Seven Jane's Blog, page 7

Year's End and The Winter Solstice

I can’t believe the end of the year is upon us. Friday brings the Winter Solstice, and we officially say goodbye to the Holly King as the Oak King again takes the throne until midsummer.
 
Whether you see it as more practical or spiritual, the solstice marks a pivotal moment in the year (specifically, at 5:23pm EST on 12/21). In my home, it is the inciting event that kicks off our twelve-day midwinter celebration of Yuletide. We will spend the evening over a roaring campfire, singing carols and roasting marshmallows as we prepare for the arrival of our holiday guests. My boys will have their annual mock Holly versus Oak King battle, we’ll drink homemade mead, and then we’ll wake up the next morning and welcome our Yule Log into our home with song and merriment.
 
More than a season of celebration, the winter solstice (and the entire midwinter holiday) provides a perfect time to reflect on the past year: to celebrate successes, to plan for the new year, and—most important—to take time away from the hustle and bustle of every day and spend it instead with friends and loved ones, making merry and enjoying the warm company of the people who matter most in our lives.
 
As my holiday gift to you, I’d like to share with you one of my favorite tunes of the season from Damh the Bard, a modern-day Bard whose spirituality and love of folk tradition is expressed through his music, storytelling and poetry. For me, these two weeks give me time to catch up on reading and dwell on the ideas that have been swirling inside my head as I plot out my projects for the new year. The past year has brought so many wonderful things into my life—a debut novel and a new agent among so many other blessings—and I am so grateful for everyone who has been a part of this journey with me. There are so many new things coming in 2019 that I am eager to announce, including a new project for the Havenwood Falls collective, a super secret authors project at Black Spot Books, and so much more! For now, I’ll be tucked away by the fire, reading and dreaming, and hope that you will be, too.
 
Happy holidays, and be merry!
7J

Review of Apocalypse Five by Stacey Rourke

If you’re looking for a new young adult sci-fi adventure to fall in love with this Valentine’s Day, might I suggest Apocalypse Five—the first in the Archive of the Fives series, upcoming from author Stacey Rourke, which is set to be published by Black Spot Books on February 12th 2019.

Like a swift punch to the gut, Apocalypse Five starts off with the sudden burst of energy of a rocket ship—literally—as readers are plunged headfirst into the jarring and unpredictable reality of Earth’s future (spoiler alert: don’t get too attached to anyone you meet in the first chapter).

Stationed aboard the AT-1-NS space station, the A-5—highly trained and deadly—are little more than children forced into a militarised combat life. Per 17-year old team-leader Detroit, nameless cadets begin their training as soon as they’re old enough to “stand without wobbling,” foregoing (unwittingly) a life of human emotion and connection. Instead, they are forced into virtual simulations to practice saving Earth—which is now populated with humanoid things while what’s left of humanity’s chosen people live a glamorous, synthetic existence in space. Only the best soldiers are chosen to become part of the mock-celebrity elite A-5 team, but it’s not all pomp and circumstance here; it’s a high-stakes game where a game over on the grid is a brutal death sentence with all the gore and pain you’d expect in a proper sci-fi combat scenario.

When team-leader Detroit—a kickass, sharp-tongued, and totally self-aware lady of color—is sent on a solo mission that’s a little too real to be a simulation, she finds all she has come to believe—or, rather, has been brainwashed into believing—might not be true after all. Of course, as these things go, when she and the rest of her team—including love-interest Houston, ginger twins Juneau and Reno, and probably the most teenage-angsty, dread/mohawked dude ever, Augusta—take their concerns to the political and military leader of their universe, Chancellor Washington, he does what a classic sci-fi villain always does: prove them correct. The A-5 find themselves in a run-or-die situation as they head back to Earth—only this time it’s not the simulated one that they’ve been training to “protect”, but the real one, and they’re not there to protect Earth, they’re there to save it…from them. With their feet firmly on the scorched and battle-drained dirt of the real world, the A-5 quickly discover the depth of the lies programmed into their psyche and the consequences of what their specialised “training” has done to the very actually-human people of Earth, who are now little more than resource mills—from foodstuffs to children—for the AT-1-NS regime. It’s impossible to tell the rest of the plot without spoilers, so you’re going to have to check this one out for yourself. (There are androids, and really cool bracelet weapons, and some rather chuckle-worthy nods to current pop culture, too.)

There are some tropey genre-mainstays in this new series that fit it firmly within the ranks of a typical YA SFF—a good bit of eye-batting between Detroit and Houston, fashionable spacesuits and an obsession with fancy outfits, laser guns with dubious technology, and a head-honcho bad guy(s)—but Apocalypse Five also includes unexpected and refreshing elements that make it a breath of fresh air in genre saturated with cheesy love triangles and fickle white girls trying to play badass (yeah, I said it, fight me).

This isn’t just a story about kids who fight back against a power-hungry regime, but one that embeds a critical social message at its heart. While Detroit and her team are busy fighting Washington and the fury released from the Fortress at their insurgency while trying to save the people of earth—including a newborn baby who is, like all cadets, intended to be fed to the ranks of the soldiers-to-come aboard the AT-1-NS—what Rourke is really writing is so much more than just another dystopian book. With a cast of strong, empowered women—from Olympia (the ill-fated original leader of the A5), Detroit and Juneau; to the leaders of the Air Walkers and the Floaters (two of the three tribes of Earth introduced in the first book); to new mother Remi and enduring baby Adalyn, this story is a call for women to stand up against oppression, to find our own power, and for everyone to take up arms and fight to save what’s left of our humanity in a world that would sooner see us turn on each other rather than unite as one.

Apocalypse Five is a fresh breath into a genre thick with same-as-always stories with a tale ripe with classic dystopian elements and soft science fiction, as well as a healthy dose of female empowerment, diversity, and the social critique that we’ve been waiting for.

Coming from Black Spot Books 2.12.19 (learn more).

My Favorite December Reads

With Thanksgiving (finally) behind us, it's time to settle into the end of the year and get cozy with a good book (or six). I usually take December off from writing to catch up on some reading, and while others are enjoying heart-warming holiday romances I am - as usual - erring on a bit more of the darker side. Be it a Yuletide fantasy, a dark romp with Krampus, a little holiday irreverence, or some holiday screams, here is what I am reading (and in some cases rereading) this December. The Winter Riddle by Sam Hooker I've been looking forward to this one all year. An antisocial winter witch teams up with a less than jolly Santa? Yes, please. It also helps that it's written by my friend and fellow author, the always brilliant and ceaselessly hilarious Sam Hooker, responsible for the Terribly Serious Darkness books.  Review to come. Get your copy. Krampus: The Yule Lord by Brom  I love the myth of Krampus, and what I heard of this book last year when my husband read snippets of it aloud (between his fits of laughter), so decided to give it a go myself this year. If you're looking to pitch Santa back up to the North Pole, or otherwise want to terrify your kids, consider Krampus. Review to come. Get your copy. Hark! The Herald Angels Scream by Christopher Golden I'm a big fan of short story anthologies, and bought this when it released in October. As noted by the anthology's editor, there is darkness at the heart of the season, and we've long been telling ghost stories about it. I cannot wait​ to dig into this. Review to come. Get your copy. A Christmas Blizzard by Garrison Keillor What's better than a slow-burning holiday tragedy penned by a curmudgeonly author? Nothing. This is one of those stories I read every year - a wonderful farce delivered only as a storyteller as masterful as Garrison Keillor could spin. (#protip: Listen to a few back episodes of A Prairie Home Companion so you can get your narration voice straight before cracking this one open). Get your copy. Skipping Christmas by John Grisham Another annual read, this story speaks to my inner Luther Krank--someone who is over the holiday insanity and just wants to go relax on a beach somewhere. The book that inspired the film Christmas with the Kranks, if you've ever just gotten sick of holiday madness, this one will make you giggle and still manage to give your Grinchy heart a little boost, too. Get your copy. Old Christmas by Washington Irving Stay in your lane, Charles Dickens, and leave Olde English Christmas to Washington Irving, the author who brought us The Legend of Sleepy Hollow and Rip Van Winkle. If you've not read this true Christmas classic, it's time to leave Scrooge to count his coins and read this oft-forgotten classic instead. (#protip: Get the illustrated version.) Get your copy. 

Review of Blood Communion by Anne Rice

My lifelong love affair with Anne Rice and her Vampire Chronicles is rather well-documented. 

After two books of alternating points of view—Prince Lestat (2014) and Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis (2016)— Rice, and Lestat, are back in the newly released Blood Communion. In a first person narrative flouting more dialogue than previous books in the series, the eleventh installment in Rice’s Vampire Chronicles sees the charmingly insufferable vampire continuing more or less the same path he’s been on for the past few centuries: seeking a beautiful respite and fame for his unquenchable ego, and comforting himself with insincere self-flagellation every step of the way. Indeed, told completely from the perspective of The Brat Prince himself, Blood Communion is exactly the sort of epicurean tale you might expect from the vampire who simultaneously laments each of his numerous mistakes while continually ignoring any wisdom that might prevent him from making his next.
 
It is Lestat de Lioncourt in all his pompous, velvet-cloaked, self-indulgent glory, and we love him—and Rice—for it.
 
For those of us loyal People of the Page who have tired of worrying how, if, or (for-the-freaking-love-of-Akasha) when Amel’s consciousness might be extracted from Lestat or about the motives of the replimoids (in fact, there is mercifully little mentioned about Kapetria or Amel until the final few pages), this is the story we have been waiting for. Once again, the ever self-absorbed and easily besmitten vampire romances himself through his own panderings, all the way from a superficial infatuation with newcomer Dmitri Fontayne (or Mitka, as he prefers), a former lover of none other than Pandora, who beguiles Lestat with his fragile hands, impressive wardrobe, and well-furnished home (sound familiar?), to the quickly dispatched Baudwin. This latter is ultimately ended by his maker, a newly introduced ancient Gundesanth (Santh), who, as it turns out was a member of the Queen’s blood priesthood and companion of Nebamun (known now as Gregory). Alas, it wouldn’t be fitting for a new addition in the Vampire Chronicles if it didn’t introduce and subsequently forget new characters at lightning speed.

"[blood communion] is Lestat de Lioncourt in all his pompous, velvet-cloaked, self-indulgent glory, and we love him—and Rice—for it."

In an installment that is most reminiscent of The Vampire Lestat (1985), Rice’s latest, lushly-written addition to the Chronicles acts as a sort of bookend to the series Louis kicked off, returning us back to the mortal days of Lestat. It is, also, perhaps the most unabashed love letter from Rice in all her glorious descriptions of Lestat. We revisit some of the most impactful, character-shaping moments of his personal history—Claudia's death, the conversion of Gabrielle, the tryst with Memnoch, et cetera—and see the culmination of these moments arrived as Lestat finally achieves the proper nobility he has desired since his mortal days in his family’s crumbling castle in France.
 
Though the novel lags in the beginning and feels somewhat rushed toward the end, there are moments of intense action and violence in Blood Communion, the likes of which haven’t been seen since Queen of the Damned. Two such scenes of note involve the ill-fated Rhoshamandes (yes, finally) and his beloved Benedict. It is Lestat himself who cheaply head butts and then rips the former’s head from his ancient body, subsequently ingesting and then vomiting back Rhosh’s eyes. The second gruesome death of note (although it happens prior to Rhosh’s) is when poor Benedict terminates his own immortality (shortly after delivering Lestat an actual throne) in a gory exit that makes the stage scene of the young French woman in the Théâtre des Vampires look positively G-rated.
 
Of course, Rhosh’s eventual demise has been long awaited, and Lestat honors though does not participate in Benedict’s. However, if you’ve ever expected The Brat Prince to actually face consequences—from condemning poor Claudia to short-lived immortality, to destroying the Théâtre des Vampires (something over which Armand is still deliciously bitter), to teaming up (albeit-temporarily) with the blood queen Akasha, to continually and incessantly ignoring the insight and caution of Louis, Armand, Marius or any of the other blood drinkers Lestat clams to love yet never actually shows any affection—or to perhaps grow into the maturity of a centuries-old vampire, it isn’t happening here. Not even and perhaps especially not know that he enjoys the role of crowned Prince, a position he ceaselessly wrings his hands over (and which is constantly reinforced by vampires who, after Akasha, might know better!). Instead, any maturity we might find in Lestat is tempered by his own grandiose musings as he comforts himself with his progress in establishing the court, hosts decadent balls and ceremonies, restores his ancestral home—Chateau de Lioncourt—and the surrounding village, considers and then bestows the Dark Gift to his lead architect, and still manages to come out of yet another challenge to his dominance not only the winner, but somehow improved. He is, for better or worse, the same bratty blond vampire he has always been—just maybe a little less repentant about it.
 
But then so are the rest of the vampires. The always-dramatic Armand. The ever-inconsolable Louis. The incessantly-brooding Marius. Gabrielle, who remains as elusive and temporal as Pandora. But perhaps therein is Rice’s subtle nod to a simple truth—the suggestion that despite all its flaws and all its imperfections, that no matter how long removed from the realm of the living, no matter how well preserved in velvet and beautiful immortality, the human condition persists within us all.

Blood Communion is the necessary next step of the Court as we have come to know and love them, and it is Lestat de Lioncourt as we simply can’t live without him.

All hail Prince Lestat!

Ladies of Horror: Inkshares Horror Contest

​In what could rightfully be deemed a revival of the horror genre, two things have happened of late. The first has evidenced itself cinematically, with new spine-tingling features coming to screens in the veritable gush of Stephen King stories-turned-films on streaming platforms and Hollywood both (Gerald’s Game though, sigh) alongside a swarm of other new horrifying literary adaptations, like Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House (originally published in 1959), revivals of nostalgic, spooktastic series like Goosebumps (I previously wrote on the same here), new installments in the Halloween franchise (the film that quite literally cut its teeth biting off what’s since been known as the slasher genre), and a general enchantment with watching all things existing on the spectrum of terror—from true-story haunting series like Netflix’s Haunted to cooking shows (and not the scary Gordon Ramsey kind, unfortunately). Even Halloween, which didn’t reach 2017’s record high in spending last month, did achieve an impressive $9b, a significant amount being spent on costumes—and pet costumes. (I feel the need to remark Sophie Turner and Joe Jonas’s Gomez and Morticia Addams costumes, which, if you have not yet seen them on the Internet, are spectacular).
 
Of course, we don’t only like to watch horror or dress up like it, but we like to read it as well. The last year has seen the publication of several spectacular horror titles, among them Claire Legrand’s Sawkill Girls and The Last Time I Lied by Riley Sager. Thus, the second shift in the revival of the horror genre has been a call, not to the directorial or theatrically inclined, but to the writers—particularly to the women of horror fiction, a historically underrepresented group in the genre (I’m speaking of adult horror, sparkly vampires don’t count). From boutique indie publishing houses with open calls looking for stories by (or about) ladies of shivery goodness, like Stangehouse Books, to new bookish review and author fan groups like the Ladies of Horror Fiction who tweet, podcast, review, and otherwise champion the women’s horror writing market, the invitation to join the club of horror writers has grown wide, inclusive, and unabashedly interested in producing work that has the ability to scare the hell out of all of us.
 
So, to keep us in a steady supply of creepy new stuff to make our blood run cold, while King is offering rights to his short stories for $1 to film students via the Dollar Babies program, the publishing community is serving up its own set of opportunities. And if there’s one thing that those of us saddled with the sometimes-competitive-and-often-masochistic author gene simply can’t resist it’s a chance to show our stuff in a battle of writing wits, namely, a contest—maybe even one that could put us in the running for the coveted Bram Stoker award (I’m just saying).
 
This year, Inkshares, the publisher of speculative fiction which has produced two standouts—in 2017, Scott Thomas’ Kill Creek, a debut literary horror that was selected by the American Library Association’s advisory committee as the horror book of the year, shortlisted for the Bram Stoker, termed “the horror debut of 2017” by Barnes & Noble, and is in development for television at Showtime, and this year Christopher Huang’s A Gentleman’s Murder, which, in addition to receiving a coveted starred review from Publishers Weekly, is in development at Endeavor Content with the former heads of HBO and Showtime—has just opened a call for submissions for its second-annual Horror Novel Contest.
 
I’ll go ahead and mention that both Inkshares authors of the aforementioned titles have had their books licensed by major houses in foreign territories and gotten their cold, skeletal fingers on significant five-figure advances. Not accomplishments to snub a nose at for sure.
 
It’s also worth pointing out, just for the record, that both authors are men. So, ladies of horror, let’s make this year’s contest one for the books (pun!). Seasoned or aspiring writers alike, whip out your pens, pencils, or whatever writing device you use, and start (or finish) that horror book that’s been whispering dark thoughts in your ears. Whether you’re a Morticia, a Lily, or an Elvira herself, ready your best horror manuscript and get your submission on. The horror genre is back—just check out this article by my literary agent Italia Gandolfo—and this time it’s ours.
 
Submissions are open now through December 14th (I’ll say it again for the folks in the back—submissions are open until December 14th) and are open to anyone with a partial or finished horror manuscript. Inkshares will be accepting at least three novelists for publication and rights management. Full submission details and other nuances of eligibility here.
 

Why 'Goosebumps 2: Haunted Halloween' was a great idea

Originally published 11.6.18 on The Nerd Daily Before Suzanne Collins (Hunger Games), before Stephanie Meyer (Twilight), even before J. K. Rowling (Harry Potter, incase you’ve been living under a rock for the past twenty years), there was R. L. STINE.
 
Few things say “horror” to 90s kids like recalling memories of curling up in front of the TV on Saturday night to catch an episode of Are You Afraid Of The Dark?, the Canadian horror fantasy-themed anthology Nickelodeon series that made spooky campfire stories a weekly event, and reading Goosebumps books, usually harvested from those most magical of school day events: the Scholastic Book Fair. At a time when girls in my peer group were busy reading series like The Baby-Sitters Club and Sweet Valley High, rare would have been the occurrence to find eight-year old me without my nose stuffed deep in the pages of a Goosebumps book (the very first installment, Welcome to Dead House, residing squarely beside the quintessential Stine classic, Night of the Living Dummy, as my personal favorites). Nothing horrified my mother more than finding me still reading in bed past midnight, armed with a flashlight and shivering with eager dread under a blanket as I sped through the pages of a Goosebumps novel. “You’ll give yourself nightmares,” she’d often warn, and I did—I’m still a little uneasy around ventriloquist, er, dolls—but I also kept reading.
 
I wasn’t alone in my fascination with these books, with their neon covers and catchy harrowing titles like A Scarecrow Walks at Midnight and The Werewolf of Fever Swamp. The Goosebumps series—along with myriad spinoff series written by Stine, including Goosebumps Series 2000 (1998 to 2000), Goosebumps Gold (never released), Give Yourself Goosebumps (1995 to 2000), Goosebumps HorrorLand (2008 to 2012) and Goosebumps Most Wanted (2012 to 2016)—have sold more than 400 million copies since 1992. During a particular prosperous time in their mid-90s heyday, Goosebumps were flying off the shelf at a rate of 4 million copies per month, a speed unmatched until we met Harry Potter in 1997.
 
When the first Goosebumps movie hit theaters in October 2015, I found myself curious, excited, and frankly a little nervous. While the recent remake-revival of everything 80s and 90s was fun at first, I will concede it started getting a little hard to watch when Lisa Frank merchandise reappeared at Hot Topic and a remake of The Magic School Bus showed up streaming on Netflix. I watched the trailer for Goosebumps (2015) and thought to myself, please Hollywood, you’ve taken my sticker collections, trapper keepers, and Ms. Frizzle, please don’t destroy my childhood books, too. (Much of my anxiety was relieved when I saw that Jack Black had signed on to portray Stine himself. I don’t know why, but I think it had something to do with every Jack Black movie ever made.)
 
Of course, I went and saw it, dragging my then-nine-year-old son along with me. He was, admittedly, disinterested, going along with it only because it “might be cool.” In hopes of converting my son into a Goosebumps-kid, I picked him up a tattered old copy of one of the newer installments—Zombie School, I believe—at a secondhand bookstore, and although it had never left the bookshelf since it arrived at our house, I was still hopeful. We saw Goosebumps, and it was everything my childhood self could have ever dreamed it would be. All the classics came out to play, led as you might expect, by Slappy himself. There were twists, emotionally resonant characters, and just the right amount of absurdity and nail biting. I loved it.
 
And then came the sequel.
 
I was terrified. Not in the Goosebumps kind of way, but in the holy crap they’re going to remake the remake and they’re going to ruin it kind of way. My son, now 11, however, saw the preview and demanded we see it at once. I balked. Read some early notes. Checked to see if Black was still involved with the project. Whined a little about how sequels destroy dreams. Then, one day as I was organizing my son’s bookshelves I came across that secondhand copy of Zombie School. Its pages were falling out. The cover had detached itself and was now hanging off the book’s spine like the decaying flesh of one of the title characters. There were dog ears and highlighted passages, the kind that only appear after you’ve read a story a whole bunch of times and fallen completely in love with it.
 
At long last, my son, who has morphed into a sternly devout reader of series limited to Diary of a Wimpy Kid and Spy School, was becoming a Goosebumps kid. We went to the bookstore, and in the kid’s section—one I rarely visit—I was amazed to discover a massive stand of all-things Stine. Standing at that blissful kiosk I almost forgot that I am a fully-grown woman who reads Stephen King anthologies for breakfast. I had to stop myself from going home with a few old favorites, even though I really wanted to read Ghost Beach again. I started to feel hopeful about the remake-sequel of Goosebumps. The next week, the book fair came to school, and my son came home with a copy of the novelization of the new film.
 
I quit fussing and bought the damn tickets.
 
If the first Goosebumps film was the thing all of us 90s kids’ had been waiting for, Goosebumps 2: Haunted Halloween was the thing we all worried about. The overly silly storyline was busy desperately trying to be original while still borrowing as many iconic Goosebumps characters as it could. If managing that messy kludge of doom wasn’t already bad enough, all of this was forcefully shoved against a Halloween backdrop like an unwitting kid in a school portrait, ignoring any potentially better suited plot that might have been leveraged from the 150+ actual Goosebumps stories. One particular standout scene—which usurped a ridiculous amount of screen time—involved a small army of demonic gummy bears that congealed themselves into one fanged gummy beast. It remains a mystery whether this goofball scene got so much real state because someone ran out of ideas to fill the hour and a half film, or because some writer had a particular fascination with the idea of a herd of little squishy candies blobbing together into one very large, very toothy gummy blob. In fact, that may be the single best way to sum up the movie itself: a lot of gummy fang instead of any real bite.
 
Silliness aside, there were some pretty decent scenes in the film—like when Slappy calls upon various Halloween decorations, from rubber rats to zombie masks, languishing on a discount department store shelf to come to life—and some pretty decent spooks for a family film—like (again) Slappy creeping into the bedroom of a sleeping girl, his shadow towering over hers with questionable intent. The most enjoyable aspect of the film isn’t found in the plotline itself, but perhaps in its character cast—though Black himself was only allotted a measly and completely unnecessary ten minutes to revive his role as Stine, sigh. From a single-mom, to an unassuming and vaguely nerdy main character, an entrepreneurial best friend who is equal parts comedic relief and the friend we all wish we had, a stereotypical bicycle-gang of preteen bullies, and a teenage sister navigating everything from bad boyfriends to college applications, this group might have been lifted directly out of any real world neighborhood and put into a twisted, over the top scenario that is too silly to be scary but still manages to give you—dare I say—goose bumps—assuming you’re eleven years old.
 
Realization hit me walking out of the theater. While I was busy rattling off reasons the film failed cinematically, why it didn’t live up to the expectations set in the first, why it just didn’t remind me of my childhood love affair with R. L. Stine, my son turned to me and asked the question I had been waiting to hear ever since I caught him reading in bed with a flashlight: “What’s your favorite Goosebumps book?” he asked. “Maybe I’ll read it next.” Sweet, shivery bliss filled my heart, and a sinister smirk even Slappy might have approved of crossed my face. I looped my arm around my son’s shoulders and steered him back toward that Goosebumps book kiosk waiting for us in the children’s section of the bookstore.
 
Suddenly, I found myself really, really happy with this nonsensical, Jello-for-storyline movie because while it didn’t do right by us old school readers, it did something I think might be even better. It’s reinvigorated a new generation of kids to pick up a Goosebumps novel, hide under bed sheets with a flashlight, and enjoy a case of the shivers. After all, Goosebumps 2: Haunted Halloween wasn’t made for us 90s kids to relive our Goosebumps glory days. It was made for the kids of those 90s kids. To let them worry just a little bit about stuff that goes bump in the night. To scare the ever-living hell out of them every time they look at a ventriloquist doll. To give a new generation of readers goose bumps.

Finding Inspiration in Sleepy Hollow

It's the weekend before Halloween. There is a chill in the air, the smell of harvest hangs sweet and heavy around you as crisp brown leaves crackle beneath your feet. Icy wind that could just as easily be a symptom of the waning fall or the breath of a risen corpse shivers down your neck. You bundle your coat closer against you, avoiding looking too deeply into the shadows that creep along the edges of your vision. There is a slow, steady pounding in the distance. Faint at first it grows closer, closer... Is it the hooves of those Horseman's faithful steed as he rides? Or is it simply the echo of your own beating heart thumping from within your chest?

Few things say Halloween to me like my annual weekend visit to Tarrytown, NY and the Village of Sleepy Hollow (yes, it's a real place, the town having adopted the name of Irving's tale in 1996)--the sleepy, dewy little town in New York which plays home to Washington Irving's classic ghostly tale The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. Who doesn't love a headless horseman?

The entire village comes alive in October, helmed mostly by Historic Hudson Valley, a "not-for-profit education organization that interprets and promotes historic landmarks of national significance in the Hudson Valley for the benefit and enjoyment of the public." From hay rides and village parades, to visiting both the birth and resting place of author Washington Irving and more in the Old Dutch Cemetery, there is something to set every Halloween enthusiast's spirits in the mood for the High Holiday in October in Sleepy Hollow.

My two favorite events of the season are the live performances of Irving's class tale, told by silver-tongued storyteller, Jonathan Kruk, and the Great Jack-o-Lantern Blaze.A Masterful Story Told by a Masterful StorytellerFew things are as delightful as being regaled with a story by someone who knows how to weave a good tale. From the tips of his buckled shoes to that of his tricorn hat, Jonathan Kruk deliver Irving's classic tale in a way that might have sent a chill down Irving's spine himself.

No matter how many times I see Kruk perform, I am always spell-bound as I listen to his stories, told with such passion that each rendition is a new and delightful experience. Kruk's clever quirks--including a light bit of humor with the aid of organ player Tim Keys--change a simple recitation into an experience, and combined with the setting of the Old Dutch Church itself one might find themselves transported back into a simpler time when the snipe nose of Ichabod Crane helped to predict the wind as it blew through the cemetery grounds outside, warning of nightfall and the Horseman's annual ride through the sleepy town.

Aside from being a masterful storyteller, Kruk is also an all around nice guy whom I've had the pleasure of watching perform not only Irving's tale, but Dickens', and fairytales in Spring at Beltane. Not only a talented storyteller by voice, he can always spin a yarn in pen! I just picked up his book this year on my trip to Tarrytown. He doesn't know yet, but I'll be asking for a signature when I return to hear him perform Dicken's classic Christmas tale in December. The Great Jack-o-Lantern BlazeEvery fall, Van Cortlandt Manor is transformed into a glowing beacon of unearthly orange light, lit by thousands of grinning pumpkins that make Ray Bradbury's halloween tree look like a candle flame set next to the sun. Thousands of hand-carved pumpkins lit by thousands of hand-lit votives crawl the expanse of this historic home, fashioned into everything from lanterns to carousels, to a giant spiderweb and the Headless Horseman himself--throwing a flaming pumpkin no less.

This year I had the pleasure of meeting Cheryl Bernstein, one half of the two-person team that first introduced the Blaze to Hudson Valley fourteen years ago. Ms. Bernstein, a delightful woman who chatted with me for more time than I rightfully should have asked for, is the production coordinator for the Blaze, and the woman who singlehandedly carved an entire installation of funkins (as the festival makes use of both) with a Celtic Knot display. I should also mention that while Ms. Bernstein is clearly young at heart, she is no mere sprig of a girl, which makes her ability to hand-carve several dozen intricate knots ever the more impressive.

This year, according to Ms. Bernstein, the Blaze boasts 10k live pumpkins, lit by 50k votives. Twenty-five paid scoopers arrive at the site daily to scoop fresh pumpkins, a fraction of the total 2700 volunteers who participate each year in carving and lighting. Putting an event of this magnitude on is no small feat, and if you have the chance to visit I strongly encourage you to do so. My favorite of this year's new features was the carousel, crafted by one of the members of the original carouseling family. It actually spins. 

Plus, there's apple cider donuts and hot cider (and things stronger) to keep you wander as you stroll through the lights. Just...like on Halloween night itself, stay close and don't go beyond the edges of the light. You never know what is lurking in the dark in Sleepy Hollow.

Finding Inspiration in Salem

I often look to history for inspiration, not only when writing historical fiction but anytime I am thinking about the times, places, and people who have driven stories, good and bad, through time. There is a wealth of information and inspiration that can be learned from the past, as well as some hard lessons and sad truths in how much damage can be done when we close our minds and hearts to people and allow our biases and judgements to run away with us. It is a bittersweet story, but a powerful example of the best and worse of the human condition.

Earlier this year, I had the pleasure of spending some time in Salem, MA, exploring historical sites and digging into the history of the town with one of the area's historians, and the owner of Bewitched After Dark, Jeff, who led me through town, providing a candid history of the accused and their accusers and sharing little-known history not found in any textbook. I visited off-season, so the streets were uncrowded and the landmarks accessible. As it also happened to be the anniversary of the House of Seven Gables, I was even able to snap some rarely seen interior photos of the historic home! 

I've included some of my shots below to guide you through a brief but inclusive photo tour of Salem and some of the surrounding areas. It's a wonderful, spirited place brimming with history, magic, triumphs and tears--from the Old Witch Gaol and Burying Point, to the home that inspired a literary classic, to the final resting place of several authors who have shaped American literary history. Enjoy!

Reader Soundtrack & NaNoWriMo

Wow! My head is still spinning from last week's release of The Isle of Gold . What an incredible debut release. I am so grateful for all of the support and excitement over the launch of this adventurous, empowering fantasy, and I finally get to answer one question that I've been asked over and over again: yes there is a sequel coming! 

In fact, The Isle of Gold is the first installment of the Daughters Jones Trilogy! Look for the next installment in 2019, and definitely stay subscribed for updates.

Every book needs a great soundtrack, and if you're just settling down with Merrin and crew, I'd love to invite you to listen to this one on Spotify, created by reader Samantha Walker. Thanks, Samantha! You've done an incredible job--this soundtrack is superb!

Do you NaNoWriMo? I'm trying it for the first time this year, using the time to write a novella that I am very excited to tell you about soon! If you're writing, I'd love to support each other. I can't figure out how to send a writing buddy link, but I'm writing as @sevenjanewrites!

Anchors Up! Time to Sail.

Today is the day! The Riptide has hoisted up her anchor and is moving out into the horizon, and I am so excited for everyone to meet Merrin, Winters, Tom Birch, Jomo, Dunn, and the rest of the crew. Oh, and Evangeline. It wouldn't be a story without her.

I have a funny habit of "casting" out my characters as I write them. I find it helps me get into their heads if I can visualize them. Luckily, I've been able to work with the fabulous Lindee Robinson of Lindee Robinson Photography and some very incredible models to bring the Riptide's crew to life. Meet the crew below...and be sure to scroll to the bottom for some behind-the-scenes secrets of this ragtag crew! Merrin is represented by the stunningly beautiful Katlin who is as lovely inside as she is outside. Click to follow her on Instagram. An orphan who calls Isla Perla home, Merrin Smith is determined to find out who she really is, and how she arrived on the island. She is friendly only to Claudette, although she feels a strange and powerful attachment to Evangeline Dahl--a woman to which she has never actually spoken. Merrin can't shake the feeling that her fate is deeply tied to that of Evangeline, and when the island's most enigmatic proprietress vanishes without a trace, Merrin defies the rules of piracy and joins the crew of the Riptide helmed by ruthless Captain Winters, Evangeline's rumored lover. Claudette is no angel (just wait till you read her story), but she is represented by one! Click to follow Angel on Instagram. Claudette Abobi is Merrin's sister in arms at The House of Sparrows, the brothel where Claudette works and Merrin lives on Isla Perla. She is island-born and beautiful, equal parts cunning and loyal. Claudette helps Merrin assemble the necessary pieces of her disguise, although she makes it known that she doesn't want Merrin to go, and fears for her fate at sea. The relationship between Merrin and Claudette is left unexplored (for now!), but it is hinted that there is more than friendship between the two women. There was no one who could play Winters but Evan, who is every bit as badass and dedicated as the captain. Click to follow him on Instagram. Erik Winters is the rumored madman that helms the pirate ship Riptide. Tenacious and sometimes ruthless, Winters is known as much for his disposition as he is for his connection to Evangeline Dahl. Upon Evangeline's disappearance, Winters leads the Riptide's crew through a series of bloody battles as he tries to recover his love. But, after two years of failures that have only added to his brooding and  ill-tempered personality, Winters believes that the sea itself has stolen Evangeline. We meet Winters as he prepares to sail to the mythical island of Bracile to steal her back.
Brandon Dunn is the surly quartermaster of the pirate ship Riptide, and the closest confidant to Captain Erik Winters. When Merrin seeks to join the Riptide's crew, Brandon Dunn is the first sailor that she meets, and throughout the journey Dunn serves as both Merrin's friend and agitator. He is as obsessed with the legends of the sea as Winters and just as surly, but insistent upon them in a way that Winters is not, particularly concerning the ghosts of the ocean and the legend of Mélusine. His is prone to drink and smoke cigars, which he does primarily when in celebration. Tom is represented by Andrew, who has dark hair and lovely blue eyes, but was the best Birch around. Click to follow him on Instagram. Tom Birch is the handsome, unassuming boatswain of the Riptide. He is kind and friendly, with a stature like his namesake, an easy laugh, and saltwater green eyes. When Merrin joins the Riptide, she can't help but be drawn to Birch, though he is the person from which she struggles most to keep her identity hidden as she strives to ignore her developing, and completely unexpected, feelings. When she finds herself doubting everyone else--especially herself--Tom is the one person she'll give everything up to keep safe. Likewise, whether its by curse or fate, Birch develops feelings for Merrin that even he is powerless to avoid. Evangeline Dahl is the cunning and successful proprietress of the tavern Goodnight Mermaid, and the rumored lover of Captain Erik Winters. She is described as having both unsurpassed beauty as well as possessing of the unpredictable personality of the ocean itself. When Evangeline vanishes from Isla Perla, Winters bleeds the waters in his unrelenting search to find her. He believes she has been taken hostage by the gods of the sea as retribution for becoming so powerful in her ability to manipulate and control the trade of merchants and pirates sailing the Caribbean. There are some missing faces from this line up, but as the Daughters Jones trilogy continues, so will the casting! All of these characters mean so much to me, and I have been so fortunate not only to find faces to represent the Crew, but to make some wonderful new friends along the way. Katlin, Evan, Angel, and Andrew, and of course Lindee, are all incredible artisans and genuinely lovely people, and I am honored that they have joined this adventure!

One other thing I just can't help but mention, is that (if you didn't notice on IG!) Katlin and Evan, our Merrin and Winters, are actually a real life couple! It's a little odd to see Merrin and Winters all cuddled up together, but these two are simply such an incredible couple that I can't help but spread the love. Image belongs to Katlin and Evan. Used with permission.