Marian Allen's Blog, page 423

Hop the Last: Beth Ann Masarik

My final guest in the Hydra Blog Hop is Beth Ann Masarik. Take it away, Queen Beth!

Hey Marian and Marian’s friends and followers! Thanks for having me on the blog today. My name is Beth Ann Masarik, and I’m here to talk to you about my series called The World Among Us. It’s a YA/Fantasy about forbidden love, gods, demons and all sorts of supernatural creatures. It was originally released with Otherworld Publications, but it was pulled from the market this past June because Otherworld is closing at the end of this year. Since then, I have signed with Hydra Publications, which is how I met the lovely Marian. Frank and I are working hard to revise Prince of Darkness, and we are anticipating a re-release day for sometime in early 2013.

Now for a bit more about the book, The World Among Us: Prince of Darkness:

Hades is hell-bent on taking over the world, but in order to do so, he has to remove his nemesis, Gaia, from power. But one thing stands in the way, however, and she goes by the name of Selene.

Cue Damien, son of Hades and Persephone. He happens to be in love with Selene, and will stop at nothing to make sure that she is safe even though their love is forbidden. Furious with his son’s treachery, Hades tricks Damien into killing the only woman that he has ever loved. He does so by telling Damien that he will spend the rest of his eternal life in the Fields of Asphodel if he does not prove his loyalty. Torn between his un-beating heart and his family, Damien does the only thing a true demon prince knows how: killing those closest to him.

Will Damien follow through with his father’s evil scheme? Or will he be banished to the Fields of Asphodel for his treachery?

About the Author:

Beth Ann Masarik is a Young Adult author and writer, indie publisher, and youth advocate. She writes Young Adult fantasy and urban fantasy novels that are mostly about forbidden romance and have some sort of magical creatures in them. Her debut novel, The World Among Us: Prince of Darkness was first published with Otherworld Publications. Unfortunately, OWP is closing on December 31, 2012, and the book is no longer available. You can visit her author website at www.bethannmasarik.com and blog www.bahbammymusings.wordpress.com for more details on her publishing adventures.

As a youth advocate, she is one of the adult coordinators of the Our Lady of Fatima youth group that is run by her youth minister, Veronica Ticas-Ludwig.

In addition to writing, she also publishes a bi-monthly e-zine called Literary Lunes Magazine. It is offered as a free black and white e-copy and also offers a low-cost full colored paperback copy of each issue. For more information, please visit the magazine website at www.literarylunes.com and the publishing house blog/website at www.literarylunespublications.com

Before I go, I’d like to leave you a little teaser from one of the chapters in Prince of Darkness. This chapter happens to be titled “Miss Sensitivity.”

“SELENE! SELENE!”

The sound of a female shrieking frantically disturbed the silence of the moon’s atmosphere. She appeared out of thin air a few yards away from a small stream of water that ran down the center of a garden, which led to an elaborate temple. The temple stood eight feet tall, was wide enough to fit a studio apartment inside, and the stream went right up to the entrance of the holy ground. Tucking a curly strand of brown hair out of her face, the frantic woman stepped closer to the stream, hesitant to cross it. Translucent stepping-stones appeared on the water for her to walk across, and she did so timidly, afraid of slipping and falling into the enchanted water.

“SELENE,” the woman called again as she walked down the stream on the cobblestones toward the temple.

“In here, Diana,” Selene shouted in a voice that sounded like a melody from the Elysian Fields.

A beautiful, red-haired woman in a white toga sat on a throne made out of pure silver. Her green eyes looked warmly and with concern as Diana rushed over to her. A glass of clear liquid appeared in Selene’s hand when she snapped her fingers.

“What is it Diana? What’s wrong?” Selene asked while she handed her friend the glass of water.

“It’s Endymion,” Diana replied while gulping it down greedily.

Diana’s face turned a deep shade of scarlet, in contrast to Selene’s fire-engine-red hair. How was she going to tell Selene about Endymion being murdered? She knew how much Selene loved him and could only imagine how horribly she was going to take the news.

“What about him, Diana? Is he all right?” Selene asked as nervous knots formed inside of her. She suddenly felt like she was going to be sick.

Hmmm…. That doesn’t sound like a happy moment. I wouldn’t want to be Diana when she has to break the news!

Thank you so much for visiting, Beth! What’s the story behind the royal trappings in your picture? You look like you’re having way too much fun! ~grin~

Meanwhile, folks, I’m making my final hop appearance at Stories To Tell and, this being the 14, I’m also posting at Echelon Explorations.

A WRITING PROMPT FOR YOU: A character has to break the news of a death to someone.

MA

Hop the Fourth: Dianne Gardner

Dianne Gardner is both an author and illustrator living the Pacific Northwest. She’s spent many years living out in the desert wilderness of the American Southwest, lived in a hogan made from adobe and cedar for thirteen years, co-owned 25 horses both pure bred and Native American ponies, traveled horseback and by wagon throughout the Navajo reservation, herded sheep and goat, worked in the forest planting trees and piling, farmed on barren soil and even lived in a teepee for a short while. She spent many long years using survival skills as a way of life.

Tell us about your new book, Dianne!

Ian’s Realm: Deception Peak

The first book of a trilogy, Deception Peak is a young adult adventure fantasy about a teenager, Ian Wilson, who follows his father through a portal that magically appears on their computer screen. They travel into a deceptively beautiful Realm, where horses run free, the wind sings prophetic melodies, and their computer avatars come to life. But when the two are separated, Ian is abducted by a tribe of dragon worshipers and is forced to find his courage. As he struggles for his freedom and embarks on a perilous search to find his father, Ian meets the true peacekeepers of the Realm. It’s then that he learns there is a greater purpose for being there.

In this scene, Ian’s been taken prisoner by the dragon-worshiping tribe, the Meneks and is forced to do the unfamiliar work of a fisherman.

The day dragged on. In all his life, Ian had never done so much work. He smelled like dead fish, and the blisters on his hands were raw and open. His palms burned with pain as the sand and salt rubbed into his sores. His feet ached from the hot pavement, and they too had blisters on them. Not being accustomed to walking barefoot, he had stubbed his toes more than once, and now two of them were black and blue under the nails.

Click to view larger image

After a meager lunch of porridge and bread, Ian sat on the beach with fifty other boys, repairing the fishing nets that were pulled from the boats. Emil showed him how to tie a clove hitch so that he could work the knots. Other boys stretched the nets, bending over them for hours unloosing debris.  Others separated long pieces of seaweed, driftwood, and other flotsam out of the nets to throw it back into the sea.

Repairing the nets allowed Ian to sit down. Tying knots was tedious work.   His fingers were already numb from pain and blisters, and rubbed raw from the sand. Worse, the chore gave him time to think, and thinking just made the hours go by slower.

I’d sure like to see my computer again. Wake up in my bed like I used to, staring at the ceiling. I just want to find out this is nothing but a blasted nightmare.  Wake up with Dad standing by my bed. Shaking me. Telling me to get ready for school.

Ian watched the other boys as they worked painlessly.  “How come I’m the only one whose hands are hurting?” he asked.

“Your hands will get calloused in time,” Emil told him.

Time? I’m not spending enough time here for my hands to get calloused. I’m leaving. As soon as I devise a plan, I’m out of here. If I have to walk home, tackle my way over that mountain, and wrestle with a dragon, I’m going home.

Still, he didn’t have the remote to click himself back through the portal. And he certainly didn’t want to leave without his father. He looked over his shoulder and stared at the bluffs that towered over the village. Behind them stood the dark foreboding peak that shadowed the Meneks’ existence, like some gruesome and evil throne.  The sun was setting, and gold rays cast shadows on the cliffs. Soon it would be night, and the mountain would be glowing an eerie, creepy glow like it had the night his father went missing.

Why’d you have to disappear, Dad? Where are you? Why don’t you just miraculously show up and take us home?

Ian tugged at the knot he had just tied.

Click for larger image

Unlike the slave-driving Meneks on the docks, the fishermen let the boys socialize as they worked.  During breaks, they were allowed to stretch, walk in the water and cool their feet in the gentle waves that splashed on the shore.

Emil waved, “Take a break, Ian.”

Break? The only break I want is a break away from here.

The tide rolled across his toes, leaving tiny bubbles around the clam shells, sand crabs, and polished rocks that swept in from the ocean. He reached to pick up a flat rock on the sand, black like the mountain, a chip from a landscape far away from its source. He flipped the stone and caught it. Grief soared inside of him, like steam inside a pressure cooker. He swung his shoulder back and flung the stone into the water, watching it skip across the waves until it finally sank into the glittering sea. And then it was gone, like Dad.

Finally, as the orange and pinks of the setting sun shimmered on the water, the sailors came to them and took the nets, reeling them into long rolls and then folding them crosswise. Ian liked the sailors. They stayed to their work and were kind to the boys, talking to them like they were part of the crew, like they were men.

It was the end of the day and their work was done. The boys brushed the seaweed off their britches and shirtsleeves. They slapped the sand off of their hands, and walked up the beach. Ian followed but fell behind, lacking the spirit the others had.

Watch the trailer:

Deception Peak from Dianne Gardner on Vimeo.

Goodreads Book Giveaway


Deception Peak
by Dianne Lynn Gardner

Giveaway ends September 26, 2012.

See the giveaway details

at Goodreads.

Enter to win

 

Click for larger image

Wow! And the artwork is fantastic! I understand you do all your own artwork, as well as writing. Gorgeous stuff! Thanks so much for visiting me today, Dianne.

You can buy DECEPTION PEAK at Amazon. Learn more about the book and about Dianne at her website.

A WRITING PROMPT FOR YOU: Plop a character from one book into an incompatible one. How would Oliver Twist behave in The Hunger Games?

MA

Hop the Third: Erin Danzer

Today, in honor of Food Day at the dear old blog, fellow Hydra Publications author Erin Danzer is going to tell us about her main character’s favorite eatery.

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Erin Danzer wrote her first book at 10 years old for a Young Authors competition, where she was awarded an Honorable Mention and discovered a passion for the written word. She’s written several novels and short stories since that spark ignited. She writes a monthly short story serial, The Cassandra Serafin Chronicles, posting alternately on her blog and in Literary Lunes bi-monthly online magazine. Erin resides in Racine, Wisconsin, with her husband, two children, and their cat.

In my novel, Into the Spiral, Ronnie’s favorite place to eat is a diner called The Burger Joint. As you can imagine, they make the best burgers available in that diner. Seeing as hamburgers are one of my favorite foods, it didn’t really surprise me that Ronnie loved them as much as I do. Here’s how Ronnie describes the diner:

“The Burger Joint was located downtown and was a popular hangout on the weekends. Andi, Shawn and Ronnie saw several kids from school as they ordered their food and found a table. This was one of Ronnie’s favorite places to eat; she loved the red vinyl booths, red Formica counters and tabletops and the red and white checkered floor. Retro records and posters hung on the walls.”

 Inspiration for this restaurant came from two places, a local diner called Douglas Ave. Diner, and a Shoney’s I visited many years ago in Nashville, Tennessee.

Both of these places had the feel I was looking for when creating The Burger Joint, that 1950’s diner appeal, right down to the checkered floors, red vinyl booths, Formica counters and memorabilia on the walls. Shoney’s even had small jukeboxes at each table (if I remember right; it’s been more than 15 years since I was there).

Later in the novel, Ronnie takes Gavin to The Burger Joint, where he experiences his first-ever hamburger. This is what it looks like:

That’s all I have today. I hope everyone will join Ronnie on her adventure, when Into the Spiral publishes this November. Thank you, Marian, for having me today!

Now you can find me on the web! Check out my website at   http://www.erindanzer.com/

Like my Fan Page on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Erin-Danzer-YA-Author/201179339901905
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/erindanzer

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Thanks for visiting, Erin. I think I’ll join Ronnie for some chili cheese fries, but hold the adventure. lol!

Meanwhile, I’m over at Beth Masarik’s blog. Hop over and leave a comment!

A WRITING PROMPT FOR YOU: What is your main character’s favorite place to eat, other than home?

MA

Hop the Second: James William Peercy

Fellow Hydra Publications author James William Peercy is my guest today and I am his guest on the 14th. Let’s hear about him, and about his book:

James William Peercy spent his early years in California,(fifteen minutes from Disneyland!). As to the effect of this experience, we can only guess, but imagination seems to make the top of the list. His later years in Texas, he holds a BA in Computer Science with a minor in Math.  Although analytical, the creative side has to find away out. To ease the pain, he designs websites, programs code, and writes.

Brief story synopsis:

It is called ‘Without A Conscious…’. It is about a college student who wakes up one morning to find an envelope slipped under the door of his apartment. As he opens the package, he sees pictures of his grandmother murdered. A call immediately comes in with a strange voice asking  ‘Where is it?’ and then hangs up. The next thing he knows the FBI are knocking at his door. Not only does he have to figure out who murdered  his grandmother, but why, connecting it in with genocide and revenge against the United States of America.

The title came from how the main character finds his clues in the story. Cliff Fulton was taught many techniques of problem solving when he was a child by his grandmother. He and his family also have a knack for unconsciously putting together facts. This is what started the idea, ‘Without A Conscious…’, implying ‘Without a conscious thought…’. Yet the title is even more than that. It is the first part of a sentence and each of the next four books in the series will complete the sentence. Of course, that won’t stop the series from continuing beyond five books.

Excerpt:

The photo stared up at him; it was a picture of an older woman lying under a bridge. The light green sweatshirt, sweat pants, and bright white tennis shoes appeared clean and new, the camera making sure the face was shown. It showed her dead.

Time stopped as the meaning of the photo slammed into his conscious mind.

This could not be real; it did not even feel real. It was a movie one watched on television, or play portrayed at the theatre, or a . . . the seconds stretched out as time waited patiently, taunting him with a reality that he refused to believe. In the background the kitchen ceiling fan rattled, its repetitive singing lulling him into limbo.

Wheels screeched outside the apartment window, and he jumped, almost dropping the photo. Like the calm before an inevitable storm, his mind fought against this. In slow motion, he opened the envelope in which the picture had come, and stared into the empty package. He had to go to the police.

The note said otherwise, though those particular words were not on it.

It was printed on a three by five card, using a serif font, and simply stated, ‘Where is it?’ This had to be a sick joke.

He turned on his cell phone, pressed find, and located his grandmother’s number. The system paused, the wireless bars dropping and then returning, as he anxiously watched her number cross the screen. Taking way too long, the top of the phone finally showed ‘dialing’.

The line rang and an older, familiar, voice answered, “I’m not here right now, but please leave a message.” A tone sounded.

“Gran, this is Cliff,” he paused as his voice stuck in his throat. This was impossible. This picture could not be real. Things like this just didn’t happen to real people . . .

Without A Conscious… is available from AMAZON and AMAZON.UK.

James can be found at his website and at his blog, Stories To Tell. He’s also on Twitter and three Facebook pages:

Without A Conscious

The Wall Outside

Stories To Tell

Ooooooo…. I find photographs and painting inspiring, too. That’s very cool, using the titles of the books to complete a sentence. Puzzles within puzzles!

Thanks for visiting today, James.

Meanwhile, I’m posting at Fatal Foodies today on Food Rules. Hop over and join me, when you’ve followed James to all his lairs.

A WRITING PROMPT FOR YOU: Use a photograph for inspiration.

MA

Hop the First: Michael L. Turner

My fellow Hydra Publications authors and I are having a Blog Hop amongst ourselves. I’ll have Hydra guests Monday through Friday, and I’ll guest at their blogs Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

My first hopper is Michael L. Turner (no relation, even though Turner is my maiden name).

From the Dragon’s Mouth

You don’t know me yet.

My name is Michael L. Turner.

“I am but a simple purveyor of words. A story teller one might say. For the right number of coins, I shall create you a world of your very own, where you will be hailed as its hero, its ruler….its god. Cross me, however, and you shall be cast down as its villain, the lowest of creatures. Your final fate will be most befitting… and unfortunate.”

This winter I would invite you to enter my world. It is a realm of Kings and Dragons.

Here is just a glimpse:

It starts with betrayal, sparking a 10-year war against the rise of the Dark Lord. Until, with a fall of light, comes Tara Lian, who leads the armies of men toward a final battle. Before the end, can she redeem one man’s soul? Can she fulfill a dark promise of vengeance? Can she wake the dragon? Will she find Light in the Darkness?

Look for this winter:

Kings and Dragons Series:

Elsie Dane*

Awakening*

Never Alone*

Light in the Darkness

(* Short Stories)

Visit me on Facebook and my blog:

http://www.facebook.com/Turnerbookpage

http://michaellturner.blogspot.com/

Also check out:

www.hydrapublications.com

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Thanks, Michael T! Looking forward to that. Dragons are my thang.

Meanwhile, I’m visiting Dianne Gardner today at Ian’s Realm And More.

A WRITING PROMPT FOR YOU: Write a story about visiting.

MA

Food Of The Gods. Chocolate, Naturally

The first civilization to cultivate the cacao tree was the Olmecs, three thousand years ago.

The Mayans, who came along centuries later, called the cacao tree simply “tree”, just as “cake” means “chocolate cake” to me.

Next, the Toltecs believed their king to be the god of air, whose mission it was to bring cacao seeds from the gods to Man.

The Conquistadors didn’t care for chocolate at first, since the Aztecs drank it bitter, greasy, black and full of bits of grit and hull. Sometimes chili powder was included, and sometimes maize. It wasn’t until 1522 that sugar and sweet spices were added, to please the Spanish palate.

Department of Nothing New Under the Sun: Aztec warriors carried energy-boosting chocolate compressed into tablets or wafers. Yeah, Willy Wonka–tell Mr. Montezuma all about your golden tickets.

And now comes me, who counts an empty calorie wasted if there’s no chocolate in it.

But what’s my favorite? Maybe a top five list is more appropriate. Therefore, in no particular order:

Ferrero Rocher‘s hazelnut chocolates, which Mom keeps for me as a treat
Dove‘s Dark Chocolate Promises, which I keep in the freezer and don’t chew, but let melt slowly…slowly….
Lindt‘s Excellent Orange Intense, with bits of almond and candied orange peel
Denali Moose Tracks ice cream, with miniature peanut butter cups and swirls of fudge
anything else with chocolate in it

Let’s see … Yep. I think that just about covers it.

Come back a later today for a guest post from a Hydra Blog Hopper. Meanwhile, I’ll be hopping over to visit Dianne Gardner. Please join me there, too.

A WRITING PROMPT FOR YOU: How does your main character feel about chocolate?

MA

#SampleSunday – The Dragon Of Sullivan Hall – excerpt

I’m writing a story for an anthology. For some reason, I was assigned a humorous dragon story, so that’s what I’m writing. I thought it would be fun to do a companion piece to “The Dragon of North 24th Street”, which I wrote for the final issue of Marion Zimmer Bradley’s FANTASY Magazine, and which I reprinted in my collection THE KING OF CHEROKEE CREEK.

Here’s how this one opens:

The Dragon of Sullivan Hall – excerpt

by Marian Allen

They say there are more Irish in The United States of America than there are in Ireland herself. I couldn’t say, for you can’t count many Irishmen before they start standing you to pints, and you can only down so many pints before you start seeing double the Irishmen, and then it’s all over. But take it as a given. Or, as they say in the lawyer shows on television, let us so stipulate.

While we’re at it, we might as well stipulate that there are dragons in America. And why should there not be, I’d like to know? If America can contain creatures as fabulous as Irishmen, why should she not also contain dragons?

As a matter of sober fact (if I may use that expression, given my first paragraph), America does contain dragons, although all of them are immigrants, as is only reasonable.

There are many places in this vast land where a dragon may nest and go undisturbed from one century’s end to another, but some dragons prefer to to be around people, where they amuse themselves by eating one sock of a pair, shorting out wiring, hiding cigarettes in teenagers’ desk drawers for their mothers to find, and generally making nuisances of themselves, if not worse.

One such dragon was vicious female named Neef.

Now, another thing I’ll tell you for nothing is that dragons come in a variety of sizes, like dogs. You have your Standard size, which looms over villages and darkens the sky when it flies above. You have your Miniature, which might live in a cave or down a well, and which battles knights for a living. And you have your Toy, which tends to be foul-tempered and aggressive. I’ve heard there’s a Teacup variety, as well, which people with more nerve than sense use the way other people use safety matches, but I haven’t seen any, myself, so I’ll not be swearing to that at this time.

Neef was of the Toy size, but she was nothing you’d want to play with, and truer words than that were never spoken. She looked like a green lamé lizard and, at the time I’m telling you about, she was about the size of a … well, of a chihuahua, since we’re talking about foul temper and aggression.

Dragons, as you may or may not know, are long-lived creatures. If they aren’t immortal, they’re no further from it than your nose is from your chin. Nevertheless, they’re born, as all creatures in this vale of tears are born. Neef, when this story takes place, was a mere 160 years old.

Ah, I can hear you asking, “When does this story take place, then?” And I’ll tell you: in the year of Our Lord 1968. “And where does this story take place?” Where else but Kentucky?

To be specific, it takes place in the basement of a dormitory of Eastern Kentucky University, and it takes place there and then because of the arrival of a certain freshman–or, if you will, freshwoman.

I think that’s funny. Do you think that’s funny? I think that’s funny.

Jane will recognize some of the incidents in this piece, since we were in Sullivan Hall at EKU together.

A WRITING PROMPT FOR YOU: Take something that happened to you when you were 18 (or 8, if you’re 18 or younger) and outline a funny story from it. Don’t be afraid to change things around.

MA

#Caturday – Ozzie’s Punishment

Since I posted my Caturday post yesterday, like a dummy, I had to do something else for Caturday. But, being basically lazy, I just made a wanted poster. Here it is. Sometimes we must be cruel to be kind.

Cats are very sensitive to shaming, you know. So now he’s been punished, and serves him right!

A WRITING PROMPT FOR YOU: How would YOU shame a cat?

MA

#Caturday – Evil Ozzie

evil

Tuesday, we took Mom’s cats to the vet. Long story short, she was holding Ozzie and he didn’t want to be held. When he jumped down, claws went hither and yon into her arms. One of those claws had apparently been somewhere it didn’t have no business ta be, and that one puncture got infected.

Yes, he’s still alive. Mom’s like, “Poor Ozzie! He didn’t mean to do it.” And I’m like, “Oops! Did I just kick him into the middle of next Sunday? I didn’t mean to do it! I didn’t mean to do it again! I didn’t mean to do it again….”

No, he isn’t actually as evil as he looks in this picture. He was just freaked out at the vet. I get that way when I get a shot, too.

“Take a picture like this, so they can see how puffy it is.”

Wednesday, we didn’t like the looks of it and got an appointment with the doctor. Her PA gave Mom a shot of antibiotics and one against tetanus, and drew lines on her arm to show where the swelling and redness was so we’d know if it was getting better or worse.

She told us to make an appointment for Friday so they could assess the effect of the antibiotics, but said we should hit the ER if things got questionable outside of office hours.

Then she drew a little happy face on the upper mark to keep Mom company.

 

“Hi, there, Genarose!”

She wrote a prescription for oral antibiotics, and sent her home.

I spent the night with her, natch. About 4:30 in the morning, I heard a thump and ran into her bathroom. She hadn’t fallen, but her knees had given out. She was weak, and her hand was more puffy and the red streaks were worse.

ER. Antibiotics. Better now. The nurse said getting her in to be seen so quickly gave her a much better chance of a quick recovery.

Kids, don’t mess around with cellulitis! It can lead to sepsis, meningitis, and who knows what.

Mom didn’t have me take pictures of her arm at the worst. It was pretty scary.

A WRITING PROMPT FOR YOU: A character has a narrow medical escape.

MA

S’prise!

I’m participating in the Hydra Authors Blog Hop next week, but Michael G. Wallace surprised me by posting my interview on his classy blog yesterday! Read all about it: Guest Post: Marian Allen. It’s about SAGE. Here’s a bit:

SAGE is a Taoist fairy tale, more than anything else. The ruler of a kingdom neglects her duties, which causes disorder. Her consort usurps her throne and orders her death and the death of any children she might have had hidden from him. But The Way tends to balance itself, given time and cooperation. Book 1, to be released in 2013, is about the disorder. Books 2 and 3 will be about the struggle between chaos and order, forcible control and correct leadership. (Yes, I’ve been reading the I Ching!)

Meanwhile, Mom is in the hospital with cellulitis contracted from her cat scratching her. From now on, I think he should wash his paws in alcohol whenever he comes in from outside, and also when he uses the litter box.

Yeah, good luck wit’ dat.

Pictures of the culprit and the damage tomorrow.

A WRITING PROMPT FOR YOU: What would your main character do with a cat who scratched him or her — or a loved one — with disastrous consequences?

MA