Judith Leger's Blog, page 17
April 24, 2011
Regan Taylor's AMERICA'S HERO
I've always been pretty lucky with my books because they come to me in dreams. I tend to dream scene by scene each night and then write it out the next day. I think what happens is, well you know how they say we only use 10% of our brains? I believe that when we sleep – dream – we tap into at least part of that other 90%. That that's where our creativity comes from. If we write down our dreams we have a way to tap into it.
So, one day about two years or so ago I dreamt about this absolutely gorgeous guy who was the epitome of a hero. This was the first layer of the story. This guy was a Hollywood Hottie and he played parts in movies that were the epitome of my personal hero as well as one I thought could be anyone's.
The second layer came from a poster I have of the Marine's. You may remember oh, maybe 10 years ago there was a commercial for the Marine Corps where it shows two knights on a tournament field fighting. Their swords clash as they charge each other on their horses. The commercial shows a few other scenes finishing with the knight engaging in further sword play and then morphing into a Marine in his dress blues. It ends with a statement about how there are still knights who stand for the right with us today. My boyfriend, who flew 53's for the Marine Corps, gave me a copy of a poster based on that commercial. Marine's are our modern day knights.
So I went a step further and made my Marine Hero a woman F/A-18 pilot. Hence – He plays America's Hero, she IS America's Hero.
I happen to be lucky at the time I started writing the story because I was on vacation and each morning I'd wake up and write what I'd dreamt the night before. I finished the first draft in two weeks. There were, I knew, some issues to be addressed. I'm a stickler for accuracy, even in fiction and I wanted to be certain I was spot on.
Luck was with me because I quickly found two F/A-18 pilots who were willing to look over my flight scenes. MC and Razor (call signs) looked over my take off's, landings, air combat maneuvers and Marine protocol. They also took the time to have my space shuttle sequences looked at for accuracy.
America's Hero was fun to write and I was pretty lucky meeting and making some new friends along the way.
http://www.thedarkcastlelords.com/
http://www.regantaylor.com/
Blog url: http://regantaylorsworld.blogspot.com/
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PkKgiBrwo-8
Blurb:
He plays America's Hero. She IS America's Hero.
When Hollywood Hottie Austin Quinn reads about Marine Corps Major Cass Winter's crash and daring rescue he decides to bring the pilot's story to the big screen. But the Major wants nothing to do with the actor they call America's Hero.
Excerpt:
"Yeah. I've watched you. No, not like one of your gaga fans." She told him. "You aren't that interesting, you know. You're just a guy, a guy with long blond hair and amazing green eyes. I'll give you the amazing on the eyes. They're a color I don't think I've ever seen before, and when they go from pale to that kind of dark mossy green like they are now, I'll admit, if I was your normal kind of girl I'd be intrigued."
"So you aren't normal?"
"I'm normal. I'm just not into actors. I prefer guys with substance."
"And I don't have substance?"
"No, you—"
He cut her off when his lips swept across hers. She wanted to feel outrage, offended, but his lips felt so good on hers. Warm, inviting, like they were meant to be molded to hers.
And not just her lips, the thought of those lips moving down her neck, to her breasts, rubbing, not sucking or licking but rubbing across her nipples sent a shiver down her spine that ended between her legs. It didn't end, it kept on pulsing through her, a wave of desire she didn't think existed.
She'd been turned on by guys before, had some great sex, but this was a whole other experience, and it was just a kiss. A closed mouth kiss that left her wanting more. Wanting so much more that without thought she parted her lips, welcoming him into her mouth.
Then, when his tongue met hers, a quiver of desire shot through her again. "Quinn," was all she managed before she brought her arms up around his neck, her fingers entangling in his thick hair. In turn he drew her into his arms, cradling her close, holding her like he cherished her above all else.
In the back of her mind she wondered if she had brought this on and then just as quickly pushed the thought away to simply enjoy the kiss. If there hadn't been a loud, shrill bird call from outside the shack Cass would have pulled Quinn to the ground and demanded he have his way with her.
"What was that?" Quinn asked.
"A bird, I think. It didn't sound like the merry men and their bird calls."
"You think we should check it out?"
"Definitely. If we're not alone we need to find out sooner rather than later. And, I think we need to think about finding some dinner, you know?"
" Right."
She handed him one of the pistols. "You know how to fire one of these?"
"Ah, sure. No problem."
"If you don't, Quinn, tell me. I don't want to waste bullets and powder if you haven't ever fired one."
"And you've fired an old gun like this?"
So, one day about two years or so ago I dreamt about this absolutely gorgeous guy who was the epitome of a hero. This was the first layer of the story. This guy was a Hollywood Hottie and he played parts in movies that were the epitome of my personal hero as well as one I thought could be anyone's.
The second layer came from a poster I have of the Marine's. You may remember oh, maybe 10 years ago there was a commercial for the Marine Corps where it shows two knights on a tournament field fighting. Their swords clash as they charge each other on their horses. The commercial shows a few other scenes finishing with the knight engaging in further sword play and then morphing into a Marine in his dress blues. It ends with a statement about how there are still knights who stand for the right with us today. My boyfriend, who flew 53's for the Marine Corps, gave me a copy of a poster based on that commercial. Marine's are our modern day knights.
So I went a step further and made my Marine Hero a woman F/A-18 pilot. Hence – He plays America's Hero, she IS America's Hero.
I happen to be lucky at the time I started writing the story because I was on vacation and each morning I'd wake up and write what I'd dreamt the night before. I finished the first draft in two weeks. There were, I knew, some issues to be addressed. I'm a stickler for accuracy, even in fiction and I wanted to be certain I was spot on.
Luck was with me because I quickly found two F/A-18 pilots who were willing to look over my flight scenes. MC and Razor (call signs) looked over my take off's, landings, air combat maneuvers and Marine protocol. They also took the time to have my space shuttle sequences looked at for accuracy.
America's Hero was fun to write and I was pretty lucky meeting and making some new friends along the way.
http://www.thedarkcastlelords.com/
http://www.regantaylor.com/
Blog url: http://regantaylorsworld.blogspot.com/
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PkKgiBrwo-8
Blurb:
He plays America's Hero. She IS America's Hero.
When Hollywood Hottie Austin Quinn reads about Marine Corps Major Cass Winter's crash and daring rescue he decides to bring the pilot's story to the big screen. But the Major wants nothing to do with the actor they call America's Hero.
Excerpt:
"Yeah. I've watched you. No, not like one of your gaga fans." She told him. "You aren't that interesting, you know. You're just a guy, a guy with long blond hair and amazing green eyes. I'll give you the amazing on the eyes. They're a color I don't think I've ever seen before, and when they go from pale to that kind of dark mossy green like they are now, I'll admit, if I was your normal kind of girl I'd be intrigued."
"So you aren't normal?"
"I'm normal. I'm just not into actors. I prefer guys with substance."
"And I don't have substance?"
"No, you—"
He cut her off when his lips swept across hers. She wanted to feel outrage, offended, but his lips felt so good on hers. Warm, inviting, like they were meant to be molded to hers.
And not just her lips, the thought of those lips moving down her neck, to her breasts, rubbing, not sucking or licking but rubbing across her nipples sent a shiver down her spine that ended between her legs. It didn't end, it kept on pulsing through her, a wave of desire she didn't think existed.
She'd been turned on by guys before, had some great sex, but this was a whole other experience, and it was just a kiss. A closed mouth kiss that left her wanting more. Wanting so much more that without thought she parted her lips, welcoming him into her mouth.
Then, when his tongue met hers, a quiver of desire shot through her again. "Quinn," was all she managed before she brought her arms up around his neck, her fingers entangling in his thick hair. In turn he drew her into his arms, cradling her close, holding her like he cherished her above all else.
In the back of her mind she wondered if she had brought this on and then just as quickly pushed the thought away to simply enjoy the kiss. If there hadn't been a loud, shrill bird call from outside the shack Cass would have pulled Quinn to the ground and demanded he have his way with her.
"What was that?" Quinn asked.
"A bird, I think. It didn't sound like the merry men and their bird calls."
"You think we should check it out?"
"Definitely. If we're not alone we need to find out sooner rather than later. And, I think we need to think about finding some dinner, you know?"
" Right."
She handed him one of the pistols. "You know how to fire one of these?"
"Ah, sure. No problem."
"If you don't, Quinn, tell me. I don't want to waste bullets and powder if you haven't ever fired one."
"And you've fired an old gun like this?"
April 19, 2011
Publishers, Editors, Agents, and Authors
I have a question. When has it become acceptable to insert 2nd person POV into a 3rd person limited POV? I've bought about 4 or 5 books in the last couple of months. All of them are romance novels. I'd sit down, get comfy and open to page one. Halfway down the page, the author (with the editor's and probably the agent's approval) inserted 2nd person into a 3rd person limited POV. When I reached this point, I literally stopped reading. I sat there thinking, what is going on? I have been taught to never, ever, under any conditions to mix 1st, 2nd, or 3rd person POVs . There are times in literary works where some authors have mixed 1st and 3rd but 2nd? If there are, please point them out to me.
This one book, along with all the other books I have purchased over the last year had the same type mixture of 2nd with 3rd. So when did the rules change?
I have been reading since a young age, and I've been writing for many years. Throughout the years, I can honestly say, I don't remember reading a romance book that mixed the POVs like they do now. And I don't mean books are from small publishers either. I'm talking about large publishing houses like St. Martin's, Pocket etc. So is this a new trend? A bending or rewriting of the rules? I wish someone would let me in on the secret cause all these years I've been following what I learned in high school, college, and via writing courses, books, etc.
So what do I tell my critique partners? Some of them use this mixed POV in their work. Is it right or is it like George Mason University says about mixing the POVs.
'Writing from a specific point of view alters the reader's perception of what you write. It can be confusing to the reader if you shift the point of view in your writing (meaning starting in the 3rd person, moving to the 2nd person, then switching back to 3rd). ' http://classweb.gmu.edu/WAC/somguide/123person.htm
This particular comment is pretty much what I was taught in school and have since cemented in my writing career.
The only time I came close to breaking or bending the rules was when I wrote a novel with two POVs. One character was in 3rd person limited.
'Definition: Third person limited point of view is a method of storytelling in which the narrator knows only the thoughts and feelings of a single character, while other characters are presented only externally. Third person limited grants a writer more freedom than first person, but less than third person omniscient.' http://fictionwriting.about.com/od/glossary/g/limited.htm
The other character was in 1st person.
'Definition: First person point of view is a point of view in which an "I" or "we" serves as the narrator of a piece of fiction. The narrator may be a minor character, observing the action, as the character Nick does in The Great Gatsby, or the main protagonist of the story, such as Holden Caulfield in The Catcher in the Rye. In addition, a first-person narrator may be reliable or unreliable.' http://fictionwriting.about.com/od/glossary/g/firstperson.htm
I did this on purpose. One chapter was in 3rd, the next was in 1st and it repeated throughout the entire book. I kept each POV in a separate chapter to prevent any confusion. By writing the book, I knew there was a strong possibility that when I submitted this book for possible publication the publisher might reject it because of the mixture of the POVs. The book was contracted, and not to my surprise, the editor insisted I change all of the 1st person to 3rd person POV. No problem, I made the changes. I figured I would have to any way so no big deal.
But I didn't mix 2nd with 3rd.
If there is a new rule, would someone please tell me what this rule is because I really want to know. When I critique my writing buddies' work, I want to know whether or not to mark a change of POV or to leave it alone. If major publishers, and yes, agents too, are accepting and publishing books with mixed POVs, I want to be able to pass this up and move on to something else while I'm critiquing.Any comments are welcomed. Even readers. If you have problems with or don't mind the mixed POVs, please let me know.
April 18, 2011
Wraith's Forest
by L.J. Leger
ISBN: 978-0-9834-1-0
Available on Amazon
Blurb:
Fairy tales and haunted woods lead us through L.J. Leger's Beauty and the Beast story of one girl with the weight of a village on her shoulders and the attention of a very unlikely soul.
Jenna is chosen for the coveted task of gathering the magical fruit to preserve the peaceful balance of the secret valley where she and many others live. During the harvest, one fruit is damaged and the task of healing the bruise falls on Jenna's shoulders. She must enter the Wraith's Forest, retrieve a magical blade from the specter who lives there so the valley will remain a utopia. But once she makes contact with the Wraith, her fear slowly disappears and her curiosity is aroused with more questions of why the Wraith is in the Forest and the true purpose for the harvest. If you love Beauty and Beast type fairy tales, Wraith's Forest is the book to read. Perfect for Young Adults!
Excerpt:
He stood within the boundary of the trees. There he would stay. She knew the story too well. He was bound to the forest for eternity. As long as she stayed on the raised path to and from the valley, she would remain safe. She wouldn't meet the same end as the men who had entered the trees only to depart them mindless, driven to insanity by the Wraith.
Jenna took a step. Her legs trembled. The Wraith moved with her. Another and another, he stayed at her side. The tattered ends of the robe twitched and swayed with each gust of wind. Once, she could have sworn she saw a blood red glow within the hood where his eyes should have been. Deep gray clouds flew overhead obstructing the sun's light, and strong gusts shoved against her, causing her to struggle to move forward.
Vexed, Jenna shook her fist and shouted, "Leave me be."
The wind, blasting harder than before, swept her words away. She broke into a sprint, hoping to reach the point where the dirt track opened into the valley. Once there, the Wraith would be gone. She sent quick, furtive glances to her left. His dark form glided even with her.
In an instant, her feet tangled with each other and she tripped. The path's down sloping sides rose to meet her as she fell. She tried to stop, but she hit the ground hard. The breath whooshed out of her lungs. She slid forward until her head ended in the forest. Her hair, a snarled mass about her head, spread on the ground before her.
She laid there for a moment, her eyes half-closed against the pain slicing through her palms and knees. When she lifted her gaze, worn black boots under tattered robes appeared. White vapors escaped from along the seams. In the shadows of the trees, the Wraith stood but a foot away from her.
"I've done nothing to you. Leave me be," she cried, rising on her elbows, trying to scoot back.
The Wraith leaned toward her; his gloved hand reached and lifted a lock of her hair. She shrank back, but stopped when his grip tightened on the ends. He reeled her closer. Frozen with terror and pain, she stared into the black gap in the hood.
She forgot to breathe.
A flash whisked by and she fell away from him. Between his fingers of his left hand, he held strands of her hair. She stared at the blonde tendrils shifting in the wind. A golden blade, shining with an internal glow, winked once before it disappeared within the folds of his robes.
Just as quickly, he too vanished.
ISBN: 978-0-9834-1-0
Available on Amazon
Blurb:
Fairy tales and haunted woods lead us through L.J. Leger's Beauty and the Beast story of one girl with the weight of a village on her shoulders and the attention of a very unlikely soul.
Jenna is chosen for the coveted task of gathering the magical fruit to preserve the peaceful balance of the secret valley where she and many others live. During the harvest, one fruit is damaged and the task of healing the bruise falls on Jenna's shoulders. She must enter the Wraith's Forest, retrieve a magical blade from the specter who lives there so the valley will remain a utopia. But once she makes contact with the Wraith, her fear slowly disappears and her curiosity is aroused with more questions of why the Wraith is in the Forest and the true purpose for the harvest. If you love Beauty and Beast type fairy tales, Wraith's Forest is the book to read. Perfect for Young Adults!
Excerpt:
He stood within the boundary of the trees. There he would stay. She knew the story too well. He was bound to the forest for eternity. As long as she stayed on the raised path to and from the valley, she would remain safe. She wouldn't meet the same end as the men who had entered the trees only to depart them mindless, driven to insanity by the Wraith.
Jenna took a step. Her legs trembled. The Wraith moved with her. Another and another, he stayed at her side. The tattered ends of the robe twitched and swayed with each gust of wind. Once, she could have sworn she saw a blood red glow within the hood where his eyes should have been. Deep gray clouds flew overhead obstructing the sun's light, and strong gusts shoved against her, causing her to struggle to move forward.
Vexed, Jenna shook her fist and shouted, "Leave me be."
The wind, blasting harder than before, swept her words away. She broke into a sprint, hoping to reach the point where the dirt track opened into the valley. Once there, the Wraith would be gone. She sent quick, furtive glances to her left. His dark form glided even with her.
In an instant, her feet tangled with each other and she tripped. The path's down sloping sides rose to meet her as she fell. She tried to stop, but she hit the ground hard. The breath whooshed out of her lungs. She slid forward until her head ended in the forest. Her hair, a snarled mass about her head, spread on the ground before her.
She laid there for a moment, her eyes half-closed against the pain slicing through her palms and knees. When she lifted her gaze, worn black boots under tattered robes appeared. White vapors escaped from along the seams. In the shadows of the trees, the Wraith stood but a foot away from her.
"I've done nothing to you. Leave me be," she cried, rising on her elbows, trying to scoot back.
The Wraith leaned toward her; his gloved hand reached and lifted a lock of her hair. She shrank back, but stopped when his grip tightened on the ends. He reeled her closer. Frozen with terror and pain, she stared into the black gap in the hood.
She forgot to breathe.
A flash whisked by and she fell away from him. Between his fingers of his left hand, he held strands of her hair. She stared at the blonde tendrils shifting in the wind. A golden blade, shining with an internal glow, winked once before it disappeared within the folds of his robes.
Just as quickly, he too vanished.
April 15, 2011
The Vampire Relationship Guide Blog Tour - Sex in Romance Novels
Today I have the great pleasure of hosting a stop on The Vampire Relationship Guide Blog Tour sponsored by Bookish Snob and The Romance Reviews. The guest today is Evelyn LaFont. Her book, The Vampire Relationship Guide is out and definitely one to grab while you can! Thanks so much for stopping today, Evelyn!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I stay away from many well-received young adult romance novels for one single, disgusting reason: I love sex scenes in the romances I read. I love foreplay, duringplay, afterplay; I love reading about sexual things I haven't done, those I have done, or those must leave you to go do right now. I simply love sex in books.
Though I have read some sexless paranormal romance series and enjoyed them (the late Jennifer Rardin's Jazz Parks series comes to mind) I often feel like a romance novel without sex is like endless teasing that never lets up and never allows the reader to blow off any steam.
While there are many readers who share my point of view, there are many others who don't. There are some who don't find anything satisfying about reading a sex scene and there are those who feel downright uncomfortable at the mere thought of doing so.
Luckily, the romance genre has never been better equipped to satisfy such a broad range of comfort levels and tastes. You can read books with sex, without sex, with graphic sex or with inferred sex. And the variety doesn't end there. You can also read about different species or gender matches, like vampire/ human romance, shifter/vampire, male/male, female/female, succubus/human—the list goes on and on.
Generally, I don't look at my penchant for reading romance as a political or feminist statement—I simply look at it as a damn fun read that gives me a perfect mini-vacation from life. But when I consider the fact that romance, more than any other genre that I can think of, works to accommodate all the different tastes and comfort levels of its readers, I realize that by doing so, the genre embraces the many differences that make this world so interesting and diverse, and damn if that isn't pretty frickin' empowering…and kinda sexy.
The book is available at Amazon.
Author BioEvelyn Lafont is an author and freelance writer with an addiction to Xanax and a predilection for snark. Her debut novella, The Vampire Relationship Guide, Volume 1: Meeting and Mating is available on Amazon , Barnes and Noble and Smashwords .
Thanks so much for stopping by, Evelyn!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I stay away from many well-received young adult romance novels for one single, disgusting reason: I love sex scenes in the romances I read. I love foreplay, duringplay, afterplay; I love reading about sexual things I haven't done, those I have done, or those must leave you to go do right now. I simply love sex in books.
Though I have read some sexless paranormal romance series and enjoyed them (the late Jennifer Rardin's Jazz Parks series comes to mind) I often feel like a romance novel without sex is like endless teasing that never lets up and never allows the reader to blow off any steam.
While there are many readers who share my point of view, there are many others who don't. There are some who don't find anything satisfying about reading a sex scene and there are those who feel downright uncomfortable at the mere thought of doing so.
Luckily, the romance genre has never been better equipped to satisfy such a broad range of comfort levels and tastes. You can read books with sex, without sex, with graphic sex or with inferred sex. And the variety doesn't end there. You can also read about different species or gender matches, like vampire/ human romance, shifter/vampire, male/male, female/female, succubus/human—the list goes on and on.
Generally, I don't look at my penchant for reading romance as a political or feminist statement—I simply look at it as a damn fun read that gives me a perfect mini-vacation from life. But when I consider the fact that romance, more than any other genre that I can think of, works to accommodate all the different tastes and comfort levels of its readers, I realize that by doing so, the genre embraces the many differences that make this world so interesting and diverse, and damn if that isn't pretty frickin' empowering…and kinda sexy.
The book is available at Amazon.
Author BioEvelyn Lafont is an author and freelance writer with an addiction to Xanax and a predilection for snark. Her debut novella, The Vampire Relationship Guide, Volume 1: Meeting and Mating is available on Amazon , Barnes and Noble and Smashwords .
Thanks so much for stopping by, Evelyn!
April 9, 2011
On Sale for a LIMITED time! WRAITH'S FOREST!!!
My fantasy YA, Wraith's Forest written under my pen name, LJ Leger is live on Kindle! If you love fantasy and YA, be sure and check this one out.
http://amzn.to/ehED02
Fairy tales and haunted woods lead us through L.J. Leger's Beauty and the Beast story of one girl with the weight of a village on her shoulders and the attention of a very unlikely soul.
Jenna is chosen for the coveted task of gathering the magical fruit to preserve the peaceful balance of the secret valley where she and many others live. During the harvest, one fruit is damaged and the task of healing the bruise falls on Jenna's shoulders. She must enter the Wraith's Forest, retrieve a magical blade from the specter who lives there so the valley will remain a utopia. But once she makes contact with the Wraith, her fear slowly disappears and her curiosity is aroused with more questions of why the Wraith is in the Forest and the true purpose for the harvest. If you love Beauty and Beast type fairy tales, Wraith's Forest is the book to read. Perfect for Young Adults!
http://amzn.to/ehED02
Fairy tales and haunted woods lead us through L.J. Leger's Beauty and the Beast story of one girl with the weight of a village on her shoulders and the attention of a very unlikely soul.
Jenna is chosen for the coveted task of gathering the magical fruit to preserve the peaceful balance of the secret valley where she and many others live. During the harvest, one fruit is damaged and the task of healing the bruise falls on Jenna's shoulders. She must enter the Wraith's Forest, retrieve a magical blade from the specter who lives there so the valley will remain a utopia. But once she makes contact with the Wraith, her fear slowly disappears and her curiosity is aroused with more questions of why the Wraith is in the Forest and the true purpose for the harvest. If you love Beauty and Beast type fairy tales, Wraith's Forest is the book to read. Perfect for Young Adults!
April 8, 2011
Follow Friday / Blog Hop #6 (Shakes head, yes, I'm pitiful!)
Hey hey! It's Friday and it's time for some fun!
First for everyone that stops by here, I thank you. These FF and BH take alot of work and time but truly, they are so worth it. It gives each of us a chance to meet new friends and see old friends.
Q. Do you judge a book by it's cover?
For me, it is the cover and the title that tempt me to read the blurb. If the blurb reads great, I'll grab the book. I remember the first time I saw Harry Potter's book covers, I was like, O_o...not sure if I liked them. Love the inside but the covers weren't really to my tastes.
Happy Follow Friday!!!
You can check out my website HERE to see what kind of books I write.
I have two other pen names,
L.J.Leger - Website
Jadette Paige - Website, Blog
First for everyone that stops by here, I thank you. These FF and BH take alot of work and time but truly, they are so worth it. It gives each of us a chance to meet new friends and see old friends.
Q. Do you judge a book by it's cover?
For me, it is the cover and the title that tempt me to read the blurb. If the blurb reads great, I'll grab the book. I remember the first time I saw Harry Potter's book covers, I was like, O_o...not sure if I liked them. Love the inside but the covers weren't really to my tastes.
Happy Follow Friday!!!
You can check out my website HERE to see what kind of books I write.
I have two other pen names,
L.J.Leger - Website
Jadette Paige - Website, Blog
April 7, 2011
Kindle Release
In about a day (hopefully by Saturday) my short story, Wraith's Forest will be out on Kindle.
I will keep everyone up to date about it. It is listed as a YA fantasy and my pen name is L.J. Leger.
Once it goes live, I will make the HUGE announcement!!
Here's a taste of the cover.
I will keep everyone up to date about it. It is listed as a YA fantasy and my pen name is L.J. Leger.
Once it goes live, I will make the HUGE announcement!!
Here's a taste of the cover.
March 25, 2011
Ideas can be recycled, too - Bill Kirton
I'm in a bit of a dilemma at the moment – not a nasty one, a nice one. Through some pathetic management on my part, I've had 4 books published in the last few weeks, so plugging them and giving each the attention I should is becoming difficult. It doesn't help that they're in 4 different genres: the first of a children's series about a grumpy male fairy who lives in my washbasin in Aberdeen, Scotland; a children's novel; book 4 in my crime series and, most recently, The Sparrow Conundrum.
Strangely, perhaps, The Sparrow Conundrum is the first novel I ever wrote, and yet it's only just appeared. But it's the one I think of when I say in writing groups or workshops that you don't 'write a novel', you write some words, then some more words, then some more – and eventually there's a substantial pile of paper on the desk and you realise you actually have written something that's a lot longer than a short story. That's making it sound easy and unstructured – it's not, and I have great respect for the form and conventions of novel-writing, but that was my experience with the Sparrow.
I'd written lots of stage and radio plays which were produced and broadcast and a few short stories, but it never occurred to me that I should try a novel until I read about a competition and decided to enter. This was so long ago that blogs, Facebook and the rest didn't exist and even PCs were scarce and definitely unaffordable. So I wrote it in longhand and typed it up. It didn't win the competition but I sent it to an agent and he took me on.
In the end, he didn't manage to sell it, but the important thing was that it had shown me I was capable of writing an extended narrative, so I started on the next one, which was an early version of The Darkness and which led me to another agent and my first published novel, Material Evidence.
And so what's my point? Well, I'm suggesting that ideas, words, even apparently unwanted stories can be successfully recycled. The Darkness is another example. As I said, it was the second novel I wrote but, after many, many rewrites and changes of title, personnel, and themes, I think it's become one of my best. So 'recycling' doesn't just mean you keep sending it off to one agent and/or publisher after another, it means keep working on it, rewrite, edit, polish, improve. OK, some ideas don't work and should be discarded, but give them a chance and only throw them out when it's obvious they're rubbish.
We all know that writing and editing are separate processes. In your first draft, don't be held back by the need to be 'correct' – either in terms of grammar, spelling or, for want of a better term, morality. Let the words flow, let the characters do what they want, don't try to drag them back into any preconceived plotlines without first checking whether they're actually leading you to somewhere more interesting. Then step away from them, forget about them for as long as possible and return to them as an editor, with your critical faculties sharpened.
The Sparrow Conundrum has been through even more changes than The Darkness. It started as a spoof spy story, moved to a spoof crime story, changed locations several times and titles even more – but its personnel and central story were there from the start. I've always had a soft spot for it because it's (intended to be) a frankly comic (absurd, farcical) novel which I wrote purely to entertain.
So there, that's its story. It's available in Kindle and paperback so what I want you to do now is …
… first of all, become its friend or fan or whatever the correct designation is on Facebook. I've cleverly called its page The Sparrow Conundrum . Then, after you've written comments there saying how wonderful and funny it is, buy it, read it, tell all your friends and extended families and community groups and reading groups to buy it, order several copies for all the libraries within a twenty mile radius of your home and place of work and, in your spare time, try to get it put onto the reading list of every subject in your local schools, colleges and universities, nominate it for the Man Booker and Pulitzer prizes, nominate me for a Nobel prize, tell the Coen brothers they can have first option on the film rights and … well, that's enough to start with.
©Bill Kirton25 March 2011
You can download the prologue and opening chapters of The Sparrow Conundrum free at:http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/47878
Website:www.bill-kirton.co.uk
Blog:http://livingwritingandotherstuff.blogspot.com/
Blurb:Chris Machin isn't his name, not to the bottom feeders in Aberdeen squabbling over North Sea oil and gas contracts. Chris has a code name, and when his garden explodes The Sparrow takes flight, plunging the power struggle into chaos and violence.
A sociopathic cop and an interfering ex-girlfriend don't exactly make for clarity of thinking, not when the one fancies a bit of violence to add spice to an arrest. The ex adds other, more interesting dimensions to Chris' already complicated life.
The bodies pile up—some whole, some in fragments—and two wrestlers join the fray. A road trip seems just the solution, but then so do Inverness, a fishing trawler and a Russian factory ship as the players face … The Sparrow Conundrum.
Excerpt:
Machin opened the door and saw a large raincoat surmounted by a terrifying smile. Its owner said, 'Good morning, sir. Detective Inspector Lodgedale, C.I.D. Might I have a word?'Machin looked at the brief flash of identification card and back at Lodgedale's evil features.'Well, I was just having breakfast actually,' he said.Lodgedale tutted.'Bit late for that, isn't it? I had mine ages ago.''Nevertheless, that's what I'm doing, so if you wouldn't mind …'But Lodgedale was already past him and on his way through to the kitchen. Machin, angry, followed him.'Look, I'm trying to tell you, it's not convenient at the moment.'Lodgedale helped himself to some toast and began to butter it.'It is for me, sir. Just a few questions, that's all. It won't take long.' He sat at the table and took a bite of toast. Machin accepted the inevitable and made to sit down with him. A gesture from the policeman froze him. 'Er, just before you start making yourself comfortable, I'll have a cup of coffee. This bread's a bit dry.' 'Why don't you just move in here?' asked Machin. Lodgedale looked around the kitchen and back at Machin, wrinkling his nose. 'Not civilised enough for my tastes,' he said, and Machin inwardly acknowledged that the rapier of his wit would never penetrate a skin over which a steamroller of mockery could drive without leaving a blemish. Gracelessly he scooped instant coffee into a mug and switched the kettle on.'How many sugars?' he asked.'Seven,' replied Lodgedale.Machin turned to see if this was a joke, but Lodgedale was flicking through the pages of Decline and Fall. He looked up and caught Machin's glance.'Read a lot of dirty books, do you?' he asked.'What do you mean?' said Machin.Lodgedale indicated the volume he was holding.'This,' he said, 'Roman Empire. All perverts, weren't they? Orgies and that. I've seen them on the telly.'Machin poured water onto the pile of sugar in Lodgedale's cup. He carried it to the table and placed it in front of the policeman.'Is it all right for me to get on with my breakfast?' he asked.Lodgedale waved him magnanimously into his seat. Machin sat and picked up his spoon. As he scooped up some cornflakes he said, 'What exactly are you here for?'Lodgedale leaned forward and with a sudden movement flashed his hand from his coat pocket and thumped it onto the table, releasing from its grasp as he did so the postman's thumb.'This,' he said, staring hard at Machin.Machin looked at the object. The end nearest to him was the jagged base of the thumb from which bone and tendons protruded. It looked like a small, bald, disembowelled mouse wearing a flat, pink crash helmet.The colour drained from his face as he put his untouched cereal back into the plate. Lodgedale noticed his reaction and immediately deduced guilt. He settled back, confident of success, and took a sip of coffee, which immediately provoked a grimace.'Ugh!' he said, 'Not enough sugar.''It's not been stirred,' stammered Machin, fighting back nausea.Lodgedale looked for a spoon, saw none, and picked up the thumb instead.
Strangely, perhaps, The Sparrow Conundrum is the first novel I ever wrote, and yet it's only just appeared. But it's the one I think of when I say in writing groups or workshops that you don't 'write a novel', you write some words, then some more words, then some more – and eventually there's a substantial pile of paper on the desk and you realise you actually have written something that's a lot longer than a short story. That's making it sound easy and unstructured – it's not, and I have great respect for the form and conventions of novel-writing, but that was my experience with the Sparrow.I'd written lots of stage and radio plays which were produced and broadcast and a few short stories, but it never occurred to me that I should try a novel until I read about a competition and decided to enter. This was so long ago that blogs, Facebook and the rest didn't exist and even PCs were scarce and definitely unaffordable. So I wrote it in longhand and typed it up. It didn't win the competition but I sent it to an agent and he took me on.
In the end, he didn't manage to sell it, but the important thing was that it had shown me I was capable of writing an extended narrative, so I started on the next one, which was an early version of The Darkness and which led me to another agent and my first published novel, Material Evidence.
And so what's my point? Well, I'm suggesting that ideas, words, even apparently unwanted stories can be successfully recycled. The Darkness is another example. As I said, it was the second novel I wrote but, after many, many rewrites and changes of title, personnel, and themes, I think it's become one of my best. So 'recycling' doesn't just mean you keep sending it off to one agent and/or publisher after another, it means keep working on it, rewrite, edit, polish, improve. OK, some ideas don't work and should be discarded, but give them a chance and only throw them out when it's obvious they're rubbish.
We all know that writing and editing are separate processes. In your first draft, don't be held back by the need to be 'correct' – either in terms of grammar, spelling or, for want of a better term, morality. Let the words flow, let the characters do what they want, don't try to drag them back into any preconceived plotlines without first checking whether they're actually leading you to somewhere more interesting. Then step away from them, forget about them for as long as possible and return to them as an editor, with your critical faculties sharpened.
The Sparrow Conundrum has been through even more changes than The Darkness. It started as a spoof spy story, moved to a spoof crime story, changed locations several times and titles even more – but its personnel and central story were there from the start. I've always had a soft spot for it because it's (intended to be) a frankly comic (absurd, farcical) novel which I wrote purely to entertain.
So there, that's its story. It's available in Kindle and paperback so what I want you to do now is …
… first of all, become its friend or fan or whatever the correct designation is on Facebook. I've cleverly called its page The Sparrow Conundrum . Then, after you've written comments there saying how wonderful and funny it is, buy it, read it, tell all your friends and extended families and community groups and reading groups to buy it, order several copies for all the libraries within a twenty mile radius of your home and place of work and, in your spare time, try to get it put onto the reading list of every subject in your local schools, colleges and universities, nominate it for the Man Booker and Pulitzer prizes, nominate me for a Nobel prize, tell the Coen brothers they can have first option on the film rights and … well, that's enough to start with.
©Bill Kirton25 March 2011You can download the prologue and opening chapters of The Sparrow Conundrum free at:http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/47878
Website:www.bill-kirton.co.uk
Blog:http://livingwritingandotherstuff.blogspot.com/
Blurb:Chris Machin isn't his name, not to the bottom feeders in Aberdeen squabbling over North Sea oil and gas contracts. Chris has a code name, and when his garden explodes The Sparrow takes flight, plunging the power struggle into chaos and violence.
A sociopathic cop and an interfering ex-girlfriend don't exactly make for clarity of thinking, not when the one fancies a bit of violence to add spice to an arrest. The ex adds other, more interesting dimensions to Chris' already complicated life.
The bodies pile up—some whole, some in fragments—and two wrestlers join the fray. A road trip seems just the solution, but then so do Inverness, a fishing trawler and a Russian factory ship as the players face … The Sparrow Conundrum.
Excerpt:
Machin opened the door and saw a large raincoat surmounted by a terrifying smile. Its owner said, 'Good morning, sir. Detective Inspector Lodgedale, C.I.D. Might I have a word?'Machin looked at the brief flash of identification card and back at Lodgedale's evil features.'Well, I was just having breakfast actually,' he said.Lodgedale tutted.'Bit late for that, isn't it? I had mine ages ago.''Nevertheless, that's what I'm doing, so if you wouldn't mind …'But Lodgedale was already past him and on his way through to the kitchen. Machin, angry, followed him.'Look, I'm trying to tell you, it's not convenient at the moment.'Lodgedale helped himself to some toast and began to butter it.'It is for me, sir. Just a few questions, that's all. It won't take long.' He sat at the table and took a bite of toast. Machin accepted the inevitable and made to sit down with him. A gesture from the policeman froze him. 'Er, just before you start making yourself comfortable, I'll have a cup of coffee. This bread's a bit dry.' 'Why don't you just move in here?' asked Machin. Lodgedale looked around the kitchen and back at Machin, wrinkling his nose. 'Not civilised enough for my tastes,' he said, and Machin inwardly acknowledged that the rapier of his wit would never penetrate a skin over which a steamroller of mockery could drive without leaving a blemish. Gracelessly he scooped instant coffee into a mug and switched the kettle on.'How many sugars?' he asked.'Seven,' replied Lodgedale.Machin turned to see if this was a joke, but Lodgedale was flicking through the pages of Decline and Fall. He looked up and caught Machin's glance.'Read a lot of dirty books, do you?' he asked.'What do you mean?' said Machin.Lodgedale indicated the volume he was holding.'This,' he said, 'Roman Empire. All perverts, weren't they? Orgies and that. I've seen them on the telly.'Machin poured water onto the pile of sugar in Lodgedale's cup. He carried it to the table and placed it in front of the policeman.'Is it all right for me to get on with my breakfast?' he asked.Lodgedale waved him magnanimously into his seat. Machin sat and picked up his spoon. As he scooped up some cornflakes he said, 'What exactly are you here for?'Lodgedale leaned forward and with a sudden movement flashed his hand from his coat pocket and thumped it onto the table, releasing from its grasp as he did so the postman's thumb.'This,' he said, staring hard at Machin.Machin looked at the object. The end nearest to him was the jagged base of the thumb from which bone and tendons protruded. It looked like a small, bald, disembowelled mouse wearing a flat, pink crash helmet.The colour drained from his face as he put his untouched cereal back into the plate. Lodgedale noticed his reaction and immediately deduced guilt. He settled back, confident of success, and took a sip of coffee, which immediately provoked a grimace.'Ugh!' he said, 'Not enough sugar.''It's not been stirred,' stammered Machin, fighting back nausea.Lodgedale looked for a spoon, saw none, and picked up the thumb instead.
March 23, 2011
Sunday Awakening - D.A. Kentner
Today, I have the great honor of having D.A. Kentner here. Here is a man who joined our critique group about a year ago. His artistry with words and stories is amazing. If you buy any book, I highly suggest you purchase one of D.A. He is a master at what he does.
To prove my point, take a look at his recent reviews for his novel Sunday Awakening.
Book Wenches
Literary Nymphs
Thanks, D.A. for guesting! Wishing you great success. Just remember little old me when you hit the big times! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As I'm writing this, a situation has just come to my attention. NYT bestselling author Jessica Verday removed a short story she had written for an anthology with a major publisher. The reason? Ms. Verday had written a Young Adult story of first love – between two young men – and the publisher wanted her to change one of the characters to a female. That wasn't the story she had written. Ms. Verday stood her ground not just because she believed in her story, but because young love between same sexes is a reality within society, and she refused to turn a blind eye. Ms. Verday chose integrity over acceptance. Not always an easy choice.
Please understand, the issue here is not gay love, the issue is an author's choice to stand behind her convictions.
Though hardly on the same scale, when I sought a publisher for "Sunday Awakening," I encountered similar problems. My story was too raw, too real, too not what publishers were looking for. What a few people focused on was that my female lead, Cheryl, came from a life of child abuse and prostitution. How could anyone be interested in such a story? What they overlooked, failed to see, is that "Sunday Awakening" is a story of Cheryl's rise above all the horror inflicted on her. It is a story of empowerment, courage, and fulfillment. Most of all, it is a story of discovering the true meaning of home and love and finding that one man who will risk all to be loved by… you.
Because, in the end, isn't true, unbreakable love what we all seek?
Blurb:
If the microwave hadn't blown a fuse, she might not have killed him. But it had, and she did. Sundays are like that sometimes.
After stabbing her keeper to escape his abuse and her sex-slave life, Cheryl faces the greatest decision of her twenty-six years: "Now what?" Only one thing has ever brought her comfort and a sense of freedom—running. So she does.
On her journey to discover who she is, and where she came from, Cheryl happens upon a woman who puts her onboard the modern-day Underground Railroad for abused women.
At each stop, each "depot," she encounters people who teach her love may not just exist in novels. But is love possible for someone who doesn't know what it is?
Criminal Investigator Taylor Hughes reluctantly agrees to locate Cheryl and find her "home." When Cheryl poisons him, Taylor realizes the hardest part of the trip may well be the day he has to leave her behind.
Trailer:
Brief BIO:
Judith said I should share a little about myself, which is fortunate as there's little to tell.
I was an army EOD specialist before beginning a career in law enforcement. While a cop I worked in patrol, undercover narcotics, detective, shift commander, and ultimately police chief. No, I don't miss it, but I certainly draw on my experiences to create characters and events in my stories. In fact, the first piece I had published, which appeared in Faraway Journal, was a story about a police officer. I've also been an auctioneer and antiques dealer.
Today, my wife and I continue to volunteer on occasion at the local Salvation Army as we have for over a decade. I interview authors both famous and not yet famous for GateHouse News Service, and write stories I hope readers will enjoy.
If you'd like to learn more about me and what I'm up to, please visit my blogs: http://dakentner.blogspot.com/ and http://kevad-author.blogspot.com/
I'm also on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/profile.php?id=100000734965695I was fortunate that Noble Romance Publishing believed in "Sunday Awakening" and chose to publish Cheryl's unique story. For that, I will always be grateful.
David Kentner
http://dakentner.blogspot.com/ http://kevad-author.blogspot.com/
http://www.nobleromance.com/BrowseListing.aspx?author=116
To prove my point, take a look at his recent reviews for his novel Sunday Awakening.
Book Wenches
Literary Nymphs
Thanks, D.A. for guesting! Wishing you great success. Just remember little old me when you hit the big times! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As I'm writing this, a situation has just come to my attention. NYT bestselling author Jessica Verday removed a short story she had written for an anthology with a major publisher. The reason? Ms. Verday had written a Young Adult story of first love – between two young men – and the publisher wanted her to change one of the characters to a female. That wasn't the story she had written. Ms. Verday stood her ground not just because she believed in her story, but because young love between same sexes is a reality within society, and she refused to turn a blind eye. Ms. Verday chose integrity over acceptance. Not always an easy choice.
Please understand, the issue here is not gay love, the issue is an author's choice to stand behind her convictions.
Though hardly on the same scale, when I sought a publisher for "Sunday Awakening," I encountered similar problems. My story was too raw, too real, too not what publishers were looking for. What a few people focused on was that my female lead, Cheryl, came from a life of child abuse and prostitution. How could anyone be interested in such a story? What they overlooked, failed to see, is that "Sunday Awakening" is a story of Cheryl's rise above all the horror inflicted on her. It is a story of empowerment, courage, and fulfillment. Most of all, it is a story of discovering the true meaning of home and love and finding that one man who will risk all to be loved by… you.
Because, in the end, isn't true, unbreakable love what we all seek?
Blurb:
If the microwave hadn't blown a fuse, she might not have killed him. But it had, and she did. Sundays are like that sometimes.
After stabbing her keeper to escape his abuse and her sex-slave life, Cheryl faces the greatest decision of her twenty-six years: "Now what?" Only one thing has ever brought her comfort and a sense of freedom—running. So she does.
On her journey to discover who she is, and where she came from, Cheryl happens upon a woman who puts her onboard the modern-day Underground Railroad for abused women.
At each stop, each "depot," she encounters people who teach her love may not just exist in novels. But is love possible for someone who doesn't know what it is?
Criminal Investigator Taylor Hughes reluctantly agrees to locate Cheryl and find her "home." When Cheryl poisons him, Taylor realizes the hardest part of the trip may well be the day he has to leave her behind.
Trailer:
Brief BIO:
Judith said I should share a little about myself, which is fortunate as there's little to tell.
I was an army EOD specialist before beginning a career in law enforcement. While a cop I worked in patrol, undercover narcotics, detective, shift commander, and ultimately police chief. No, I don't miss it, but I certainly draw on my experiences to create characters and events in my stories. In fact, the first piece I had published, which appeared in Faraway Journal, was a story about a police officer. I've also been an auctioneer and antiques dealer.
Today, my wife and I continue to volunteer on occasion at the local Salvation Army as we have for over a decade. I interview authors both famous and not yet famous for GateHouse News Service, and write stories I hope readers will enjoy.
If you'd like to learn more about me and what I'm up to, please visit my blogs: http://dakentner.blogspot.com/ and http://kevad-author.blogspot.com/
I'm also on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/profile.php?id=100000734965695I was fortunate that Noble Romance Publishing believed in "Sunday Awakening" and chose to publish Cheryl's unique story. For that, I will always be grateful.
David Kentner
http://dakentner.blogspot.com/ http://kevad-author.blogspot.com/
http://www.nobleromance.com/BrowseListing.aspx?author=116
March 1, 2011
Genre Mash-up - Em Petrova
I'm guesting Em Petrova today! I absolutely love the cover of her new book. After reading the excerpt and blurb plus the background to the story, I definitely am going to pick up a copy!! Thanks Em for appearing today!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
More and more authors are finding it hard to place their books onto one shelf, and my latest release Isolde's Wish is no different. Erotic medieval fantasy with steampunk elements anyone? Yeah, that's right. Isolde's Wish is a real collision of genres, but one of the most exciting books I've ever written.
When new writers begin the publishing journey, they usually have questions about genre. "I've written a story where my hero is a medical doctor amongst his wolf pack, and his love interest is a time traveler from Victorian times. Is this historical, paranormal, or medical drama?"
This is basically what I ran into when I started Isolde's Wish. I always begin plotting with characters. In this case, I pictured a princess who lives in medieval times, but who rocks some amazing costumes and is more open to exploring her sensual side than your everyday medieval woman. From there, her hero was born. Sadler is a badass, battle ax-wielding son of a man who lost his life for taking the queen to his bed. He's also a horseman, but he needed something edgier.
Enter elementis steampunkis. Android horses, airships and enormous robots that run on steam called zeppelgongers. Each addition yielded new avenues in my plot, and soon I had created a fresh new world where my hero and heroine can have midnight trysts, argue as they escape a well-meaning knight, and have steamy encounters in the great hall despite their fears of being caught.
For you writers out there, I encourage you to stay true to your vision. Isolde's Wish is truly a different beast, and I am very proud of comments I've received from my editors. One left a note at the bottom which said, "I really enjoyed reading this story. It is different from anything I've read before, and I've read a lot!" Just goes to show that readers are ready for that wolf pack doctor who falls for the Victorian time traveler. Website: http://www.empetrova.com/Buy Link: http://www.loose-id.com/Isoldes-Wish.aspxBlurb:With a wild boar on her heels and a naked man before her, Princess Isolde has no clue which danger is greater. When she trips and falls into the dirt at the feet of the axe-wielding warrior, giving her a very close encounter with his manhood, she battles her undeniable awareness of the sculpted man even after she finds he has a price on his head for attempting to assassinate her father, King Adlard.
The bold son of the man executed for sleeping with the king's wife, Sadler attempted to avenge his father at a very young age. Now he's faced with the temptation of King Adlard's daughter and presented a fresh opportunity to right his failed assassination attempt.
But when he learns a powerful earl seeks the princess's hand in marriage, Sadler realizes his passions run deep. Desperate to keep her from the arms of his enemy, he plans to steal her away from the kingdom and make her his own.
Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F4vCuWLb1_w
Excerpt:
Sadler brought Isolde into the shadow between the stable and a small hay-fuel shed. She was soaked to the knee with mud and lamenting the loss of her golden slipper. She limped into the space before him with her head held high.
He braced his hands against the rough, wooden shed wall, trapping her with his body. Their eyes met like steam to an airship. He wondered if he'd ever forget their blue-green fire. Fairy fire.
"I'll peek out and tell ye when it's clear to run for the keep."
She nodded. A quiet moment passed while they struggled to let each other go. "I'll never see ye again."
"Nay."
"Good luck to ye, Sadler. Keep yer neck free of the guillotine."
"Ah, that I will. Now the hangman's noose, I do not know." His jest fell flat.
A harsh cry tore from her, and she hurled her arms about his neck. He held her head against his shoulder and kissed the shell of her ear. His heart thudded in his ears. "Go now, woman, and don't look back."
Wrenching from him, she then ducked beneath the barricade of his arms and dodged across the yard. Sadler let his forehead drop against the wall and rubbed it over the splintery wood. Cries of the castle guards reached his ears.
"She's here. We've found her!"
He dared not watch her sprint through the great entry. Another moment passed while he collected his wits, and he stole into the stable. He blinked against the enveloping darkness. Through a high window streamed ribbons of light. Dust motes swirled in the air.
As he edged deeper into the stable, the familiar oily scents of hay and horseflesh filled his head, resurrecting memories of his father. In his mind's eye, Sadler could nearly see the curves of Isolde's mother locked in the arms of his father, and finally he understood how the passion had gone before the sense.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
More and more authors are finding it hard to place their books onto one shelf, and my latest release Isolde's Wish is no different. Erotic medieval fantasy with steampunk elements anyone? Yeah, that's right. Isolde's Wish is a real collision of genres, but one of the most exciting books I've ever written.
When new writers begin the publishing journey, they usually have questions about genre. "I've written a story where my hero is a medical doctor amongst his wolf pack, and his love interest is a time traveler from Victorian times. Is this historical, paranormal, or medical drama?" This is basically what I ran into when I started Isolde's Wish. I always begin plotting with characters. In this case, I pictured a princess who lives in medieval times, but who rocks some amazing costumes and is more open to exploring her sensual side than your everyday medieval woman. From there, her hero was born. Sadler is a badass, battle ax-wielding son of a man who lost his life for taking the queen to his bed. He's also a horseman, but he needed something edgier.
Enter elementis steampunkis. Android horses, airships and enormous robots that run on steam called zeppelgongers. Each addition yielded new avenues in my plot, and soon I had created a fresh new world where my hero and heroine can have midnight trysts, argue as they escape a well-meaning knight, and have steamy encounters in the great hall despite their fears of being caught.
For you writers out there, I encourage you to stay true to your vision. Isolde's Wish is truly a different beast, and I am very proud of comments I've received from my editors. One left a note at the bottom which said, "I really enjoyed reading this story. It is different from anything I've read before, and I've read a lot!" Just goes to show that readers are ready for that wolf pack doctor who falls for the Victorian time traveler. Website: http://www.empetrova.com/Buy Link: http://www.loose-id.com/Isoldes-Wish.aspxBlurb:With a wild boar on her heels and a naked man before her, Princess Isolde has no clue which danger is greater. When she trips and falls into the dirt at the feet of the axe-wielding warrior, giving her a very close encounter with his manhood, she battles her undeniable awareness of the sculpted man even after she finds he has a price on his head for attempting to assassinate her father, King Adlard.
The bold son of the man executed for sleeping with the king's wife, Sadler attempted to avenge his father at a very young age. Now he's faced with the temptation of King Adlard's daughter and presented a fresh opportunity to right his failed assassination attempt.
But when he learns a powerful earl seeks the princess's hand in marriage, Sadler realizes his passions run deep. Desperate to keep her from the arms of his enemy, he plans to steal her away from the kingdom and make her his own.
Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F4vCuWLb1_w
Excerpt:
Sadler brought Isolde into the shadow between the stable and a small hay-fuel shed. She was soaked to the knee with mud and lamenting the loss of her golden slipper. She limped into the space before him with her head held high.
He braced his hands against the rough, wooden shed wall, trapping her with his body. Their eyes met like steam to an airship. He wondered if he'd ever forget their blue-green fire. Fairy fire.
"I'll peek out and tell ye when it's clear to run for the keep."
She nodded. A quiet moment passed while they struggled to let each other go. "I'll never see ye again."
"Nay."
"Good luck to ye, Sadler. Keep yer neck free of the guillotine."
"Ah, that I will. Now the hangman's noose, I do not know." His jest fell flat.
A harsh cry tore from her, and she hurled her arms about his neck. He held her head against his shoulder and kissed the shell of her ear. His heart thudded in his ears. "Go now, woman, and don't look back."
Wrenching from him, she then ducked beneath the barricade of his arms and dodged across the yard. Sadler let his forehead drop against the wall and rubbed it over the splintery wood. Cries of the castle guards reached his ears.
"She's here. We've found her!"
He dared not watch her sprint through the great entry. Another moment passed while he collected his wits, and he stole into the stable. He blinked against the enveloping darkness. Through a high window streamed ribbons of light. Dust motes swirled in the air.
As he edged deeper into the stable, the familiar oily scents of hay and horseflesh filled his head, resurrecting memories of his father. In his mind's eye, Sadler could nearly see the curves of Isolde's mother locked in the arms of his father, and finally he understood how the passion had gone before the sense.
