Gail Z. Martin's Blog: Disquieting Visions, page 28

Warrior Queen Mommy Wars

by Gail Z. Martin

I survived the Mommy Wars of the 1990s.

Back then, it wasn’t enough to make a decision on what was right for your individual family in terms of going back to work after having a child.  According to the media-induced frenzy, it was necessary to state your choice as a moral absolute, and to regard those who made a different choice (regardless of their rationale or circumstances) as the enemy.  Oddly enough, when about 80% of women with small children went back to work in some capacity, the Mommy Wars lost steam as a polarizing issue and we all went on with our lives without experiencing the apocalypse.

I bring this up because while it takes a village to raise a child in the most positive sense, those same villages often impose tight culturally-proscribed limits on how “good” mothers are supposed to act.  What happens when your vows as queen and heir to the throne conflict with your responsibilities as the mother of a young infant?

Most of the kick-butt female characters in modern fantasy are conveniently single and childless (with the exception of the Carpe Demon series).  In my book, The Dread, one of my main characters, Kiara Sharsequin Drake, must make a no-win decision.  When her father, King Donelan of Isencroft is murdered by a usurper’s assassin as the kingdom stands at the brink of war with a looming foreign invasion, Kiara, as heir to the throne, is the only one who can unify and lead her people.

Seems like a clear choice. Except that Kiara is married to King Martris Drake of Margolan, a marriage that is both love match and political arrangement, and she has just given birth only a few months before.  Her infant son is not quite “right,” and no one knows exactly why.  She is also a few months pregnant with a second child, one who might stand to inherit both thrones if the first son is incapable of ruling. The crowns of two kingdoms hang in the balance.

“Family” issues make it even harder.  The two kingdoms have a long history of mistrust.  Many within Margolan view their new queen as an outsider with questionable motives.  Many in Isencroft view the marriage and resulting joint throne as tantamount to treason.  A usurper backed by a powerful foreign force has landed to stake his claim to the Isencroft throne.  Martris Drake has already taken Margolan troops to fight a multi-pronged foreign invasion.

Should Kiara stay or should she go?  If she stays, she abandons her own kingdom in its moment of dire need.  But by doing so, she could remain with her infant son and protect him amid the instability of what has become a world war.  If she goes, leaving her son with trusted protectors, her new subjects will consider it desertion, and her political enemies will brand her both a faithless queen and a bad mother.

As I wrote The Dread, I realized that while kings are rarely censured for their suitability as fathers, history makes many judgments about how well queens performed as mothers.  (Remember the criticism lodged against Queen Elizabeth II during the Princess Diana years?)  This made Kiara’s subplot all the more interesting to me because she not only had political choices to make and physical hardship to face, she also had to confront personal, social and cultural expectations around her role as a mother. There’s no way she can make everyone happy.  No matter what she chooses, she’ll feel agonizing guilt (ain’t in the truth), and she will be her own harshest critic.

To my thinking, bringing in the Mommy War dynamic makes Kiara easier for readers to identify with, because while few people in real life are warriors and fewer still are royalty, if you have children, you’ve felt pulled apart when one set of urgent duties conflicted with your beliefs about how a “good” mother should act.

How does she resolve it?  Imperfectly.  As most of us, I suspect, have done in real life, she weighs her options, looks at the pros and cons, tries to envision the long-term repercussions and potential damage, and then makes her choice, knowing that no matter what she chooses, a part of her  heart will break, and half of the onlookers will vilify her.  If you’re reading this and you’re a mom, you’ve been there, and so have I.

Two or More Names

 By

Crymsyn Hart

Writing can be hard and it can be fun depending on how are characters are doing that day. If they are in a bad mood, then good luck trying to woo them. Sometimes, the characters break into multi-personalities and make life interesting.

Besides the characters, even the authors can have a bad day or we can split into other personalities as well. It seems that is what is happening to me lately. Other authors write under different names for various reasons. Some is to protect their personal identity. Others do it because they write in different genres and it would clash with another identity. That is where I’m at.

I don’t write under my own  name because of the industry I work in. Besides that I write erotic romance novels and also horror. Erotic Romance and Horror don’t really mix so I’ve had to come up with another name for the horror genre as it is more explicit. So we will see where it goes.

I never thought I would want to write under another name because I could not think in another personality. However, that has been happening lately. It’s hard to have another voice inside my head. Some people think I’m crazy. Maybe I am. *Evil Laugh*

But now I have two personalities that will be inundating the market. I can only hope that I won’t have another personality spring forth. Others do, and that is awesome. I just wonder if I’ll be able to juggle three.

We shall see.

 

Paranormally Speaking

By

Tina R. McSwain

Are You Ready…

For the Zombie Apocalypse?  Traditionally, Zombies were beings made of voo doo spells.  They were the dead brought back to do the bidding of the living.  To quell them, you simply put salt in their mouths and sewed their mouths up.  Enter George A Romero and The Night of the Living Dead.  Zombies would never be the same.

There have been sequels by Romero as well as other well known “zombie movies”.  Some good, some VERY bad.  Recently, we have had a new player in this fascination with Zombies.  The Walking Dead, a very well written saga of a band of survivors led by Rick Grimes, a law enforcement office from Cynthiana, KY.

Over time, we have learned alot about Zombies.  In George’s version they are turned by a cosmic event which brings all the dead to life, in search of human flesh for sustenance.  In AMC’s The Walking Dead, we do not know what has caused the dead to walk, but we assume it is some sort of biological weaponry gone wrong.

With the current events in Florida, New Jersey, West Virgina, and Canada, we best hone up on our survival skills.  Following are suggestions and tips on how to survive a Zombie attack:

Who better to give this kind of advice than a Paranormal Expert, right?

First, remember they are slow.  You can outrun them.  With all the limb dragging and body parts falling off due to decay, you have time.  Just don’t get cornered or try to take on more than just a few of them.  Being outnumbered by Zombies will not end very well for you.  In TWD, we learn that the cold slows them down even further.  Therefore, do all of your Zombie hunting in the winter months.  You may want to think about Canada or Alaska as your new permanent home.

Second, do not make any noise.  This includes the sounds made by gunshots.  It is best to find and utilize a bow and arrow or cross bow to take these suckers out.  (No noise).  And, in a world devoid of industry, you can make an arrow out of a very sharp twig.  In TWD. Michonne makes very good use of a Ninja sword.  Might want to add that piece to your collection now.  (A true Jedi Lightsaber would come in most handy where facing a hoard of Zombies).  Also, a baseball bat, shovel or ax will work in a pinch.

Third, they MUST be mortally wounded in the head.  Kill the Brain!! Anything else will render them a threat.  They can still grab you and bite you.  Double tap if necessary.  But conserve ammunition.  Again, no industry for the manufacture of bullets and gunshots are loud  (refer to above paragraph)

Fourth, siphon gas from all the abandoned vehicles you will find along the way.  Pick a vehicle with high gas mileage as your escape vehicle.  Toyota Prius would be my choice.

Fifth, find food.  VERY important to find and salvage all the food you can.  Scavenge all stores, houses, cars, etc.  If you find a Wal-Mart, definitely hit it, but beware of the Wall-Martian Zombies left inside. The government says canned foods are good as long as there is no rust or the can has not blown up, so enjoy.

Sixth, grab as many weapons as you can.  Guns, ammo, shovels, swords, knives, bats, bow and arrow, anything that can be used to bash in or cut off the head of a Zombie.  (NOTE”  if you do cut off the head, it can still bite.  Be sure and crush the skull with whatever means at your disposal) Note:  National Guard Armories and police stations, as well as military bases would be an excellent place to search for weapons.

Seventh, find some sort of secure shelter.  Gated communities or even prisons would be a good choice.  However, ALWAYS have an escape plan if things start to go south on you. A solar equipped house with solar heating and air, solar power etc would be best.  (A battery powered car that could be charged with solar would be ideal as well.)

Eight, find bottled water, or boil your own.  Find and keep a lighter or matches handy for starting fires.

Ninth, remember you MUST put down any of your colleagues as soon as they die.  They will come back to bite you!  Again, in the head!!

And, finally, tenth, it is best to survive in a group.  More targets for the Zombies, and you can always sacrifice the weak or the slow so that you can make your escape and live on to fight another day.

A word of caution…people can be more dangerous than Zombies, so always keep your guard up around your “friends”.  Civility and humanism goes out the window in a true catastrophe.  And, being a pilot of an aircraft (or knowing one and saving him/her) might be a good idea.

I hope you will take heed of this public service announcement by CAPS Founder, Tina McSwain, and commit this information to memory so that you too can survive the Zombie Apocalypse!

Five Tips for Aspiring Authors

by Sandra Saidak

When I asked my Creative Writing professor how to become a successful author, I was told: “Apply seat of pants to seat of chair”.  While I now agree that he was right to say it, it didn’t seem very helpful at the time.  So today I will share advice that I hope will be more helpful to readers of this post.  At the very least, I can honestly say all of it has worked for me.

Write what you love.  It doesn’t matter what’s popular today, or what’s think week’s  #1 Best Seller.  If you don’t like paranormal romance or YA dystopia, then don’t write it!  And people will tell you to write it because that’s what sells.  As crazy as it sounds, you’ll have better luck writing something you’re passionate about, even if it’s in a genre that currently has no market, than attempting a paint-by-number version of the next Hunger Games.  In today’s world, you can carve out a new niche on the internet—even create an interest in something no one’s ever heard of—more easily than you can compete with 50,000 other authors trying to write the next Harry Potter.
Join a writers group.  Writing can be a solitary art from.  And while many of us choose it for just that reason, support and feedback from other authors are good things to have.  Regular meetings with your very own group of writers—even just once a month—is a way to hone your skills both in writing and editing. These groups are free, and unlike many of the services that ask for money, are fueled by dedication to the craft. As for where to find them: Google is your friend.
Attend Conventions.  Unless you’re working at them, these cost money, so be very selective.  Given the location of this guest post, I’m guessing most readers are sf/fantasy/horror fans.  Science Fiction conventions are great places to network with other writers, get information from people in all aspects of the field (authors, agents, editors, publishers and publicists) and even meet your favorite authors.  Most conventions have a writing track, which will consist of panels and presentations on a wide range of topics.  Many will have a writer’s workshop, where professional authors will read your short story or novel excerpt, and give you feedback in a closed session at the convention.  These workshops are usually free with the cost of admission.
Go to Writers’ Conferences.  These can be really expensive, and are therefore the biggest gamble.  But they have the potential for the biggest pay-off.  Conferences attract big name authors, agents and publishers, and are targeted at many more genres than just sf/fantasy/horror.  You will usually have the opportunity to pitch your novel to several agents and editors.  Conferences are also good places to learn how to write a pitch, cover letter or synopsis (plus, you can find out what all of those terms mean if you don’t already know.)
Apply Seat of Pants to Seat of Chair.  My old teacher was right.  The best way to make it as a writer is to write.  Even when you’re tired, frustrated, sick of the rejections, wondering if there’s any point to any of it—just keep on writing anyway.  And don’t stop.

______________

Sandra Saidak graduated San Francisco State University in 1985 with a B.A. in English.  She is a high school English teacher by day, author by night.  Her hobbies include reading, dancing, attending science fiction conventions, researching prehistory, and maintaining an active fantasy life (but she warns that this last one could lead to dangerous habits such as writing).  Sandra lives in San Jose with her husband Tom, daughters Heather and Melissa, and two cats.   Her first novel, “Daughter of the Goddess Lands”, an epic set in the late Neolithic Age, was published in November, 2011 by Uffington Horse Press.  Learn more at http://sandrasaidak.com/

Introspection on sharing myself with the world…

 by

Crymsyn Hart

So I wanted to take a second to talk about Blogging, well my blogging to be specific.

I admit that I’m not the best blogger to keep up every week with a post. I do try. Although the posts come on the day they are due. My day job hits me at odd hours, since I work from home. There is the family stuff we all have to deal with and there are also the spoiled brats, namely my two dogs-Morrigaine, Black Lab and Cadence, Black Lab/Border Collie mix. She’s the crazy one that loves to run full throttle from outside, through the house, and take a flying leap over the arm of my couch and slide it across my floor. Yeah, she’s a cute little devil.

You would think I would blog about my thoughts on the books I read, but my reactions normally stack up to meh it was okay or yeah, I really liked it. How interesting is that?

My day job consists of working in the insurance industry and that will put you to sleep in five minutes once I start talking about it. That leaves talking about my characters or writing in general. I guess there are movies and a few ghost stories I could throw in once and a while, but hey I consider my life to be boring. Maybe others don’t.

I’ll try to be more entertaining unless you catch me on an off day and well then I can’t promise you anything.

So the motto from now on is:

Viva the Blog!

 

A Newbie Looks at Dr. Who

by Gail Z. Martin

Ok, so I’m the last person on the planet to discover the rebooted Dr. Who.  Regardless of that, I’m having a blast enjoying the 2005-2011 episodes thanks to Netflix.  I’ve enjoyed the (mostly) excellent writing.  I’ve loved the wittiness.  I really like the music.  But there’s something else I really appreciate.

In a media world that tends to favor violent characters like Jack Bauer in 24, it’s a wonderful thing to see a character who triumphs by the power of words and wit, cleverness and compassion.

I love that the Doctor gives his enemies a choice before he stops the problem, and that he solves his issues without guns.  Yet he is the most feared thing in the universe.  He understands that winning can come at a terrible price, and that power corrupts.  And although he has people who love him, he is still very alone.  That vulnerability makes him as human as the mortals he protects.

Favorite Doctors?  I’m very partial to Matt Smith (you never forget your first Doctor), with David Tennant coming in a close second.  Favorite companion?  Amy, along with Rory.  And I’m pretty fond of River.  Favorite episodes? I loved the weeping angels episodes, along with the two library episodes.

I’ll be looking forward to the new season this summer!  What are your favorites—Doctors, companions and episodes?  I’d love to hear!

An excerpt from my short story, “Vanities”, available free for a limited time on my Winter Kingdoms page on Facebook.

by Gail Z. Martin

I followed Alard through the winding, cobblestone streets, taking every opportunity to twist my neck to see the buildings around me.  I hadn’t existed for enough centuries to become jaded yet, and part of me hoped I never would.  Even Alard, as old as he was, still managed to have a spark of curiosity about him.  He’d told me once that the vampires who survived the changing times were the ones who never stopped being curious.  Then he told me that by that measure, I’d outlive them all.  I’m still not sure whether that was meant to be a good thing or not.  I took it as a plus.  So far, being dead (perhaps ‘undead’ was a better word) had been good to me.

Alard stopped in front of a small shop several streets behind the waterfront.  A sign said “Vanities,” and, from the window I could see that it was one of the antiques and curio shops that Alard favoured.

“In here.  Be quick about it.”  Alard motioned for me to maneuver our bags through the narrow door.  The shop looked closed.  I was about to protest that breaking into a shop might attract the attention we were trying to escape, when a lamp flared behind us, its glow shaded to avoid making it too easy for passers-by to see.

“Alard. Come in.”

I put the bags where Alard bid and followed as Alard and our host continued, more than began, a lively conversation.  Two things stood out to me: they were obviously old friends, and our host was clearly mortal.

“Drink this.”  Alard must have known that after the voyage my hunger might endanger our host.  I usually had good control, but it wasn’t wise to be in close quarters with such fresh, delicious blood when I hadn’t eaten.  He handed me a goblet of blood, goat blood by the smell, and although while not my favourite, I was hungry enough not to quibble.

“I thought you might be hungry, so there’s a flagon for each of you.”  For the first time, I got a good look at our host.  He was an older man, perhaps in his late sixties.  Spry but beginning to show his age.  He had a bald head with wisps of white hair that refused to lie flat.  He squinted like a scholar, and he wore a jacket that looked worn at the elbows.  “I’m Carel.  Welcome to Antwerp.  You must be Sorren.”

Carel motioned for us both to take a seat.  We were in a fairly large sitting room.  Everywhere I looked there were manuscripts: old, leather-bound illuminated manuscripts, and such a multitude of trifles and treasures that I hardly knew where to look first.  The books alone would have been worth a small fortune.  Alard had been expanding my thiefly education to recognize value that the commoner might overlook.

“What do you see, Sorren?”  Alard downplayed my guesses that he could, as my maker, at least partly read my thoughts.  But there were too damn many coincidences for me to doubt.  I’d learned to keep my mouth shut when I was mortal.  Now, I’d learned to keep unflattering comments in the back of my head, where they hadn’t quite taken form as words.  I was grumbling a bit to myself like that now, and if Alard read it, he didn’t respond.

“I see pottery, probably Greek, definitely ancient.  The gold jewellery on the desk: Egyptian. I’d have to be up close to know the dynasty. The brooches on the shelf are ancient Celtic.  Nice work, too.  From the number of manuscripts, I’d guess someone ransacked a monastery. The inlaid box is a miracle, but I’ve no idea where it comes from.”

“India,” Carel replied offhandedly.  “Not surprised you couldn’t place that.”

“You’re a collector?”

Carel gave a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.  “Of sorts. It was dark in the shop when you came in, and we hurried you through, so you probably didn’t get much of a look around.  I deal in treasures and antiquities, most legal; some not so much.”

“You’re our fence.”

Carel chuckled.  “Really, Alard.  You can take the thief out of the alley, but have you taken the alley out of the thief?  I prefer ‘merchant,’ thank you.”

Before we could quibble more over wording, the door opened.  Alard moved before the handle turned, and I was just a blink behind him.  Without a word, we’d both flattened ourselves against the ceiling.  Mortals rarely look up when they’re indoors.

“You’re at the shop late, aren’t you?”  A young man walked into the room, and from his manner and the resemblance, I knew he had to be Carel’s son.  To my surprise, he glanced upwards.  “Hello, Alard.  You need to change your hiding place.”

Alard grinned and drifted down to the floor.  I followed him.  “No one but you ever looks up in here, Dietger.”

 

Exclusive Interview with Blaine McFadden, exiled Lord of Glenreith

Q:  You were exiled for murder.  Have you made your peace being a convict-colonist in Edgeland?

A:  I defended my sister’s honor.  I’m not sorry for it, and I’d do it again.  I expected King Merrill to have me killed.  I accepted that fate.  The king’s “mercy” sent me to the Velant prison and condemned me to the northern rim of the world.  I did my time, earned my Ticket of Leave.  Edgeland is home now.

Q:  You survived three years in the Velant prison, known for its harsh conditions.  Was that difficult, since you were a lord (although, granted, you had been stripped of the title)?

A:  It was difficult, since I was a human being.  Velant’s just an ice-cold charnel house.  I’ve been out three years.  Sometimes, I can sleep.  Not often.

Q:  If it were ever possible for convicts to return to Donderath—

A: (Interrupting) It isn’t.

Q: But if it were….would you?

A:  I can’t imagine why I would.  I’ve carved out a home here in Edgeland.  It’s not much, but I’ve discovered I don’t need much.  I’ve got a way to earn a living, and friends to drink with.  I can’t imagine why I’d return to Donderath….maybe if it were the end of the world….

 

 

Welcome to the 2012 Hawthorn Moon Sneak Peek of Ice Forged!

Condemned as a murderer for killing the man who dishonored his sister, Blaine “Mick” McFadden has spent the last six years in Velant, a penal colony in the frigid northern wastelands of Edgeland. Harsh military discipline and the oppressive magic of the governor’s mages keep a fragile peace as colonists struggle against a hostile environment. But the supply ships from Dondareth have stopped coming, boding ill for the kingdom that banished the colonists.

Now, McFadden and the people of Velant decide their fate. They can remain in their icy prison, removed from the devastation of the outside world, but facing a subsistence-level existence, or they can return to the ruins of the kingdom that they once called home. Either way, destruction lies ahead…

Ice Forged is Book One in my brand new Ascendant Kingdoms Saga.  Book Two: Reign of Ashes will come out in 2014.

Ice Forged will be available in stores and online world-wide in January 2013.  But you can read an excerpt here, plus get exclusive Q&A, interviews and other online goodies by visiting the partner sites, which are listed on my web page.

During the Hawthorn Moon event, you can find never-before-released excerpts, interviews, audio, video, and goodies, plus book giveaways on a variety of great fantasy sites that have agreed to be part of this debut party.

Here’s where to find the goodies:

OrbitBooks.net—First look at the cover art for Ice Forged plus a Q&A with main character Blaine McFadden.

Twitter.com/GailZMartin—Get the first look at Chapter 1 of Ice Forged on my Twitter feed before it posts to my web site

Facebook.com/WinterKingdoms—A different exclusive excerpt (there are three completely different excerpts in all) from Ice Forged plus a free short story, “Vanities” that’s never appeared before in the U.S. (Please “like” the page while you’re there!)

DisquietingVisions.com—? Uncharted Territory: The excitement and terror of writing a brand new series. Find out what I think in my special blog post!

GhostInTheMachinePodcast.com—Brand new audio of me reading an excerpt from Ice Forged

MySpace (GailZMartin) and my ChroniclesOfTheNecromancer newsletter—an interview with courtesan/spy/assassin Kestel Falke.

And there’s more!  Find out about all the other sites that are hosting exclusive content or giveaways at www.AscendantKingdoms.com!

Plus, on my AscendantKingdoms.com web site, you’ll find the following “party favors”:

Another exclusive excerpt from Chapter 1 of The Dread  (one of three different excerpts)
An interview with master thief Verran Danning
An all-new author video message with hints about what to expect in the Ascendant Kingdoms universe!

Thank you for checking out my Hawthorn Moon sneak peek party.  Enjoy!

An excerpt from my short story, “Steer a Pale Course”

by Gail Z. Martin

They didn’t send someone with us to the barrows.  They didn’t have to.  We knew what would happen if we didn’t come back with the necklace.  The look in my mother’s eyes bound me more to see it through than my word to Jammer.  I didn’t doubt Jammer would kill them if we failed or ran off.

“We could light a big fire and warn the men.”  Coltt had obviously been giving some thought to our options.

“One of us could run for the next village,”  Nesh offered.

I shook my head.  “If we light a fire, Jammer will see it.  We’d have to get the whole way to the other side of the cliffs to hide it, and if we do that, the men won’t know it’s for them.  And it’s a day’s walk to the next village.  Jammer said to be back by dawn.  Even if one of us got there, he couldn’t get back in time with a mob.”  I’d thought of the same things on the hike to the barrows.  From the looks on their faces, Coltt and Nesh had reasoned through it, too.  We had no choice but to go on.

For autumn, it was a hot day.  We were all sweating by the time we reached the barrows.  I stopped and took a deep breath.  The barrows were about a candlemark’s hard hike directly inland from the village.  There were three of them, and they might have been mistaken for hills if the rest of the land weren’t so flat.  I’d heard about the barrows since I was a kid.  The old women warned children that the barrow wights ate children who wandered away from the village.  At first, I thought it was just a tale to keep the children from running off.  Then I noticed that even the hunters made a wide circle around the barrows.  I’d gone out once with my father to look for deer and I’d asked why we couldn’t just climb the “hills” for a better view.  He’d gone gray in the face and told me they were an evil place and to stay clear.

Now we were going into them.

Jammer let us take equipment to unseal the barrows.  Coltt and I had picks and Nesh carried two shovels.  The pirates seemed pretty confident we couldn’t use them for weapons.  Hell, they hadn’t even cared about taking our knives.  After all, they had muskets.  I had the awful feeling that whatever was in those barrows wouldn’t be scared of either knives or muskets.  Nesh also had a bag of reeds and a flint and steel for torches.  Jammer had thrown us some dried meat and cheese with a laugh that told me our meals were numbered.

“Can you feel it?”

“Feel what?”  Coltt asked.  Then he closed his eyes for a moment, and so did Nesh.  I could see the change in their expression.  My magic felt jangly, like warning bells in my mind.  It was the same feeling I got when there was a bad storm coming at sea, long before we saw the waves.  That jangle had saved us many a time out on the ocean, warning us to head home before the squall hit.  Only now, we couldn’t head home.  We were heading straight into the storm.

Then I heard it.  It was faint, like a voice calling from a distance.  I pictured the necklace Jammer had drawn with a stick in the dirt floor of the lodge,   The more clearly I pictured it, the louder the voice called to me, directing me to its barrow.  I didn’t like the voice, but I’d heard it before.  I’d heard it in my dreams, bad dreams where a voice tried to call me out into the night, or onto the dark water.  It was the kind of voice you knew in your bones only wanted you for your meat.

Download the whole short story for just 99 cents at www.AscendantKingdoms.com