Victoria Janssen's Blog, page 32
January 1, 2013
December 24, 2012
December 10, 2012
Roundup of Some Guest Posts
The Next Wave in Paranormal Romance. In my humble opinion. Ahem.
I revisit The Mark of Merlin by Anne McCaffrey.
Robyn Carr’s My Kind of Christmas came out at the end of October, despite being about Christmas in the town of Virgin River.
Beneath the Abbey Wall by A.D. Scott, a mystery set in 1950s Scotland.
Kept by Shawntelle Madison, urban fantasy with an unusual heroine.
Killer Librarian by Mary Lou Kirwin, first in a new series of cozy mysteries.
Fox Tracks by Rita Mae Brown.
Happy Holidays!...
December 3, 2012
November 26, 2012
About “8:00 PM”
This post is about my story for Alison Tyler‘s anthology Morning, Noon and Night: Erotica for Couples, just out this month. There is one story for each hour of the day, plus one extra for lagniappe!
The first things I thought of when I was assigned 8:00 pm were: television, prime time, appointment teevee. The silly thing is, I don’t have television anymore. I don’t have cable or streaming capabilities at home, so I generally watch things on DVD, months or years after they’ve aired, with t...
November 22, 2012
November 19, 2012
November 18, 2012
November 12, 2012
The Mechanics of Research Into Writing
This post is a tidier version of a talk I gave to the Philadelphia Science Fiction Society in October, 2012. The purpose was to give some concrete examples of how my research reading finds its way into my fiction.
I read Into the Breach: American Women Overseas in World War I by Dorothy and Carl Schneider early on in my World War One research, for my first attempt at a historical novel; when I later had the opportunity to write a short story about women in WWI, I chose the canteen workers...
November 11, 2012
“A Consecration,” John Masefield
A Consecration
Not of the princes and prelates with periwigged charioteers
Riding triumphantly laurelled to lap the fat of the years,–
Rather the scorned—the rejected—the men hemmed in with the spears;
The men of the tattered battalion which fights till it dies,
Dazed with the dust of the battle, the din and the cries.
The men with the broken heads and the blood running into their eyes.
Not the be-medalled Commander, beloved of the throne,
Riding cock-horse to parade when the bugles are blown,...
