Angelia Sparrow's Blog, page 9
July 22, 2015
Work in Progress Wednesday
Working on The Sweet Science of Bruising.
Turlough grumbled as the padlock snapped shut again. He held up the lantern he carried and looked at Lillian. She trembled to see he was still naked. “So they saw me looking and pulled you aboard. What's your name, boy?”
“Ben,” Lillian said in her lowest voice.
Turlough laughed and set the lantern down. “And I'll just wager Ronan thinks you're a boy, yeah?” he whispered. “No fear, lass, I'll treat you like one. I get no girls for it makes me meaner.” He sat down on the bed beside her and took the hat off of her head.
“Aye and a pretty lady he found me.” He ran a hand along her cheek.
“You're bleeding,” Lillian whispered.
“There's a flannel in the drawer. I'll wash up, my dear. We're together, man and wife like for a long time now. Or until Ronan finds out. Then he'll take you away from me.”
Turlough grumbled as the padlock snapped shut again. He held up the lantern he carried and looked at Lillian. She trembled to see he was still naked. “So they saw me looking and pulled you aboard. What's your name, boy?”
“Ben,” Lillian said in her lowest voice.
Turlough laughed and set the lantern down. “And I'll just wager Ronan thinks you're a boy, yeah?” he whispered. “No fear, lass, I'll treat you like one. I get no girls for it makes me meaner.” He sat down on the bed beside her and took the hat off of her head.
“Aye and a pretty lady he found me.” He ran a hand along her cheek.
“You're bleeding,” Lillian whispered.
“There's a flannel in the drawer. I'll wash up, my dear. We're together, man and wife like for a long time now. Or until Ronan finds out. Then he'll take you away from me.”
Last Day!
Today is the last day for the Thunderclap Campaign. I need 26 more backers.
https://www.thunderclap.it/projects/28831-frozen-terror-everywhere
https://www.thunderclap.it/projects/28831-frozen-terror-everywhere
July 20, 2015
July 20: Moon landing day
46 years ago today, we landed on the moon. I was a toddler.
Remember who we are. When our leaders dream and lead, we can accomplish anything.
Remember who we are. When our leaders dream and lead, we can accomplish anything.
July 19, 2015
Busy Sunday
Feeling ridiculously accomplished, although I had what most would consider and ordinary day.
I did a freezer inventory, came up with a meal plan and grocery shopped. We have 20 lbs of chicken leg quarters in the freezer.
There were meatball sandwiches for dinner. Yum!
I cubed up a cantaloupe and a watermelon. The produce from Save-a-lot has been SO good. The grapes are ripe and juicy. The watermelon was the best I've had this year. The cantaloupe is soft and full of flavor.
That thing where you cut the watermelon in half, run the knife around the edge and then in a grid, and slice into the sides? It works! Fast and easy.
I got Somewhere Out There up on All Romance Ebooks
I started royalty statements. Everybody's sales are on their pages. Calculations later.
I knitted some and played with kittens.
I am doing laundry. I'll throw them in the dryer and go to bed.
Did some Crone work. Sometimes, a friend just needs a minute to hide in the shadow of the Mountain and hear Grandmother whisper that it will all be okay. The wheel turns.
All in all, a good day.
~~~
Planning for the week ahead:
Monday:
5 Stores, the great Mississippi loop
Tuesday:
4 Sears and a Best Buy, The North End.
Wednesday:
3 Sears, the south side
Pick up meds
Thursday:
Free
Friday:
Picnic at the lake!
I did a freezer inventory, came up with a meal plan and grocery shopped. We have 20 lbs of chicken leg quarters in the freezer.
There were meatball sandwiches for dinner. Yum!
I cubed up a cantaloupe and a watermelon. The produce from Save-a-lot has been SO good. The grapes are ripe and juicy. The watermelon was the best I've had this year. The cantaloupe is soft and full of flavor.
That thing where you cut the watermelon in half, run the knife around the edge and then in a grid, and slice into the sides? It works! Fast and easy.
I got Somewhere Out There up on All Romance Ebooks
I started royalty statements. Everybody's sales are on their pages. Calculations later.
I knitted some and played with kittens.
I am doing laundry. I'll throw them in the dryer and go to bed.
Did some Crone work. Sometimes, a friend just needs a minute to hide in the shadow of the Mountain and hear Grandmother whisper that it will all be okay. The wheel turns.
All in all, a good day.
~~~
Planning for the week ahead:
Monday:
5 Stores, the great Mississippi loop
Tuesday:
4 Sears and a Best Buy, The North End.
Wednesday:
3 Sears, the south side
Pick up meds
Thursday:
Free
Friday:
Picnic at the lake!
Six Sentence Sunday: Terror of the Frozen North
"[W]e need to be over. We’re at that unpleasant, late stage of a bad marriage where we can only harm each other, no matter how much we once loved.” Nigel looked at him. “I’m not a nice man, Doyle. I’m not a good one. I am, however, very protective of things that are mine, and Edward is still mine."
--Terror of the Frozen North
--Terror of the Frozen North
Thunderclap campaign
A Thunderclap is a concerted effort, where people you know and people you don't spread word of your new book across the net.
I'm running one for Terror of the Frozen North. I'm 59 people short of my goal.
It's one post on social media.
https://www.thunderclap.it/projects/28831-frozen-terror-everywhere
I'm running one for Terror of the Frozen North. I'm 59 people short of my goal.
It's one post on social media.
https://www.thunderclap.it/projects/28831-frozen-terror-everywhere
July 18, 2015
Let's talk about PC
I often hear people gripe about "Political Correctness."
And all I can think of is an event that drove it home for me.
I had a boss who called me Beth for two weeks and she got VERY irritated when I ignored her. She finally got in my face and demanded to know why I was disrespecting her and wasn't responding when she was calling me by name.
I told her "That's not my name" and tapped my nameplate that clearly said "Angelia" and had been on my chest for the whole two weeks.
What you rail against as PC, I see it as exactly that situation.
People have said "Don't call me this. It's not who I am." Whether it's a racial slur, a former name or an identity they aren't. And some people are still shouting "You're BETH and will answer to it!"
PC is about changing thinking by changing the language we use about things. People-first language emphasizes our common humanity. And we've been trying to do that for hundreds of years.
For instance, "Cretin" is a rarely used word today and always an insult.
But it comes from 1779: from French crétin, from Swiss French crestin ‘Christian’ (from Latin Christianus ), here used to mean ‘human being,’ apparently as a reminder that, though deformed, cretins were human and not beasts. (It's also a specific term for those left dwarfed and handicapped by a thyroid deficiency)
Or read up on The Southern Strategy. By coding the language around economics, they managed to convey their racism without ever saying words that had once worked and were now offensive.
What it comes down to is the age-old question of Why. Why continue to fight common courtesy? Why keep calling people things we think they should be called?
Are we really better people for being able to call minorities by rude words?
Are we straight shooters for preferring to say "retarded" and "crippled" instead of "Mentally handicapped" or "physically disabled".
People let us know what they prefer to be called.
To continue calling them what we prefer to call them instead is the equivalent of shouting "Beth!" in their faces and insisting they answer.
Please note, I am referring to actual, everyday language--African American, calling transfolk by the right names--not the levels of academically projected ridicule possible for me as melanin-deficient, mammary-enhanced, wofem of privilege.
And all I can think of is an event that drove it home for me.
I had a boss who called me Beth for two weeks and she got VERY irritated when I ignored her. She finally got in my face and demanded to know why I was disrespecting her and wasn't responding when she was calling me by name.
I told her "That's not my name" and tapped my nameplate that clearly said "Angelia" and had been on my chest for the whole two weeks.
What you rail against as PC, I see it as exactly that situation.
People have said "Don't call me this. It's not who I am." Whether it's a racial slur, a former name or an identity they aren't. And some people are still shouting "You're BETH and will answer to it!"
PC is about changing thinking by changing the language we use about things. People-first language emphasizes our common humanity. And we've been trying to do that for hundreds of years.
For instance, "Cretin" is a rarely used word today and always an insult.
But it comes from 1779: from French crétin, from Swiss French crestin ‘Christian’ (from Latin Christianus ), here used to mean ‘human being,’ apparently as a reminder that, though deformed, cretins were human and not beasts. (It's also a specific term for those left dwarfed and handicapped by a thyroid deficiency)
Or read up on The Southern Strategy. By coding the language around economics, they managed to convey their racism without ever saying words that had once worked and were now offensive.
What it comes down to is the age-old question of Why. Why continue to fight common courtesy? Why keep calling people things we think they should be called?
Are we really better people for being able to call minorities by rude words?
Are we straight shooters for preferring to say "retarded" and "crippled" instead of "Mentally handicapped" or "physically disabled".
People let us know what they prefer to be called.
To continue calling them what we prefer to call them instead is the equivalent of shouting "Beth!" in their faces and insisting they answer.
Please note, I am referring to actual, everyday language--African American, calling transfolk by the right names--not the levels of academically projected ridicule possible for me as melanin-deficient, mammary-enhanced, wofem of privilege.
My Sexy Saturday: My Sexy Lady
This week’s theme is My Sexy Woman. Yes, this is our nod to the heroines. You all know what make them sexy and wonderful. Need we say more!
In honor of sending out Wild Hunt to Apex, I'm going a little off script. DJ Admire is probably my least sexy lady. But even she gets a shot at love.
Buy Link (and it's on sale for $3.99)
Blurb:
On the Nightside of Memphis, werewolves teach college, zombies load trucks and private investigator D. J. is hard at work, finding missing persons, solving cases and drinking herself into an early grave. Then Bran walks into her office, asking for her help in destroying the demon Oeilett, and everything changes.
Something about the battered, scarred combat mage ignites all the lusty feelings D. J. thought she had successfully drowned in rum. The mana he exudes weaves a web of desire over her, clouding thought and making the sultry summer even steamier.
Bran's body and face may be marked by his previous battles, but everything under the black leather kilt works perfectly, and D. J. learns there are more things in Memphis, the hellplanes and her own heart than she had ever imagined.
Your Seven Sexy Paragraphs:
I shed the vest and bandoliers and then sat on the bed to get out of the boots. Time to deal with the distraction.
I lay back on the lumpy, cheap bed and flipped my kilt up. There he stood, all awake and ready after the run-in with the lady detective. Even the sharp-tongued seer cop couldn’t intimidate him. She just reminded him even more of Admire. Our lady wanted us and I was pleased to see him paying tribute to her.
She weren’t a beauty, just plain looking. Plain was all right and she was plain as bread, the good solid kind my Ma made from oatmeal with ale-barm for leavening, the kind where a slice, toasted with a bit of jam, was just the thing on a cold day when the wind howled down from the hills and over the loch. Admire wanted me and that was plenty. I closed my eyes and thought about her.
I visualized her. The brown hair, caught into a short indifferent ponytail, the ragged cut as shaggy as an ungroomed Shetland, came easy. Her forehead, with its perpetual scowl line above her straight eyebrows, followed, and then her eyes, brown as that ale-barm with oddly long lashes that made them look softer than they were. Her frowning mouth, and all I wanted to do was kiss it until it smiled for me and quit snarling. That stubborn chin and straight pale neck. She saw as little sun as I did. I wondered how she would take having it kissed, or nibbled in that sweet spot just under the ear that makes some women squeal and yelp with delight.
Visualizing worked, almost too easily. There she was, plain as day, naked on that rumpled bed, sweating a little in the heat of her second-floor office.
Her eyes flew open and she stopped touching those pretty breasts of hers. Aye, they were perfect and I couldn’t wait to see them in person. Not huge and full, but a nice handful with deep-coral tips that were probably pink when she wasn’t playing with herself. “What the hell are you doing in my head, asshole?” she demanded.
“Thought we might cure some distraction together, lovely. You know how the magic works when it gets going between two of our sort.”
The Other Sexy People on the Hop:
In honor of sending out Wild Hunt to Apex, I'm going a little off script. DJ Admire is probably my least sexy lady. But even she gets a shot at love.
Buy Link (and it's on sale for $3.99)Blurb:
On the Nightside of Memphis, werewolves teach college, zombies load trucks and private investigator D. J. is hard at work, finding missing persons, solving cases and drinking herself into an early grave. Then Bran walks into her office, asking for her help in destroying the demon Oeilett, and everything changes.
Something about the battered, scarred combat mage ignites all the lusty feelings D. J. thought she had successfully drowned in rum. The mana he exudes weaves a web of desire over her, clouding thought and making the sultry summer even steamier.
Bran's body and face may be marked by his previous battles, but everything under the black leather kilt works perfectly, and D. J. learns there are more things in Memphis, the hellplanes and her own heart than she had ever imagined.
Your Seven Sexy Paragraphs:
I shed the vest and bandoliers and then sat on the bed to get out of the boots. Time to deal with the distraction.
I lay back on the lumpy, cheap bed and flipped my kilt up. There he stood, all awake and ready after the run-in with the lady detective. Even the sharp-tongued seer cop couldn’t intimidate him. She just reminded him even more of Admire. Our lady wanted us and I was pleased to see him paying tribute to her.
She weren’t a beauty, just plain looking. Plain was all right and she was plain as bread, the good solid kind my Ma made from oatmeal with ale-barm for leavening, the kind where a slice, toasted with a bit of jam, was just the thing on a cold day when the wind howled down from the hills and over the loch. Admire wanted me and that was plenty. I closed my eyes and thought about her.
I visualized her. The brown hair, caught into a short indifferent ponytail, the ragged cut as shaggy as an ungroomed Shetland, came easy. Her forehead, with its perpetual scowl line above her straight eyebrows, followed, and then her eyes, brown as that ale-barm with oddly long lashes that made them look softer than they were. Her frowning mouth, and all I wanted to do was kiss it until it smiled for me and quit snarling. That stubborn chin and straight pale neck. She saw as little sun as I did. I wondered how she would take having it kissed, or nibbled in that sweet spot just under the ear that makes some women squeal and yelp with delight.
Visualizing worked, almost too easily. There she was, plain as day, naked on that rumpled bed, sweating a little in the heat of her second-floor office.
Her eyes flew open and she stopped touching those pretty breasts of hers. Aye, they were perfect and I couldn’t wait to see them in person. Not huge and full, but a nice handful with deep-coral tips that were probably pink when she wasn’t playing with herself. “What the hell are you doing in my head, asshole?” she demanded.
“Thought we might cure some distraction together, lovely. You know how the magic works when it gets going between two of our sort.”
The Other Sexy People on the Hop:
July 16, 2015
It's here! Terror of the Frozen North
Buy Link On sale for $5.20 until the end of the month!
The sequel to Amber Allure’s Best Seller The Curse Of The Pharaoh's Manicurists...
War is hell, but coming home is even harder. Edward Kilsby, Lord Withycombe, flying ace and noted adventurer, has grown increasingly restless with civilian life. He seeks refuge from his depression and nightmares in adrenaline, and when that fails, in painful sex. Until his erstwhile fiancé blackmails him into making an arctic expedition.
In the frozen wastes, Edward and his secretary, Charlie, work hard, facing the rigors of the climate and the lethal war machines they are testing. But no-one is prepared for what lies under the ice.
Back in London, as Edward’s pistol looks friendlier and friendlier, Charlie must deal with kidnapping, cultists and secret societies, all the while keeping his much-loved lord sane and healthy.
I'm running a Thunderclap campaign, which is a massive post to social media from all kinds of people. Sign up to support via, Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr or all three.
https://www.thunderclap.it/projects/28831-frozen-terror-everywhere
July 15, 2015
Work In Progress Wednesday
Amid the promo hoopla, it's easy to forget, I'm still writing.
From the animal attack story.
The first few days of the journey were uneventful. The jungle grew thicker the further we ventured from the city, and the wildlife more frequent. Serpents basked on the tree branches. Birds called everywhere. At night, we heard the hunting calls of the wolves and the distant trumpeting of elephants heralded the dawn.
But the monkeys were our constant, unwanted companions. They chattered and screeched so loudly we could hardly hear one another. They dropped the most repulsive things on us from the trees, grubs and worms, half-eaten and rotted fruits and worse. Even under the thickest forest, we used umbrellas, not against sun or rain, but as protection from the disgusting barrage.
From the animal attack story.
The first few days of the journey were uneventful. The jungle grew thicker the further we ventured from the city, and the wildlife more frequent. Serpents basked on the tree branches. Birds called everywhere. At night, we heard the hunting calls of the wolves and the distant trumpeting of elephants heralded the dawn.
But the monkeys were our constant, unwanted companions. They chattered and screeched so loudly we could hardly hear one another. They dropped the most repulsive things on us from the trees, grubs and worms, half-eaten and rotted fruits and worse. Even under the thickest forest, we used umbrellas, not against sun or rain, but as protection from the disgusting barrage.
