glasses – got head-butted by a yellow Lab and the pin in the bow went flying God-knows-where. So we spent some detour-time at Sears Optical, and I gave her a bookmark, too. Met my uncle’s new wife. Nice lady. I went to a skeet/trap-shooting competition w/my dad on Sunday. I guess Richmond & Bowdoinham have this 50+-year rivalry going on & they have an annual contest to decide the next year’s bragging rights. Bowdoinham won this year (again). Ended the evening with a chicken barbeque at the American Legion.

My home flight was delayed an hour b/c United in their infinite scheduling wisdom decided to have our plane crewed by an International flight crew flying in from Quebec. The first officer got hung up in customs, had to run through like the entire airport, and then fly our plane. Finally got home!

Crazy crazy weekend!

Fantabulous Multi-Author Treasure Hunt Is Underway!

THE ROARING TWENTIES

A Romance Treasure Hunt!

20 authors, over 20 prizes, 20 chances to win. Read below to learn how to enter.

September 16-30

 

World War I is over, jazz music is blossoming, the flapper changes the definition of modern women, Art Deco is peaking, and the Great Depression looms! Go back to school (just for a few minutes) and learn about this fascinating era through photos. You’ll have a chance to win one, or perhaps several, prizes donated by some of your favorite romance writers! 

Here’s how it works: Find one image (it won’t be hard) on each of the following websites. They could be Mickey Mouse as Steamboat Willie, a well known image from the Dust Bowl, or perhaps a flapper! You’ll know it when you see it.  The more images you find (each author has only posted one image), the more chances you have to win. Find one image, you are entered once! Find twenty, and your name is entered twenty times!

One you have danced your way through the sites, email your answers to ciarcullen@gmail.com  

NB: If you want to opt out of being put on any newsletter lists, please just tell us so in your answer email. We will NOT be offended! We promise that if you opt out, it will NOT affect your chances of winning.

 Here’s how to answer: “I found a flapper on Betty’s new release page.” No links, please!

Easy? You bet. Want to get started? Here are your links! Contest opens 9/16 and closes 9/30 EST. Good luck. Now, 23 skidoo, scram. And have fun!

http://www.pamchampagne.net Prize: Two winner’s choice ebooks! 

http://www.michellepillow.com Prize: Ebook Divinity Warriors: Lilith Enraptured

http://www.imogenhowson.com Prize: Ebook Heart of the Volcano 

http://www.shelleymunro.com Prize: Winner’s choice of download from her Ellora’s Cave, Cerridwen or Samhain backlist

 http://www.catherinewade.com Prize: Her latest release, Another Time Around

 http://www.debraparmley.com Prize: Ebook A Desperate Journey  

http://www.sharoncullen.com Prize: Ebook Obsession

 http://www.juniperbell.com Prize: Ebook The Extremist

 http://www.debbiemumford.com Prize: Ebook The Silver Casket

 http://www.lesliedicken.com Prize: Ebook Beauty Tempts the Beast

 http://www.carolanivey.com Prize: Choice ebook or print A Ghost of a Chance: Legends, Book 2

 http://vivianarend.com Prize: eBook winner’s choice of backlist

 http://www.ciarcullen.com Prize: Ebook winner’s choice

 http://www.reneewildes.net Prize: Paperback Duality

 http://www.mychaelblack.net Prize: Ebook Blood & Fire 

http://www.elizagayle.net Prize: EBooks Rope Dreams and Watch Me Hide

 http://www.skylarkade.com Prize: Ebook Maison Domine

 http://www.jannaleehayes.com Prize: Ebook Drive Me Crazy

 http://www.sydneysomers.com Prize: Winner’s choice download from backlist

 http://www.elladrake.com Prize: Ebook Scent of Cin

 http://www.pamelafryer.com Prize: Punch Studio Tiny Book

 http://www.megbenjamin.com Prize: Ebook Wedding Bell Blues

GOT WOLF? Introducing “Marek’s New World” by Renee Wildes

MAREK’S NEW WORLD by Renee Wildes

When park ranger Cheyenne Refferty’s truck is disabled in a MT earthquake, she thought her day couldn’t get any worse. Until she runs afoul of a demon from the ancient past – and the charismatic warrior sent to destroy it…

I’m a nature girl at heart – much more comfortable horseback riding through the woods than shopping in a mall. So when I heard about the Got Wolf? contest at the 2008 WisRWA Conference, I knew I had to pick a natural spot for my setting. “Rural fantasy” instead of “urban fantasy” – it’s much more “me.” I’ve taken several trips out west, across the Rockies, visiting Yellowstone, and knew that’s where I wanted to go. Someplace wild and rugged, off the beaten path. Kootenai Nat’l Forest caught my eye. Love the name. Love the location. NW MT, almost Idaho. Almost Canada. Earthquakes? Check. Reintroduced wolf packs? Check. Tiny towns nestled within immense tracts of wilderness? Check. Perfect place to hide a werewolf civilization. And it came naturally to have a heroine as concerned about the state of the natural world as I was, so making her a park ranger with the forestry service totally worked. Who wouldn’t want to preserve something that looks like this:

Marek never expected the future to be oblivious to the danger. The new world is a fearsome and wondrous place. His only ally is a beautiful white-wolf Shifter who makes him burn – and doesn’t understand a word he says. The demon killed everyone he loved. He won’t risk losing another.

Cheyenne’s never met anyone like Marek. Her family doesn’t trust him, but Cheyenne can’t stay away. She vows to help him, whether it costs her her heart – or her life.

There’s more to the demon than Marek realizes. But there’s more to Cheyenne’s powers and destiny than she suspects – powers that will shape the future of the Pack forever…

EXCERPT:

“Don’t move!” Cheyenne pointed her shotgun at the blood-smeared stranger as he stood and turned away from the prone body. Sister growled at the stench of the yellow-green goo that splattered the ground and the men. Cheyenne feared she’d come upon a murderer, but the raw agony in the living man’s eyes belied that. “What’s your name? What happened here?”

He frowned. Puzzlement clouded his gaze. She repeated her questions in every Native language she knew. Frustrated, her repertoire exhausted, she fell silent and studied him. Clad only in moccasins and intricately tooled leather breeches that buttered his muscular thighs, he stood tall and straight before her, covered in human blood and bits of that weird sulfur-smelling goo. Long raven hair tied back with a leather thong revealed a proud, almost raptorial visage, with piercing black eyes and a strong jaw. Native cast, but with an aristocratic edge that set him apart.

Used to fit men from the braw males of her own Pack, she still couldn’t repress a feminine shiver. This was without a doubt the most ripped man she’d ever seen. She wondered if he was some kind of soldier, doubtful with that hair.

Leave it to her to find a romance-cover-model-turned-ax-murderer in the middle of nowhere…

I hope you enjoy reading Cheyenne’s and Marek’s tale of love and adventure! For more info about me and my books, please feel free to visit me at:
http://www.reneewildes.net/

Easy Contest – What’s your favorite Halloween memory and Halloween tradition? Costumes, parties, recipes, movies. Do you prefer funny or scary? Step up and share!

One winner in each category wins choice of Guardians of Light ebooks:

Duality

Hedda’s Sword

Lycan Tides

Contest will run all month through 10/31/09 ad I’ll pick a winner November first.

“Hedda’s Sword PRINT” by Renee Wildes

Read An Excerpt Online
Genre: Fantasy Romance

ISBN: 978-1-60504- 436-1
Length: 272 Pages
Price: 15.00
Publication Date: November 1, 2009
Cover art by Anne Cain

 

She’s known nothing but pain—but love waits in the arms of one man.

Guardians of the Light, Book 2

 

Maleta is a true survivor. Attacked and left for dead at a young age, she has traded her heart and emotions to become the ultimate weapon of vengeance for the Grey Goddess, Hedda. She swears to depose Queen Sunniva and restore her ancestral home to her brother, no matter the cost.

 

Cianan is drawn to the mysterious land of Shamar on the power of a vision—the death of a beautiful swordswoman to an army of skeletons. When he meets Maleta, he recognizes two things. She is his true Life-Mate. And she is the woman fated to die this horrible death.

 

He vows to change her fate.

 

Cianan must unite the diverse people of a fragmented land to overthrow a vicious despot and convince their true queen to take the throne. Falling in love with a mortal woman who’s buried her heart and shies from his every touch—that’s the real challenge.

 

Maleta knows she can trust Cianan to save her country. Can she trust him to help her save herself?

 

Warning: Take one narcissistic queen bent on genocide, an assassin nun made of ice and a hero convinced he can change the course of Fate by his will alone. Add a true queen with an aversion to power and a mercenary with a secret that threatens to tear the land in two. Stir briskly. Season with a child-Seer who never shuts up and a tree sprite looking for an apprentice. What do you get? Either a rollicking rebellion or a recipe for disaster. Look for a few familiar faces from DUALITY. Be prepared for tears and laughter. Contains murder and mayhem, drugs and slavery, patricide and references to a memory of rape.

Read An Excerpt Online

It’s my own fault. I went and looked at it – four bedrooms, three and a half baths, enough wood to make it part farmhouse, part hunting lodge. Porch in front & back. One car garage w/storage galore. Everything new – furnace, water heater, ductwork, wiring, roof, windows, insulation. Fabulous new kitchen w/twice the cupboards I had. <sigh> Rent-to-own. No downpayment. New appliances. Only $60 more that I was paying (for a lot less house). Pets okay. Dogs okay (we have a cat). Master bedroom downstairs – kids bedrooms upstairs. Extra bedroom upstairs for writing office. Extra room in dining room for scrapbooking corner/second table.

So I said yes. Moved a load every morning before work and every evening after work. Amazing what fits in a minivan without the rear (and middle) seats. Discovered how to remove said seats. Discovered it’s harder to  put them BACK afterwards. Learned things that don’t fit IN can be lashed on top (like queen-sized pillowtop mattresses) but you have to drive slow, something that does NOT come naturally to me.

We killed Josh’s bunk beds – they fell apart when we tried to dismantle. Probably wouldn’t have fit in the room anyway, truth be told. We got a BIG dumpster and threw everything away we didn’t want to take with us – including all the busted stuff my husband was hanging onto that he was gonna “fix someday.” (Hint: We’ve been married over twelve years. Some of that stuff predated me. He’s had enough time to fix those speakers. I tossed them.) We had three HALF bikes, none of which were interchangeable – tossed those, too. Tossed the godawful elephant of an entertainment center, also. Using a busted dresser (sans drawers) for an entertainment center. Stereo equipment under on one side, nightstand under on other side with scrapbooks and photo albums in it, and the TV on top – fits perfectly in one corner of the living room.

Finally have my picture of Stonehedge up on a WALL – in the living room. Have a dragon in the Virgin Mary alcove. My in-laws now thoroughly convinced I’m a sacriligious pagan witch. My friend Holly hemmed a couple of Celtic hangings I’m using as curtains. I have the Green Man in my office and the Tree of Life in my bedroom. Can’t wait for the in-laws to see those.

Tami’s room is books-and-horses. Breyer, real saddle, posters. Very PINK. Josh’s room is MN Vikings, Star Wars and Legos – in no particular order!

We unpacked & decorated the tree right away. Have lighted candy cane, poinsetta, & snowman in windows. Actually have snowmen all over the house (it’s my collectible “thing”) – that and candles. Tami made an awesome Christmas ornament in art class that’s on the tree. We cut out paper snowflakes and put those in all the windows. (Planning on getting vertical blinds in the living room – Home Depot has the best prices on those.)

Found out the smoke detectors work. George Foreman grill set it off. Problem is there’s one in every room of the house and they’re all wired together! We were deaf for a week! Only way to turn them off is to hit the breaker in the basement. Now know to turn on ALL the ceiling fans when we grill in. (December in Wisconsin – we sure as shootin’ aren’t grilling OUT!)

Speaking of ceiling fans, the cat was traumatized for a week. She’s never seen them before. Thought giant five-armed eagles were dropping on her head. She spent the first day in the back bathroom with her food, water & litter box. Second day she hid under our bed in the master bedroom. Third day she hugged the wall and dove under the tree in the living room. Fourth day she discovered the cold air returns in the floor. Day five she finally crept upstairs, only to get herself locked in a closet. She still keeps one eye on those ceilings.

Only “down” side is we live next to railroad tracks. Seriously, NEXT TO as in right across the street from. Whole house rumbles and shakes when one goes by. Cat hates that, too. Good news is, no train whistle from 7 PM to 7 AM. I expect eventually even the cat will learn to ignore it.

Kids start new schools on Monday. Tami’s school’s just a few blocks away – she can walk there. Josh has to take a special city bus devoted strictly to the middle school. They’re apprehensive about making new friends, but I have faith in them to find their own ways. Only thing constant is chage – no time like the present to learn that.

Okay, I’m a little behind. I entered the EPIC epubbed book contest with both Duality & Hedda’s Sword, and they both finaled! WOOHOO! My first published author contest. Wish I could go to the awards ceremony in New Orleans, but no such budget exists  – read about new house in below entry. Be interesting to get the final results, but have to wait another three months.

Fantasy Romance

• Duality by Renee Wildes—Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
• Hedda’s Sword by Renee Wildes—Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
• Ilfayne’s Bane by Julia Knight—Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

That’s the bonus to the new house – bedroom #4 can be a separate writing haven. Bookshelves, computer desk, file cabinet, printer, CD stand (top shelf removed to double as a bookshelf for MY books). All tucked away from the family so I can play Atahualpa over and over while I write Dust of Dreams without having to listen to “OMG, Mom – not AGAIN?” 500 times.

On the door are my Dec 2009 interview for my company newsletter and the posters from my 11/7/09 book signing at Racine B&N for Duality. Behind the door are a Thomas Kinkade lighthouse picture (inspirational for Lycan Tides) hanging above the Indian Ten Commandments. Moving around the room:

The only window, covered by the Green Man wall hanging (he creeps both my kids out, but I think he’s cool), with file cabinet & spare computer parts beneath it.  Have to pay to recycle those – am waiting for the next day posted by the city for that. Then comes my computer desk, all my writing books on the shelf and Hedda’s win certificates from Where The Magic Begins, Barclay Sterling & Dixie Kane hanging above it. Top 5 favorite writing books: The First Five Pages, Writing the Breakout Novel, 45 Master Characters, Word Painting, and The Novel Writer’s Toolkit. My two favorite writing “instructors” are Donald Maass & Bob Mayer.

One the next wall are my CS stand, with selections from Celtic to gothic metal to Native American to Nordic. Atahualpa & Axel Rudi Pell through Enya through Nightwish through R. Carlos Nakai through Wimme. Eclectic. I have a double row of pictures on the wall. Each framed book cover hanging over the corresponding scrapbook page. Have one space left for the next book. Then come the Fab Five and Ignite the flame win certificates.

On the next wall are two big bookshelves with all my reading books and “critter books” (kept all my vet tech/lab animal tech books, and have a pretty big Arabian horse library). My favorite non-romance authors are there: Tolkien, Clive Cussler, James Rollins, Terry Brooks & Mercedes Lackey. Have all the old LUNA fantasy titles Catharine Asaro through Sarah Zettel (before they broke my heart by changing their format from fantasy to urban paranormal). Also have Little Women, Jane Austin & The Wizard of Oz. Then come my romance book case with Suzanne Brockmann, Lori Foster, Sherrilyn Kenyan/Kinley McGregor, Pamela Palmer, JR Ward, Angela Knight, Christine Feehan, Johanna Lindsey, Joy Nash, Sandra Hill, Bianca D’Arc, & Elizabeth Vaugn’s “Warprize” series.

Next to the door is my research bookshelf – Celtic & Nordic Myths & Legends, the Kalevala, Saga of the Icelanders, Ancient Egypt & Greece/Sparta through Dark Ages through Medieval Times. Have a whole shelf devoted to Colonial America/Revolutionary War. I love the Edwin Tunis series from Johns Hopkins – use him for reference all the time.  Love the book “The Year 1000″ too.

It’s my own little haven where I can shut the door and I can be a writer for a bit, instead of just “Mom.” The kids know when the door is shut, the only interruptions allowed are if blood’s involved.  Otherwise I don’t even answer the phone! Beats writing at the kitchen table.

Samhain put Duality in their Kindle promo partnership w/Amazon. Duality free for 2 week. And Duality/Dara and Loren are currently #1 Romance, #3 Genre Fiction & #10 Overall Kindle Books. Now Hedda’s Sword/Maleta and Cianan are climbing the charts – #61 Romance and Lycan Tides/Finora and Trystan are #97 in the Top 100 Romance as of this morning.

People at work are teasing me about stalking myself, but I’ve had a lot of support and hugs, both real and cyber.

Am awaiting edits for Dust of Dreams from my editor Linda, and am starting Riever’s Heart. The work of a writer is never done…

It’s official – Dust of Dreams is now officially Bk 4 in the Guardians of Light series for Samhain. Benilo is the elven spirit healer in Hedda’s Sword and the heoine is a rebellious dream faerie named Pryseis.  They go to help a goblin lad whose nightmares have gotten out of hand and are poisoning everyone around him. The two themes are tolerance  - people are people and kids are kids regardless of race, etc. – and peace over war.

I’ve always tried to portray war as a last resort, something that may sound odd coming from someone who’s grown up around warriors and works with warriors on a daily basis. I fully support the warriors fighting for what they believe in, but I would like to believe that the alternatives to killing each other can win out over hate and bloodshed. Pryseis’ half-troll nephew Dax is a veteran w/issues. He’s a minor character in Dust of Dreams, but he’s going to have his own story, “The God of Fyre Mountain” as soon as I finish “Riever’s Heart.”

The one I’m starting now, “Riever’s Heart” is Verdeen’s story. She was Queen Dara’s lady’s maid in Duality, but quit to enter the elven military academy – first girl to enter, first girl to graduate. The hero prince Aryk is one of the dreaded rievers – think Spartans in Iceland. But he wants to unite the tribes into a nation (think Attila) and join the rest of the world as an equal. His rival Belok wants to unite the tribes into a nation to dominate the rest of the world. King Loren makes Verdeen his Right Hand to keep Aryk alive in his quest – the elves judge him the lesser of two evils. Aryk’s best friend Valkyn doesn’t trust Verdeen, thinks she’s a spy. Tries to undermine her at every turn. Poor girl’s got her work cut out for her!

 

Valentine’s Day is all about celebrating love. For romance writers, well, we celebrate Valentine’s Day all year long! There are all levels of love and romance throughout our lives, from the peck on the cheek of the boy next door when we were six to first date kisses to good-night kisses to good-morning kisses. From sweet to sensual to hot and erotic. But I think the most magic of all are first kisses – and I don’t mean the six-year-old peck-on-the-cheek. (Sorry, Danny!) For some it’s the good-night-after-a-first-date – whether movie or beach party or prom.

 Think back – it’s the moment when a line is crossed between pals…and romance. The beginning of something new and terrifying and wondrous – when everything changes and all things seem possible. Trembling, dry mouth, sweaty palms, pounding hearts…remember? I started thinking about it with my current WIP, entitled “Riever’s Heart.” My heroine Verdeen is a lot like me – so busy keeping up with the boys she forgot she was a girl. Until she met Aryk. Attraction mixed with trepidation – what to do with him? I wanted their first kiss to be that magical, terrifying mix – it was her first kiss, period. (I’m mean like that.)

 Verdeen and I have a lot in common. I was a late-bloomer, an incorrigible tomboy who was the despair of my dean when I forgot about our formal dinner and went horseback riding in the mountains with my friends while our dates showed up at the dorm with corsages in hand. I was 15 and boys were WAY down on the radar below horses. I hung out with the cutest boy in school who was my friend because I was the only girl who wasn’t chasing after him. We were best friends – he liked me because I wasn’t a girl. I look back at that and laugh, because back then I didn’t think I was a girl, either!

How things change.

The “girl faerie” finally caught up with me when I was 18. Guess we all gotta fall sometime. She was a rowdy little thing, too – cross between Joan Jett and Lita Ford. I ran her ragged. She got even by throwing Jon Bon Jovi and Kip Winger across my radar screen. Yeah, I went through a long-haired-musician stage. Mom still has nightmares… So I hung out with guys way older than me, and met “Nick” at a friend’s birthday party. We got to know each other over the course of several days, and he invited me to go cycling in the park. Perfect spring day, clear and warm, lots of joggers with dogs. There are benches by the lake, but those were all taken, so we climbed to the top of the hill to watch the sunset on a big rock. Sounds romantic, but the rock made my butt go numb and the mosquitoes were terrible. (The things you don’t see in a Meg Ryan film…) The sun put red highlights in his hair, and turned everything golden. Funny how time seemed to stop when he leaned in. I forgot to breathe – no wonder you’re panting and breathless afterwards! Our noses bumped – another thing that never happens in a romance novel. I was shaking so hard I was afraid my teeth were chattering. And then his lips brushed mine and I forgot…everything. Including my own name. It was slow and sweet and…perfect. That shivery kind of perfect you wish could go on forever.

Below is a first-kiss excerpt from HEDDA’S SWORD, with another tomboy heroine. Her name is Maleta and she takes anti-dating to a whole new level – she’s an assassin nun. She has no reason to trust men…until she meets Cianan. Despite her best efforts, he gets through all her barriers, and slowly the warrior becomes the woman:

Maleta found herself recalling that first quick almost-kiss and wondered if she dared do it again afore she returned to her brother. She bit her lip, uncertain.

Cianan’s gaze heated as it dropped to her lips. “If you do not leave now, I may have to kiss you right here in front of Mother Kitta and everyone,” he murmured. “You cannot look at me like that, elingrena, and not have my eternal optimism take it as an invitation.”

She quivered at that lethal whiskey tone, at the warmth in his gaze. Her cheeks heated, and she knew her face flamed. He held her loose enough to release her if she wanted to pull back, but she didn’t. He looked so sure in the idea of them she found herself wanting to test her own courage. His eternal optimism and her newfound hope. “Mayhaps it is,” she whispered.

His head dipped, and her eyes closed in anticipation mingled with dread. The first touch of his lips stunned her; she squeaked. Then all she could do was feel. His lips caressed hers, slowly, warm and firm. A tingling spread from her lips downward, igniting a warm glow deep within. Hesitant and unsure, she kissed him back, the slightest of movements against his mouth. He kept the kiss light and gentle. His tenderness left her shaking, melting, and wanting more.

Cianan pulled back, and it took her a minute to gather the courage to open her eyes. The love in his eyes made her blush anew. If he let her go she swore she’d melt to the floor. She didn’t trust her voice to speak.

He smiled. “You are a wondrous woman, elingrena. Go to your brother.”

“C-can we save him?”

 His gaze warmed. “One miracle at a time, elingrena. Now go.”

 

So here’s to celebrating Valentine’s Day and remembering first kisses. Feel free to comment with memories of your own. All commenters can enter a drawing for a free ebook of their choice from my “Guardians of Light” series from Samhain – Duality, Hedda’s Sword and Lycan Tides.

 

 

CONTEST: All comments are entered to win a free ebook from the Guardians of Light series – reader’s choice of  Duality, Hedda’s Sword, or Lycan Tides. Come see what this critically-acclaimed, award-winning fantasy romance series is all about!

Got an email this morning that my lovely Anne Cain cover for Duality is being featured on Dara England’s site: http://undercoverbooks.wordpress.com/2010/02/12/feb-14th-selection/ Very nice surprise and perfect for the season! Valentine’s Day…romance… Was a terrific surprise!

Woke up this morning to an email telling me Hedda’s Sword won a Reviewer’s Choice award for single title from CataNetwork – see link:  http://singletitles.com/?page_id=3362 (Duality won one last year.) I was stunned to say the least – two years in a row!

Lycan Tides was nominated by Love Romances Cafe for Best Fantasy Book of 2009. This is decided by popular vote, so have my fingers crossed we do well. Not too many selkie stories out there! I love Anne Cain’s Cover for this one:

I’d like to welcome Bianca D’Arc today. I’m so excited b/c she’s one of my favorite authors – I’ve read Ice Dragon until it wobbles! She’s got a new book coming out from Kensington Brava this month and was willing to share some of the details of her exciting new project.

——————–

 

Zombies, Sexy Soldiers & Romance from Bianca D’Arc

 

Once Bitten, Twice Dead

March 2010 – Kensington Brava

ISBN: 978-0-7582-4729-2

 

Thrills, chills, and a smoldering sexy hero combine to unforgettable effect in Bianca D’Arc’s irresistible new novel of paranormal romance…

 

When police officer Sarah Petit investigates a disturbance in an abandoned building, she expects to find a few underage drinkers. Instead, she’s attacked by creatures straight out of a horror movie. Waking a week later in a hospital, Sarah is visited by Special Forces soldier Captain Xavier Beauvoir. The zombies who attacked Sarah are the result of military research gone terrifyingly wrong, and Sarah’s immunity to the virus makes her the perfect person to help Xavier eradicate them. But his smooth Cajun accent, whiskey-colored eyes, and dizzying kiss are risky to her in a very different way.

 

Sarah attracts danger like a magnet — and the smart, fearless cop attracts Xavier too, instilling a bone-deep need that’s undermining his steady façade. Enlisting her aid is a necessary gamble, but vicious undead creatures are not the only enemy they face. And the only way to keep each other safe is to trust in an instant connection that could be their greatest strength–or the perfect way to destroy them both…

 

Read an Excerpt

 

Amazon link: http://www.amazon.com/Once-Bitten-Twice-Dead-Bianca/dp/075824729X

Amazon Kindle version: http://www.amazon.com/Once-Bitten-Twice-Dead-ebook/dp/B0031W1E8Q

 

As a special thank you to readers, Bianca is giving away a prize pack of SWAG and romance books. (For details on the prize, check out her blog contest page.) All you have to do to enter is send an email with OBTD Blog Contest in the subject line to BIANCADARC at gmail dot com, with your mailing address, before March 31st, 2010.  The drawing will be held April 1st and the winner will be announced on her blog at http://biancadarc.com/blog/.

 

 

Lycan Tides - Werewolves & Selkies, Oh My!

 Came in second to Adrianne Brennan. Since this is my first “count the reader votes” I’m very excited.

Best Fantasy 2009 - Runner Up

SARA J!

Everyone had such great answers, but Sara really went above and beyond to have her voice heard! So I’ve decided that Sara’s my latest winner and gets her choice of my Guardians of Light ebook series – either Duality, Hedda’s Sword or Lycan Tides.

Those who  know me will tell you I’m NOT a basketball fan…well, except for the Harlem Globetrotters and the annual Alumni vs. Varsity Donkey Basketball game at WA. Nope, for the Mickelson household March Madness entails something entirely different. My son’s birthday and my daughter’s annual figure skating show. A full week of thrills, spills, temper tantrums, sibling rivalry, tears and hurt feelings. This year, throw into the mix a semi-adopted stray Newfie dog that got reclaimed by its owner and a new black Chow puppy that’s NOT as housebroken as the lovely breeder led us to believe.

Tami’s skating rehearsals were every night from Friday 3/12/10 through show Saturday 3/20/10. Joshua’s Family birthday party was Sunday 3/14/10 & his friend party was Sunday 3/21/10. His actual birthday was 3/16/10 and our schedule THAT day was p/u Tami from school 3:15 – p/u Josh from school 4:00 – go to The Filling Station for quick supper/didn’t finish/kids eat in car on the way to skating – on ice at 5 PM – take Josh and dad to DCE MS band concert by 6 PM – go back to retrieve Tami from rink – p/u Josh & dad from concert at 6:30 (meant to join them, but by the time we got there the concert was over) – go home for cake and presents.

Only one set of grandparents made Josh’s birthday. NO relatives made it to Tami’s ice show – her two fourth grade teachers did, though. Spent all day Saturday at the rink as locker room mom – both shows. Starving girls mowing granola bars and fruit snacks, changing costumes and lacing skates, finding lost scrunchies and hair ribbons (also one lost costume and a missing DS gamechip-thingie). Baby-catfights and tears, torn mondors, broken laces – sharing makeup and hair glitter. Discovered hair spray works as well as Static-Gard (and smells a lot better!). Was a little peeved at the end when everyone went home and I got stuck w/singlehandedly cleaning the entire locker room by myself.

Now – the dog. The Newfie stray got reclaimed on Josh’s birthday. Family tears all around. Found Chow puppy in the paper. Six months, housebroken, good with kids, cats and other dogs. Perfect. Went to look at her Thursday night. Breeder thought we’d take her home that night. Was hoping to pick her up Sunday afternnon AFTER all the mayhem. Breeder wanted her gone before she had to work two double-shifts in a row. Came back Friday morning with a leash. Puppy NOT housebroken – spend weekend in our bathroom when people could not directly watch her. Puppy permanently banished from the upstairs. Still kennels in back bathroom when no one home. Puppy good with cats, but our cat hates her. Hisses and swats if puppy even LOOKS in  her general direction. Puppy likes SOME dogs, growls at others. Puppy already “guard” mode – growls at anyone NOT US (or next-door-neighbor kid). Her bark is more a snort – very odd sound. Her favorite hobby is chasing dried leaves blowing on the sidewalk – and birdwatching. Except when she birdwatches and doesn’t look where she’s going and bangs into a tree.

Her name is Abby. She looks like a woolly bear – still has her fuzzy puppy coat. We love her already. Working on the housebreaking. Chows not like other dogs – they don’t fawn all over you, licking and pestering. Abby lays right next to you and just chills. Very catlike.

So now everything’s back to normal. Two kids, two horses, a cat and a dog. Typical Midwestern family, I guess. Hopefully next year will be a bit less chaotic. Yeah right – I say that EVERY year!

My obedience trainer at PetsMart won’t let us use the word “NO” because up here in WI a favorite catch phrase is “you know?” and dogs can’t tell the difference. Having just finished edits for my upcoming “Dust of Dreams” (sheesh, I just typed “Drams” – what am I, a time-traveling apothocary?) I can tell you that I apparently have other “favorite words” that appear in my manuscripts on a fairly regular basis. The reason they do not appear in my BOOKS is because of a long-suffering saintly editor who has a highlighter and is NOT afraid to use it.

In “Dust” it was “eyes.” If eyes are the “windows to the soul” I have the most soulful characters in fiction b/c there were over 300 little highlighted peepers. I’m admittedly a visual person, so I always start w/visual description and then have to go in and re-layer w/sound/scent/etc. Apparently, all my characters are visual, too! <sigh> Linda innocently suggested I “describe the characters more for first-time readers” and the eye fiasco was the result.

I meant well. I had the best of intentions. But apparently my characters have no height, breadth, complexion – or hair. Just eyes. Argh! So how to go back and replace? One “long blond hair” here, one “growly” voice there. Also, an exhaustive use of my thesaurus – looked, glanced, glared, gazes that “sear” or “pin”, stared, frowned, etc.

That wasn’t the end of it. I’m also an ellipses (…) addict, and overly fond of “wet velvet” tongues. I also needed to develop her wings more (heroine Pryseis is a faerie, w/wings, who doesn’t fly – her wings are solar panels). I also have to watch for transposed letters. (I turned one character, “Vali”, into “Vila”!)

I’m not a writer. I’m a re-writer.

Thanks God for editors. Mine needs a raise!

“Dust of Dreams” comes out in all its diligently edited glory on July 13, 2010.

Anyone else out there have their own little “catch phrases?”

Notice I didn’t use the word published. You’re a writer whether you’re published or not. Professionalism doesn’t involve books on a shelf. It’s an outlook, an attitude, an inner code of ethics about how you relate to and interact with the writing/publishing business and those that inhabit that realm.

The only thing constant about the publishing business is change. Publishing houses come and go. Editors and cover artists and models come and go. Trends change. What’s hot now is different from a couple years ago. Guidelines and requirements, preferences in POV and genres, first vs. third person. Marketing has evolved. E-pubs. Online review sites. Blogs. Facebook. My Space. Twitter. Chatrooms. Instead of letters we send emails. Instead of “The Call” we get “The Email.”

The trees are jumping for joy.

Professionalism is how we handle that change. Do we whine and complain or do we take stock, learn more, and adapt? Do we look at closed doors as open windows? If a house closes or a genre vanishes, do we grab a new pen name and try something new?

So here are what I think the Top Five Signs of a Professional Writer Are (in no particular order of importance):

1. A professional writer is informed. Someone once noted that you only have one mouth but two ears, so you sould listen twice as much as you should talk. A professional writer never stops learning. Classes, conferences, reading industry publications. They are abreast of what’s happening. They do not speak out of turn without having the facts at hand. They weigh the pros and cons, they see both sides, decide their own stance.

2. A professional writer is involved.  They are members of writers organizations and loops. They participate in chats. They lead. They volunteer. They look at leadership as a networking opportunity, a change to share, a chance to give back. That spills out in other facets of their life. They’re on the PTA. They coach T-ball. They teach Sunday School. They go to town halls meetings and sign petitions and vote. They are a vital force in their communities, whatever those communities are, whether geographic or interest-related.

3. A professional writer is a peer. Writing can be an isolated business, but a professional writer never lets themself be isolated. They participate in loops. They go to chapter meetings and conferences and workshops. They teach workshops and speak at chapter meeting and conferences. They celebrate the ups and commiserate with the downs. They are critique partners and mentors. They ask and answer questions. They share tips and information.

4. A professional writer is a positive force. They support their fellow writers, whatever stage they’re at. They never lose sight of the fact that they are a part of a greater whole, that everything they do can be seen and judged and measured by others. They decide how they want to be thought of and remembered. They decide not to be a source of negativity. Undermining another is not an option for a professional writer. It’s a small world with a long memory.

5. A professional writer not only adapts to change, they engineer it. They see the big picture. They adapt to the needs of their world. If they disagree with how things are, they work out an alternative plan and work for change. They think on their feet. They see the open windows. They make sure to be on the team. They do not sit back and let the forces of industry drag them where it will. They help mold the industry into it’s next phase.

And I can think of a couple more – they’re easy to work with and hold to their personal standards and ideals. Strength of character, not easily led by another. Professionalism and ethics go hand in hand. Be the person you want to meet. Be the helper you wish you had.

“Dust of Dreams” by Renee Wildes

Read An Excerpt Online
Genre: Fantasy Romance

ISBN: 978-1-60928-138-0
Length: Novel
Price: 5.50
Publication Date: July 13, 2010
Cover art by Kanaxa

All her light—and all his love—may not be enough to hold the nightmares at bay…

Guardians of Light, Book 4

Mingling with other races is strictly forbidden, but dream faerie Pryseis has no choice. An innocent goblin child suffers dangerous nightmares, and it should be a simple task to cure him and return to her anxious sisters before the council knows she’s gone.

Yet there’s a reason a creature of air and sunlight has no business underground. Now in chains, prisoner of an ungrateful goblin sorcerer, Pryseis despairs that anyone will save her. Her only comfort—the memory of a man she can only touch in her dreams.

Benilo ta Myran, with the reluctant blessing of his elven king and queen, takes up a quest some would call mad, driven by the certain knowledge that the beautiful faerie who invades his dreams is in danger. He carries a terrible secret—war has broken his healing powers—yet he cannot leave her to face the darkness alone.

The first touch of their flesh surpasses their most erotic dreams, but the nightmare has just begun. There’s the suffering child, and a sorcerer who won’t go down without a fight. And the clock is ticking down for Pryseis, who must return home—or fade away.

Warning: Beware of wounded bunnies, hungry trolls, low ceilings, glowing mold and goblins bearing gifts. Most of all, beware beautiful faeries and hot elves appearing in your dreams. They may lead you astray…and steal your heart.

Read An Excerpt Online

Dust of Dreams was not a part of the original lineup. Benilo was but a blink in Duality and 2 pages in Hedda’s Sword. But I realized I needed a spacer book that got Verdeen through the military academy before she’d be ready to go, and so I put out a call to readers as to whom they’d like to see more of.

Benilo was the answer.

It shouldn’t have surprised me. His onstage time was brief, but memorable. I certainly liked him – a big-hearted healer w/a touch of mischief/humor and a ton of compassion. But a whole book? Hmm…

Whom to pair him with? What to work on? The elves’ greatest enemies are probably the goblins. So what if Benilo has to go help a child? A goblin child? (The whole see-enemy-as-person thing.) Nonono, what if he has to help someone else help the child? Benilo’s a spirit healer, so I didn’t want it to be a physicial problem – Dara did enough of that in Duality. What if the goblin child had nightmares…nightmares that were manifesting themselves in the real world and influencing everyone else around him?

Nightmares…dreams…nightmares…

Enter Pryseis. A dream faerie. (DUH – took me long enough on this one!) SHE’s the one moved to help the goblin child first. Only one problem – faeries are isolationists. They never leave their mountaintop, are in fact TRAPPED on their mountaintop by their biological need for a pool of eternal life, that keeps them young and strong forever. So she only has a week to help the child and get back before she’s in dire straits. There’s  my ticking clock…and conflict w/her people, who forbid her to go. She’s never been off the mountain, and she’s going to need help.

Dream faerie…spirit healer… They connect in a dream. There’s no way Benilo’s going to let her go alone. And so the partnership/quest is born.

What to do about Prince Brannan?

There were quite a few people who wanted to see more of King Loren’s little brother, fledgling spirit-healer & Benilo’s apprentice. He is cursed with everyone underestimating him, so he needed his own moment to shine. When Pryseis is taken prisoner by the goblins, Benilo goes to her aid. Brannan doesn’t like his mentor going off alone, but he follows orders to stay home.

Until an injured troll shows up bearing every indication of being healed by Benilo.

Dax is Pryseis’ nephew, half-troll/half-faerie. He was traveling w/Pryseis when they were attacked by the goblins. Pryseis was taken prisoner and Dax would have died if Benilo hadn’t come along. Benilo orders Dax to carry a message to the elves. King Loren is reluctant to risk a war over two missing people, but Brannan can’t stand the thought of his mentor in danger and so determines to mount a rescue of his own…with Dax’s help.

Elf and troll. Always before they’ve been enemies. Can they ever be friends, or will one terrible secret shatter those bonds forever?

What to do when nightmares become real?

Kneeling on the damp, stony ground, Pryseis took a deep, shuddering breath of frosty mountain air and stared at her sunlit reflection in the shimmering pool. She ran a hand through her hair, watched the long, iridescent strands slide through her fingers in the streaming sunbeams. Light which made her wings tingle as they absorbed energy directly from the sun’s rays. The fading glow warned her the end of the day fast approached. Dread seized her at the thought of sleep. Every night the same small, scared voice in the dark haunted her dreams. “Help me…save me…” She’d added her magic to her sister faeries’ to ease his suffering. But the group’s spirit-nets had no effect on the child. Now he’d faded from their senses and singled her out. None other still heard his cries. His anguish was in her head, in her heart.

And she couldn’t get him out.

Somewhere down below the barren mountain, in the Shadowlands, a goblin child needed help. He called to her. Just to her. Drew her to him with bits of nightmares, fear and anxiety. Pryseis ached to go to him, ease his suffering. Dreams were her especial realm. She never failed. The certainty had grown for days. She could help him…if she could find him.

There was the crux. Thanks to their need for the pool’s elixir, faeries never left Crystal Mountain. One cupped handful of the renewing waters every seven sunrises to stay strong and immortal. Just one had ever tried—her grandmother Shallan—and she’d failed, nearly died.

Pryseis’ sisters would never let her go.

She squared her shoulders and strode toward the shining crystalline palace where the council chambers were housed. This lad’s nightmares differed. They affected everyone around him. Something ominous stirred below the mountain. The traditional methods, gentle influence of the many, failed. Time for a new way. Light against darkness. One-on-one, she and the lad. Who would prove stronger? Who would prevail?

The council would capitulate. They must.

A Conversation W/Anika, an Air Mage and fellow Minister:

“Life be not to observe. It be to participate. Yet thou hast withdrawn from life, from the living. Thou spend far too much time in thy gardens and study. If thou lose touch with the world, no small wonder thou lose thy comfort and balance.”

Benilo flushed. He had been…resting. Not withdrawing. “Shamar…was a terrible place. What was done in that cursed land, what those people endured at the hands of their maniacal queen, Sunniva.” Even mentioning her name seared his heart. “She invaded Kunigonde Keep and kidnapped and brainwashed Maleta’s brother, Jovan. She murdered their parents and left Maleta to die. Ambassador Cianan never would have met his life mate. Sunniva almost destroyed Jovan, and caused the destruction of the native Shamaru people. Especially the women and children. Imprisoned, starved, raped and sold to brothels.” Souls splintered, shattered… He shuddered with remembered horror. “The nightmares have only just faded.”

“Thou took their nightmares upon thyself? All of them? Art thou mad?”

“I had no choice. There were but three of us spirit healers there. Healing their bodies was not the greatest challenge. Human minds are fragile things. We could not do a formal banishing of their memories. Removing their nightmares was the one thing I could think of to stop their suffering and leave their wits intact.”

“And thou hast been poisoned ever since, thou great-hearted fool.” Anika shook her head and rose. “Come with me.”

They walked in silence up the main thoroughfare. A few ambitious merchants had begun setting up their stands. Benilo smelled fresh bread baking in the city ovens. Lights shone bright in a couple of inn stables. A shaggy brown herding dog barked as they passed. Otherwise, most of the city still slept.

Benilo’s mind replayed the vision as he walked. Sobbing in the dark. Crushing despair. A shimmer of light, the flash of a crystal butterfly with amethyst wings. Smoky amethyst eyes in a passion-flushed face, framed by tangled iridescent hair. He frowned. The contrasts made no sense. If this was how visions went, it was a wonder seers predicted anything.

Pryseis wiped away a tear and stared into the flames as Dax tossed another branch onto the fire. The dance of light in shadows spellbound. She tried to ignore the bloody carcass of the male tree-hare sizzling above it. She’d nibbled wood violet blossoms and a few fiddleheads. However, true to his troll nature, Dax needed meat to live. She accepted that, but still the death saddened her. One less heartbeat in the pulse of a world diminished by its loss.

Beyond the fire’s glow and the edge of the cave entrance, rain fell in a steady chorus. She stared out at the dark, reached for the wind with every fiber of her soul. It alleviated the great looming weight of the cave behind her. Earth and stone and metal. Such foreign elements. So heavy, unmoving.

What was she thinking, traveling into the heart of the darkness?

And now there was no going back. Her banishment was still hard to swallow. What would she do when this was all over?

“Tell me a tale,” she begged Dax. “Of the First Mother of All, of how trolls became.”

He shook his head with a rueful smile. “You’ve heard it a hundred times. You could tell it to me.”

“’Tis a good night for stories.” She wrapped her arms around her knees.

Dax stared at her for a long moment from beneath heavy brows. “They’re fools to do what they did, the council. You shouldn’t be punished for doing what you feel is right. Compassion shouldn’t be a crime.”

“Thanks.” Pryseis struggled to swallow down the lump in her throat. “The story?”

“Afore the earth was new, all was dark and still,” he began. “The earth was solid, but lifeless. In the heavens danced the seven sisters of Light, stars burning bright as the sun. On the youngest daughter’s one hundredth-hundredth birthday, her father asked what gift she desired most of all. She claimed the earth.

“Her sisters scoffed at her, told her ’twas a foolish wish, a lifeless ball of rock at the edge of the heavens. She insisted that was what she wanted. More than anything. Her father, who could deny her naught, let her have it and told her sisters to leave her be.” Dax turned the tree-hare so it wouldn’t burn.

“But they didn’t.”

“Nay, for such is the nature of siblings. They badgered her, asking what she would do with a great dead rock. She danced across the rocks, warming, shaping, until the earth began to sing to her song. It rose up to dance with her, enthralled by her light and her song. The first trolls came into being.” Dax handed Pryseis a cup of rainwater.

“She loved her trolls.”

He nodded and stretched out on the ground across the fire from her, bracing his head on a large hand. Long, matted ropes of brown hair coiled over his broad shoulders. “Everywhere she danced, grass grew and flowers bloomed. Birds and animals gathered to her, and the trolls were never lonely. Their Mother missed her sisters, and every time the sisters visited earth, they begged her to come back and chase them across the heavens again. The trolls built her a mountain, the tallest mountain made from the earth itself, but ’twasn’t enough. She wept for the loss of her sisters, and her tears formed the sacred pool, atop the highest mountain peak, as close to the heavens as she could get, until she could bear it no longer. She left her troll children to look after their home, whilst she returned to the heavens.”

Pryseis sipped her rainwater. Mother’s tears? “And they never saw her again?”

“Aye. Every hundred-hundred years she streaks by, a bright comet in the sky. The earth trembles at her approach, dancing in her presence. Ever the trolls guard her lands and the sacred pool of her tears.”

“Elixir, the pool of neverending life. Why would she forbid her children to drink?”

“We must return to the earth from whence we came, to be reborn anew. ’Twas darkness and light at the beginning, and so it continues even now. The darkness of death. The light of rebirth. As our Mother wishes it.” He pulled the tree-hare off the spit and began his meal.

“And us? What of the faeries?” The trolls had such an interesting theory on that.

“The Mother gave you to the world from the Light and the breath of life, to keep her creatures at peace. The pool keeps you forever young. Forever renewed.”

“For a price. Always to drink from our own hand, to be kept apart from all others. We are naught but a myth to most.” Pryseis rose to stand at the cave’s edge, where the wind blew a fine mist of rain against her skin. Not as cold as the mountaintops, but cool and refreshing.

The myth was about to become flesh.

She thought on the Mother, on Her children—the trolls and the faeries. One, child of earth and metal. One, child of air and fire. Different, yet both Her children, and She loved both. If only Her children could do the same. See the similarities instead of the differences. See how much more the world was for each wonderful and special presence.

“You should sleep,” Dax told her.

She wasn’t ready to face the darkness yet and rubbed her arms. “Sleep brings no rest.”

“Then come sit by the fire and relax. I’ll make some garelbark tea. That should help.”

Garelbark soothed a troubled heart. Not an exact cure, but it wouldn’t hurt. “Sounds lovely.” Pryseis stared across the fire at Dax. “Thank you for coming with me.”

“You’re the only one on that barren rock of a mountain who matters to me.”

What? “That’s not true, Dax. You have your friends in the guard.”

He shook his head and set his jaw. “The true trolls have never been comfortable with me. I’m not as big and strong as a rock troll. I’m faster and a better tracker than even the forest trolls, true, but I’m an oddity. They thought my mother overreached herself by pairing with one of our faerie lords. The faeries wonder what was wrong with my father that he never settled with one of them.”

“What was wrong with your father?” Pryseis strangled on a shout. “Lursa, Dax, there was naught wrong with my brother—or your mother. They fell in love. ’Twas beautiful, magical. They didn’t care about differences, and neither should we.”

“I’m neither one.” He handed her a cup of tea.

“You’re both. A special, unique individual I love because of, not in spite of.”

Dax snorted. “Then you’re the special one. The faeries don’t see any as an individual.” He studied her over his own cup. “How did all this start, Aunt Pryseis? You’re taking a terrible gamble for a gob-child.” He corrected himself in mid-word, and continued. “This has cost you everything. How do you ken you’re not wrong?”

“I don’t.” Pryseis watched the flames dance in wood that sizzled with lingering moisture. “We dream faeries can sense the tenor of dreams, both dark and light. Our nets soften the edges, blunt the extremes. Except for this child ’twasn’t enough. It continues to paralyze him. What if it grows beyond him? Shall it encompass his kin? His tribe? His nation?”

Dax blinked. “Can dreams do that?”

“I think this one can.” Pryseis shivered anew and rubbed her arms. “It already has me. I’m not sure ’tis a mere dream anymore.” But if ’twasn’t a dream, what power could she wield over it? What if it grew beyond her? Would her sisters be next?

“We’ll find a way through this.”

“And the lad?”

Dax started to growl, then sighed instead. “’Tis no secret how I feel about goblins, but I’m not indifferent to the plight of a child. I care more for you, though. You’re the only one who treats me as kin, not some misbegotten half-breed abomination.”

Pryseis wanted to hug him, kenned he’d shove her away if she tried. “Cease! You’re no abomination. You are kin, Dax, the only one I’ve got, and worth a hundred of them. My brother loved your mother and you. He’d be proud of you. Never doubt that.”

“I’m trying. But goblins? I still think there’s a trap in this somewhere.”

The day has finally arrived, and we’re having a Dust of Dreams trivia contest based on the excerpts available here, at my website http://www.reneewildes.net and also at  http://samhainpublishing.com/excerpt/dust-of-dreams

The prizes are:

$10 B&N GC

$10 Bath & Body Works GC

Free Guardians of Light ebook of choice from BACKLIST

Now for the questions:

1.) What color is Pryseis’ hair?

2.) What destroyed Benilo’s healing powers?

3.) Dax is a halfling – half what and half what?

4.) What is Prince Brannan’s profession?

5.) What item does Benilo associate w/Pryseis in his visions?

BONUS QUESTION: What role did Benilo play in HEDDA’S SWORD?

Good Luck!

Guardians of Light Ebook – Yadira  A.

$10 B&N GC – Jennifer M.

$10 Bath & Body Works GC – Pam K.

 

CONGRATS!

See, I can admit it.

I don’t know if it’s the Midwest thing, the grew-up-country/oldest-sibling thing or the mom thing, but I call them as I see them. Honesty is a moral imperative. Tact, not so much. I hate politics because no one ever SAYS anything. I have no patience with prima donnas, whiners or backstabbers. If someone’s acting like an idiot, I tell them. I usually pull out my mom hat and tell them to grow up & act like adults.

Had a run-in with my local telecommunications office today. Charter. On their bill, in big bold letters, it states, “Amount Due 8/1/10.” Today’s 7/27/10 & they shut me off. Turns out in the upper L corner in itty bitty letters is an “amount to be paid w/in 5 days of statement date.” So I called them on it: “So the truth in hidden in the middle of the micro-print paragraph and the blatant lie is in bold print?” Paid them and got it back on right away but nothing like contradicting themselves.

I hate people who contradict themselves…or lie.

I considered taking an officer position in one of my writing organizations. Thought long and hard. I’m organized, hardworking and capable of delegating.  Don’t have a superfluous amount of time, but I’m a working mom. We can juggle. (Reference Michelle Pfeiffer in “One Fine Day”.) I’m not a type A, so I play well with others…

Except for my big, fat, born-country, oldest-sibling, Midwestern-mom MOUTH!

I can take other people’s opinions…as long as they make sense. I have zero tolerance for fingerpointing and namecalling – my CHILDREN do it and drive me nuts, but they’re children. Adults who do it drive me bonkers. If you screw up, own it. Admit it, apologize, fix it and MOVE ON!

It’s a big sandbox, people. Learn to play well with others.

See, if I said that in a board meeting I’d be run out…on a board. So after much deliberation I declined the position. I’d better stick to my strengths.

Politics is SO not one of them!

http://longandshortreviews.blogspot.com/2010/07/dust-of-dreams-by-renee-wildes.html

Some of what she had to say:

“Strong characters with closely held convictions inhabit Renee Wildes’ Guardian of the Light series. Book Four: Dust of Dreams is no different. The characters, plot and conflict grabbed me from the first.

Ms. Wildes crafts complex yet believable worlds. The reader sees the goblin’s maze of muddy tunnels and smells the mineral-rich water, and experiences the different societies that inhabit this amazing land.

As I’ve said before, Dust of Dreams is the fourth book of the series. It stands well alone, but I recommend starting the series at the beginning with Duality. Not because you have to. Because you’ll want to. They’re that good.”

Other Nice Reviews:

http://www.ireadromance.com/?p=3831   This is a really good read and I enjoyed the author’s writing style.  The characters were fun to meet and the array of races and how they were each important in their own way was well thought out. Faeries, elves, dwarves, trolls and goblins…oh my!  Pryseis is steadfast in her convictions and Benilo is the mate we all wish we could have that knew if we were tired would say it’s ok to take a nap or if we were hungry (wink wink) would jump at the chance to make sure that we were satisfied. ~ Natalie, www.ireadromance.com

http://www.twolipsreviews.com/content/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=5338&Itemid=36 

The writing flows like poetry in Renee Wildes’ story, Dust of Dreams.  The lyrical quality of Ms. Wildes’ writing lures the reader into another world where everything is different, every element of wind, fire, water and air holds meaning and magical qualities.  Although the world building was at times over-whelming, I felt a tender concern for the goblin child.  I hoped that Pryseis would find the man in her dreams and that she would survive her daunting adventure.  Ms. Renee Wildes’ created characters to care about and a fantastic adventure in this delightful tale, Dust of Dreams.

So as usual I got myself in over my head. Being a former “contest diva,” I felt it necessary to give back and take my hand at judging. I’m a coordinator for the WisRWA Fab Five Contest, and I know how hard it is to get good judges. So I find it very difficult to say no, and therefore usually find myself judging multiple contests at the same time.

I usually like to judge paranormal, as that’s what I’m most familiar with. I never judge a work I know – like I never review anything from Samhain, my own publisher. I want no cries of bias or favortism. I’ll judge historicals, even though they’re Regency-heavy and I personally loathe Regencies. I’m not a fan of YA b/c I have issues with the “whiny teenage angst” that seem to permeate the genre. (Yes, I had ISSUES w/Bella – and Harry Potter 5!)

I’m a tough preliminary judge.  I refuse to apologize for that. The job of a judge is twofold. We are to give constructive criticism back to the entrants – what works, what doesn’t. But we also have a duty to the industry and the final judges to advance what’s really market ready. We’re the gatekeepers. The last thing I want as a coordinator is my final judge to think, “Wow, these are awful! What were those first-round judges thinking?” I don’t like too-easy judges. But I have a bit of a quandry: how to score low enough to keep a sloppy entry from advancing without being so low my score gets thrown out and doesn’t get factored into the equation?

I’m sure I’m lower than some of my peers. I guess I’m not SO bad b/c contests always ask me back as a judge. I had a non-finaling entrant write me once. She said she initially cursed me & hated me because she missed finaling by two/three points and all because of me. But then she stepped back and reread the comments and made some changes and was told the new manuscript was better and she sent it out again to the next one.

That tells me I’ve done my job.

So, contestants, a word of advice:

First, send a CLEAN copy. Spellcheck. Punctuation check. Make sure none of your quotation marks are backward. Make sure your “there, their and they’re” are all correct. Know how to spell your heroine’s name! Know what color your hero’s eyes are. Make it the best you can. Read the judge’s comments with an open mind. If you don’t final, there’s a reason. Fix what’s wrong. It’s nothing personal – we don’t know who you are. If the work’s not ready – GET it ready. Don’t send us slop – we WILL notice.

And fellow judges:

Comment thoroughly and in-depth. Don’t back down from an honest score. If it’s ready, advance it. If it’s not, eliminate it with enough feedback for the author to make proper corrections. I learned a lot between 2002 ans 2006. Expensive lessions about POV and “telling” as I slogged my way from “sucks” (and I REALLY did!) to published.  The best feeling as a coordinator is having a final judge, an agent or editor say, “Man, these are AMAZING! You make it tough to decide!” And when they REQUEST one, you just want to explode w/that happy secret, to be the first to convey that to the author “She loved it – she wants you to send it YESTERDAY!”

Preliminary judges make that happen.

So someone cornered me the other day w/a comment about how bringing old characters from previous books into a new story farther into the series timeline is “lazy writing.” It “takes up word count” and “doesn’t add anything new.” Now I posted that little reality on facebook and had several interesting replies, mostly about enriching the depth of the world-building, and how nice it was to see “where they’re at now.” One person stated she looks for series for that reason – that she can stay with the same characters and watch them grow and develop over time.

My points exactly.

Now, I’ve done snippets from Duality as memories, mentioned in Hedda’s Sword (Cianan), Lycan Tides (Trystan) and Dust of Dreams (Benilo). But because each man was in a different place and played a different role in the battle and the aftermath, their memories were different, and they were affected differently. What came before affects how they react to the current situation they found themselves in when their own stories came around. Cianan was a paladin, a priest-warrior, who dealt w/the exorcisms, Trystan was a warrior and Benilo was a healer in the aftermath. But Duality started them all.

People have pasts. The best characters do, too. In my current WIP, Riever’s Heart, children are starting to play a role in their lives, healing old wounds…and creating new ones.

I’m starting to consider where to take my series next. Recurring characters, getting everyone settled and at peace over a six-book series. Then launching a new spin-off series, maybe “Children of the Guardians.” My son suggested “Guardians: The Next Generation” but the ST fan in me couldn’t quite go there! But time goes on, and so new characters must grow and emerge from the shelter of the old ones.

There’s Ioain and Braeca from Lycan Tides, Finora’s children. Ioain can see the truth of a person, both their heart and their being. Braeca inherited her mother’s ability to predict storms. Dara and Loren have a daughter, Elyria, who’s already showing signs of being a fiery independent handful. Wolf and Tzigana have twins, a boy and a girl. Their son Antal is a warrior-prince. Their daughter Piroska is fated to be the most powerful witch in ten generations. Tzigana’s little sister Jana will have to decide whether or not she wants to become a priestess of Orthia (she’d need to be merged w/a tree sprite, sacrificing her freedom for all time, to gain that power).

And what of Mog, the young goblin shaman in Dust of Dreams?

In Riever’s Heart, Prince Aryk wants peaceful relations with his neighbors. Shamar in his nearest neighbor, but he’s haunted by recurring visions of his son Joro being slain by a woman – Piroska. Which seriously strains relations between him and Wolf and Tzigana. Each trying to protect their child from the other’s…

Recurring characters allow for depth and growth over time. It’s not lazy writing, because you’re not rehashing the same old information. As long as it changes and evolves and matures, just like real people over real time, it can add an anchor or realism and plausibility and new complications and bonds. New dimensions. Added depth.

Obviously, some people disagreed with that assessment. But others embrace it. Guess there’s room for all. Would love to hear people’s thoughts  on the subject!

Everyone knows I’m a working mom – daughter in figure skating and son in football. Got critters up the wazoo and no time for housework. Replaced dying minivan w/overpriced PT Cruiser and am now making car payments AGAIN. Pre-paying winter hay bill makes me realize summer is over and the nip in the wind this morning says fall’s here and snow’s coming.

Life’s full of change, of compromises, of juggling. Since we as writers try to make characters as “real-people” as possible, I started thinking about what my characters could learn from me. What I want to put across the pages of my books that real-life readers could see, and say, “I SO get that.”

So here’s what I came up with:

(1)You can’t escape your past – or your relatives.  You’re a product of your upbringing, and your attitude about present and future are colored by past experiences. That “baggage” gives us grounding, motivation. So too characters are driven to move beyond what was.

(2)Change never stops. Just when you think you’ve got a groove going, something shakes it up. Adage from nature: adapt or die. Critical for fictional stories and characters. Lose a job. Break up w/significant other. Serious illness. New neighbors. Car trouble. REALLY bad weather. Every time your characters start to get comfy, throw something else at them.

(3)Pets, Kids & Nosy Neighbors. You never know what they’re going to do or say – or when. Like when my dog slips her lead and charges through a crabby neighbor’s rosebushes to chase a squirrel up a tree. Dog never thinks “neighbor” or “roses” – she sees “squirrel” and all bets are off. Instant conflict w/neighbor, though! They are the source of conflict or comedy. Don’t forget to mix them in – a well-placed comment can really do wonders.

(4)Choices & Compromise. Kids want to do a million things – I can only afford one activity each. Skating & football. But can only be in one place at a time. So Saturday mornings were skating – now football games, so skating moves to Sunday nights – AFTER dog’s obedience class. Characters, too, have to make choices, and compromise. Someone told me a good compromise is where no one’s happy but everyone can live with it. What I refuse to compromise on are principles – and characters taking a stand make good, strong characters. I’ve got best friends who completely look at their tradittions differently – hero looks to the future, best friend wants to honor the past & thinks changing what was is dishonoring their ancestors. Instant conflict – neither wrong, both right.

(5)Make a decision & stick with it. Accept the consequences of your actions. By accepting one thing, you turn down something else. Van was dying – had to be practical & buy new vehicle, even though it meant going in debt. Even though it wiped out our $$ so now we can’t afford to go to cousin’s wedding in NC, even though I PROMISED the kids their first plane ride. Pissed off cousin, pissed off kids. Characters’ decisions also have effects – run with it. Move or stay? Buy or sell? Yes or no? If it doesn’t affect anyone, not important enough to mention. Everything should have STAKES.

So those are my Saturday morning ramblings…

So, we recently bought a house last November with four bedrooms, so I was able to have an office for the first time in my life. At my old house I wrote at the kitchen table! Having an office with a door is pure luxury!

Now the rule is, if the door’s shut, the only interruptions permitted better involve either blood or bones. Of course, there’s the time my daughter Tami knocked on the door and held out a chicken bone saying, “Leftover chicken’s GONE, Mom – and we’re still hungry!”

(I should have been more specific…)

One of my hobbies is I love to scrapbook. It’s relaxing and it beats stacks of photo albums falling apart all over the place or drawers stuffed full of photos. So the scrapbooking followed me into writing. I have a framed scrapbook page for each book in the series, so I have the framed book cover above the page I did for each story. Duality was autumn, with oranges and leaves, Hedda’s Sword was winter with ice blue and snowflakes, Lycan Tides is turquoise with lighthouse stamps, and Dust of Dreams is browns with pictures of caves.

In writing fantasy there’s an ecclectic mix of high fantasy ala Tolkien, mythology ala Campbell combined with pagan, Celtic, Nordic and Native American influences. I always have music playing when I write. I’m as likely to listen to Spirit Nation as Danu or Garmarna. I have the Indian Ten Commandments next to the Green Man, a bumper sticker on my printer that reads “A Day Without Fairies Is A Day Without Sunshine,” and a Native American hide pseudo-dreamcatcher that reads “Pursue not things that catch your eye, but the things that capture your heart.” I’m a history buff, a mythology & LOTR junkie, and I love research. I’ve got 3 6′x3′ bookshelves crammed to overflowing. My “writing” books, though, are right on my desk, within easy reach.

I write in the mornings after the kids go to school and before work, then evenings, weekends and holidays. I manage a book a year. I’m currently juggling right now with my son Josh’s football schedule, my daughter Tami’s figure skating schedule, and the dog’s obedience classes. I’m trying to finish my current WIP before the holiday craziness. This morning I had a 9 AM football game (pre-game practice at 8!) and an author appearance at the local library at 11. It rained. Luckily I wasn’t wearing TOO much mud when I transitioned from “I’m-freezing-I-need-coffee-football-mom” to “glamorous, successful romance author.”

 

You can see more of me at my website http://www.reneewildes.net and my Samhain author page http://www.samhainpublishing.com/authors/renee-wildes . I’m also on Facebook and Twitter.

So WAYFL (Wausau Area Youth Football League) football season is over. Six weeks went fast. My son Josh is a 7th Grader on the WAYFL Badgers (Hey, we’re WI!) and they went undefeated. 6-0. I am now an official football mom. The back of my PT Cruiser looked like a gym locker – it did NOT smell like a gym locker. Learned where all the pads go  in those darn pants. Learned how to keep said darned pants CLEAN(ish).  Took the dog – and my daughter – to every Saturday game. Never missed a practice. I did NOT “coach” from the sidelines. I only made a COUPLE of comments about certain refs. I never bugged the coach to play my son more. I DID discuss personal fouls w/my son when one was made, to reinforce respect and sportsmanship. Football teaches listening and focus, memory, teamwork and sportsmanship. Also versatility if you only have 13 players on the team – everyone played at least two postitions.

And I learned a few things about myself and the community:

It’s okay to share a blanket with the enemy. We watched a game in the rain and Tami was freezing and a WAYFL Spartan mom gave her a blanket to wrap up in. When the Badgers scored against the Sartans and Tami cheered, Spartan dad teasingly said they’d have to ask for the blanket back and his wife cracked him one. Blankets are always neutral territory.

Regarding grandparents and cameras: Stay out of the way – unless you see a lens cap still on. Then it’s okay to approach. Always try to observe line of sight.

If you go for coffee – bring back extras for anyone turning blue. United Nations should learn the sharing-coffee trick.

Misery builds comeraderie – nothing like sitting on a cold metal bench freezing in the pouring rain to build solidarity. Huddling together w/perfect strangers (sharing coffee and blankets) dissing the refs beats the heck out of govt & economic whingeing.

Dogs are great icebreakers – but bring potty-bags.

It’s okay to cheer a good play by the other team. It’s not okay to flip off a ref – you will be asked to leave. It’s imperative to speak to son about WHY it’s not okay to flip off the ref. Accidental horse-collars are still a 15-yard penalty – choking the other player is NOT effective defense. And PUNTS have to be announced before, not after.

Moms freak about injuries – no matter whose kid he is.

So now no more football until next fall. Hopefully Josh will opt to play for Horace Mann MS as an 8th Grader, so we can do this all over again. Hey, now that I KNOW how to wash and stuff those pants, I’m golden! And now I can get Tami signed up for figure skating again and go back to freezing my butt off at an ice rink…

“Lycan Tides” by Renee Wildes

LYCAN TIDES is an EPIC finalist in Fantasy Romance (non-erotic). Duality & Hedda’s Sword finaled in the same category last year so this makes three books, same series, two years in a row! If y’all haven’t checked out the Guardians of Light yet, come on over to Samhain and see what all the ruckus is about!

Buy from MBaM!
Read An Excerpt Online
Genre: Fantasy Romance

ISBN: 978-1-60504-623-5
Length: Novel
Price: 5.50
Publication Date: July 14, 2009
Cover art by Anne Cain

Giving in to the lure of passion could lead to disaster…

Guardians of Light, Book 3

Selkie princess Finora is all too familiar with betrayal. Betrayal by her curiosity, which led her from the sea. By her body, which yielded to a handsome human under the full moon. By the human, who hid her skin and took its location with him to his grave. After seven years of searching, she no longer believes in miracles.

Trystan is a werewolf on a mission to find and return dragons to his homeland. He follows a slim lead westward across an unfamiliar sea. Gravely wounded in a pirate attack, his ship foundered in a storm and sinking fast, he comes face to face with the most unexpected rescuers—Finora and her two half-human children.

Selkie and werewolf. Both creatures ruled by the moon. The attraction is instant, mutual, undeniable…and impossible. Trystan is destined to return to the mountains and Finora can’t leave the sea. Their only gift to each other is one night of searing passion—which could lead to the greatest betrayal of all…

Warning: Contains searing passion, bitter betrayal, hard choices, seven-year curses, and lost seal skins. Throw in an impending selkie war and one wicked ship-wrecking storm. Add a cranky sea-goddess, soul-stealing dragons, interfering mermaids, and children in peril.

Decided to try it this year – writing 50,000 words in a month. I’ve got 13 “writing buddies” to crack the whip and cheer me on. Have no idea how the word count recording works. Have to remember NOT to edit as I go, as is my usual M.O. Doing a story for Dax, Pryseis’ half-faerie-half-troll nephew from Dust of Dreams. Calling it “The God King of Fyre Mountain.”

Synopsis: The God King of Fyre Mountain

Fantasy Romance in the Guardians of Light series for Samhain.
When Dax breaks off his relationship with Lady Alani, the pissed-off elven dark mage sends him to the ends of the earth – literally. While his friends and family try to get him back, Dax finds himself in a tropical paradise. He becomes enamored of a local girl, Maili, unaware that her people consider him the personification of their God-King Afu, who’s supposed to control fire and thus save them from the inpending volcanic eruption. When it blows, they feel he betrayed them and are out for his hide.

Today is “lucky” # 13. Yes, we got married on Halloween, 13 years ago in Milwaukee. (Does that explain a lot about me or what?) We went out to dinner last night at “The Wright Place on 6th.” Converted historical mansion turned into elegant supper club. Poached pear salad, sorbet between courses, champagne, linen napkins, live music (no songs I recognized). Was nice to be kid-free for a change, but not the kind of place to go often. I’m more of an Applebee’s/Tony Roma’s kinda gal. I felt like Princess Mia.

Today I’m going trick or treating w/my daughter Tami. She’s going dressed as the devil and her friend Larissa’s an Indian princess. I’ll take the dog Abby so she doesn’t growl at everyone coming to the door. My son Josh is going to hand out candy in a T-shirt that reads “Candy – The Only Thing Better Than Video Games.” Tami picked it out at Shopko yesterday. Trust me – it’s appropriate!

Have no idea how many kids to expect. Bought a TON of chocolate – we’ll just have to see. My sister-in-law said she had 250 kids yesterday in her neighborhood (different town). YIKES! If that happens here, I’m doomed!

So I’m a week into this thingamajigie called NaNo. Fell behind during the week – hauled bootie this weekend. Now at 12,462. And it wasn’t as hard or as painful I thought. I have always been an edit-as-I-go writer. I thought I’d DIE, “just writing…whatever.” But here’s the thing. For the first time, I hear a snippet of conversation and just run with it. A bit of description and ge it down. Is it  show pony pretty? Nope. But it’s fresh and spontaneous and fun. It’s got that “new job” energy. And because there’s no criticism, I can just go wherever the story takes me.

Weird.

You can reach a point when you let that internal editor just nit-pick the life right out of a story, like a leaky balloon that deflates until it doesn’t float anymore. Nothing sadder than a leaky balloon. And then you  let critique partners finish the job of shredding something into smithereens.

So here I am…just writing. It’s a sequel to Dust of Dreams that no one’s seen yet. And it’s just flowing. Thunderstorms and rainforests and parrots and fainting virgin sacrifices and heroes being mistaken for pagan fire gods.  Lots of drums and grass skirts and angry crocodiles and diving off waterfalls.  It’s colorful and messy and talkative and adverb-heavy. I even put in exclamation points. <gasp> I have no transitions. A scene ends, I do the *** and move on to another, figure I’ll jigsaw it together later.

It’s how I wrote Duality, and while it wasn’t my smoothest effort, it had a certain energy that grabbed many readers.

So am I a total pantser now? Hardly. But I think I can go with a basic outline, write the scenes that move me, and then piece it together without losing the life and the energy of the piece. I think you can edit a piece to death. The trick is to get it to live first. Just let it live, and then make something of it later.

And so I finished – my computer says 50,531 & NaNo counter says 50,586. What’s up with that? My  house is a wreck, my kids think they’re orphans and I might never be able to look a cup of dark roast in the eye again…

I think it snowed at some point – the ground is all white and crunchy. When did that happen?

THE GOD-KING OF FYRE MOUNTAIN – Sequel to DUST OF DREAMS, starring Dax, with all your old favorites: Dara and Loren, Pryseis and Benilo, Alani (boo!), Anuk, Pahn, Prince Brannan and New Moon (the feathered vampire-less variety). The bad news is – Alani’s the bad guy/girl. No really. The weird news is, Anuk gets to be a hero. Sort of. No really. The good news is, I found a wife for Prince Brannan. No really, I did. Only took six books – hey, the boy is STUBBORN.

The bad news is, Alani sent Dax off to the ends of the earth, never to be seen again. The good  news is, he meets the woman of his dreams there. (Her name is Maili.) The weird news is her family thinks he’s a god. The really bad news is they find out he’s not… And the really really bad news involves a cranky volcano and a witch doctor with a yen for shrinking heads…

And so it’s over. Sort of. Now to turn it into something coherent that won’t gag my editor. On the plus side, there’s some really hot sex scenes. No really. Especially for me. On the minus side, my word counts going down the second I delete all those – gasp! – adverbs with an “-ly’ suffix-only search. Needs worldbuilding. And some research. And locking down some elvish speech patterns. And a few choice troll curse words…

Well, okay, so it’s never really over.

So I met our trainer Cindy Steinke from K-9 Elementary out at Marathon Park this morning, to get our chow-chow Abby acclimated to a new dog-friendly environment. She doesn’t like other dogs, but we’re working hard on the “put-up-and-shut-up” philosophy: “You don’t have to like them but you will NOT try to eat them.”

It’s snowing and really cold, and I have no gloves. Silly me. There were a lot of people out walking their dogs, most with a total disregard for whether their dogs might not get along with each other. One old guy had a little dog that started running right up to Abby, and he’s like “Oh, he just wants to play” and Cindy tightened Abby’s leash and went, “Yeah, well, SHE won’t be playing.” He pulled his dog up in a hurry. 

We were doing peasant-agility using benches and picnic tables. “Up-over-down” and jumping from one to the next. Abby caught on quick and was really getting into it. She kept forgetting to heel between shelters. She really gets distracted easily. She ignored the giant gorilla in the miniature golf course but then spooked and growled at the ticket booth. Weird dog!

We we just trekking down the road alongside the horse fields by the barns when I stepped on a snow-covered patch of glare ice and cracked the back of my head on the pavement. Next thing, I woke up to a cold Abby nose on my cheek and Cindy asking “Are you all right?”

Sandra Bullock has lots of funny falling moments in movies like “Miss Congeniality” and “While You Were Sleeping” when she does the same thing. Not so funny in real life – and Sandra Bullock’s cuter than I am!

The walk-in clinic declared I’ll live, but spent my day sleeping off a lulu of a headache and now have a very stiff neck. Tylenol is nowhere near as good as Excedrin for headaches, but they won’t let me take aspirin. Have to remember next time to walk on the grass and NEVER trust innocent patches of snow!

So I write to music anyway, and all my books have their own soundtracks in general. Lately I’ve gotten more…sophisticated…with how the music’s handled. It’s cultural…it’s scene specific…and nowhere is it more noticeable than in my love scenes lately.

Now, I have two confessions to make. One – I am NOT a guy. <LOL> Shocker, I know. So how to get into a male POV in the most intimate of scenes when there’s nowhere to hide? Second confession – I stand in total awe of Lori Foster. Met her at a writer’s conference and was almost too overwhelmed to say hello. Love her. Envy her. She GETS guys. Her male POV scenes are both intimidating and inspiring.

So I started playing different music for my love scenes. I still use Enya and Kate Price for my female POV scenes. Soft, romantic, sweeping, full of emotion, a bit poignant. But they’re too just plain girlie – too sappy - for guys. Really. So I pulled out my two favorite guys – Jimi Jamison and Johnny Gioelli - and asked them for help. (No, not literally. If I ever met them in person, I’d probably embarrass myself by swooning.) But I listened to Survivor’s “Vital Signs” and Axel Rudi Pell’s “Ballads III” (and re-read Lori Foster) and thought about the differences between girl-sex and guy-sex.

What I didn’t expect (as an ignorant non-guy woman) was that there were nuances  in guy-sex, too. Jimi and Johnny are on opposite ends of the spectrum. Jimi’s all newness and yearning, hopes and wishes, a bit of fear. Johnny’s more heat and intensity, very alpha, a bit dark. Jimi’s persuasion seduction. Johnny’s overwhelming seduction. So I played Jimi when Aryk seduces Verdeen for her first time in “Riever’s Heart,” and Johnny when Dax pins Maili to the wall in “Fyre Mountain.” I absolutely loved what happened both times!

My editor is somewhere in Connecticut shaking her head at the slowness of some of her authors. I’ve always done love scenes in the female POV because, well, that’s all I really know. But I’m branching out with the next two, getting more confident in the flip-side of that coin. I hope everyone likes the results.

Somewhere Lori Foster is laughing her head off at this…

My daughter Tami’s a pretty tough kiddo for a 10-year-old. She has a horse, figure skates and is a mostly-tomboy sorta gal. She’s wrecked her bike and broke her wrist roller blading last summer. Yesterday she got shoved on the playground and  fell face-first to the pavement. Her glasses look like a modern-art sculpture, her cheek’s scraped up and she has her first black eye.

Robert never apologized.

School gave her an ice pack. They did not call me.

Now, I don’t think I’m an overprotective mom. I’m the give-them-time-to-shake-it-off-and-see-what-happens kinda mom. And the kids are honest about when they’re hurt or when they’re injured. The glasses are under warranty and fixable. Tami’s tired, because it’s on the left side of her face and she (like I do) normally sleeps on her left side, so every time she rolled over to sleep like normal she bumped the bruise and woke up. But she’s a bit upset that the kid who flattened her never apologized. And I wish the school  would have called.

Yes, it was an accident. Tami said they were playing tag and running and his tag was more shove and she went down. But she had a point when she said, “Mom, all he had to do was say he was sorry.” That hurt her more than anything.

We go through our daily routine, and sometimes what we say or do can hurt someone else. When that moment happens, a simple apology can make all the difference. We have to be able to get along and work together in life, and it’s character-building to be able to man up and apologize. Now I know some “big tough guys” might think it unmanly to do so, and some parents don’t want their kids to be regarded as wimps, but honesty is key to character. When you’re hurt, say so. When you hurt someone else, acknowledge it – and try to make it right. Robert couldn’t fix her glasses or unbruise her face, but a simple apology would have gone a long way toward fixing bruised feelings. I don’t think anyone wants to leave the impression they simply don’t care.

Something I hope we can all keep in mind.

“It’s all fake. You can do whatever you want.”

Oh, the naiveté of a 10-year-old daughter over my latest writing crisis! Was all gung-ho to finish my climactic battle scene and then the end of the book. Riever’s Heart, my current (and overdue) WIP. The book that blew my book-a-year schedule right out of the water.

Wrote the scene. It sucked. No, seriously, SUCKED ROCKS. My crit partner and I had this noble death all plotted out. Couldn’t happen. Turned out the guy wasn’t so noble. And how I thought my hero could take over the ultimate power, leadership of the entire populace, could NEVER HAPPEN…in the world as I built it.

Remember The House That Jack Built? OLD kids’ book. (Is my age showing again? LOL) Well, this is The Isadorikja That Renee Built. Started out as “Spartans-in-Greenland.” That was my jumping off point. Morphed into a weirdling mixture of “Spartans-Sans-Vikings-in-Iceland.” Greenland was too friggin’ cold and my guys were too, well, riever to emulate the united, elitist Spartans. “United” being the key word here. They’re not. The Isadorikjans, I mean.

There are six clans, none of whom like each other. At all. My villain Belok gains control of the three northern clans by force, my hero Aryk gains control of two of the southern clans by accident, and my opportunistic wild card Nomok of White Plains is just waiting for the right moment to eclipse them both. Clan leaders, or daqs, have a medallion signifying their status. Only way to take over a clan is a fight to the death. Raiding each other is common, and accidents happen. How Aryk got stuck with the Blood River people. Ulryk tried to raid Aryk’s village. Aryk defended himself. Ulryk lost.

Point is, it’s all rather Scorpion King – the strongest rules. How they all grew up. What they all believe, whether they profess differently or not. A diplomatic solution was SO not going to fly in this world. Maybe with the NEXT generation, the children, but not with the adults. For all Aryk’s dreams of peace, he can’t lead if people won’t follow. First he needs to be in a position to effect change. He can’t affect, or effect, change before he gets the position. Desire and belief precipitate change.

So, there I was, in a showdown with my daughter last weekend over the fake battle from hell. Defending the realization that fiction isn’t fake. Characters are people, with pasts, and traditions and cultures and having to live with the fact that dreams aren’t enough to create a new reality. Plan A and Plan B aren’t enough. Sometimes, you’d better have a Plan H.

Honestly, I think Aryk and I have reinvented Plan Q. I’m just saying…

So, we rebelled against the rebellion, working within the system to change it. And Belok’s still a jerk, and Nomok’s still a snake. And I really am almost done…again…maybe…

I am so pleased to have Tina Donahue visiting today and sharing her electric new release from Samhain, The Yearning. For those who love erotic paranormal, you’ve gotta check this out!

A word of warning to the shy: This book – and the excerpt posted below – are HotHotHOT! (You’ve been warned.)

So please make her feel welcome – and enjoy the introduction to THE YEARNING!

Ah, those wild and wicked sex scenes 

One of the many challenges writers of erotic romance face is to come up with intimate scenes that are fresh and satisfying, while also meeting the genre’s requirements. An Alpha hero is always welcome, while a submissive female (at least temporarily submissive) adds to the allure.

While writing The Yearning, my just-released erotic paranormal romance, I thought about what makes for great sex, wanting the bed play to be as exciting for the readers as it is for Jasmine and Mike. 

Here’s the blurb and an excerpt to give you a peek into the story and a glimpse into one of those wild and wicked moments.

BLURB:

 To break this curse, they’ll have to turn the heat up. Way up.

Jasmine Dante prowls Key West’s nightlife, fighting a losing battle against a jealous rival’s curse that forces her to seek carnal pleasure, no matter the danger. Weakened from lack of sleep, driven by insatiable lust, she spots a man who stirs her desperate craving, and begins yet another dance of seduction.

Except the dark stranger who returns her direct stare is no ordinary lover. Inside his powerful body lies a raw sexuality that just might be enough to break her curse. There’s only one way to find out: imprison him in her bed and feed on his passion.

Former U.S. Marshal Mike Stearn is many things, but he’s no woman’s sex slave. The deadly telekinetic power he ruthlessly suppresses comes alive again at Jasmine’s touch. Beneath her bold, potent sensuality he senses vulnerability and desperation. He may be in handcuffs, but she’s the one who’s enslaved.

As Mike resurrects his power to free himself so he can find the curse’s source and defeat it, Jasmine revels in his masterful rule. Her ravenous yearning evolves into rapture as she surrenders to his hunger, her darkest needs—and the emotional connection that lies beyond. Unless the curse takes her life first…

Warning: Tons of steamy sex, smoldering passion and a to-die-for love story with a hot Alpha hero who finds himself imprisoned by one sultry and desperate babe.

EXCERPT:

The last of his dream vanished like warm vapor on a frigid day. Rolling over, he sensed he wasn’t alone.

His lids made it halfway up on his second try. Jasmine stood at the side of the bed, washed in moonlight, watching him. The edges of her shimmery pink robe parted, showing her bejeweled navel and moist cleft. Carnal greed flashed in her eyes, deeper than before, more intense.

Her earlier promise about sex games came to mind. It thickened his cock and sharpened his voice. “Get the corset.”

An immodest smile tilted the corners of her mouth. She padded to the dresser, her robe rippling over her shapely form. The sight pulled him to a sitting position. He inhaled deeply and caught the mouthwatering aroma of smoked meat. She’d placed a tray on the right nightstand, crowding her sexy figurines. He saw two plates heaped with equal portions of steaming ham, potato salad, coleslaw, containers of amber-colored sauce, and squares of cake. Next to it stood a pair of Coronas, the glass bottles beaded with moisture. His stomach growled noisily.

Corset in hand, she turned. “You’re starving. I made you wait too long. Please forgive me.”

Her voice had a drugged, faraway quality about it, as though she’d already immersed herself in their game of master and slave.

Fine with him. “Come here,” he ordered.

She did, running her fingers down his chest. His pecs jumped, loving it. She murmured, “Do you want me to feed you now?”

“The food can wait. I want you in the corset.”

She dropped it on his lap and depressed the start button on her wall-mounted CD player. A popular Eagles tune from the nineties filled the room. Her silk robe billowed away from her body and drifted to the floor. She unhooked her belly chain and diamonds, dropping the jewelry between a pair of statues. The metal jingles died quickly. Her fragrance did not. She smelled of sex, musky sweet.

Fully alert, Mike grabbed the corset and left the mattress, his impatient cock brushing her glutted vulva. “Raise your arms so I can put this on you.”

The pose flaunted her generous breasts. His hands shook, antsy to lift them and know their precious weight. He resisted, leaving the delight for later. For now, he navigated the corset past her elbows and head to her torso.

Hands beneath her hair, she held it above her shoulders and turned. “Lace me tight. Trap me so I can’t get free.” Her voice, a blend of hunger and submission, offered what no lucid man could refuse.

The cheval mirror reflected their bodies. From this angle, her rounded cheeks hid his rod as though he were inside of her, his cock planted to its base. A pleasant agony spun through him, grating his voice. “Don’t worry, you won’t get free.” He looped the laces around his hands and pulled carefully. He wanted her breathless from him, not this damned thing.

Her chin pointed to the ceiling, exposing her throat. Ass jutted out, she begged, “Tighter, please.”

In the mirror, he saw the fabric drawn snugly across her breasts, the swells close to spilling out just as he’d imagined. “No. This is good enough.” She’d said she wanted a master and he had no intention of disappointing or harming her. He tied the laces in a loose bow and turned her to face him.

She sought his mouth. He made her wait, his lips to her throat, tasting a mixture of perspiration and perfume as he imprisoned her wrists behind her back.

From there, the passion really ignites.  J

The Yearning is available now!!!!

 

Buy Link:  http://store.samhainpublishing.com/the-yearning-p-6248.html

Email: tina@tinadonahue.com

Website/blog: www.tinadonahue.com

Twitter: http://twitter.com/tinadonahue

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000458023097

 

To celebrate the release of The Yearning, I’m offering a contest today. One lucky commenter will have her choice of one of my following books**:

 

•  
  1. Lush Velvet Nights – ebook
  2. Adored – ebook
  3. Deep, Dark, Delicious – ebook
  4. In His Arms – ebook
  5. Bad Boys with Red Roses – trade paperback
  6. Take My Breath Away – trade paperback

 

** Winner chosen at random. Winner in continental US has her choice of one of the six. Winner outside continental US has her choice of one of the ebooks

My son Joshua and I were having a discussion about musicals – me mostly defending his music teacher while he made classic twelve-year-old-male gagging noises. I grew up with my mom and grandma raising me, and I love old movies and musicals. Josh was trashing “The Sound of Music” and I started singing “These are a few of my favorite thiiiiings…” (I am NO Julie Andrews, mind you!) But I started thinking about my personal list of things that make me smile:

• Favorite Books: Mrs. Mike, Little Women, The Ladies of Mandrigyn, & Starbridge
• Favorite Musical: Kismet (although I love anything HOWARD KEEL sings in)
• Favorite “Old”/Classic Movie: Tossup between Philadelphia Story, Bringing Up Baby & Mogambo
• Favorite Classic Actor/Actress: Cary Grant/Katharine Hepburn
• Favorite Modern Actor: Gerard Butler & Johnny Depp
• Favorite Modern Actress: Judy Dench & Sandra Bullock
• Favorite Modern Movies:
• Comedy : While You Were Sleeping, My Big Fat Greek Wedding & RED
• Serious: Rob Roy, Last of the Mohicans & The Blind Side
• Fantasy: LOTR & Willow

I love Julia Roberts’ laugh and Anne Hathaway’s smile. I love Renaissance Fairs and Medieval costumes. I love faerie & dragon artwork. I love collecting snowmen. I love autumn colors and horseback riding through the woods in fall. I love the smell of fresh brewed coffee and fresh baked bread. I love that my 10-pound cat can take my 45-pound Chow. I love scrapbooking and watching the snow fall and sleeping in.

I love that my children still hug me and laugh at my jokes. I love the sound of my cat purring and taking my Chow for a walk. I love visiting my local art museum and taking my kids to the zoo. I love tearing up every time I listen to Thrasher Shiver’s “You and I Belong.”

I think it’s important to appreciate everything in your life that makes YOU smile. Take a moment to take stock of all the good, little things you experience every day. They keep you sane when the bad things roll around.

So Valentine’s Day got me thinking about that whole boy-meets-girl moment, when their eyes meet for the first time…

So I decided to do an excerpt from each book, when my hero & heroine first get together, starting with Book 1 of my Guardians of Light series from Samhain, entitled DUALITY. Loren meets Dara after she saves his life by defeating (and dispatching) enemy assassins:

Loren studied the lad’s form. The way he walked, those long smooth arms… Awareness surfaced.

 

 

 

Tall as a man, dressed like a man, fights like a man, but he recalled the sweetness of the voice petitioning the Lady of Light on his behalf and wondered.

 

When his rescuer returned to his side and knelt aside him, Loren reached out with his good hand and yanked off the hat. A flowing mantle of hair tumbled to the ground. He reeled. A woman. That hair. It rippled in the dappled light from dark chestnut through fox red and flame orange, overlaid with bronze. Her gold eyes held the piercing clarity of a falcon’s. Their fierce and proud expression warred with the white lines of pain around her mouth.

 

Had pain blinded him? The lush fullness of her lips could only belong to a woman.

“Damn you,” she cursed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Truth-hidden indeed. Not so young. His heart seized at her wild beauty. Life-debt. She defended his life at risk to her own and shed blood on his behalf. Dark creature or no, he owed life-debt to a woman. “Name?” 

“Dara,” she snapped. “Dara Kahn Androcles.”

 

 

The not-quite-true-name rang a familiar note in the back of his mind but he could not fathom why.

 

“Glorie’ riven los Cymry yani. To the Lady you pray?” He shuddered. The edges of his focus shimmered. Not yet, Lady. One minute more. “Rest…”

 

Tears slid down her cheeks as she rough-bound his wounds.

“Not my time.” He tried to rise and clenched his teeth at the blinding wave of agony.

“Dracken rue!”  

“Pain’s our friend. Tells us we’re not dead.”

The world shifted back into focus. “I shall heal. Time I need, and sleep. See to your own wound first.” Her pain beat at him, more burn than sword-cut.

“’Tis just a scratch.” She took a shallow breath. “I must get that arrow out afore you move. Much as hazel helps, I can’t leave you here. A storm’s brewing and it’s cold at night. You must come with me. I’ve medicine to help you.”

Human medicine… Loren grimaced. “Hazel is all I need.”

“Compromise.”

It’s an extra-special moment when you meet that one person who changes your world and changes your life. When words like “hope” and “happily-ever-after” have personal meeting. Such was when Maleta first met Cianan, even though she didn’t realize it at the time. Here’s HEDDA’S SWORD, Guardians of Light Bk 2 from Samhain:

The men in the room laughed, a sound of camaraderie, not mockery. Maleta stared at the newcomer. His aura shone different from the others, the gold of a pure soul blinding in the surrounding darkness. That’s all she needed! What was a paladin doing in a place like this?   

His head snapped around as if he could feel her probe. She cursed her curiosity as his piercing cobalt gaze locked with hers. Something shifted in his appearance, a mask of the mind that she couldn’t see past. Almost as if her eyes saw one thing and her mind another. Meal or nay, now she had the information she sought, she should move on.

Too late. He strode toward her with the fluid swing of a lifelong horseman, tankard cradled in both hands as if warming them. The body of a sinner on a saint. Her breath caught in her throat. As he approached, she realized how tall he was. There were few men who could look her in the eye. She’d come up to this man’s chin.

Goawaygoawaygoaway. She tensed as he stopped on the other side of the table. Unable to tear her gaze from the unwavering intensity of his, she trembled as his scent, like fresh-cut fir boughs with a warm hint of musk, surrounded her. Who was this man? Trouble, that’s what, in more than the obvious. Why did he single her out?

“Heyla, shield-maiden,” he began in a voice as rich and smooth as rare drenieval whiskey. The underlying lethal heat in his voice could rob the unwary of their senses. “I have not seen you here afore.” He held out a hand. “My name is Cianan.”

She eyed that hand, unwilling to touch him, sensing it would give him too much knowledge, too much power. Long musician’s fingers, with an archer’s calluses. Even without their hands touching, the truth of his name pierced the shadows around her soul, the shadows of lies and pretext that were her new identity. She stared up at him, helpless not to.

Those eyes drew her in, promising things she couldn’t even comprehend. They were not the eyes of a saint. Too blue, too knowing. Long raven hair glinted blue-black in the firelight. Foreign accent, not one she recognized, with a lilt she couldn’t place. Charm she trusted not at all. She focused on slowing her pounding heart, forced herself to breathe. “What d’ye want?”

His lips quirked in a smile. “Many things, lady, but I would begin with your name.”

“An’ why should I be givin’ that out?”  

He just smiled, but his eyes studied her. Watchful. Probing. Aware.

Too aware. Time to end this. “My name an’ business are mine.” She stood.

He raised a hand. “Nay, finish eating. I shall go. But tell me your name first.”

“Sonja.”

Knowledge of the lie flashed in his eyes, and she curled her fists with impotent fury. Damn paladin. What game was this? “I bid you a good evening, Sonja.” He dipped his head and returned to his friends at the bar.

So much for getting a room for the night here. She downed the rest of her meal, gathered her pack and fled the tavern. The cold air cleared her head. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been forced to camp out in the open. She didn’t enjoy it, but she’d survive. She always did. Please, Hedda, don’t let him follow.

Sometimes the person you rescue ends up rescuing you. Love is funny that way – shows up right at the moment you think, “It’s never gonna happen for ME.” So it was for Finora in LYCAN TIDES, my Guardians of Light Book 3. After seven years of imprisonment, this single mother rescues a shipwrecked warrior, who turns out to be the one man who might be able to set her free:

Storm approached from the wreckage. He snorted water from his nostrils, but paddled toward shore. The floater drifted behind, with the grizzled grey head of a man shimmering aside it. Stars, he hung on by a thread. Above the tempest, out of sight, shone the full moon. Although she couldn’t see it, she felt it. Apparently, so could the unknown Were, and he fought a losing battle against it.

The black wolf hauled himself to all fours and stared out at the approaching dog. Nay, not at Storm but at the Were behind him. Finora got the impression of silent communication betwixt them, similar to hers and Bree’s. The shimmering subsided, but Finora knew it lurked beneath the surface, like a cauldron just shy of boiling.

Storm lumbered up onto shore and over the rocks, far enough for the Were he’d rescued to claw his own way free of the water. Finora untied the floater rope from Storm’s harness. Storm looked confused. He tried to go back in, but Finora whistled him away from the water. She didn’t need mortals on her beach at the moment. Lighthaven had things under control. The sudden silence of the horns told her that. Storm shook himself and sat down to wait.

The black wolf nuzzled the man sprawled on the rocks. Finora knelt aside him. Rolling him onto his back, she checked the strength of the pulse in his neck and the steady rise and fall of his chest. She brushed aside tangled grey hair, uncovering a long, swirling column of blue tattooing down the left side of his face. Her fingers caught in a small braid. Despite the hair and the grey color of his neatly trimmed beard, Finora didn’t get the impression he was all that old. He had strong features, with the crooked nose that all warriors seemed to sport. She placed her ear against his chest, against the supple armor he wore. Whatever it was, it wasn’t made of metal, but it wasn’t quite leather, either. His heartbeat was strong and steady and she heard no gurgling in his lungs to indicate he’d breathed in any seawater. He wore a coiled-bronze torque around his neck and a unique amulet—a wolf’s head with an eagle’s beak and wings.

She raised her head to find him awake, blue eyes staring at her from but inches away. “It’s all right,” she soothed, laying her palm against his cheek. “You made it to land, to Rhattany. You’re in Lighthaven now.”

“Lighthaven.” He had an unusual rolling accent. Something flashed feral-green in those piercing blue eyes, and she felt his jaw shift against her hand. “’Tis safe?”

“You’re safe here, cousin of the moon. I swear it.” She’d meant the words for reassurance only, realizing too late how he was bound to interpret them. Sure enough, he closed his eyes and shimmered into a very furry silver-grey wolf in battle armor, with a mangled hind leg. A very big, wet, unconscious wolf, at the base of a very tall cliff. “No! Sir, cousin, now is not the time. Wake up!” She shook him. He could have been a pelt, for all the life he showed.

The black wolf glared at her. She tried to lift the grey one. Stars, he was heavy. The lights of the cottage taunted her from a distance that might as well have been the moon. She had to get back to the children and she couldn’t leave an injured man on the rocks, exposed to the elements. She turned to the black one. “’Tis the full moon. I don’t suppose you could shift and carry him?”

He ducked his head and flattened his ears.

She sighed at the negative. For a Were to be trapped in alternate form, against the pull of the full moon—since werewolves did not shed their skins as selkies did—smacked of some sort of clan binding-punishment. Finora sensed a story or two there. “Well, I’ve bad news for you. Seal cows possess but a fraction of the size and strength of their bulls. I can’t do it, either.”

She tugged off the grey wolf’s human clothing, rolling it in his leathery armor to give herself time to think. The answer that came to her was her sire. King Griogair. If he’d even answer her. They’d not spoken since she’d left the waters seven years ago, against his express command not to go near the humans. He’d not even bothered with an “I-told-you-so.” But he was the one bull she knew who might answer her. They’d been close, once.

“Sire? I need your help.” Finora sent out the call, not daring to hope for an answer, and waited. Several minutes passed. The wind tore at her clothing and rain pelted her numb skin. Still she waited. “Sire, please.”

A huge brown shape exploded out of the water and up onto the rocks with a roar. Even in seal form, the bull towered over her. Two others flanked him, shedding their skins to reveal giant, naked, grim-faced men with wicked-looking tridents. Storm rolled over onto his back. The black Were crouched down, curled a lip and backed away. The lead bull shook off his skin and became an equally nude, sable-haired man with proud, aristocratic features. He’d a commanding presence that made her first reaction one of wanting to cower at his feet.

King Griogair.

It’s all well and good to buck the status quo to do what you believe is right. But how much easier is it to accomplish your goal if someone else who believes as you do comes and gives you a hand? Especially if you suddenly find yourself in over your head? That’s exactly what happens when dream faerie Pryseis and elven spirit healer Benilo team up to save a goblin child from debilitating nightmares – nightmares that are manifesting themselves in the real world. Here’s DUST OF DREAMS, Book 4 in the Gueardians of Light series:

He dragged himself over to Pryseis, brushed the glistening hair back from her face. Long shimmering strands, like iridescent silk, caressed his hand. Her skin was so soft. No bruising marred the pearly glow. He ran a hand down the curves of her body, checking for internal injuries. She seemed fine—except for being unconscious. Blurring vision warned him to conserve his strength. Dracken rue, he had once been able to do so much more than this! He reached out to the earth, to the water in the hot spring, to the deep fire making the water hot, to the air around him. Each in turn, drawing a bit of strength from each until his vision cleared and he stopped shaking. His headache dropped to tolerable.

Deciding it worth the risk, he drew Pryseis into his arms and held her close, reaching out with his own mind to brush hers. “Pryseis?” He waited a moment. “Can you hear me?”

Pryseis stirred. “It worked. You’re still alive.” She opened her eyes, and gasped. “You look terrible!” she whispered, reaching out her hand to trace his lips.

He fought the temptation to drown in her misty amethyst gaze, and reached out with his mind to touch the pain she bore—part overreaching with her own gift and part the sorcerer’s attack. He pulled it from her, much as he had the nightmares of the women and girls in Shamar. Then it had poisoned him. One more now would not make much difference.

But it would help Pryseis.

“What did you do?” she mind-sent. “Cease. Heal yourself first.”

 “I did.” He pulled some more power from the elements until the double-headache receded. “I imagine I look worse than I feel.”

She snorted. “Somehow I doubt it.”

“Food would help.” Benilo spoke this aloud.

Pryseis grimaced. “Brace yourself. They have a meat-based diet—roasted bats and even the porridge has grubs or maggots in it. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“You have eaten naught?”

“I’m not that hungry.”

Benilo considered their options. He could sustain himself for weeks if needs be on elemental power, but her situation was much more precarious. If she didn’t return to the sun and the pool… “I met Dax.”

Pryseis jerked at that statement. Tears welled. “He’s alive?”

Benilo nodded. “I found him in the cave and healed him. He made it to my people with the amulet.”

She started to shake, and Benilo found himself holding her closer. Part of him marveled at how right she felt in his arms, the ease with which they were able to speak mind-to-mind. How they had connected, how he had been able to find her through fathoms of the unkenned, almost as if they were…she was… He rejected the idea. She was not his life mate. Surely the Lady would not be so cruel?

But even as the possibility registered, his body stirred. The words of the vow crept into his mind. He swept them aside. What had he done to merit such an extraordinary person? He was the last thing Pryseis needed.

“Thank you,” she whispered in his ear.

He frowned. He did not want her gratitude. “Shh, now. Easy. You must rest.”

She shuddered. “Sleep brings me closer to his nightmares. He’s here. He’s right outside. I can sense him. But sleep brings me closer to everyone’s nightmares. They’re worse here. There’s something about this place. The sorcerer. Even—” She stopped, her cheeks flaming.

“What?” he asked.

“’Tis naught.” Pryseis refused to meet his gaze, but his mind caught an image of the two of them entwined afore she could censor the thought.

Ah—so it had been both of them there in the dream-mist. Even now he felt the silken slide of her skin against him, the soft curtain of her hair wrapped around them. Her legs wrapped around him.

“Cease!” she hissed. “’Twas just a dream.”

“Was it? We both had the same dream?” He raised a brow, daring her to negate the fact.

An adorable blush spread all the way down to her toes. Her skin heated against his.

“Now is not the time to bring that up.”

She was right. Benilo removed himself from temptation and sat up.

When park ranger Cheyenne Rafferty’s truck is disabled in a MT earthquake, she thought her day couldn’t get any worse. Until she runs afoul a demon from the ancient past – and the charismatic warrior sent to destroy it. Here is MAREK’s NEW WORLD:

“Don’t move!” Cheyenne pointed her shotgun at the blood-smeared stranger as he stood and turned away from the prone body. Sister growled at the stench of the yellow-green goo that splattered the ground and the men. Cheyenne feared she’d come upon a murderer, but the raw agony in the living man’s eyes belied that. “What’s your name? What happened here?”

He frowned. Puzzlement clouded his gaze. She repeated her questions in every Native language she knew. Frustrated, her repertoire exhausted, she fell silent and studied him.

Clad only in moccasins and intricately tooled leather breeches that buttered his muscular thighs, he stood tall and straight before her, covered in human blood and bits of that weird sulfur-smelling goo. Long raven hair tied back with a leather thong revealed a proud, almost raptorial visage, with piercing black eyes and a strong jaw. Native cast, but with an aristocratic edge that set him apart.

Used to fit men from the braw males of her own Pack, she still couldn’t repress a feminine shiver. This was without a doubt the most ripped man she’d ever seen. She wondered if he was some kind of soldier, doubtful with that hair.

Leave it to her to find a romance-cover-model-turned-ax-murderer in the middle of nowhere.

Sister insisted the man was blameless. Involved in the tragedy, but not responsible. Even though the self-recrimination in the man’s eyes stated he thought otherwise. No Pack member had ever been murdered in cold blood. They could read a person’s intentions and steer clear. Accidents, illness and old age, yes—but never murder.

Cheyenne decided to trust her instincts. “Who are you?” When he didn’t respond, she tapped her chest. “Chey-enne.”

Comprehension lit his gaze, and he pointed to himself. “Mar-ek.” He then indicated the body of the man on the ground. “Vey-nar.” His voice choked as he pulled off the dead man’s amulet and placed it around his own neck.

“Marek.” Relieved he spoke, Cheyenne lowered her gun until the barrel pointed toward the ground. Her eyes widened; his skin reddened where the goo clung. Some kind of acid? That had to hurt, although he appeared not to notice. There was a stream where he could wash, but how to convey to someone who spoke a different language?

She held out a hand, palm up. “Come.” She pantomimed as she backed away, motioning him to follow. He nodded once. She forced herself not to react when he picked up his strange weapons and took a step toward her, cradling the lethal-looking crystal blades like an armload of firewood.

Understanding dawned in Marek’s eyes when the sound of rushing water reached their ears. He glanced at her; with a forward sweeping motion, she indicated he should go ahead of her. He waded into the icy stream and began to wash away the filth from himself and the blades.

Cheyenne flinched. Those burns looked nasty. She took off her backpack, opened it, pulled out her first-aid kit and a survival blanket. She grabbed a tube of ointment that relieved pain and prevented infection.

Marek watched her approach with wariness in his eyes. She applied some of the ointment on her fingertips and rubbed it into her inner wrist, holding it out so he could see it wasn’t harming her. Eye-level with the worst of the burns, she put more on her fingers and reached for his chest. He caught her wrist, stopping her, and frowned.

Dormant femininity uncurled. Cheyenne quivered as his long, calloused fingers caressed her skin. She hoped he wouldn’t notice. “Shh, it’s okay. Trust me, this will help.”

He didn’t release his grip, but allowed her touch. He watched her apply the medicine, and she knew the moment his pain eased by the way he jerked and then relaxed. He released her hand and let her tend to the other wounds.

His three pendants drew her gaze. They looked like huge diamonds. Sister growled, bristling at their latent power. Cheyenne didn’t recognize the symbols etched into the settings, but she steered clear of the silver metal.

That cliché was all too real for Pack.

The first page of a book is crucial, to hook your reader and give a sense of what the story is all about. Introducing characters and problems with a sense of drama. A sense of setting. A hint of voice. The reader is in the bookstore, sees the pretty pretty cover and picks up the book. She’s never heard of you, but she likes fantasy romance so she checks out the back blurb, maybe the reviews page…and then opens to the first page. Times are tough. Money’s tight. Are you worth blowing $15 on the unknown? Gotta impress her in a hurry, so she doesn’t put you down and walk away. What do my first paragraphs tell you about each of the following books?

DUALITY:

Rufus Quickblade hadn’t returned from warning the king.

Dara rose from her sleeping mat and slipped outside. Fiery Mount Aege towered above all, a silent menace in the northwest. An unnatural stillness hovered in the leaden dawn. No birds chirped from the bare branches of trees. No small animals scurried through the fallen leaves on the forest floor. She peered through cold, curling autumn fog, shivering as thunder rumbled closer. The clarion call of trumpets pierced the silence, followed by the shriek of a wounded charger.

HEDDA’S SWORD:

The woman was destined to die without his aid, forever lost to the spreading darkness.

Cianan ta Daneal’s visions were no longer confined to nighttime dreams. In yet another one, he watched as, surrounded by boiling rivers of blood, she held off an army of skeletons with a flaming sword. How many times had he seen her fall, felt her terror and despair in her final moment of life? Horror skittered up his spine. He had no idea how to find her, or how much time he had to save her. But his heart told him where he needed to be—here in Shamar, an unfamiliar name in the northern region of his map.

LYCAN TIDES:

“Bran, don’t go,” Finora pleaded, even as she handed him his seabag. Rona, the ginger cat, wound around her ankles with a plaintive meow.

“One last trip and we’ll have enough coin for a boat of our own.” In the flickering candlelight, Bran’s copper green eyes gleamed down at her from a face ruddied by years of salt air winds and pounding surf. “Think on it, Nora, no more workin’ for others, none to answer to but ourselves.”

The supreme irony that he worked so hard for his own freedom whilst denying her own was not lost on Finora. Her heart ached. She pushed the pain aside. “I’ve a bad feeling about this trip. Clouds pile up just beyond the horizon and the wind is rising. Please, stay here with me.”

DUST OF DREAMS:

What to do when nightmares become real?

Kneeling on the damp, stony ground, Pryseis took a deep, shuddering breath of frosty mountain air and stared at her sunlit reflection in the shimmering pool. She ran a hand through her hair, watched the long, iridescent strands slide through her fingers in the streaming sunbeams. Light which made her wings tingle as they absorbed energy directly from the sun’s rays. The fading glow warned her the end of the day fast approached. Dread seized her at the thought of sleep. Every night the same small, scared voice in the dark haunted her dreams.

“Help me…save me…” She’d added her magic to her sister faeries’ to ease his suffering. But the group’s spirit-nets had no effect on the child. Now he’d faded from their senses and singled her out. None other still heard his cries. His anguish was in her head, in her heart.

 

And she couldn’t get him out.

MAREK’S NEW WORLD:

Wrongness. The fine hairs rose on the back of Cheyenne Rafferty’s neck as she crouched beside the ice-laced pond and surveyed the too-still Montana forest. She sniffed the air, catching only the normal scents of an early mountain spring: spicy Ponderosa  pines, new quaking aspen leaves and the mineral tang of mud-tinged snow. She strained to listen. Silence. Dead silence. No animals, no birds. She wanted to melt down into true-self and let Sister take over. The white wolf’s senses were more acute, but she needed to record and report for the Forestry Service. Hard to do with paws and a growl.

 

Couldn’t imagine life without pets. We currently have four: Chandra the calico cat, Abby the black Chow-Chow, Sassy the grey Morab mare, and Moonlight my daughter’s white pony. They’re my current crew. Thought I’d share a bit on each.

Chandra was adopted from the Marathon Co Humane Society here in Wausau 8 years ago, back when they were still on Kent Street. Our old calico Cassie had to be put down at the young age of six (she got fibrosarcoma from her feline leukemia vaccination!) and we weren’t handing it well. We went to the humane society to look at a Russian Blue whose elder owner had died. I felt sorry for it and wanted to check it out  – it bit Tami. Not good with kids. There was a mouthy calico a few cages down that kept snaking her paw out of the bars like, “Hey – over here!” Her name (then) was Harriet.

Someone had dumped her there b/c she was pregnant. She had six kittens and they all got adopted. She sat there for 6 months – they couldn’t bear to put her down b/c she was so sweet and figured SOMEONE would take her home. When they let her out of her cage she jumped right in my lap and started purring. So we took her home and hid her in my son’s closet so when he got home from kindergarten it was like, “Surprise!” We renamed her Chandra and she rules the roost!

My husband works with a young lady named Sabrina. They were talking horses and she mentioned she had her yearling for sale. Turns out her mom was a trainer and raised Morgans. She had a grey Morab filly for sale. Todd mentioned it to me and I had to go see her. She was very people-y and sweet and I brought my friend Faye (also a trainer) with me, asking her “Give me a reason  NOT to buy her.” She couldn’t think of one.

Sassy was a dream to train, but she definitely has her quirks. She likes  to rub her head on you and almost knock you over. She’s always gunning for a treat. She tried to sneak a snack while being ridden. She jumps trail obstacles she really COULD step over. I only had one bad accident with her – a passing Harley kicked gravel in her face and she shied. She jumped over a ditch and I fell INTO it. Collapsed lung and 2 broken ribs. Had to walk her back to the barn -Lori had to take her saddle off. Went to ER next day – they hollered at me for waiting so long. I healed up just fine and we still enjoy trail riding in the woods.

My daughter Tami wanted to go riding with me. Lori gave her lessons on a brown Morgan mare named Angel (aptly named) and then we started looking for a quiet old horse for her. A lady named Joyce had a couple of horses on trial, to see if she was going to buy them. One was a white pony w/Arab blood whom Tami fell in love with. I told Joyce, “If you don’t take her, I want her.” She decided to pass on then-Mae and we grabbed her and renamed her Moonlight.

Moonlight did not have the pampered beginning Sassy had. We ran into problems with her right away. One, she was hard to catch. Like, impossible. We put her in a separate pen and bribed her with treats for weeks before we dared to let her out with the herd. Two, as oldest mare, she thought she should be leader. She got into a lot of fights with Angel & Uno over that one, but she finally won when they conceded. Three, she was head-shy. Freaked and broke several halters by pulling back when tied. Lori worked long and hard with her on that one. Four, she had an almost-catastrophic run-in with a tree branch – impaled her neck and JUST missed the jugular vein. Treating that actually did wonders for her disposition. She’s MUCH calmer now, and is very careful around Tami, like she KNOWS “fragile kid.” They have a ball together.

And now we have Abby. We rescued a stray Lanseer Newfie, but the owner came to claim her on my son Joshua’s birthday. Kids were sad to lose Athena (real name Ursula) so I started searching the papers for another dog. A six month old black Chow caught my eye. I’ve had a black Chow before (named Aphrodite) and they’re great family dogs. Owner said she was housebroke, had all her shots and no eye problems. Went to see her. She was thin and shy, but very sweet, so paid $$ and took her home.

We were…misled. House-broken was apparently a relative term. She had roundworms and whipworms. She needed eye surgery to correct her eyelids-turn-in-and-lashes-scrape-her-corneas condition. And it’s HARD to put/keep weight on her. We went through a ton of different food she hated before we finally found one she likes – CANIDAE. She rocks with immediate family – very playful, with a silly streak. She and the cat are still at war after a year. She HATES other dogs. She doesn’t like other people. We went through an intensive training class before we can comfortably work with her out in public. But we love her to pieces, even with the occasional “oops” accidents – and her “cat wars.”

They all keep life interesting – and entertaining. They teach the kids compassion and responsibility. They keep us borderline broke…but I wouldn’t have it any other way!

So I sent Riever’s Heart to my Samhain editor, Linda Ingmanson, on 3/13/11 and the nail-biting began.  The query letter was as follows:

“Good Afternoon Linda!

 

Enclosed is the finished 89 K erotic fantasy romance manuscript “Riever’s Heart” which is Verdeen’s story after she graduates from the elven military. Set in the Guardians of Light world.

 

Glass ceilings were meant to be shattered, even in the elven kingdom of Cymry. Not content with being Queen Dara’s lady’s maid, Verdeen ta Seppala entered the elven military academy. The first female in generations to do so, she sacrifices everything to do so. Her family disowns her. Even though she yearns to become a ranger, the war mares decline to accept her. She wonders what will become of her dreams to change the world.

 

Daq Aryk wants nothing more than for the endless wars in his land of Isadorikja to cease. Determined to unite his clans into a single nation, he arrives in Cymry seeking King Loren’s aid. The king assigns Verdeen as Aryk’s bodyguard and advisor during the unification process.

 

There’s just one problem: a powerful and undeniable attraction.

 

Always, Verdeen’s warrior has kept her woman in check. Until a fateful kiss in the academy gardens awakens the woman within. An experienced man like Aryk has no business getting involved with a beautiful but deadly maiden. She’s well trained but has no real battle experience. Aryk has no desire to see a beautiful woman destroyed in the upcoming wars. And he finds it harder and harder to avoid taking her to bed, which certainly was never part of King Loren’s plan.
 

“Riever’s Heart” is what happens when an award-winning fantasy romance writer decides to turn up the heat. A tale of a young woman coming to terms with balancing warrior and woman, career and love, and a warrior longing for peace and acceptance.

I hope you enjoy Riever’s Heart, and I look forward to hearing back from you soon.”

Can’t ever get complacent, even with a series amd a book written specifically FOR that series. I’m not the most patient person in the world – just ask my kids! But Linda’s a busy lady so I tried to pretend she DIDN’T have it.

And then Mon, April 4, 2011 2:22:04 PM I got:

“Hi! Riever’s Heart looks great! I know a lot of your fans have been waiting for this one. A spot for a September release has opened up — does that work for you? It would mean we’d have to be done with edits by June. Let me know if that works for you and I’ll put in for a contract. Thanks!”

and at Mon, April 4, 2011 2:42:26 PM I got:

“Awesome! I’m so glad to have another great fantasy novel from you. I will put in for a contract, but Lindsey is at the RT conference, so you might not see it for a while, probably not until next week, so don’t panic if it doesn’t show up right away. I’m also going to attach the cover art form and the cover copy form, which are probably different from the last time you did these (oh joy, change!) so you can get started on those.

Thanks a million!

Linda”

So RIEVER’S HEART Guardians of Light Book 5 is in the works and in our future!

Someone asked me, what was my “inspiration” for this book? Literally it was “Spartans in Iceland”

Daq Aryk dreams the impossible. Unite six fractious clans into a single nation of traders and explorers. His second Valkyn doubts he can succeed. But if he doesn’t either the clans kill each other off or band together under Beloq the Bloody into a single invasion force, in which case the rest of the world unites to kill them off. Either way the Isadorikjans are dead. He knows the lure of the lia, battle-fever. But Aryk tires of death. Haunted by nightmares of his son Joro’s death by sword, he determines to find a better way of life for all than this constant state of war.

Go to Isadorikja, the Isle of Ice, with a mortal riever? Elven warrior Verdeen can scarce credit her first assignment. According to Queen Dara, human rievers are pillagers of the worst sort, the scourge of the civilized world.

All her life Verdeen has yearned for a life of adventure as an elite ranger, a chance to change the world. Except upongraduation from the military academy, no war mare selects her for the advanced cavalry training needed to gain full ranger status. Her parents don’t understand her choice of careers, nor condone it. In her five years at the academy, they’ve not seen her, nor spoken to her. They skip her graduation. Heartbroken, Verdeen wonders what the future holds for her. King Loren makes an offer. Become his Right Hand, go with Daq Aryk as Loren’s ambassador and spy.

Verdeen the warrior can hold her own against any enemy. Verdeen the woman never sees Aryk coming. In a fragrant moonlit garden, she dares to kiss him at the academy wishing pool. She’s never been tempted by a man before, but Aryk’s heated kisses shake her to the core and for the first time she feels desire. What makes him so different from all the others?

Now her inner woman is free and Verdeen has no idea what to do with her.

Warning: Be careful when you mock Destiny – dreams of changing the world can take an unexpected detour. This tale illustrates what happens when adventurous dreamer meets seen-it-all cynic. If she’s not careful, he’ll seduce more than her body. He’ll steal her heart…

Yesterday was Easter Sunday, the day before my birthday. Yesterday I got the call from my dad that my grandma (his mom) passed away. She never was one to make a fuss in life – this was no different. They had breakfast, Aunt Robin went upstairs to take a shower and when she came out Gram was gone. Just like that. She was 93, and her health wasn’t great. She’d told my sister she was tired of being old and sick, so when it was her time, she just up and went.

There was so much to love about my Gram. She was originally from Boston, and Maine being what it is, no one ever let her forget it – even though she lived there for over 70 years. She was still that woman from Boston. She raised three boys and helped run a farm, later ran River Bend Camps (ice fishing) in Bowdoinham. When the county went from RR to street names for the 911 implementation, they named her street Wallentine Road. She was a licensed pilot, and I flew with her many times in her Cessna Skyhawk II.

She drove herself to church every Sunday in the world’s ugliest old station wagon and never gave up on me going with her someday. I’ll always regret not going with her. She never pushed, but it would have meant so much to her. I have a throw pillow she made for me. It reads “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.” Beige, with a border of leaves and berries. I hold the pillow now and cry.

She came to my high school graduation. (She’s in the dress, my Grandma Jeanne is in the pantsuit. Funny, they did not communicate but showed up wearing the same color. We had a good laugh over that one!)

She also came to my wedding in Wisconsin. She came to my book signing at Borders in Brunswick – even bought a copy of Duality for Aunt Robin! She always supported my hopes and dreams, and she loved her great-grandchildren with a fierce pride. She was a total dog person, and had a veritable parade of golden retrievers that now rest in the pet cemetery in the woods behind her house. I hope Uncle Andy and Aunt Robin take care of Gram’s latest companion – he’ll be so lost without her.

She used to tell the funniest stories of the farm and my dad as a little boy. We used to love looking through the old family albums. She took me out to meet her parents before they died. Grandma and Grandpa Gavel. I’m glad she’s with them now – she missed them. The last time we were out there, she put together a family reunion and EVERYONE came – even my Uncle Doug, who I have no memory of.  There’s pictures of him holding me as a baby, but I don’t remember him. I didn’t know hardly ANYONE there, but Gram never let me feel like an outsider. She made everyone feel welcome, and cherished.

She had a stubborn streak. She used to have terrible rows with Dad and Nana Buzz (my stepmom) but even when they didn’t see eye to eye, there was love. You still love family – even when they drive you nuts. Her one failing was she never accepted the fact that this born-and-bred Midwesterner was never a big seafood gal. She kept inflicting salmon patties and crab cakes and clam chowder with the ever-optimistic, “You’ll love it if it’s made right.” Proud of the fact I never told her that being made with love was no consolation – it was still all nasty! (Sorry, Gram – ugh!)

So R.I.P., Gran. A toast to your life and memory…another when we come home to Maine this August. Enjoy your eternal sunshine!

I’m the first to admit I’m a total cover slut. I go through a store and if I see a pretty cover, I’ll pick it up and read the back. And I should know better, b/c 4 of the books I’ve kept for YEARS (and I do mean years/multiple moves) have the most Godawful, water-wrecked covers…you wouldn’t put them in a yard sale for free. You’d better bury me with these books, b/c I’m never getting rid of them!

Well, one of them is a recent rescue. 1962 version of Mary Stewart’s “Moonspinners.” (I still remember the movie w/an all-grown-up Haley Mills!) It’s beat up. The pages are faded and brittle and all falling out. I’ve got it rubber-banded together. I should probably read it with gloves – or tweezers. But the story is just as riveting as I remember - an intrigue set in Crete. (Think Phyllis A Whitney, but with Mediterranean sunshine.) Gorgeous setting, spirited heroine, lots of wondering who’s the real culprit and how to tell truth from lie. Can totally “hear” Haley Mills as I read!

The next is 1976 hardcover version of Wilderness Wife by Bradford and Vena Angier. A city couple moved to wilds of British Columbia, Canada to build a log cabin and live off the land. (Anyone remember that movie The Wilderness Family, or the TV show Grizzly Adams?) To quote the inside flap: “The best kind of  true adventure story, this is how a woods-wise couple get their food from nature’s larder, stay warm in 66 degrees below zero, travel in unmapped forests, and face the dangers of whitewater, grizzlies, wolves and a charging moose. Here, too, is reverie in the seasons, the beauty of the green world…”

The next is a 1944 edition of Jumper The Life of a Siberian Horse by Nicholas Kalashnikoff. (Think Black Beauty if he lived during the Russian Revolution.) If the following Author’s Note doesn’t move you, then you have no heart:

 ”Jumper was a Siberian horse and my friend. He was gentle, wise, courageous, loyal, and understanding to a rare dgree. It is seldom that one can say more than that of anyone, whether man or beast. Fate happily brought us together in the defense of our country, when for a time our destinies were strangely linked. He was already a seasoned campaigner, having served several masters with the  same devotion he was to give me. In return he asked for nothing save care and measure of affection. These I gave him wholeheartedly for I valued him as I would a person near and dear. In writing his story, out of my own memories and as I got it from the lips of others who loved him, I pay a debt of gratitude not to Jumper alone but to countless horses who have unwittingly and uncomplainingly shared in the tragedies men create.”

From a quiet life in a Siberian peasant village through the horrors of war and back again to the boy who raised him, much of his story is told thanks to a little notebook that each soldier who had him as a mount was careful to update. Not just a tale of a horse, but the boys and men caught up in a conflict they had no control over. But if you judged a book by it’s cover, would you have picked this one up?

And last is a tattered 1952 hardcover, its spine long gone, entitled The Healing Woods by Martha Reben. A woman bedridden with pleurisy spends a couple summers in the woods with a gruff old guide named Mr. Rice, where the fresh air and sunshine (and no pollution) cure her completely. A quiet gem of a book, filled with canoe rides, the cry of loons and pesky porcupines gnawing on canoe paddles. Crickets and thunderstorms and beaver dams, fishing for your supper and cooking over a campfire.

Would you have guessed looking by the covers of any  of these what wonders lay between their dusty, tattered covers and discolored, brittle pages? And I constantly strive to remember that in the world of splashy, colorful covers and the trend toward “action and sex” in fiction, that sometimes it’s the quiet gems that resonate most clearly. That harken to a simpler time with different values, when the rule was function over form, substance over flash.

I just wanted to welcome my friend and fellow fantasy romance author Nicole Zoltack to my blog today to talk about what inspired her to write her wonderful series. Since I love to hear where writers get their great ideas, Nicole was gracious enough to share:

Thank you, Renee, for being one of the awesome blog hosts for the Champion of Valor tour!

Today I wanted to talk what inspired me to write the Kingdom of Arnhem series.

I love the Middle Ages – the chivalry, the notion of knights and their ladies, romance. I have often gone to the local Renaissance Faire dressed in garb. Even my wedding was Renaissance-themed!

And I loved to do research into the time period. One time, I was looking up famous knights and I wondered, knowing how women were treated back then, if any women had been female knights. I assumed there weren’t.

I was wrong.

There were female knights, including an entire order called the Order of the Hatchet. I immediately pictured a young girl petitioning her king to become a knight, citing those brave female knights.

But the Kingdom of Arnhem series is not purely historical.

I also love fantasy – magic, sword and sorcery, wizards, dragons, etc. So I created a fantasy world – a parallel world to ours, one set in the Middle Ages – in which the Americas don’t exist. Instead there is a different continent – Alethereia – that contains all of the magic.

Woman of Honor, the first book, is definitely the most historical-inclined of the three books, as it chronicles Aislinn, the first would-be female knight.

Knight of Glory takes place beyond Arnhem and begins to explore more the of the fantasy aspects of the world.
Faith was such an important aspect to the medieval people, and I tried to reflect that within Champion of Valor, while also exploring more of the fantasy. There are mages and selkies and trolls that dance on the wind. Drow are evil, and there are icthyocentaurs.
 

Combining fantasy and history was so much fun. Medieval fantasies are some of my favorite books to read. Do you like to read medieval fantasies? Which ones are your favorite? What inspires you?

You can check out more about Nicole and her work at:
http://nicolezoltack.com/ and  http://nicolezoltack.blogspot.com/
Be sure to leave a comment to be entered to win some signed post cards and magnets. Each comment during the Champion of Valor Blog Tour gives you an entry for the grand prize: a copy of the entire Kingdom of Arnhem trilogy – Woman of Honor, Knight of Glory, and Champion of Valor.

When was the last time a book REALLY resonated with you? The book that, rather than end up in last summer’s yard sale, is actually rubber-banded together because you’ve literally read it to pieces but can’t find a replacement copy? The one you can recite entire passages from? The one you recommend to everyone and their cousin?

What makes that book so special? So powerful? Have you ever stopped to think about where the magic comes from? How the author pulled character and theme and emotion and drama all together?

For me, I grew up with epic fantasy and sci fi – from reading CS Lewis and Tolkien to watching Star Wars. It wasn’t until I got older that I realized they had a common thread – a scholar/teacher named Joseph Campbell. The eminent mythology expert of the 20^th & 21^st centuries. The man who made it his life’s work to study universal themes, what all cultures’ storytelling and mythology have in common. Why people are still drawn, over and over, to the good defeats evil, David beats Goliath, the good guy always gets the girl and they live happily-ever-after? There’s so much chaos and negativity in the world that it’s great to be able to curl up with a tale and know the good guys are gonna win. “And they lived happily ever after. THE END.”

What do you look for in a story? Great characters you can identify with? Believable problems and solutions? Exotic locations? Grand adventures? Tales that weave emotion through every page, where you laugh and cry and worry and wonder along with the characters? See it this pattern looks familiar:

• Little hero/ine in a sucky spot, wants things to change
• Little hero/ine thinks, “What can I do? It’s too big for me.”
• The last straw breaks the camel’s back and little hero/ine thinks “enough already” and off s/he goes to change things
• Meets their ideal hero/ine, sparks fly
• Various adventure, mayhem and disasters ensue, with betrayal and death and rescues and lessons learned
• Hero & heroine fall in love, but it will never work (see above various & sundry complications)
• Black moment when all hope seems lost
• Wondrous solving of the problem, characters personal growth and triumphant return
• The happily ever after
• THE END

The above template is my variation of “The Hero’s Journey” by Joseph Campbell, the Holy Grail of storytelling. It’s a wondrous journey, an adventure, an escape, with fabulously real lands, weird food, bad weather, horrific villains with evil plans, the occasional noble death, brave and sassy heroines, and smoking hot heroes. Any combination of the above. Anything goes!

The magic’s in the journey – and the triumph in the end.

Ever cheer at the end of a movie? Every hug a book you just finished reading? Ever write an author to say, “This book changed me/my life?”

Ever frantically search for a rubber band to keep from losing one single page of the third copy of your favorite book? (Okay, for me that book is Barbara Hambly’s “The Ladies of Mandrigyn” from Del Rey, 1984, ISBN 0345309197)

So, I cut my teeth on epic fantasy – Tolkien and Terry Brooks and LOTR and Willow. As a writer, I now have my award-winning “Guardians of Light” fantasy romance series for Samhain. Reviewers have taken notice. I hope you’ll check it out.

My heroines? A half-dragon fire mage, an assassin nun, a selkie/single mother, and a dream faerie.

My heroes? Elven princes and paladins and spirit healers. The odd werewolf or two.

My villains? Demons and genocidal queens, power-mad dragons and selkie princes, and goblin sorcerers.

We also have the odd tree sprite, gypsies, an occasional mermaid, talking horses and sentient jewelry. Chaos and mayhem aplenty, with the occasional head-on-a-pike. Noble death and self-sacrifice. Always the good-wins-out-over-evil AND they-lived-happily-ever-after.

“Lycan Tides” was a 2011 EPIC Finalist for Fantasy Romance.

My newest title is “Dust of Dreams.” It features a dream faerie and elven spirit healer pitted against a goblin sorcerer as they try to free a goblin child from nightmares-become-real. The underlying theme is tolerance and compassion. As one character explains to another when describing the heroine, “Pryseis didn’t see goblin. She saw child.”

I am a true April Taurus—earthbound, practical, stubborn and temperamental. My life is ruled by fear. In true “bull” fashion, I tend to meet it head-on. It’s what drives me, not a weakness but a motivator.

 I’ve always been a tomboy, preferring horses to boys growing up. I belonged to the Wilderness Challenge Club in high school (Wisconsin Academy in Columbus, WI). Whitewater rafting, caving, rappelling, canoeing, if it meant sunburn, mosquitoes and getting dirty—that was where you’d find me. Very glamorous stuff. Now, I’ve always been afraid of heights. Like—freeze atop a 6-ft ladder scared of heights. We won’t even mention airplanes. Sedatives. LOTS of sedatives…

 So, the first time I went rappelling was at Devil’s Lake, from atop Devil’s Rock. Guarded by all manner of…rattlesnakes. Saw two, sunning on the rocks. So there I was on a snake-infested rock atop the world. Beautiful view. Wasted on a sixteen-year-old in a cold sweat. See, the secret to rappelling is to WALK down the rock face. Anyone who’s walked across a floor knows the easiest way to do that is to be perpendicular to the floor surface. So if the floor surface is almost entirely vertical, that means the walker gets to be the one who’s…horizontal. And that translates into standing backwards at the edge of a cliff, the true ground several hundred feet below, and LEANING back against a rope-and-nylon-harness-affair into thin air until you’re lying down on NOTHING—and then walk down the wall.

Sure. Uh huh. (Never said I was a BRIGHT kid. Well, okay, I was. Straight A nerd.) And Mr. Snyder was right there like some hairy bearded cheerleader from Buffy saying stupid things like, “It’s easy. You can do this. Nothing stops you. Just leeeeeean back and walk down.”

But it was my best friend stating “Don’t be such a chicken shit” that got me going. Okay, it took me 20 minutes of whimpering like a toy poodle in a thunderstorm before I leaned back enough to start walking. Reaching the bottom to more Buffy reject cheering felt like conquering Mount Everest.

That’s how I tackle life. I let fear motivate me into moving, defeating, conquering. It can either stop you or get you going. Being a Taurus, stubbornness gets me a long way through life. As a writer I try to let the quality bleed off into my characters. Set them up against a bad situation some would consider impossible, but the character just takes a deep breath, says “Who if not me?” and forges on to start, to try. And so the stories go.

 

So “Taming of the Wolf” is no more. May it RIP…

In redoing MAREK’S NEW WORLD to send out again, as TWRP requested I do not submit THEIR version in its pure form, I reviewed the original research and looked for places to update and re-specify. Found plenty of opportunities to go from general to specific:

“a mountain spring” becomes “a Cabinet Mountains spring”

“I think it just brushed the town…Evan’s checking” becomes “I think it just brushed Troy but didn’t make it as far as Libby; Evan’s checking with both towns.”

“She repeated her questions in every Native language she knew” is expanded to follow that with “starting with the local Kootenai and Salish languages”

“the local paper’s on line one” becomes “Reporter from The Western News is still holding on line one”

I’ve researched quipas and pyramids, earthquakes and wolf reintroduction in Montana, Western Diamondback rattlesnake bite symptoms, (were THOSE some grodie photos!) the range of the snowshow hare, the types of trees found in NW MT, what color the uniforms are for the Lincoln Country Sheriff’s Dept., the fact that a “space blanket” is technically known as a “survival blanket” (thank you, Karen Powers!), the Missoula Ospreys baseball team, the history of mining in Montana, and I even threw in a BUFFY reference! I’ve also come to the conclusion that Kootenai National Forest has to be the most beautiful place on the planet…

So here’s to Marek finding a new home somewhere, as the beginning of a new trilogy in a new subgenre I call “Contemporary Rural Paranormal”…

Coming 9/27/2011 from Samhain Publishing. Very Viking! When I said “Spartans in Iceland” Kanaxa NAILED it!

Never mock Destiny. She’ll send you down an unexpected detour. The warrior in her was ready for anything. But she never saw him coming…

Armed. Dangerous. And melting in his arms… 

Guardians of Light, Book 5

 

Verdeen is on the brink becoming an elite warrior ranger until the ultimate humiliation—no war mare chooses her for advanced training. King Loren’s consolation prize isn’t much better. Journey to the Isle of Ice as bodyguard to a human riever. Daq Aryk. Barbarian. Prince of thieves.

 Aryk dreams the impossible: unite six fractious clans into a peaceful nation. Failure means they are all doomed to kill each other off—and the nightmares of his son’s death by sword will come true. The new elven ambassador rouses his ire, not because she’s female, but because she’s inexperienced. Her possibly needless death weighs on his already overburdened soul. Her beauty is a distraction he can’t afford.

In a fragrant, moonlit garden, Verdeen dares yield to an irresistible compulsion to kiss the mortal riever. The heat shakes her to the core, and frees a desire that should occur but once in her life. With a mate.

As their quest twists down ever more dangerous paths, though, their bond is the asset that could assure peace…or the liability that could send a dream down in flames.

Warning: This tale illustrates what happens when adventurous dreamer meets seen-it-all cynic. Contains hot, no-holds-barred sex, voyeurism and some self-loving. Also betrayal and some graphic (but never gratuitous) battle violence.

Independence Day got me thinking about my approach to worldbuilding. July 4^th is uniquely American – I guarantee they aren’t closing federal institutions elsewhere in the world on this day! We celebrate with parades, fairs, picnics, fireworks.

We watch The Patriot and Independence Day.

I write fantasy romance. Worldbuilding is my life’s blood, because I truly build something from nothing. But I’ve discovered worldbuilding is more than geography & technology, religion & politics. It’s the beliefs & customs & traditions & relationships of both society & individual. The woodcutter in the forest and the blacksmith in town lead very different lives, but they’re interdependent. The blacksmith makes the ax the woodcutter uses to cut the wood that fuels the fires the forge needs to produce the ax.

Worldbuilding is how everyone lives and gets along.

Conflict arises when they don’t, and conflict is story.

I adore the movie Romancing the Stone. Joan Wilder leaves her NYC world of tailored suits & Italian high heels for the jungles of Columbia, but she brings along her suits & heels. They’re all she has. They’re what she is. Jack Colter tosses her suitcase of tailored suits off a cliff and lops the heels off her shoes with a machete. All she sees is he’s wrecking her things. He’s destroying what she believes she is. He’s just trying to be practical, but she makes it personal.

Conflict!

Your world is developed and maintained by the view and experiences of your characters. A character only knows what he knows. What they want and how they view things differ depending on their experience, needs and background. A shepherd traveling cross-country looks for open grasslands for his flocks. A warrior traveling cross-country looks for ambushes & cover. He’ll avoid that shepherd’s paradise like a plague. A healer will test unfamiliar plants for healing properties. An assassin will look for the deadliest poisons. Same methods, different goals.

Take a werewolf from the inland mountains to the coast. (I did in Lycan Tides.) Imagine his awe at entire racks of seawater drying to salt. The locals take for granted one of his greatest luxury items. It takes weeks of hard travel to bring salt back to the mountains – every pound measured in blood, sweat and tears.

Put a character in a different environment than he’s used to, where none of what he knows applies. What does he notice? What does he miss most? What does he use? What does he adapt to suit his own needs? What does he learn to do that he never did before? What old beliefs/truths fly out the window and what new beliefs/truths take their place?

 What if a peace-loving miner discovers a new metal to makes tougher tools – but also stronger weapons? Does he reveal his secret and take the bad with the good, or does he hide it? How does his family, his village, his country view him either way? What makes a villain a villain and a hero a hero? When is a villain a hero and vice versa?

Think Robin Hood.

We are shaped by our family, our friends, our jobs, our experiences. So are our characters. Worlds build our characters, but never forget that our characters build their worlds, too.

In my newest book released from Samhain, Dust of Dreams, my heroine Pryseis defies the faerie council to save a goblin child, because she believes it’s the right thing to do. The individual matters as much as the group. She doesn’t see goblin, enemy – she sees child. She’s a dream faerie, she heals nightmares – but what about when a nightmare’s more than a dream, when it becomes reality? What of her powers then? And if she does succeed, what of the council that swore Analahamme – eternal banishment and ostracism – should she return alive? Yes, the caverns and mountaintops are there, councils and sorcerers and spells. A creature of air and light trapped underground, in a dark kingdom of earth and stone. But it’s really personal beliefs vs. traditions, the one vs. the many, that’s at the heart of my worldbuilding here.

Independence Day is here because a few determined that what had always been was no longer good enough. They took on the impossible because they thought it was right. And they changed their world – and ours.

Worldbuilding is so much more than the world.

A few years back I read a book and had a revelation. Sounds like a religious experience, doesn’t it? No, not that book. Funny thing is, I don’t even remember the name of the book. It was one of the Harlequin/Silhouette suspense lines, with Navajo characters. I don’t even have the book anymore. But the villain did something called SKINWALKING, where they shape-shifted for evil purposes.

 And my AHA! moment was born. In MY mind, SKINWALKING became putting on your character like a shroud. When you write in that character, you ARE that character, at almost a microscopic level. You find out everything about that character, like someone in witness protection or an undercover cop. You know that person so well, you ARE that person. 24/7/365. Almost to the point when a phone call comes in at work you answer “Good morning, this is Maleta, your avenging assassin nun. How may I help you today?”

 (No I’ve never done that.)

 People are a product of their world – part genetics, part environment. We are born blank slates, with equal potential. Then we are molded into what we ultimately become. By people, circumstance, experience, training, and choices. Our viewpoints, how we see the world around us, is colored by who and what we are. Children see the world differently than adults. A kindergarten teacher is going to view the world very differently than a soldier of fortune.

 The best characters are as three-dimensional as real people, with the triviality stripped away. They are the best and the worst of the human race – sometimes in the same package. They have their own viewpoints, their own voice, that reflects who and what they are. For me characterization is interdependent on world-building, because they reader can only understand the characters if they can view the world around them.

•  Times
• Culture (Art/Music/Literature)
• Politics
• Religion
• Education & Training
• Employment
• Hobbies/Games/Sports
• Society & Family Placement/Position
• Ethics/Intelligence/Emotions
• Rewards & Punishments
• Rules

 Your character is a product of her world. Once you’ve built it, once you’ve established her history parameters, you are locked in. You have to stay consistent. It’s unrelenting. You can never step out of character for a single second or you’ll lose your reader. The minute your health-nut stops at McDonald’s for a Big Mac or your nun blows her stack and cusses, you’re done for. But it’s more subtle than that. Every profession has its own vocabulary – and way of looking at things. A spelunker (caver) knows the difference between a stalactite and a stalagmite. Military personnel using the word amphibious are not referring to frogs. Horse people referring to frogs are not talking about small amphibians that hop. Horse people tend to verbalize everything in equestrian terms, as demonstrated in Duality:

In Duality, when Pari & Cedric discusses letting Dara join the family as Loren’s wife, they speak as horsemen. The elven warrior culture partners up with sentient war mares, and it colors how they view someone who upsets the order of things:

“The spirited mares throw the best foals.”

“They also throw the best riders along the way.”

In Duality I got called out on naming a dance. I originally used the word “waltz” which has a very definitive Earth-history beginning. Since my world was pure fantasy, I had both editors tell me to rename my dance. I renamed it “arelle” and they were happy. “Waltz” would have taken the reader right out of the fantasy. Not good. Easy fix. Then I made Dara unable to dance and have to learn. She was raised a peasant, a healer – they had no time for frivolity. When she learned Loren was a PRINCE, she worried about gowns, dances, what fork to use at dinner. Royalty and peasantry do not move in the same circles or use the same trappings. (Things never brought up in Cinderella.) Things that WERE brought up in Princess Diaries. Because if your character wouldn’t know – don’t have them know. Have them learn. Have them make mistakes. Let the reader relate to the humanity of your character.

In Hedda’s Sword, Maleta shares a childhood memory with Cianan:

“A maid told me babies were found under cabbages, and I tore up the entire garden looking for one.” She shook her head. “The housekeeper was pregnant with twins, and I tried so hard to figure out how the babies got from her stomach to the cabbages. She used to sit in the rocking chair in the evenings—her husband always had to haul her out of it or she’d sit there flapping her arms like a bird trying to get airborne.”

He laughed outright, his face settled into a tender look. “And those walls shall hear the laughter of children again, elingrena. Six years of sadness cannot undo decades of warmth and happiness.” His eyes twinkled. “Although I hate to break the news to you—babies do not come from cabbages.”

Maleta sputtered on her mead. “Cianan, I was four!”

Since kids go through the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny and Santa Clause, this is feasible. Children believe in magic to explain the mysterious. You wouldn’t tell a four-year-old the truth of childbirth – they’re too young. So storks and cabbages come into play. The poor maid never thought Maleta would tear up the whole garden looking!

Part character history, part child POV. I also wanted to contrast what Maleta use to be vs what she was now. This is so at odds with what Maleta BECAME:

When Maleta enters an inn for supper, she can’t just walk in and park her butt in a chair. She’s a warrior, an assassin nun. She’s also a rape survivor and distrusts men. So her entry reads as follows:

She sat in a corner, her back to the soot-stained wall so she could see both exits. She tested the sticky wooden table. It wobbled. With effort, she could tip it over if someone attempted to trap her, but it was sturdy enough to shield her should she need cover.

And when she meets her contact, a man, a traitor:

The door opened, and an unremarkable man in Wolf gear strode in. Blinking away the tears to clear her eyes, Maleta tensed at his approach, felt for the reassuring weight of the double-edged dirk strapped to her right thigh. Her gaze wanted to slide away from him, dismiss him as unimportant. That made her edgy and she focused on him all the more. He scanned the room. His gaze came to rest on Maleta for a long moment. He made his way to the bar, grabbed a tankard from the barkeep and walked over to her.

The barmaid intercepted him halfway across the floor. He murmured something to her and sent her off with a scattering of copper coins on her tray and a slap to her hip. He closed the distance to Maleta’s table.

“’Ow’s th’ chicken?” he asked.

She shrugged. Her heartbeat quickened as she only just remembered to use her much-practiced lower-class accent. “’Ad worse.”

He held out a hand. “Name’s Lucan.”

Sure it was. “Sonja.” Killed during their first rescue mission, Sonja would understand the tribute. Maleta took his hand in hers, ignoring how it made her skin crawl.

She noted the scribe’s callus on his forefinger. If she faced the Wolf’s clerk, her bribes were well spent. “Ye’ve info?”

“Aye.” He sat across from her, both hands on the table. They waited while the barmaid served him roast chicken and brown bread, remaining silent until the woman went away. “Th’ Wolf’s comin’ here, t’ Soto. ’E’ll be travelin’ alone, cross-country through th’ woods ’tween Delph an’ Lann.” He tore into his chicken like he’d not eaten in a week. “Ye ’ave my money?”

Nasty little rat. “Under th’ table.” She handed him a leather bag with the agreed-upon amount and took another sip of her mead, running the Shamari map betwixt Delph and Lann through her mind’s eye. Rocky wooded coulees and kettle moraines, with a thousand places to hide. Perfect for ambush.

It’s a mixture of observations, actions/reactions, and direct thought & commentary

Maleta herself recognized the change in herself:

Maleta sighed. What would it be like, to go home? To stand once more on the parapets? Would she see her father coming over the hill, or Sunniva’s soldiers? Would she ever be able to tolerate the smell of apples? To walk through the orchard without seeing the blood?

Duality’s Dara, like Maleta, is a woman vowing never to be helpless again:

“She didn’t even let me keep one blade.”

“Do you always go to dinner armed?”

“I’m armed even in my sleep, warrior. I’ll never be helpless again.”

In Lycan Tides, Trystan is a warrior, a guardian of those weaker and helpless:

Trystan’s eyes locked on the white face of little Toby, the cabin boy. Those big green eyes were wide with fright, and Toby gripped a cook’s knife in his thin hand. Trystan frowned, shaking his grizzled head at the concept of an armed eight-year-old, more dangerous to himself than anyone else. “Stay with him,” he ordered Niadh. “With yer claws ye’re safer belowdecks. If’n they make it this far, he’ll be needin’ ye.”

“I’ve no burnin’ desire t’ feed the fishes,” Niadh agreed.

When his ship is attacked by pirates, even in his own battle Trystan’s thoughts return to Toby:

Thinking of little Toby below, Trystan hoped so.

“I’ve got Toby,” Niadh rebuked. “Focus  – an’ be careful.”

The truest, easiest conflicts between characters are a lack of empathy/understanding for others with a different POV. “I’m right, you’re crazy.” Why Patrick Swayze’s character in “City of Joy” is so compelling. Jaded, disillusioned pediatric surgeon Max Lowe trying to wrap his brain around the pacifist mentality of the locals, teaching them to stand up for themselves as they teach him to find peace and joy in everyday living.

The hardest to write are the conflicts WITHIN the character. Pull the unexpected. Make your soldier of fortune a philosopher. Make your kindergarten teacher hate dogs. Take Mel Gibson’s Lethal Weapon’s character Sgt. Martin Riggs. Hard-core killer of bad guys. But s softie w/dogs. Not only did he befriend the Rottweiler in the warehouse, he got it out of the bad situation and adopted it. It actually showed up in the next movie as the family pet. I made one of my air mages an avid, albeit terrible, gardener. Because air and earth are polar opposites, she wasn’t very successful, but still she enjoyed it.

We’ve all heard “Showing vs Telling.” The seven deadly sins (words) in fiction writing are:

• Thought
• Felt
• Wondered/Considered/Pondered
• Knew
• Feared

Anytime you use the above words, or similar ones, you’re taking a step back and TELLING the reader what the character is doing instead of SHOWING him actually doing it:

He wondered what had happened to her.

How much stronger/more active is it to say: What had happened to her? More direct thought, closer POV, but still passive. Okay if character is alone, or on the shy side.

Even closer POV to have him ask: What happened to you? You can flavor the question as gently or directly as you want, depending on the character. But it’s characters interacting with each other. A question like that demands a response, or not. What the answer is or isn’t tells a lot about both characters.

He knew something was wrong.

Something was wrong.

“Something’s wrong.”

What was wrong?

“What’s wrong?”

Question or statement, either way works, but can you see how it pulls the reader deeper into the character’s head? Gets stronger?

SKINWALKING

Put a sentence in first person, then switch the “I” to “he” or “she.”

She felt the cold rain kiss her skin, and the wind caress her skin. Goosebumps rose, and she shivered.

Cold rain soaked my clothing, and a shocking tingle skittered along my nerves as the wind caressed the cool damp of my skin. I shivered as my skin pebbled in reaction, and I rubbed my hands up and down my arms trying to smooth away the goosebumps.

Cold rain soaked her clothing, and a shocking tingle skittered along her nerves as the wind caressed the cool damp of her skin. She shivered as her skin pebbled in reaction, and she rubbed her hands up and down her arms trying to smooth away the goosebumps.

Again, it’s unrelenting. You have to BE the character, every single moment. Now you know why multiple POVs can be so tricky. You have to totally change yourself, your background, your way of thinking, moving, reacting. Watch Viggo Mortenson first as a Navy SEAL instructor in G.I. Jane, then as a humble cowboy in Hidalgo and finally as a reluctant king but able warrior in LOTR. Same actor, three different characters & worlds.

Say you have your soldier of fortune fall in love with your kindergarten teacher. Your publishing house allows both POVs, your readers practically demand it. But how different those POVs would be. They would even look at the red in a sunset differently. The teacher might think of the roses in her garden, the soldier would probably think “blood.” Or maybe not. Maybe the soldier thinks of the roses in his grandmother’s garden, and how much he misses her. Would she be proud of him or disappointed in him? Unexpected twists like this add depth to your character, make him less stock cutout and more real-person.

So, where to start? Start with your world. Modern, historical or fantasy. Establish the politics and religion. Select your heritage and culture. Choose your character. Give her a family, an education, a job, and hobbies. Give her a name. Is she rich or poor? From a big family or an only child? Is she the oldest or the youngest? Is she doing what she loves or something she hates “for now” until she can find something better? All these will color how she interacts with the world around her. Is she an optimist or a pessimist? Cautious or up front?

I started w/”Guardians of Light.” Guardians. Protectors. Whether a healer like Dara, a king like Loren, an assassin nun like Maleta, warriors like Cianan and Trystan, or single moms like Finora – they protect and defend the weak and helpless. The Light. The good guys – always working to make their world a better place for everyone. That’s the core I built on. Different countries, traditions, beliefs and backgrounds – but always Guardians on the side of the Light. Once you have the core, the boiled-down version, you can put on the trapping and not worry about straying from the essence of who and what your character is.

I’ve got three books on characterization I swear by:

45 MASTER CHARACTERS: Mythic Models for Creating Original Characters by Victoria Lynn Schmidt 

The Writer’s Digest Sourcebook for BUILDING BELIEVABLE CHARACTERS by Marc McCutcheon

 WHAT WOULD YOUR CHARACTER DO? Personality Quizzes for Analyzing Your Characters by Eric Maisel, Ph.D. & Ann Maisel

I also recommend the RANDOM HOUSE WORD MENU (ISBN 0435414411) for getting various vocabulary and terminology right.

 Once you’ve filled in the blanks of whatever questionnaire you use for character development, study it carefully. Pick one word that describes what your character IS. If whatever god they worship calls them on it at the end of days, how would your character define himself? ONE WORD ONLY. Then put that word on when you write. NEVER take it off. Everything your character says and does, every thought and reaction, stays true to that inner core. You’ll never lose their way if you do that.

 Think of Liam Neeson’s character Robert Roy MacGregor in Rob Roy, explaining “honor” to his sons. “Honor” was what he lived and (almost) died by. He expected others to live by the same code he did, and thus was hugely disappointed. But he was as straight and true a character as ever existed on screen. Because that single word, “honor” was soul-deep, ever-present.

 That’s what SKINWALKING is, involves. That’s what takes a stock character and makes her memorable. And memorable characters turn a good book into a GREAT book.

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It was a dark and stormy night . . .
She had blonde hair and blue eyes.
He was big and hunky.
He walked toward her.
They rode horses to the beach.
They saw a bird.

What’s wrong with this picture????
What picture????

Exactly.  Whether hopelessly clichéd, hopelessly ho-hum, or hopelessly vague, these are NOT exactly the stuff of legends.  Snoopy aside, once you get past wondering what the heck they’re DOING on a beach on a dark and stormy night, you can’t see a thing.  Even if he was a Navy SEAL and she was a bioweapons expert, and they were on that beach to intercept an illegal, deadly virus shipment that would destroy the world, with description like that, would you stick around to find out what happened?  Me neither.

Is it a rocky beach in Maine in November, with howling winds and snow blowing sideways (in which case it SUCKS to be them) or a black sand beach in Hawaii in the middle of a thunderstorm, with lightning and thunder, in May?

Are her eyes blue or are they cornflower blue or turquoise?  Round?  Deep-set?

Is her hair blonde or gold or platinum?  Long, short, straight, curly?  Blowing sideways so you can’t see her eyes?  (Remember the dark and stormy night!)

Does “big” mean tall and broad-shouldered, or really rotund?  Does “hunky” imply “tall dark and handsome” or a tawny Viking god?

Are they riding a horse or a red mare or a sorrel Arabian mare with a white star?

Is that a bird or an eagle or a juvenile bald eagle?

The whole trick to description is to be specific and use correct terminology.  Really, it’s just that simple.  Try to use more exact, less common words.  Why say green when you can say chartreuse?  Why say black when you can use obsidian or sable?

What do you SEE?   What does your POV character see when they look around?  What do they notice?  What do they know?

  An ornithologist or forest ranger might be able to identify a juvenile bald eagle, but a city girl on her first camping trip might just see a big brown bird and that would be okay.  She might be able to differentiate Marburg from Ebola, but she’s never seen an eagle before.  She might be able to spot an adult bald eagle and identify the white head and tail, unless she’s been living under a rock or never left the lab, but a still-brown juvenile?

 Would your Navy SEAL have a machine gun and a handgun or a Heckler & Koch MP5 and a Heckler & Koch P9S?  Would he have a knife or a dive knife or an Aqualung Master Dive Knife?  Where would it be strapped?  How does he hold it in a fight.

I write fantasy romance.  In my first novel, DUALITY, my hero, an empathic elven prince named Loren, and his white war mare Hani’ena, are riding through a swamp looking for Queen Moira, who managed to escape when the villains took over her castle.  Now think about how boring “Loren searched the swamp for Queen Moira” would be.  Here’s the scene in Chapter 9, in Reader’s Digest form:

            Hani`ena tossed her head.  Insects crawled into her ears, her eyes, her nostrils, but a full body shake would send Loren headfirst into the muck.  She snapped her tail.  Green slime clung to the long hairs and splattered against her sides.

            As Hani`ena approached the monolithic half-circle of fallen stones, Loren straightened with caution and reverence.  The sun was nearly gone, and this was the fourth ruin they’d explored in half as many days.

            The swamp made it impossible to track their quarry.  The stench of decaying plants and swamp gas hung in the air, the maddening whine of insects a constant distraction.  Reduced to prudent sensing, he saw no sign of Moira at the first two Circles.  He was impressed she had managed to elude him so far.

            To her credit, Hani`ena never put a foot wrong even though there was no way to see what the knee-deep pools of murky water hid.  As to her mood, however, her snapping tail and pinned-back ears were all the clues he needed.  Necessary the trip might be, but she was out of her element and not enjoying the experience.  All that soft, sucking wetness was not good for her hooves.  They needed dry country as soon as possible.

            Loren eyed the lengthening shadows and drew his sword.  Layers of moss hung like a shroud from a twisted cypress tree.  The stone circle loomed ahead in the deepening twilight as Hani`ena splashed forward.

Note the mixture of body motion and posture, descriptive words, and specificity.  Normally I absolutely abhor “description in a mirror” scenes to describe characters, I would rather have characters describe each other, but I broke my own rule in Chapter 8 of HEDDA’S SWORD, after Maleta is punished by her goddess Hedda for giving in to her human emotions.  I think it works.  See what you think:

            Cianan was the first through the door; he froze.  Worried cobalt eyes widened with palpable shock.  “Lord and Lady, what has She done to you?”

            Mother Kitta shoved him aside to take a look for herself.  “Hedda’s will be done,” she whispered.  Her voice trembled.

            Her face expressionless, Sister Reva just stared, horror in her eyes.

            “What’s wrong with you people?” Maleta asked, irritation giving way to trepidation.  She was so cold!  All she wanted to do was lie down under a dozen blankets afore a roaring fire.  She reached up with icy hands to feel her face, her hair.  “I’ve still but one head,” she reported.

            “There is a mirror out here in the hall.”  Cianan held the door open.  “You had best take a look at what your Goddess considers ‘fair punishment’.”  There was a harshness to his voice, a bitter twist to his mouth.

            Maleta stepped out into the well-lit hallway.  She stared with growing horror at the reflection in the mirror.  A stranger with her eyes stared back at her.  A pale stranger, pale as death, with colorless eyes and silver-frosted hair.  Her entire body appeared to shimmer with winter frost.  Fear gripped her; an icy fist closed around her heart until it stuttered, leaving her gasping.  Then the ice took hold, and the fear receded.  All she felt was a distant cold.  No warmth at all.  There was no fear after the shock, no sorrow.  As if the lock on her body extended to her heart, to her very soul.

The trick is to be SPECIFIC, whether characters or setting or props.

Imagine how flat a world with no sound would be.

No laughter, no music, no dogs barking or bird songs or night crickets or frogs.  Imagine lightning but no thunder.  A volcano or earthquake or tidal wave without the roar.  The white foam of surf pounding on the rocks without the crash.  Rain getting things wet but no pitter-patter on the roof.  Snow turning things white without the hiss.

How would you know the water was hot enough without the kettle screeching?
How would you know you approached the rattlesnake without the rattle to warn you?

FLAT! FLAT! FLAT!

Now imagine a story with no sound.  Inconceivable!  Yet this is one sense that is often overlooked or underworked.

Just for fun, go sit in your backyard, close your eyes and LISTEN.  Can you hear the wind rustling through the tree branches, birds chirping, cars driving by, the kid on the skateboard, the neighbor hammering on his latest wood-working project?  Come back inside.  Close your eyes when you climb the stairs.  Do the stairs creak?  Open a cupboard door.  Do the hinges squeak?  Are you cursed with a washer or dryer that’s slightly unbalanced and dances around and thumps while it works?  Do you have a faucet that constantly drip-drip-drips?  Can you hear the hum of the refrigerator? The computer?

Imagine horseback riding.  Listen to the clop of hooves, the ringing of metal shoes on stone or pavement, the creak of your leather saddle, the horse snorting and blowing, the buzzing of flies, the hiss of a swishing tail striking your legs.  Imagine the crunch of an apple or a carrot.

Imagine your character walking through a fresh-air market or a fair or the zoo on a breezy day. What kinds or animals are there?  Can you identify them by their calls alone?  Imagine the awnings flapping in the breeze, the hawkers calling out their wares.

Listen to the voices.  Smooth tenor or rich baritone or deep bass?  Light and high-pitched or low and sultry?  Nasal?  Whiney?  Twangy?  Do they wheeze or drawl or hiss? Listen for regional dialect, cadence. Do the voices start out slow and speed up as they get more excited/agitated?  Do they start out lower and get higher as they get more excited/agitated?  Do they murmur, or whisper?

Is your cat purring or hissing?  Is your dog whining or growling? Does the engine run smoothly or is it sputtering or missing?  Does your character prefer classical or rock?

Sounds add depth, add richness, add realism.  They put your reader RIGHT THERE.  Sound comes in layers.  Close your eyes.  What do you hear first?  What’s the loudest?  Now “filter” that out.  What do you hear next?  What else?  I’m sitting at the computer.  I can hear the kids watching “Chamber of Secrets” on TV.  They’re arguing about a snake.  The cat’s meowing and scratching at the backdoor.  There are birds nesting on our back porch – the babies are chirping for food.  My neighbor just opened his garage door.  I’m doing laundry; my wash machine just finished filling – there was hissing, then a thunk, now it’s agitating – I can tell by the tap-dance on the concrete floor of the basement.  (I have one of THOSE machines.)   And under it all the hum of my computer and the sound of Led Zepplin from my neighbor’s stereo.

You don’t need a lot.  For example, in HEDDA’S SWORD Chapter 4:

Maleta cursed her decision to flee the paladin at the Broken Blade.  What had come over her?  She had no logical reason to bolt and every reason to stay.  Where was her head?  She’d used up most of her supplies, but declined restocking at Nerthus’ Abbey.  She preferred traveling light and swift to being overburdened with gear.  But hunting had been poor, and now she paid for that decision.

She crouched down under the bare tangled branches of a winterberry bush and drew a knife.  The berries were long gone, but the inner bark was undisturbed.  Not very nutritious, but it was good for killing hunger pangs.  At least for a while.  She scraped away a couple of strips and surveyed the fog-shrouded gulch below her.

Typical of the land itself, the veil was both blessing and curse.  While she could slide through unseen, so could her quarry.  The Wolf had chosen well, forsaking the safer high ground for the cover of the mists.  In the spring, hiding in such a low-lying area was an invitation to disaster, with the rains and flash-floods.  But late in the fall, with perpetual fog, it was perfect.

Maleta chewed one of the strips of bark.  Her mouth puckered.  Grimacing at the bitter taste, she drew her sword and eased her way down the steep rocky embankment.  The constant dampness kept fallen leaves from crackling underfoot, but she couldn’t avoid sending small pebbles tumbling with every step.

North or south?  She crouched in the leaves and looked both ways.  North.  The slight breeze whispered at her back.  There’d be no way to scent a campfire or cooking food until she was on top of it, but there was nothing she could do about that.  She couldn’t depend on sight or scent.  Sound and sensing would have to do.

He was nearby, she could feel it.  She headed up the gulch.  Step.  Stop.  Scan.  Minutes felt like hours; with the cloud cover overhead and the mists swirling around her, there was no way to mark the passage of time.

Something moved ahead.  The mist saved her as an arrow hissed past just off to the right.  She dropped to a crouch and froze, silent, watching but not seeing.  Her heart pounded, making her dizzy.  She strained to listen for the slightest sound, a clue to his whereabouts.

A twig snapped somewhere in front of her.  Maleta glanced around.  There was no cover save the fog.  She gripped the pommel of her sword tighter and held her breath, listening for the angle of the person’s approach.

A shadow coalesced out of the mists, taking on the proportions of a man in dark leathers.  Her ears caught the merest jingle of chain-mail.  She tensed.  When he was close enough for Maleta to judge his height by the thatch of gray hair atop his head, she charged.  She swung her sword low, hoping to take his legs out from under him.

He must have heard her blade, because his own was there to block her crippling blow.  Lightning-fast, he spun and swung at her neck, showing no mercy at her gender.  She dropped, rolled and thrust up toward his belly.  He turned; his chain-mail deflected the blow aimed at the vulnerable spot just below his breastplate.  The black wolf on that breastplate mocked her.

It was a strange fight, silent save for harsh breathing and the ring of clashing weapons, a desperate dance of death in the fog.  But his age caught up with him; his parries slowed a fraction.  Maleta began forcing him back toward his own camp.  He rushed and feigned, trying to get past her, but she held her ground.  Pressing, always forward, to the edge of his encampment.  The spitted carcass of a coney rested over a sliver of a fire crackling in the center.

When the heel of his boot caught on a stray rock, his ankle turned.  He buckled afore her.  She knocked his blade aside and laid the burning edge of Hedda’s Sword against his throat.  The need to kill him choked her.

She felt The Wolf shudder at the touch of the consecrated Goddess-metal, as all his sins rushed back to haunt him.  His eyes widened at her setting-sun breastplate shimmering in the firelight.  The knowledge of his imminent execution was in his murky green eyes as he looked up at her from the frozen ground, but his voice was matter-of-fact when he spoke.  “Fact I’m not dead yet means ye need answers, Hedda’s Own.”

“You killed my parents!” Maleta burst out, glaring down at the scarred, silver-haired man.  She stopped, appalled at herself.  What had she just said?  That wasn’t Hedda’s script!

Overhead, thunder rumbled.

Smell and taste are so intertwined as to be virtually inseparable.  If you don’t believe me, plug your nose and eat a taco.  Or jambalaya.  Doesn’t taste anything like what you thought or remembered, does it?  Halfway through, unplug your nose and take another bite.  Wow, what a difference!  I had a roommate with a defective sense of smell; he overseasoned everything.  He could eat Habanero peppers straight.  His bloody marys were brown!

Breathe through your nose.  Then breathe through your mouth.  What’s the difference?  Describe it.

Smell and taste are probably the most neglected senses in fiction.  They truly are sensual, they enrich your world-building by adding depth.  Like sound, they’re vital to transforming your reader from an observer to an active participant.  Don’t just list them like an inventory, tear them apart, put them on, roll around in them, revel in them.

Say you’re going down a tunnel.  Is it dry and dusty or damp and mildewy?  Is the dust laced with minerals that stings your nose and puts a tang under your tongue?  Copper’s good for that.  Iron, too – like in blood.

You’re walking along a beach.  Is that body of water fresh or salt?  Don’t tell the reader which it is – have your character scent it on the breeze.

You’re walking through a field.  Do you just smell the loamy scent of dark rich earth or is it mixed with manure or a chemical fertilizer?

Walk into a stable.  Inhale warm horse and wood, metal and leather, urine and ammonia and manure.  Straw bedding will smell different than peat moss or wood shavings.  Pine shavings smell different than cedar.  Smell the hay – grass hay has a crisper, sharper edge than the sweetness of a leafier plant like clover or alfalfa.  Try the oats – dry dusty smell but a sweet, almost nutty, taste.   Nuances.

Walk through the forest.  Has it just rained?  Is it about to?  Describe it.  A springtime forest differs from an autumn forest, a conifer forest from a deciduous forest, the taiga from a rainforest or jungle.  What can you smell?  Nuances.

Don’t just say “She smelled smoke.”  Wood smoke?  Pipe smoke?  Cigarette smoke?  Burning plastic or rubber?  Gasoline or oil? Charcoal? BIG difference.

Don’t just say “Candles were burning.”  Beeswax or soy or tallow?  If they’re scented, WHAT scent?

People have a scent, as well.  Deodorant, fabric softener, soap and shampoo aside, each person is unique.  Just ask a bloodhound.  Scents can either attract or repel.  It’s a big component of “chemistry.”  Ever go out with someone, only to discover there was “no chemistry”, “no spark”?   Then you meet someone else, and WHAM!  And that scent can change.  Sweat can change.  Are they sweating from the sun or exertion, from fear or arousal?  How pheromones work isn’t important to the average writer, just be aware that they do.  Smell can be an incredible memory trigger.  A friend of mine finds English Leather incredibly sexy, because an old boyfriend used to wear it.  Old Spice has the opposite effect on me – my grandfather used to wear it.

Taste comes in four basics – salty, sour, sweet, and bitter.  Next time you eat, slow down and focus on your meal.  The warm yeasty smell of bread, that first bite of hot buttered crust.  Crumbled bleu cheese or feta cheese on the fresh spinach salad, maybe fresh ground pepper.  Taste the basil and oregano in the tomato sauce, the sage and onion in the stuffing.  Apple-smoked ham differs from maple-smoked from honey-cured.  You can mix flavors, too.  I make a wicked pork or chicken, simply simmered in chicken broth and orange juice.  (Lime juice is great, too.)  Savor a recipe that calls for Madeira or Burgundy.  Specify the type of mushrooms in the stroganoff.  Don’t be afraid to have your character revel in rich egg custard or smooth buttery caramel.  Pay attention to flavors, smells, textures.  Crisp celery or mushy porridge and everything in-between

Example #1, from HEDDA’s SWORD Chapter 1:

Entering the main room, he was struck by the blissful warmth from two roaring fireplaces, one at each end.  Shadows danced on soot-frosted walls.  The smell of hot stew, roasting meat and — Lady Goddess, fresh-baked bread! — made his mouth water.  Underpinning these were the sour scents of bitter ale and many people in desperate need of baths all crowded together.

Beneath it all, Cianan also caught the sharp smell of fear.

Why was everyone afraid?  And of what?

He strode up to a beefy man serving behind the bar.  “I need a room, and stabling for my horse.”

Haggling ensued until Cianan was satisfied he had not been cheated.  He paid the innkeeper in copper armbands, then took his gear upstairs to the last room on the left as instructed.  It was a tiny cell with worn furniture, but clean and vermin-free.  He laid his cloak afore the fire to dry, wrung out his hair and changed into dry clothes.  He hung his wet clothes on wall pegs, wrinkling his nose at the smell of wet wool.  Stashing his pack under the bed and the flute beneath the pillow, he returned to the common room.

The innkeeper served him a mug of hot cider and a trencher heaped with mutton stew, a fist-sized chunk of sizzling roast pork and a thick slice of steaming brown bread dripping with melted butter.  Cianan carried his meal to a table, where a couple of merchants slid over to make room on the bench.

“Heyla.”  Cianan took a big bite of the bread and closed his eyes in sheer bliss.  Ah, the simple pleasures mortals took for granted — like hot bread drowning in butter.  “Nasty night.”

Example #2, from HEDDA’S SWORD Chapter 3:

            A sense of creeping darkness, of dread, made him pause.  He had felt such but once afore.  Something is wrong.  Cianan moved down the hallway to a narrow, dark stairwell leading down.  Grabbing the smoking rush-and-tallow torch at the entry, he started down the steep winding stairs.  It got damper and mustier as he descended, until the air was nigh unbreathable.  There were no guards.  But Cianan did hear something moving around somewhere below him, the weight of many souls.  The sharp, sour scent of fear, the darker stench of despair, crushed the breath right out of him.  Partner?

            Prisoners.

They are innocents.  Cianan reached the bottom.  The dungeon.  Horrific flashbacks of Safehold Keep, of the demon in Jalad’s consort Tegan twisting mortal men into giant ba-pef warriors, assaulted his memory.  The same cold darkness, the same smell of damp stone and human waste.  He saw rows of rusted iron-barred doors on either side of the corridor, barely visible by the light of a few torches.  He peered through the first tiny slot.  “Dracken rue!”

            Three women, six children, huddled together in the corner for warmth.  Dark matted hair, hopeless dark eyes, skeletal and filthy.  The next cell held the same — Drifter women of all ages, and children.  And the next.  No blankets, food or water.  Fury quickened his steps.  These were no criminals!  Why was Sunniva holding them prisoner, and in such a manner?

            Something moved behind him.

            “Well, well.  So we meet again after all.”

            Surprise stiffened his spine.  Cianan took a deep breath and turned.

Now try it for yourself.  Your characters are sitting down to a meal.  A gourmet meal in a five-star restaurant or a trout over a campfire, doesn’t matter.  Make it come alive with smells, textures, flavors.  Revel in it.

The trick is layering.  What’s the first smell to hit them when they walk into a room or outside?  When you take a bite of something, what’s the first flavor?  Then what surfaces after a bit?  The trick of threes works well.  Read a wine bottle.  You have the initial bouquet, the prominent notes, and the finish.  Keep that in mind when you try your hand at this description.

The sense of touch is the most intimate of all, because you cannot do it at a distance. It requires proactive movement by someone, reaching out to connect – to explore and embrace their world.

This is not a lecture on sexual touching – for that I highly recommend Mary Buckham’s Sexual Tension class, using the 12 Steps to Intimacy.  This is just touching in general, textures, temperatures. 

Think how babies explore their world – they pick up everything and try to put it in their mouths.  They’ve got the right idea.  Watch the kids on a field trip to a nature class,  examining feathers and pine cones and snake skin – sometimes shed, sometimes with the snake still inside.  The difference between an iguana and a salamander.  When my daughter was just over a year old we went to Maine.  Remember that rocky beach?  (We went in July, not in November.)  That baby sat there playing with the rocks for a good half-hour.  She’d pick up one, pass it back and forth, turning it over and over.  She didn’t go for color, she went with texture.  She put the smooth ones down right away – too boring.  She liked the rough, bumpy ones, and would trace the edges from every angle and giggle to herself.

There have been studies about how beneficial pet ownership is.  Stroking something furry can lower blood pressure, especially (for me, at least) if it purrs.  That’s why pet therapy is such a success.  Read up on a dog named Skeezer, and what a difference she made in the lives of some REALLY messed-up kids.

Remember Linus?  Most kids have a favorite blanket they keep for years.  Whenever they get stressed-out, out comes the blanket.   When Joshua was born he got a fuzzy white blanket with balloons on it.  Once when my mom (in Racine) babysat for him, we picked him up but forgot the blanket.  He screamed and screamed.  Nothing worked.  Slow first-time parents that we were, we were halfway to Milwaukee (we lived on 76^th and Hampton at the time) before we thought “blanket”.  Turned around, drove all the way back to mom’s, woke her up, got the blanket.  He conked out right off.  Joshua is thirteen now and still has it.  It’s a nearly transparent white rag now, can’t even see the balloons anymore, but don’t even suggest throwing it away!

Okay, so kids have blankets, but don’t be too quick to laugh.  I’ll bet everyone here has a favorite sweater or old pair of jeans.  How many of us whine about how we can’t wait to “break in” that new pair of shoes?  How many of us have an expensive new outfit we never wear because it’s just not comfortable?

I love reading books.  I love their smell, the sound of the pages turning, the way they feel in my hand.  Joshua made these fantabulous little bowls in pottery class – l love every little dent and ripple.  Tami made a pink clay elephant I have on my desk at work.  Very stress-relieving.  (Who can be stressed out playing with a pink elephant?  When that colonel’s wife is hollering at me on the phone I just pick up Tami’s elephant and say “yes ma’am.”)   I have a soapstone candle-holder that’s my favorite.  I love the smooth, slippery feel.  I have a small carved wooden box on my computer desk where I keep my business cards.  I love tracing the carvings on it, the feel of every leaf edge and raised petal.  I love standing under a really hot shower, and big fluffy towels afterward.

Go on – be a kid again.  Explore your world with the sense of touch.  A fun game we play at home is blindfold someone, hand them something and see it they can guess what it is by touch alone. 

Size shape weight texture form substance temperature

Soft hard smooth rough bumpy scratchy sharp dull solid liquid hot warm cold frozen

Living or not, natural or artificial

Think of struggling across blowing sand dunes, your feet sliding with every step.  Think of squelching through mud, it sucking at your shoes with every step.  Ever lose a shoe in mud, stepping out of it and hitting the cold wet with your bare foot?

Gardeners know what the feel of dirt is like.  Walk barefoot in the grass, on the beach.  Feel the bark of the tree, the shape of leaves, the texture of flower petals.  Even a bowl of mixed nuts – each is different – try the blindfold test on them.  Popcorn.  Chips.  Can you feel the difference between merino, cashmere and angora?  Feel the difference between Egyptian cotton sheets and the ones on sale at Walmart.

Now imagine your character doing the same thing.  The first time I played with a pet raccoon, I was surprised at how soft their paws were, how much like hands.  Give the characters preconceived notions and then surprise them.  I remember reading a Battlestar Galactica book when I was young (the old series, not the new – when Starbuck was a GUY).  They were riding unicorns.  Now do you think “smooth, satiny, white” when you think “unicorn”?  These were black, and their coats were harsh and wiry.  And I thought “Wow, that’s different!  COOL!”

Think of your skin.  Parts that see the sun all the time are rougher, drier, more weathered.  Parts that don’t see the sun so much (or ever) are smoother and paler.  Compare a rancher’s hands to an executive’s.  Think of the kind of man who gets a manicure.  The type of woman who doesn’t.

In HEDDA’S SWORD, Maleta notices Cianan’s hands:  “Long musician’s fingers, with an archer’s calluses on the first two.”  Cianan notices hers, as well:  “His thumb slid across the petal-soft skin gracing the back of her hand, so at odds with the sword-calluses on her palm.”  Both warriors with a softer side – literally. 

Cianan prefers killing from a distance – he hates to see the eyes of those he has to kill. Hence the bow.  Maleta is an assassin for the goddess Hedda, and only kills those who richly deserve it.  She has no qualms about using Hedda’s Sword to rescue children or free slaves.  And you can tell their weapon of choice by their hands.

Here’s a scene from DUALITY, Chapter 20:

            Dara sighed.  She’d fished a verdant green tunic of soft twice-combed wool and finely-spun undyed woolen hose from the back of her wardrobe.  Verdeen had somehow missed them among all the dresses.  Her head ached.  How had she sunk so low so fast, hiding from her maid?  She shuddered.  Royalty.  How could anyone live like this?  No privacy?  All the demands, the conflicts?  Having to always put the interests of others afore your own?  What did Cedric do for fun?  Why in the Lady’s name would anyone want the job?  She could see why Loren spent so little time here.  She had no idea why Deane found it all so appealing.

            Power, the Voices whispered.  Sssome will do anything for power.  Look at Jalad — and Tegan.  Face the Darknesss of Loren’sss Truth and learn from it.  Tegan chose the Darkness —  

            She still wasn’t used to Their constant presence in the back of her mind.  “Nay —”

            — You know thisss to be true.

            Get out of my mind!  She was so tired, but she couldn’t sleep.  Dara sat down in one of the wingchairs and tucked her knees under her chin, under a giant portrait of king somebody-or- other.  She couldn’t keep them all straight.  The chairs were straight-backed and armless and should have been uncomfortable.  But the cushions were covered in a velvety plum and seemed to mold themselves to the sitter so they oozed comfort.  Like everything else in the elven realm — too perfect to be real.

           Footsteps tripped on the polished marble tile.  Dara looked up to see Alani striding toward her.  Well, make that almost everything perfect. 

Flannel shirts.  Satin sheets.  Granite countertops.  Steaming hot bubble baths.  Brushing your hair.  Typing on a keyboard.  Hugging a child.  Petting a cat.  Warming your hands under a horse’s mane. Opportunities to mention, describe and revel in touch are all around you.  Put them on your pages.  Characters do not live in a bubble.  Have them embrace their world.  Clothing, their environment, animals, each other.  See what works for you.

When I originally designed this class, I wanted to call it the 5 Senses, nice straightforward class about observations and world-building and description at its most basic level. But then, I thought “What a minute. There are actually six senses in life, so they should be in writing, too.” Hence the sixth sense. Movies and parapsychologists aside, I am not qualified to comment on ESP and true psychics, let alone teach it, although I definitely believe they exist.

All of the other senses are observing or interacting with the external. The sixth sense is purely internal. First become of aware of yourself, and then expand outward. Become familiar with the “norm”, and then look for “different.” If you’re walking through the woods, and all of a sudden the birds and animals fall silent, that’s a problem. Something’s changed in their perception of what-should- be. They might be reacting to you. They might be reacting to the big bear behind you. Maybe you should notice the big bear behind you.

What I’m referring to is AWARENESS of your surroundings, heightened senses. Ever feel someone staring at you, turn around and well, see someone staring at you? Ever finish another person’s sentence? Ever know who’s calling when the phone rings before you check the caller ID? Ever know it’s going to rain when you wake up on a sunny morning and by mid-afternoon it’s pouring sideways? Ever feel not-quite-right, not sick but not-quite-right, then go in to a doctor and find out there is a problem? Any really spooky variations of not wanting to get on that plane, making an  excuse to be late and miss it, then it crashes?

Cops and military scouts, Special Forces and covert operatives survive by listening to that inner warning radar. Bob Mayer mentioned that celebrities are told, “If you feel nervous and twitchy, like someone’s watching you, pay attention. You’re probably being stalked.” Ever go on a blind date or meet someone that just made you uncomfortable, that gave you the creeps? Even if they looked perfectly ordinary and harmless? I’m surprised when I look at serial killer photos how plain and average and unremarkable they look. Their neighbors always say, “He was such a quiet boy.”

 
Yeah, quiet like quicksand.

 
I love the Firefly episode “Out of Gas” which shows all the characters’ first meeting with the captain and Zoe. When they met their pilot Wash, Mal asked Zoe what she thought. Her response: “He bothers me.” Mal asked for clarification, given Wash’s glowing recommendations, and all Zoe could say was, “I don’t know. Something.” Mal scoffs but Zoe sticks to her guns. “He bothers me.” (Wash and Zoe end up married. AWARENESS.)

You feel a tingle. They hair on your neck and arms stands up. Your heart starts to pound. You breathe faster. Your eyes dilate. Your muscles quiver. Anticipation. Awareness. Adrenaline pouring in. Fight or flight.

It doesn’t have to be as extreme as a verifiable threat, as in peril. Chemistry and sparks fall into this category. When your heroine meets your hero for the first time, she should feel threatened and uneasy. He threatens her status quo. Most of us like ordinary, predictable. It’s comfortable. Most of us would hesitate when someone threatens to rock our little world. It’s an unknown. It’s not predictable or controllable. Awareness. Attraction but…

Only a madman or a fool (or an adrenaline junkie) would rush headlong into danger without pausing. Most heroes don’t go looking for danger, let alone run toward it. They find themselves in a situation, they scope it out, they deal with it. They react afterward.

In your novel, hero and heroine meet. Awareness, threat. Maybe they flee the first time, or two. They “rub each other the wrong way.” But eventually they have to stand their ground. They investigate the threat, they “scope out the situation” and get to know each other. On one level it diffuses the threat, but heightens awareness and chemistry. They’re safe on an external level (heroine decides hero is not a serial killer) but he still threatens her emotional self. He “rocks her world” and suddenly nothing is certain anymore.

There’s the backbone of your story.

It’s not finding the killer or saving the president or crowning the true queen. It’s not plot.

It’s character. It’s chemistry. It’s awareness. It’s the courage to meet the threat.

It gives you the writer the opportunity to “skinwalk”, to put on your character, become your character. If you don’t shiver when you meet your hero’s eyes across that crowded ballroom, if your gut doesn’t tighten, you have a problem. You have to ramp up the danger. You have to know your heroine well. I don’t mean favorite color, I mean secrets fears and dreams. You have to find the type of hero that would be most threatening to your heroine.

In HEDDA’S SWORD, when Maleta and Cianan meet in Chapter 2, we have awareness, attraction, threat, and flight. Maleta starts out status quo:

Entering the Broken Blade, Maleta let her eyes adjust and scanned the flickering shadows for Black Wolf breastplates. No sign of her contact yet. The heat from the fireplace and smoking torches felt like a furnace after the breath-stealing cold night outside. Wood smoke, pipe smoke and the scent of burning tallow tickled her nose and stung her eyes. Wearied to the bone, she rolled her bandaged shoulder, testing the repair to her quilted jerkin.

It had been slashed in her strike against the late, unlamented Dealer, Rigel. The combined monies of the bounty and what Rigel himself had carried would hold Mother Tam and Nerthus’ Abbey for several weeks. It still amazed her that a peaceful goddess like Nerthus, Goddess of Family, of Hearth and Home, would deal with Hedda’s Own. Hedda’s assassin.

She reached up to squeeze the rainwater out of her short hair. It was almost long enough to curl around her fingers. Time to cut it. It would never again be used as a weapon against her. Thoughts of rough hands tangled in her once-long hair flooded her mind, making her skin crawl. She banished the images to her nightmares, away from the here-and-now where she needed all her wits about her.

She sat in a corner, her back to the soot-stained wall so she could see both exits. She tested the sticky wooden table; it wobbled. With effort, she could tip it over if someone attempted to trap her, but it was sturdy enough to shield her should she need cover.

She wrapped herself tighter in the gray woolen cloak she’d worn over her usual attire of tunic, breeches and boots. She’d hidden her setting-sun breastplate in a safe place, and her broadsword as well. Both were made of gleaming Goddess-metal, impervious to rust and the elements. If any here discovered her association with Hedda, the Great Equalizer, she’d be lucky to escape with her life. None but her prey and those she rescued knew Maleta’s true identity as Hedda’s Own. The former were dead. The latter owed her their lives and would take her secret to their graves.

Her close-cropped hair, blackened eye and scarred cheek were all dead giveaways to the other mercs in the room of her own shield-maiden status.

Enter Cianan, a warrior-priest for the Goddess of Light:

The door flung open, and three more men entered with the wind. “Heyla, Cary,” the tallest one called to the barkeep. “Any hot cider left?”

“Still whinin’ ‘bout th’ cold, pup?” Cary poured three dippers of steaming cider into a tankard, sliding it down the bar. “Ye ain’t e’en seen cold yet.”

The men in the room laughed, a sound of camaraderie, not mockery. Maleta stared at the newcomer. His aura was different from his companions. The shining gold of a pure soul was blinding in the surrounding darkness. That’s all she needed! What was a paladin doing in a place like this?

His head snapped around as if he could feel her probe. She cursed her curiosity as his piercing cobalt gaze locked with hers. Something shifted in his appearance, a mask of the mind that she couldn’t see past. Almost as if her eyes saw one thing and her mind another. Meal or nay, now that she had the information she sought, she should
move on.

Too late. He strode toward her with the fluid swing of a lifelong horseman, tankard cradled in both hands as if warming them. The body of a sinner on a saint. Her breath caught in her throat. As he approached, she realized how tall he was. There were few men who could look her in the eye. She would come up to this man’s chin.

Goawaygoawaygoaway. She tensed as he stopped just on the other side of the table. Unable to tear her gaze from the unwavering intensity of his, she trembled as his scent, like fresh-cut fir boughs with a warm hint of musk, surrounded her. Who was this man? Trouble, that’s what he was. In more than the obvious. Why was he singling her out?

“Heyla, shield-maiden,” he began in a voice as rich and smooth as rare Drenieval whiskey. The underlying lethal heat in his voice could rob the unwary of their senses. “I have not seen you here afore.” He held out a hand. “My name is Cianan.”

She eyed that hand, unwilling to touch him, sensing it would give him too much knowledge, too much power. Long musician’s fingers, with an archer’s calluses on the first two. Even without their hands touching, the Truth of his name pierced the shadows around her soul, the shadows of lies and pretext that were her new identity. She stared up at him, helpless not to.

Those eyes drew her in, promising things she couldn’t even comprehend. They were not the eyes of a saint. Too blue, too knowing. Long raven hair glinted blue-black in the firelight. Foreign accent, not one she recognized, with a lilt she couldn’t place. Charm she trusted not at all. She focused on slowing her pounding heart, forced herself to breathe. “What d’you want?”

His lips quirked in a smile. “Many things, lady, but I would begin with your name.”

“And why should I be givin’ that out?”

He just smiled, but his eyes studied her. Watchful. Probing. Aware.

Too aware. Time to end this. “My name and my business are just that — mine.” She moved to rise.

He raised a hand. “Nay, finish eating. I shall go. But tell me your name first.”

She blurted the first name that came to mind. “Sonja.”

Knowledge of the lie flashed in his eyes, and she clenched her fists with impotent fury. Damn paladin. What game was this? “Then I bid you a good evening, Sonja.” He dipped his head and returned to his friends at the bar.

So much for getting a room for the night here. She downed the rest of her meal, gathered her pack and fled the tavern. The cold air cleared her head. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been forced to camp out in the open. She didn’t enjoy it, but she’d survive. She always did. Please, Hedda, don’t let him follow.

 

And so we come to the end of the lectures. We’ve taken each sense separately and broken them apart. Hopefully I’ve made all of you aware of how each of them is all around you and not by themselves. We’re enfolded on all sides by a many-layered multi-sensory world that we’re a part of. The trick is to be aware and observant.

Think of a campfire. You have light, and dancing flames. You have the crackle and pop. You have wood smoke that lingers in your hair and clothes. You can see the coals flaring red when the breeze hits them, darkening when the breeze fades, almost as if the fire was breathing. You have warmth and radiance washing over your face and body, flushing your cheeks. You have the sting of hot ash landing on your arm, perhaps the smell of singed hair.

All of this is nice but all of it together may be over the top especially if you yield to the temptation to describe everything in such exhaustive detail. Purple prose is out. You don’t want to gag yourself let alone an editor or your readers! So how do you have lean, mean, relevant description that’s still multi-sensory?

The trick is to bringing your story to descriptive life is to pick what would be most important to your character in their present state of mind. If it’s September in the Colorado Rockies and they’ve ever-so-gracefully tripped over a log, rolled down a hill and fallen into a creek, now that night is falling and they’re wet and freezing, the heat is what they’ll be most grateful for. If they’ve spent most of the afternoon lost, dodging imaginary giant vicious owls and rabid packs of grizzlies, that glowing light in the distance, the cheerful dancing flames holding back the terrifying darkness is what they’ll gravitate toward.

People don’t notice everything at once. We register that it exists but it doesn’t really get our attention unless it involves something that matters. If you’re entering a new place you’ll notice what’s different from your old place. If you go to a concert you’ll notice the sounds – that’s why you’re there. Some senses are just too overwhelming to be avoided – like the popcorn in a movie theater. I always leave a movie feeling like I’ve bathed in buttered oil. Or like the seaside docks – fish and brine.

Try to focus on what’s unique to that scene. Think about the differences right before a battle, the fear, the anticipation, the tension, pennants flapping the breeze and weapons rattling – during a battle, the smoke and blood and screams – and after a battle, the exhaustion, the gratitude to be alive, the feeling of spent violence, the groans of the wounded and the silence of the dead.

And because the character’s always moving forward, changing locations, and their state of mind is in a constant state of flux, the scenes will change as well, from sights to sounds to smells to taste to touch. What they’re noticing will change. You’ll be multi-sensory throughout your story, by picking and choosing what matters most right at that moment.

Thank season and locale and occupation first. What’s the norm for this character? Then, every time the status quo changes, describe the difference. Which they will notice because it’s not what they’re used to. Think about how much you notice food when you’re hungry. Doing the same with your characters will make them seem more human.

Below is a healing scene from DUALITY, Chapter 13:

 
“Relax, lass,” Orla said. “Ye know healing canna take place in a troubled heart an’ mind.”

Dara closed her eyes, felt the softness of the bed and the warmth of the fire against her skin. She took a deep breath of cleansing sage-tinged smoke, held it in, and exhaled. Then again. She felt her racing pulse slow back down to normal.

“That’s it,” Orla approved.

Agata returned with a small drum. “Let’s begin.” She began drumming and chanting under her breath. Dara couldn’t make out the words but she felt her heartbeat matching pace with the drum’s slow, steady beat.

Orla placed a hand on Dara’s head and another on her belly. Dara felt the warm green energy flowing through her body like a spring mist. The firelight danced behind Dara’s eyelids almost in rhythm with Agata’s low chant. She could have sworn she saw the shapes of animals in the flickering shadows — a rabbit, a fox, a wolf, a badger, an eagle, a deer, a bear and a great long-necked winged creature she’d never seen before but could almost recognize…

Spirits of the forest and mountains, protective totems of the Clans, Dara realized, grateful that they’d help a stranger. She felt the bruising fade, the aches and pain dissolve like salt in water. The ribs fused, the muscles reknit until she could breathe again without pain. The relief was so intense she wanted to shout.

But there was something else, she sensed. A darkness, insidious like smoke. It was nowhere yet everywhere and she felt its hold every time she reached for her former Power. Tears ran down her cheeks. The healer had spoken true — the Iron was still with her. She felt Orla withdraw and Agata’s chants and drums faded into silence. Dara swiped at the tears. “I’m sorry. I am grateful to you both. Thank you.”

Agata inclined her head. “Ye were meant t’ come here, child. In a way, ‘tis like a comin’ home. Your folk are from these verra mountains.”

Orla looked tired. “I’m sorry I canna do more, lass.”

And later that night, when Dara can’t sleep:

Trystan did not answer but collected some wood for a small fire at the edge of the tunnel where he and Niadh settled.

Loren soon dozed off on his side of the fire but Dara tossed and turned. Odd how the night was anything but quiet even in a dark cave. She heard every little sound. All too used to sleeping alone, she found she noticed every little smell and noise in the camp. The voices of the hunters at the next fire, Loren’s snoring, the quiet murmuring of the shaman in prayer, the snuffling of a puppy, the padding feet of someone on their way past, whispers and giggles. There were the smells of wood smoke, tanning hides, wet hound, leftover food. Her ears caught the low sound of a flute.

Eventually she gave up and rose to her feet. She wrapped herself in Loren’s cloak and padded to the cave entrance. Niadh watched her but Trystan’s back was to her.

Hani`ena stood outside in the dappled moonlight. Frosty air streamed from her nostrils with every breath but the Clan boy had covered her with a woolen blanket and she seemed comfortable enough. The mare nuzzled her when she approached.

“Are you all right?” Dara asked.

Hani`ena tossed her head and whickered.

Dara could just make out a couple of shadowy forms further down the trail. Sentries, she guessed.

“Could ye no’ sleep, either?” Trystan’s rough voice asked behind her.

She turned. “Nay. Mayhaps it’s just an overflow of healing energy but I’m twitchy.”

He nodded and dropped to the ground. “Th’ forest spirits are out on th’ wind tonight. P’rhaps ‘tis them ye sense.”

“Mayhaps.” She stared down into his eyes. In the moonlight they glowed feral-green though she knew they were blue. Must be a trick of the light.

Trystan nodded to Hani`ena, who dropped her head and snorted back. He smiled. “No’ much scares ye, warlady, does it?” he asked the horse, as if half-expecting an answer. He turned to Dara. “Nor ye, I ‘spect.”

“You’d be wrong.” Dara rubbed her hands up and down her arms, staring up at the moon. “Jalad scares me. Wearing this brand for the rest of my life scares me. Demons subverting children scare me. Never getting my powers back scares me. Being alone in this world scares me.” She turned to Moira’s brother. “See? Everything scares me.”

He shook his head and rose to his feet but did not approach. “Yer no’ alone, lady. The one ye travel wi’ shall ne’er leave ye. As fer th’ rest, ‘twould scare anyone. Most ne’er see such times but those that do live fore’er in th’ future stories.”

“I don’t want to be a campfire story! Most of those heroes are dead and I’m still alive!”

“Ye’ve a fire in yer belly ‘twould hold off th’ dark. Why’d ye fight Jalad? Is it just personal?”

She shook her head. “Nay. He slaughtered my people. My kin. He must answer for that. If not me then who?”

“Long ago, th’ Guardian spirits walked among folk, wrapped in the guise o’ men — an’ women.” There was a faraway look in his eyes as he too stared at the moon. “They were teachers an’ counselors mostly but there were true-warrior spirits among them as well.”

Hani`ena snorted.

“Where’d they all go then?” Dara asked. “We sure could use their kind these days.”

“I’m no’ so sure they be all that far away. Some nights they be close indeed, lady.”

“I hope so, Trystan, for all our sakes.” She shivered in the cold mountain air. “I’d better go back in. I imagine your sister will be here bright and early.”

He nodded, seemingly impervious to the cold. He looked like he belonged here in the moonlight, in the night. “I’m goin’ scoutin’, see how close they got t’night. Rybyk makes good time when he has a reason fer movin’.” He slipped off into the shadows and was gone.

Dara went back into the cave. Niadh watched her pass as she returned to the guest fire.

Loren’s eyes opened as she settled back down. “You are freezing! Did you go outside?”

“I couldn’t sleep, so I went to check on Hani`ena.”

“You should try to rest. It is a long ride tomorrow.”

 

Woke up to son grousing, “Hold Still!” He’s trying to draw Abby & Chandra but they keep moving. He likes to draw but thinks he’s terrible at it. Aren’t artists always their own worst critics? Today’s Abby’s birthday. She’s two. Can Chows have terrible twos even when technically they’re fourteen? We decided to get her a can of Alpo for her birthday. If only the kids were that easy to please!

ACK – TWO teenagers in the house! Somebody save me…

Tami’s on the OTHER computer playing Wizards 101… Breakdancing dragons???

Todd’s making pancakes for breakfast. I missed the boat while checking emails – I like to add vanilla & cinnamon to the batter. Kids will just have to take straight today…

Only one more week until we leave for Maine. Spoke w/a provider biller yesterday from there. I had to ask her if she was from there, and when she asked why I said, “You sound just like my dad!” Made me homesick to just pack up and leave, but considering next Wednesday’s paycheck is financing the trip, I think I’d better wait. Hope my royalty check arrives before next Saturday. Could use a little extra.

Todd has to go p/u his last check from Pick N Slave. Bastards still fighting his unemployment. He had his first hearing. Still waiting to hear back. He’s been looking for new job but this isn’t exactly a hiring economy. WPS threatening to shut off our power. We DID get notice that Josh & Tami get free breakfast & lunch through school, we applied for Quest (WI Medicaid/Food Stamps) and will apply for energy assistance when it opens up next month. Todd’s cashing in his 401K & I’m applying to get my student loans on hold. Got a notice from the IRS that they want the $900 we owe on taxes. Yeah right. Where’s THAT supposed to come from?

This too shall pass…

Won a packet of stuff from fellow writer Ella Drake, came in the mail. Bookmarks & Trading Cards & a Samhain GC. Very cool – made my day! She’s a wicked talented writer – sci fi & fantasy romance.

Got confirmation from FF&P on dates for my two classes: My Beginner-to-Intermediate class, The SIX Senses, is 11/5-18/2012 and my Intermediate-to-Advanced class, SKINWALKING (close POV) is 8/13-19/2012. What’s really cool is I get PAID! First time ever. It never occurred to me that I’d get $$ – usually I just get a trade in promo, which also works. But a check? Very surreal…

She wanted to know if I had any other classes lined up. Not at the moment, but was REALLY tempted to ask my editor what else I was good at!<LOL> Sometimes doing something and teaching others how to do it are two completely different things!

Lined up another guest blog for my Riever’s Heart release next month. Only another 6 weeks!

Will be working on WIP, God of Fyre Mountain, which has been sadly neglected during the real-life family drama lately. Feel the need to WRITE! (Also need to distract myself from the only-one-week-to-go until we can leave for Maine!)

 

On vacation at dad’s house in Bowdoinham, Maine. Kids upstairs eating blueberry pancakes and bacon. Not feeling well today. Going to take it easy and maybe take a nap later this afternoon. Have everything ited down or put away for the storm this afternoon. Most of the rain s/b west of us, but have a generator just in case.

Saw the Blue Angels fly overhead from the airshow in Brunswick yesterday. Went to Old Port in Portland to see their version of Art in the Park. Was supposed to be an antique car show somewhere but we couldn’t find it. Stopped in Freeport on the way home to go to LL Bean but there was NO parking. Anywhere.

Today – everything’s shut down/closed/cancelled.

We’ll see how bad it gets. Irene should be pretty tired by the time she claws her way up here!<LOL>

Hanging out around the house today.

RIEVER’S HEART Release is 9/27/11 and I’ve been working hard lining up promo appearances throughout the Internet world. This what I’ve got lined up so far:
Sunday 9/4/11 – Guest Blogging at LASR

Week 9/5-10/11 – Author of the Week at fullmoonbites.blogspot.com

Saturday 9/17/11 – Book Signing at Barnes & Noble on Rib Mt Drive in Wausau, WI from Noon-3 PM CST

Tuesday 9/20/11 – Guest Blogging at Savvy Authors

Wednesday 9/21/11 – Guest Blogging at maryhughesbooks.blogspot.com

Saturday 9/24/11 – Chatting over at CoffeeTime Romance from 2-5 PM EST at their Chatters Yahoo Group

Sunday 9/25/11 – Interview w/Sweet & Sexy Divas at sweetnsexydivas.blogspot.com

Sunday 9/25/11 – Meet Verdeen (Heroine from Riever’s Heart) Pre-Release Party at Samhain Cafe Yahoo Group from 7-9 PM EST

Tuesday 9/27/11 – Guest Blogging over at Tina Donahue’s at tinadonahue.com

Tuesday 9/27/11 – Guest Blogging over at Delilah Devlin’s at delilahdevlin.com/blog

Thurday 9/29/11 – Interview over at Holly Polk’s at fullmoonbites.blogspot.com

OCTOBER (All Month) – Author of the Month over at Alternative_Read.com

Week 10/10-15/11 – Author of the Week over at LASR

I may be adding more but that’s where I’m at right now for RIEVER’S HEART. Hope to see you there!

Soldier’s Night Mission by Cindy Dees
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

As a Navy brat and Tricare employee in real life, I have the utmost respect and admiration for our military. (Yes I’m one of those – I LOVE a guy in uniform!) Only thing better than a guy in uniform is a girl in uniform…and veterans who write romance? Too cool! So I picked up this Cindy Dees book from the trade shelf at work and it sounded interesting. Admit it, ladies – special forces guys are HOT! And I like smart heroines – I HATE damsels-in-distress. The scenario is Armageddon w/a twist – meteorite scheduled to slam into Nowhere, Siberia…which just happens to be the secret location of a doomsday device. Suddenly it’s not about barbequed bunnies anymore but the whole human race. Racing clock, international relations, embassies and spies, secret government installations in the desert… Ms. Dees packs a LOT in 217 pages!

The character chemistry was smokin’ hot. I was hooked with “I know better than to walk away from your kind of fire, chere.” (Yes, Carter’s from NAWLINS) Good-old-boy goes to MIT? More to this guy than your average grunt-with-a-gun. Lily’s brilliant but shy and not used to any excitement – she lives in a lab w/math equations and chalkboards. Her idea of getting out of the lab is teaching bored college students in a classroom. She’s in way over her head, but she holds her own. These two are great together.

Very fun book!

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Rattlesnake Crossing by J.A. Jance
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I don’t read a lot of mysteries – I write fantasy romance and normally I read one of those two genres, but I found this on the “trade” shelf at work and thought I’d check it out. I am SO glad I did! This is not just a mystery book – this is a PEOPLE book, with complex true-to-life issues. Sheriff Brady runs the gambit from single-mom-working mom-woman boss ordering armed men around-dating after husband’s death-what do in laws think of THAT? She has ISSUES – we all can relate to any of those!

Put on top of that a serial killer (and a profiler insisting it’s a KID – well, barely adult ex-teen), a town’s lack of faith in a woman sheriff, and a best friend w/a toddler in a desperate need of a heart transplant…

This is a multi-faceted book, with “real people” characters I LOVED. There’s so much gray – no black and white for this author! There are so many things that AREN’T right-or-wrong, there are no easy answers and no easy fixes. No matter who wins, someone loses. Just like real life.

This was book six, and I haven’t read the first five. No problem to follow this story line, but the history is condensed in such a way I probably won’t read the first five now, since I know what’s happened thus far. I WILL read future books in the series though!

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So it’s time to get back into the swing of things. Had a pretty horrific autumn 2011 and it’s time to put that all behind me and start fresh. Get back into a writing routine. That being said, I make the following vows:

1.) To read a book a week and review it on Goodreads. Last year’s reading goal was 100 books, impossible w/my schedule. A book a week is much more attainable. My Goodreads account has a lot of people following my reviews – and I’ve let them down. I vow to do better in that regard. I am already working on J.A Jance’s “Rattlesnake Crossing.”

2.) To got on Twtter daily with an update of either life or writing origin. Again, have been slacking and have lost a couple of folllowers who probably thought I died or something!

3.) To write DAILY. I am working on 2 manuscripts and will alternate days. I work on Marek Sn/T/Th and Dax M/W/F. I give myself Saturdays as an off day – running, skating, shopping, whatnot.

4.) To blog weekly. I plan on doing a personal piece on Sunday and a writing-related piece on Wednesday – a regular schedule.

5.) To attend one writer’s conference and enter one writing contest a year. Thinking of entering Marek in the Sandy, since they’re opening it up to published authors this year…

6.) To call my mother every week.