Joely Sue Burkhart's Blog, page 68

Cheesy Horror Movies

Come by Here Be Magic and read about a cheesy horror movie that gave me a nugget of inspiration!

Good News Monday

I don't have a lot of writing news to share but I'm not going to beat myself up about that.  When I'm exercising or dieting well, it always takes away some of my brain power for the writing.  I guess I'm concentrating too hard on one to be very productive on the other.  But I'm hoping that as time goes by, I'll settle better into the habits and be able to re-energize the writing, because I'll obviously feel much better!  That's the hope/plan at least.

So for good news today:

I've lost 16 pounds as of this morning!
That Man got a new job!  (I mentioned on Twitter/Facebook that his hours had been cut drastically right before Christmas and he's been looking ever since.)  New hours, etc. will take us some time to get used to.  I'll be on kid-duty in the afternoon, picking up kids from after-school activities, etc. but he'll be able to take Princess to school in the mornings on his way and will be home for dinner each night.
I dragged out my lap frame and HDF silks to return to work on Autumn at Hawk Run Hollow.  I haven't stitched since October, and every time I "return" to stitching, I'm amazed at how much I love doing it again.  I may not be able to stick with this project for long (because it's so large and I'd like to FINISH something!) but for now, I'm working on the first square block on the left with the big house.  (I outlined the top but didn't do it all – long story.  I'd finished that block before on different linen but ended up hating it, so I started over again and wanted to do new colors!)  When I finish that block, I'll take a picture!

What's your good news today?

Review: Lady Doctor Wyre

Holly at Whipped Cream – Long & Short Reviews gave Lady Doctor Wyre 4.5 Cherries!

The world of Lady Doctor Wyre is a mix of history, space travel and modern technology, and in spite of the incongruities, it is a marvelous new world. I loved discovering the similarities between our world and the space colonies of Ms. Burkhart. I love the characters in this, from the strong title character, to the two totally opposite leading men, and the wonderful supporting cast that make this adventure possible.

Thank you so much, Holly!

Friday Snippet: Lady Wyre's Regret

Continuing the free-read prequel to Lady Doctor Wyre .  This snippet is a little long but there was no good place to break.  In this section, Sig (aka Lord Regret) is introduced to a stranger who may be familiar to some of you who've read the The Shanhasson books.  If you need to catch up, part 1 and part 2.

If people thought the hardest part of an assassin's job was the killing, they'd be dead wrong.  For Sig, it was the endless waiting for his next contract. 

Wallowing in grim regrets, he tossed back another shot.  As the years went by, he'd discovered that his memories became harder to dull with mere alcohol.  His numerous killings didn't torment him.  No, a more dreadful guilt weighed upon his chest, suffocating him more and more each day.  Only killing managed to blot that darkness out for a short while, and not even the most famed assassin in the universe could kill every single day, not if he wanted to be well paid for his work.

So he found himself alone and desperately drunk in the Black Stump Saloon at the edge of what the locals called the Outback, a wasteland of barren, torn ground already raped of its resources to supply the planet's main port and only—but mega—city, Sydney.  Absolutely nothing on the surface of Terra Australis made the planet worth inhabiting, but the deep, rich veins of gold, diamonds, and ore certainly did.  The wealth of natural resources combined with the depth of those veins and the harsh living conditions made for a most excellent penal colony.

Every port had a place so dark and disreputable that its own inhabitants were afraid they'd get their throats slit if they ever stepped foot in side.  Thieves, rebels, and wanted criminals somehow managed to find their way to these hellholes as effortlessly as homing pigeons flew home to their coop.  On a planet of convicts, their harsh keepers, and a handful of men so desperate to make a pound or two that they'd work side by side with the worst murderers and thieves in the galaxy, the Black Stump Saloon was especially dangerous.

Alien-made rotgut burned like acid down his throat.  Flames crackled through his veins, cramping his muscles, but he still gave a jerk of his head to the shaggy, unkempt barkeeper for another round.  His body might be feeling the nasty affects, but his mind remained wretchedly clear.

If even the foulest whiskey in the most vermin-filled bar in the universe can't help deaden the memories any longer, then I'd better get busy finding the best way to stop my breathing for good.

"Be wary, my friend." 

The stranger's voice drew his attention to his left.  A man slid up to the bar beside him, so silently that even the barkeeper—who carefully kept the entire bar in his line of vision at all times—involuntarily jerked back.

Dark, gleaming eyes met Sig's and not even a sardonic wink could disguise the man's silent threat.  Instantly, every cell in his body went on high alert, causing another firestorm of agony to tear through his burning muscles.  That kind of lethal grace and unflinching stare meant only one thing.

This man is as good a killer as I am.

"Dying by Shee ale is a hard way to go.  I've seen men tearing their own skin off, trying to make the burning sensation end.  If you really want to die, there are much easier ways to accomplish it."

The implication that he would certainly be able to accommodate a death wish gave his words a cold, heavy weight.  Sig didn't allow his body to tense with alarm, but he mentally took a quick inventory of the weapons he had on his person.  Perfect for throwing, thin silver blades were strapped to each wrist beneath his coat.  He had a longer, heavier dirk tucked down his spine in a back harness, and two more throwing blades in each boot.  Not to mention the lazor surely stashed beneath the bar.

Of course an assassin's body was his best weapon.  While Sig took great pride in his agility and quick-handed strikes, he wouldn't be able to surprise this man, who undoubtedly outweighed him by at least thirty stone.  The man was solid muscle and topped him by another foot, yet moved with the silent glide of a predator on the hunt.

Why haven't I ever heard of him before?

Using his best high Society voice which had made him famous, Sig drawled, "If you can recommend another way to dull painful memories, sir, then I would love to hear it."

The stranger's dark gaze flickered over him, so sharp and deep that Sig unconsciously held his breath.  "Ah, you have my sympathies.  I know what it's like to be haunted by a living nightmare."

He gave the barkeeper a short nod and the man brought two steaming mugs.  Sig smelled the mug suspiciously.  No alcohol.  He took a hesitant sip and shuddered at the dark, bitter taste.  "What is this, witch's brew?"

The stranger laughed as though he'd made a fine joke.  "Merely a drink to help combat the Shee ale.  If we decide to test each other's knives, I want you to be at your best instead of dulled by drink."

Since this man obviously cared little for polite Society, Sig forgot niceties.  "Who the hell are you?"

"No one you've heard of.  No one you would or should know."

"But you know who I am?"

"Of course.  Everyone in the galaxy has heard the tales of your marks."

At least the man hadn't said his name aloud.  Sig wouldn't mind a drunken brawl or a nice, juicy contract so impossible no other assassin would attempt the mark, but he would rather not have to kill his way out of the Australis prisons because this fool talked too much.

I'm the bloody fool who decided to risk a drink at the Black Stump when there are countless dives where I could have indulged without a super-secure prison only paces away.

Pain banded his tight chest.  It hurt to breathe.  Hurt to think.  Killing helped dull the pain and keep the nightmares at bay, but he couldn't…

A loud thwack jerked his head up.  The stranger had slammed the tip of his knife into the top of the bar.  In size, the blade wasn't that impressive, only as long as his hand, but that edge gleamed in the light, wicked sharp.  The hilt was smooth, aged ivory, darkened over the years by sweat. 

Or perhaps blood.

"A word of advice, my friend."  The man's eyes flickered in the dimness like flames licking red-hot coals.  Sig glanced about quickly but didn't see any fire that would have reflected in the man's eyes like that.  "Never accept a contract on the woman you love."

Sig couldn't help the smirk twisting his mouth.  "That is something I'll never have to fret about, for I've never met a woman I could ever love more than my work."

Giving him an equally arrogant grin, the man tugged his blade loose and let the knife roll across his palm, back and forth, effortlessly controlling the knife without even looking at it.  "So I thought."

A vibration in Sig's pocket made him draw a quick, hopeful breath.  He drew the device out and scanned the incoming message.  "Excellent.  A new job.  I've got to go."

The man nodded and sheathed the blade on his hip.  "Another time, then.  I'd enjoy testing your blade."

"You never told me your name," Sig called after the man, trying to memorize his face and appearance so he could search for history on him later.  Long dark hair, dark eyes, and nasty blade.  That's all I really know.  His accent is strange, but I can't place it.

"My name doesn't matter."  The man paused at the door and glanced back, giving him another wink.  "I'm Shadow and Death, a killer, like you.  We can't help but find each other again someday."

"Thank you," Sig whispered, but the man was gone.  Shaking his head, he stepped out of the main room, searching along the dark hallway until he found a secluded, quiet spot.  A supply closet.  A quick scan confirmed there were no listening or monitoring devices inside the room.

The sender's message only included a House sign:  the white dove of Wyre.  Was that his contact…or the mark?  Slipping into Britannia would definitely prove a worthy challenge.  Their shields were tighter and more secure than the Australis prisons, keeping the unwashed masses out instead of locking them into their punishment.

He opened a secure channel to the sender.  Since he'd just received the offer, hopefully his contact would still be waiting.  His curiosity burned, a much better feeling than shortness of breath and desperate panic.

A woman's face appeared on the screen, and not even the small monitor could diminish her classical grace.  The tilted angle of her chin declared her pride and royal breeding.  He'd never been introduced to the Duchess of Wyre, but he recognized her.  Smooth dark hair, chocolate eyes, in many ways a sister to the man who'd just left.  Impossible.  If that man was from Britannia then I'm a Razari lizard.

"Lord Regret, I presume.  Your reputation precedes you."

Her voice matched those dark, chocolate eyes.  He inclined his head and allowed his own ancient bloodlines to deepen the pride in his voice.  "Your Grace, it's my great honor to offer my blade in service to you.  Who's your target?"

She smiled.  Sig's eyes flared, his chest aching as though that stranger had buried his blade directly into his heart.  "I am."

The Extraordinary Heroine

Heather Massey is the guest at Dear Author today talking about the lack of extraordinary heroines in romance.

She's absolutely right.  Think about all the paranormals and urban fantasies out there.  How many of them have powerful, alpha males with more interesting or unique powers than the heroine?  Can you name one where the heroine truly has a unique power that makes her extraordinary compared to the uber sexy and powerful male?

Which made me think about the Bechdel Test.  Many of our most popular SFF movies fail to have more than one female character.  Or if there are more women, all they do is sit around and talk about the hero.  It's their only purpose.

How sad is that?

Which is totally why Lady Wyre and her universe was born.  I wanted women in control.  Strong, interesting, unique women who commanded not just Society but also government, sciences, you name it.  Lady Wyre is a scientist, whose research forms the foundational technology of the entire galaxy.  Queen Majel is the supreme ruler of Britannia, an antagonist in many ways but also sympathetic.  In Lady Doctor Wyre, the president of Americus (loosely based on Andrew Jackson) is a woman, and she's desperately trying to save her colony from Majel's wrath.  Even Jean Lafitte, the famous pirate, is a woman!

Cunning, intelligent, strong women.  They do more than sit around and talk about the men, because they're all busy trying to save themselves, the ones they love, their trade, ship, colony, world…while looking fabulous at the same time. 

So what's your favorite strong female character, whether from a movie or book?  And does that story pass the Bechdel Test?

Good News Monday – Valentine Edition

Happy Valentine's Day!

My good news today:

Despite all the chocolate in the house (we got our chocolate this weekend), I've still lost 13.6 pounds (mostly because I only allowed myself one piece).  Luckily with three monsters and That Man in the house, that temptation will not be around for long.
We had a lovely visit with my Dad yesterday.
I finished another really good book, although it made me cry:  The Doomsday Book.  The last third of the book I just kept reading and reading…because I had to find out if anyone was left alive. 
Part of the big project that was stressing me out at the Evil Day Job finally moved to testing, so I can start a new piece.
Lady Wyre earned some wonderful reviews last week!
Her free-read prequel is still coming along slowly, but Lady Wyre and Lord Regret are on stage together as of this morning, so hopefully the writing will really take off!

Do you have any Valentine's Day plans or good news to share?

Review: Lady Doctor Wyre

Nicole of Book-Wyrm-Knits has given a lovely review of Lady Doctor Wyre:

Even though I would class Lady Doctor Wyre as a steampunk, it's not your traditional steampunk. Many of the traditional elements are present, while many others are morphed into something more futuristic. This world mixes silk stockings with space ships, corsets with nanobots. The strict Society rules found in many steampunk novels are in effect, but they are entirely presided over by women, both in the political and social realms. … As with every story she has crafted that I have read, Joely blends fantasy with reality in a completely believable and utterly enjoyable fashion.

Thank you so much, Nicole!

Friday Snippet: Lady Wyre's Regret

Continuing the first draft of the free read prequel to Lady Doctor Wyre (see last week's snippet for the beginning, remember first draft, subject to revisions later)

Still studying the awaiting missives, Queen Majel said, "You will of course be attending our Solstice Eclipse ball in a fortnight."

The strangely absent tone of the queen's voice sent chills of foreboding creeping up Charlotte's arms.  Since every House's attendance at the queen's ball was required by tradition more binding than any law, she had no reason to emphasize the invitation.  Unless it's a deliberate message.  A warning, perhaps, that it shall be the last party I ever attend?

Charlotte drew herself up, tipping her chin to a haughty angle.  If the queen thought to intimidate her with subtle threats, then she would be gravely mistaken.  However, a volley of blatant desperately-cast threats in return simply wasn't Charlotte's style.  Instead, she put on the role of the bored, privileged lady of Society.

"Oh, I honestly don't know, Your Majesty.  The endless rounds of balls and parties are so tiring.  I still haven't recovered from the horrors of Lady Marlborough's distasteful gown last week.  Besides, so many desperate mamas will be there casting their precious little sons at my feet hoping to catch a rich Duchy.  I think I'd rather retire to Wyreton and hunt instead." 

Majel raised her head, eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. 

At least she's looking at me now instead of pretending I'm invisible. 

"If I must order you to attend, then you'll pick one of those adorable dandies to dangle on your knee for the entire evening."

Charlotte let out a husky laugh and glided toward the door.  "Might as well order me leg-shackled while you're at it."  She paused, looking back over her shoulder with a saucy wink designed to infuriate the queen as much as a slap to the face.  "Just because you've endured matrimony doesn't mean I won't kick and scream all the way to the altar."

She shut the door behind her and summoned every inch of pride and confidence she possessed to stride down the hall as the Duchess of Wyre and Queen's most trusted Physician.  Not someone fearing for her life, especially after she'd drawn such a line in the sand.

Years ago, Majel had selected the purest and most venerable House from which to marry and had produced two heirs on her much younger noble husband.  Although she'd taken great pains to project a fairytale image of love and happiness, there'd been no love on her part, merely the grim duty to secure her royal line with a man no one in the realm could dispute as a handsome, well-bred Britannian. 

Unfortunately, said well-bred young man had conducted himself most poorly.  First, he'd dallied with every maid and servant in the castle, which Majel probably would have allowed as long as he'd kept his escapades at least somewhat discreet.  But the young man had made the dreadful mistake of allowing a Francian ambassador a little too close.  Majel had caught him red-handed, trying to steal documents from her office.

That very evening, an assassin's blade found its mark in his lithe young body.  So regrettable, so sad, the nation had mourned his sweet face, while Majel had played the part of the grieving yet regal widow perfectly.  The Francian ambassador found a ship that very night and departed for her homeland, only to be blasted from the sky by pirates.

Whose ship, I'll wager, was hired at none other than the Thames port.

Charlotte passed the last row of Queen's Ravens standing guard at the South Wing exit and began the long trek down the Long Walk to her carriage.  She allowed herself a deep breath of relief to relax the stiffness in her shoulders, but the battle had only just begun.  Who shall be hired to assassinate me? 

Then she had a thought that made her lips curve into a smile so wickedly pleased that a petitioner disembarking from an unmarked carriage stumbled and nearly tumbled on her nose in the gutter.  Swathed in gray veils that hid her face but did little to disguise her finely tailored gown, the woman recovered her balance and rushed past, but Charlotte recognized her as the Royal Duchess of Lizbonne, Majel's cousin and heir if anything ever happened to her own children. 

Ridiculous woman.  Does she honestly think a little gauze will keep people from recognizing that red-gold hair that Majel always coveted?    

Smoothing her face, Charlotte took her footman's hand and allowed him to help her into her carriage.  Open carriages were all the rage this Season with the driver seated high above the engine and the poor footman clinging to the tiny rail installed at the rear, whisking through Town at speeds that would threaten to tear both men off their precarious perches. 

Charlotte preferred the older enclosed model that both lent her some privacy and included a built-in keyboard and uplink to her home network.  Of course she'd worked on the engines long ago and knew without a doubt that she could outrace any carriage which dared challenge her.  The latest engines were based on her design, but she hadn't released all her secrets.

She'd been concerned for too long about what the queen—or her subjects—would do with that knowledge.

"St. James Square, Your Grace?"

Settling her skirts, she pressed a button and a keyboard slid out.  "I need to go home to Wyreton."

"As you wish, Your Grace."  

Majel cleans up her messes most efficiently.  Perhaps I can make a larger mess myself before she has the opportunity to wipe me out.

Friday Snippet: Lady Wyre's Regret

Continuing the first draft of the free read prequl to Lady Doctor Wyre (see last week's snippet for the beginning, remember first draft, subject to revisions later)

Still studying the awaiting missives, Queen Majel said, "You will of course be attending our Solstice Eclipse ball in a fortnight."

The strangely absent tone of the queen's voice sent chills of foreboding creeping up Charlotte's arms.  Since every House's attendance at the queen's ball was required by tradition more binding than any law, she had no reason to emphasize the invitation.  Unless it's a deliberate message.  A warning, perhaps, that it shall be the last party I ever attend?

Charlotte drew herself up, tipping her chin to a haughty angle.  If the queen thought to intimidate her with subtle threats, then she would be gravely mistaken.  However, a volley of blatant desperately-cast threats in return simply wasn't Charlotte's style.  Instead, she put on the role of the bored, privileged lady of Society.

"Oh, I honestly don't know, Your Majesty.  The endless rounds of balls and parties are so tiring.  I still haven't recovered from the horrors of Lady Marlborough's distasteful gown last week.  Besides, so many desperate mamas will be there casting their precious little sons at my feet hoping to catch a rich Duchy.  I think I'd rather retire to Wyreton and hunt instead." 

Majel raised her head, eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. 

At least she's looking at me now instead of pretending I'm invisible. 

"If I must order you to attend, then you'll pick one of those adorable dandies to dangle on your knee for the entire evening."

Charlotte let out a husky laugh and glided toward the door.  "Might as well order me leg-shackled while you're at it."  She paused, looking back over her shoulder with a saucy wink designed to infuriate the queen as much as a slap to the face.  "Just because you've endured matrimony doesn't mean I won't kick and scream all the way to the altar."

She shut the door behind her and summoned every inch of pride and confidence she possessed to stride down the hall as the Duchess of Wyre and Queen's most trusted Physician.  Not someone fearing for her life, especially after she'd drawn such a line in the sand.

Years ago, Majel had selected the purest and most venerable House from which to marry and had produced two heirs on her much younger noble husband.  Although she'd taken great pains to project a fairytale image of love and happiness, there'd been no love on her part, merely the grim duty to secure her royal line with a man no one in the realm could dispute as a handsome, well-bred Britannian. 

Unfortunately, said well-bred young man had conducted himself most poorly.  First, he'd dallied with every maid and servant in the castle, which Majel probably would have allowed as long as he'd kept his escapades at least somewhat discreet.  But the young man had made the dreadful mistake of allowing a Francian ambassador a little too close.  Majel had caught him red-handed, trying to steal documents from her office.

That very evening, an assassin's blade found its mark in his lithe young body.  So regrettable, so sad, the nation had mourned his sweet face, while Majel had played the part of the grieving yet regal widow perfectly.  The Francian ambassador found a ship that very night and departed for her homeland, only to be blasted from the sky by pirates.

Whose ship, I'll wager, was hired at none other than the Thames port.

Charlotte passed the last row of Queen's Ravens standing guard at the South Wing exit and began the long trek down the Long Walk to her carriage.  She allowed herself a deep breath of relief to relax the stiffness in her shoulders, but the battle had only just begun.  Who shall be hired to assassinate me? 

Then she had a thought that made her lips curve into a smile so wickedly pleased that a petitioner disembarking from an unmarked carriage stumbled and nearly tumbled on her nose in the gutter.  Swathed in gray veils that hid her face but did little to disguise her finely tailored gown, the woman recovered her balance and rushed past, but Charlotte recognized her as the Royal Duchess of Lizbonne, Majel's cousin and heir if anything ever happened to her own children. 

Ridiculous woman.  Does she honestly think a little gauze will keep people from recognizing that red-gold hair that Majel always coveted?    

Smoothing her face, Charlotte took her footman's hand and allowed him to help her into her carriage.  Open carriages were all the rage this Season with the driver seated high above the engine and the poor footman clinging to the tiny rail installed at the rear, whisking through Town at speeds that would threaten to tear both men off their precarious perches. 

Charlotte preferred the older enclosed model that both lent her some privacy and included a built-in keyboard and uplink to her home network.  Of course she'd worked on the engines long ago and knew without a doubt that she could outrace any carriage which dared challenge her.  The latest engines were based on her design, but she hadn't released all her secrets.

She'd been concerned for too long about what the queen—or her subjects—would do with that knowledge.

"St. James Square, Your Grace?"

Settling her skirts, she pressed a button and a keyboard slid out.  "I need to go home to Wyreton."

"As you wish, Your Grace."  

Majel cleans up her messes most efficiently.  Perhaps I can make a larger mess myself before she has the opportunity to wipe me out.

Good News Monday

Not even the smell of freshly brewed coffee could drag me out of bed Dark & Early this morning, so I need to hear lots of good news to get through this week!

The monsters are FINALLY going back to school today after missing 4 days last week!  (Since we're only concentrating on good news, I won't mention that they're calling for another snow storm tomorrow.)
I FINALLY broke 5K on Lady Wyre's free-read prequel!  Still creeping along.  I posted a snippet if you missed it.
I read a really good book last week (which is part of why I'm still creeping with the writing):  The Spirtualist by Megan Chance, recommended by Alison Kent.  Excellent book that I probably never would have stumbled upon if I hadn't read Alison's post.
Today's my Beloved Sis's birthday!  If you have a minute, go by and wish her well today!
I have a lot of friends who were rooting for the Packers last night!  I mostly watched for the commercials (since the Chiefs were out of it), but it was still an exciting game!

What's your good news?