Jennifer Allis Provost's Blog, page 19
February 28, 2013
Cover Reveal - HOLIDAY MAGICK
Lately, I've been talking about my upcoming release, COPPER GIRL, the first installment in my new urban fantasy series. You know, you can preorder it here
But, today is all about the cover reveal for the latest anthology from Spencer Hill Press, HOLIDAY MAGICK. It just happens to feature my short story, Paper Hearts.
Here's the GoodReads link
And, you can preorder it here
Here's the jacket copy:
People don't usually question holiday traditions or their origins, but
maybe they should. Over centuries, explanations of how and why
holidays exist may have been lost or changed.
Some holiday histories might only be known by a few individuals.
Ancient magic spells could have influenced how we celebrate today.
Fairies, zombies, or demons may have shaped our holidays.
Consider the following...
Why do people give red roses and cards on Valentine's Day?
Is there more to the story of Purim than is traditionally told?
Why do people wear green on St. Patrick's Day?
What happens to spirits that are captured during the Japanese Doll Festival?
Where does Santa get his helpers?
You may think you know the truth, but you can't be too sure.
ISBN: 9781937053499
Available May 2013 from Spencer Hill Press
Without further ado, here is the cover
But, today is all about the cover reveal for the latest anthology from Spencer Hill Press, HOLIDAY MAGICK. It just happens to feature my short story, Paper Hearts.
Here's the GoodReads link
And, you can preorder it here
Here's the jacket copy:
People don't usually question holiday traditions or their origins, but
maybe they should. Over centuries, explanations of how and why
holidays exist may have been lost or changed.
Some holiday histories might only be known by a few individuals.
Ancient magic spells could have influenced how we celebrate today.
Fairies, zombies, or demons may have shaped our holidays.
Consider the following...
Why do people give red roses and cards on Valentine's Day?
Is there more to the story of Purim than is traditionally told?
Why do people wear green on St. Patrick's Day?
What happens to spirits that are captured during the Japanese Doll Festival?
Where does Santa get his helpers?
You may think you know the truth, but you can't be too sure.
ISBN: 9781937053499
Available May 2013 from Spencer Hill Press
Without further ado, here is the cover
February 8, 2013
The Coworker Files, Episode 1: I've Been Challenged To A Mouse Off
As my regular readers are no doubt aware, this blog centers on books and book-related things. It's a logical choice of topics, being that I am a writer, and the Marketing Coordinator for Spence City.
However, I also have a day job. (cue ominous music) While I'm not going to tell you what company I work for, or even what I do for this day-work, suffice it to say that it's a desk job. Instead of being surrounded by customers, I'm surrounded by coworkers.
You'd think that would be a good thing.
For the most part, it is. I have no real complaints, and my employer is nice enough to pay me on a regular basis. Still, the interections I have with my fellow desk jockeys makes me wonder if there's anyone this place won't hire.
I mean, they did hire me.
To celebrate the special lunacy that only comes from working in an artificially lit, climate-controlled environment, I am starting a new feature on this blog: The Coworker Files. Some stories will be new, some years old, and some will be stories that others shared with me. I will always change names to protect the innocent - and keep myself from getting in trouble. Or fired.
Our first tale happened to me just a few days ago. A coworker was showing me how to access a certain system. While doing so, she revealed that, should I not want to use my mouse to paste information into the desired field, I could hit CTRL-V instead. She went on to explain that "they added CTRL-V to all the computers, so people who can't mouse can still get their work done". Then she smiled sweetly and added, "I'll understand if you only use CTRL-V."
Okay…what? What does that even mean? Who are they? Why did they put all this stuff in the computers? When did they do it? Furthermore, do I present as an individual who lacks the cognitive ability to point and click a fricken 'mouse?
I totally need to work on my image.
In the end, I understood what had really happened: she was challenging me to a mouse off. Well, sister, I can point and click like a champ. I've been burning up my ergonomically designed desk with my super mouse skills ever since.
There you have it - our first coworker file! Say, do you have any funny stories about that lunatic that sits a few cubes over from you? Would you like it featured here? Email it to me at jenniferaprovost@gmail.com.
Because really, you can't make this stuff up.
February 1, 2013
Cover Reveal: The Other Tree by DK Mok
Well here it is, folks, Spence City's latest cover reveal!
This time around it's for The Other Tree, the debut novel of Australian author DK Mok. here's the jacket copy:
It’s been four years since Chris Arlin graduated with a degree that most people think she made up, and she’s still no closer to scraping up funding for her research into rare plants. Instead, she’s stacking shelves at the campus library, until a suspiciously well-dressed man offers her a lucrative position on a scientific expedition.
For Chris, the problem isn’t the fact that they’re searching for the Biblical Tree of Life. Nor is it the fact that most of the individuals on the expedition seem to be fashionably lethal mercenaries. The problem is that the mission is being backed by SinaCorp, the corporation responsible for a similar, failed expedition on which her mother died eleven years ago.
However, when Chris’s father is unexpectedly diagnosed with inoperable cancer, Chris sees only one solution. Vowing to find the Tree of Life before SinaCorp’s mercenaries, Chris recruits Luke, an antisocial campus priest undergoing a crisis of faith. Together, they embark on a desperate race to find Eden. However, as the hunt intensifies, Chris discovers growing evidence of her mother’s strange behaviour before her death, and she begins to realise that SinaCorp isn’t the only one with secrets they want to stay buried.
Available in print and ebook December 2013 from Spence City
This time around it's for The Other Tree, the debut novel of Australian author DK Mok. here's the jacket copy:
It’s been four years since Chris Arlin graduated with a degree that most people think she made up, and she’s still no closer to scraping up funding for her research into rare plants. Instead, she’s stacking shelves at the campus library, until a suspiciously well-dressed man offers her a lucrative position on a scientific expedition.
For Chris, the problem isn’t the fact that they’re searching for the Biblical Tree of Life. Nor is it the fact that most of the individuals on the expedition seem to be fashionably lethal mercenaries. The problem is that the mission is being backed by SinaCorp, the corporation responsible for a similar, failed expedition on which her mother died eleven years ago.
However, when Chris’s father is unexpectedly diagnosed with inoperable cancer, Chris sees only one solution. Vowing to find the Tree of Life before SinaCorp’s mercenaries, Chris recruits Luke, an antisocial campus priest undergoing a crisis of faith. Together, they embark on a desperate race to find Eden. However, as the hunt intensifies, Chris discovers growing evidence of her mother’s strange behaviour before her death, and she begins to realise that SinaCorp isn’t the only one with secrets they want to stay buried.
Available in print and ebook December 2013 from Spence City
January 24, 2013
Women and the Apocalypse: Guest Post by Gail Z Martin
In my new novel Ice Forged, a medieval post-apocalyptic story, I find that women of every circumstance play a very important role in what happens after the world “ends.”
Blaine McFadden, my main character, sacrifices his title, lands and fortune to protect his sister and aunt from Blaine’s abusive father. He’s sent to a prison colony in the arctic, There, he meets women from every class and circumstance whose ill fortune caused them to be exiled. One of those fellow prisoners, Kestel Falke, is a courtesan, spy and assassin who becomes part of Blaine’s inner circle. Among the prisoners who have survived long enough to become colonists, the women are shopkeepers and merchants, trades people and seers, farmers and trollops. They play an important role in the economy of the self-sufficient colony, and emerge among the leaders when a devastating war cuts the colony off from the supplies and oversight provided by the kingdom.
Regardless of their previous social class or the circumstances that caused their imprisonment, the older women colonists emerge as the “wise women”, an important force in the social cohesion of the colony. Far from the land of their birth, torn from their families and loved ones, these “wise women” preside over the births, marriages and deaths, and keep the customs and culture of their homeland alive through the celebration of religious and seasonal holidays. The magics of vision, foresight and prophecy seem to fall more often on women than men, giving women with these gifts status and standing among their fellow colonists.
When war destroys the kingdom that exiled Blaine and his fellow colonists, the after-effects of war fall especially heavy on the women who survive the devastation. With a generation of men lost to the battlefront, and many of the surviving men either too old, too young or too injured from the war, it falls to the women to piece together a subsistence living from the wreckage, harvest and plant the crops, gather the scattered livestock, and patch up their damaged dwellings. Since the Cataclysm also destroyed the kingdoms’ trading partners, the survivors are on their own for the necessities of life. And since magic was one of the casualties of war, those who survived the conflict must shoulder the burden of rebuilding without magical help.
Blaine’s Aunt Judith, his sister Mari and his former fiancé, Carensa, each find a different path to survive in the harsh new reality. Without the strictures and conventions of class and in the midst of a society torn asunder, they have the opportunity to make decisions for themselves and step into leadership roles in ways that would not have been possible under old norms.
I found it very interesting to think about the tension that the power vacuum creates after the apocalypse. Some of the women survivors will seize the moment to assume roles for which they are qualified but which social pressures would have denied them before the breakdown of society. Others will attempt to regain a sense of control and normalcy by attempting to replace familiar cultural, social and family roles and take consolation in the familiar.
I’ve had a lot of fun getting to know the women of the apocalypse in Ice Forged and as I work on the sequel. And I’m looking forward to seeing more of them as future stories come together. I hope you’ll join me for the adventure.
Gail Z. Martin’s newest book, Ice Forged: Book One in the Ascendant Kingdoms Saga (Orbit Books), launched in January 2013. Gail is also the author of the Chronicles of the Necromancer series (Solaris Books) and The Fallen Kings Cycle (Orbit Books). For more about Gail’s books and short stories, visit www.AscendantKingdoms.com. Be sure to “like” Gail’s Winter Kingdoms Facebook page, follow her on Twitter @GailZMartin, and join her for frequent discussions on Goodreads.
Read an excerpt from Ice Forged here: http://a.pgtb.me/JvGzTt
December 30, 2012
Top Ten Books of 2012
As you may know, I read a lot. I read texts for work, submissions, and the occasional blog posting or Twitter feed, and I am at my local library and book store on a weekly basis.
Still, I wasn't going to do a Top 10 post, until my forthcoming novel, Copper Girl, was featured on Top 10 posts here. And here. And here.
So, with out further ado, here are my Top 10 Books of 2012.
1. Palimpsest by Catherynne Valente
In a word, amazing. This is the story of four people who each find their way to a dreamland, via a tattooed map they acquire in a most interesting way. The prose is lush, the imagery vivid, and I just wanted to sink into this world and stay a while.
2. Fire/Bitterblue by Kristin Cashore
Ok, so this is two. It's my list, and I can put whatever I want on it.
Anyway, these are the prequel and sequel, respectively, to one of my all time faves, Graceling. In Fire, we are introduced to a land filled with monsters so beautiful you almost don't mind when they rip you to pieces. In Bitterblue, we watch a young girl grow into her birthright as Queen. And, we get bonus Katsa and Po scenes.
3. The King of Elfland's Daughter by Lord Dunsany
By far the oldest title on this list, this should be required reading for anyone who enjoys fantasy; even Tolkien counted Lord Dunsany as an influence. This is the tale of a fairy princess, loved and lost by a mortal man, and his quest to get her back.
4. War for The Oaks by Emma Bull
Some say that this was one of the first urban fantasy novels, back before it was a genre. It tells the story of Eddi, a guitarist in a rock band who falls in with the fey. And, a phouka!
5. Gunmetal Magic by Ilona Andrews
Let's take a moment to discuss this awesome cover - what we don't have is a bimbo contorting herself to show off her boobs and butt. What we do have is a beautiful woman dressed for fighting, which is what Andrea does best. I worried that this would be one of those sidekick novels, but Andrea Nash has proved to be every bit as badass as Kate Daniels.
6. The Scorpio Races by Maggie Stiefvater
The author has described this book as the one she was meant to write, and I cannot disagree. It has racing, water horses that might eat or drown their riders, and the requisite kissing.
7. Faery Tales and Nightmares by Melissa Marr
A collection of short stories set in and around her Wicked Lovely series. A must read for fans of Aisling and Seth, not to mention Keenan and Donia.
8. Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien
It's no secret that I love all things Tolkien, and this collection of his letters gives one an invaluable peek at the man responsible for so many beautiful stories.
9. Fair Game by Patricia Briggs
Patricia Briggs does it again, with Charles, werewolf assassin, and his Omega mate Anna, tracing serial killers in Boston.
10. Changing Planes by Ursula K. LeGuin
Interesting concept - when one is waiting at the airport to change planes, if the right conditions are met one can change planes - as in take a trip to another dimension. These dimensions include one full of holidays, another where royalty obsessively reads about the lower class in gossip magazines, and many others. All in all, great fun.
Honorable Mention - Inanimate Objects by Kendra Saunders
This gets an Honorable Mention because I personally know the author, so I suppose I could be accused of bias. But, take my word for it, this book rocks. We've got Leo, a glitter covered London artist, his much more rational sister Helen, and a muse that wants to make Leo a star. And, there's Elisha, beautifully broken Elisha, whom I just adored.
Well, there you have it. What were your favorite books of 2012?
Still, I wasn't going to do a Top 10 post, until my forthcoming novel, Copper Girl, was featured on Top 10 posts here. And here. And here.
So, with out further ado, here are my Top 10 Books of 2012.
1. Palimpsest by Catherynne Valente
In a word, amazing. This is the story of four people who each find their way to a dreamland, via a tattooed map they acquire in a most interesting way. The prose is lush, the imagery vivid, and I just wanted to sink into this world and stay a while.
2. Fire/Bitterblue by Kristin Cashore
Ok, so this is two. It's my list, and I can put whatever I want on it.
Anyway, these are the prequel and sequel, respectively, to one of my all time faves, Graceling. In Fire, we are introduced to a land filled with monsters so beautiful you almost don't mind when they rip you to pieces. In Bitterblue, we watch a young girl grow into her birthright as Queen. And, we get bonus Katsa and Po scenes.
3. The King of Elfland's Daughter by Lord Dunsany
By far the oldest title on this list, this should be required reading for anyone who enjoys fantasy; even Tolkien counted Lord Dunsany as an influence. This is the tale of a fairy princess, loved and lost by a mortal man, and his quest to get her back.
4. War for The Oaks by Emma Bull
Some say that this was one of the first urban fantasy novels, back before it was a genre. It tells the story of Eddi, a guitarist in a rock band who falls in with the fey. And, a phouka!
5. Gunmetal Magic by Ilona Andrews
Let's take a moment to discuss this awesome cover - what we don't have is a bimbo contorting herself to show off her boobs and butt. What we do have is a beautiful woman dressed for fighting, which is what Andrea does best. I worried that this would be one of those sidekick novels, but Andrea Nash has proved to be every bit as badass as Kate Daniels.
6. The Scorpio Races by Maggie Stiefvater
The author has described this book as the one she was meant to write, and I cannot disagree. It has racing, water horses that might eat or drown their riders, and the requisite kissing.
7. Faery Tales and Nightmares by Melissa Marr
A collection of short stories set in and around her Wicked Lovely series. A must read for fans of Aisling and Seth, not to mention Keenan and Donia.
8. Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien
It's no secret that I love all things Tolkien, and this collection of his letters gives one an invaluable peek at the man responsible for so many beautiful stories.
9. Fair Game by Patricia Briggs
Patricia Briggs does it again, with Charles, werewolf assassin, and his Omega mate Anna, tracing serial killers in Boston.
10. Changing Planes by Ursula K. LeGuin
Interesting concept - when one is waiting at the airport to change planes, if the right conditions are met one can change planes - as in take a trip to another dimension. These dimensions include one full of holidays, another where royalty obsessively reads about the lower class in gossip magazines, and many others. All in all, great fun.
Honorable Mention - Inanimate Objects by Kendra Saunders
This gets an Honorable Mention because I personally know the author, so I suppose I could be accused of bias. But, take my word for it, this book rocks. We've got Leo, a glitter covered London artist, his much more rational sister Helen, and a muse that wants to make Leo a star. And, there's Elisha, beautifully broken Elisha, whom I just adored.
Well, there you have it. What were your favorite books of 2012?
December 3, 2012
Spencer Hill Press Holiday Cheer Giveaway!
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We (authors, editors, publicists - all of us) of the Spencer Hill Press/Spence City/ Spencer Hill Contemporary family decided to spread our own version of holiday cheer! Of course, it involves books, swag, chocolate, jewelry, you know, the good stuff.
Check out the prizes you can win:
GRAND PRIZE Holiday Cheer Away Holiday Giveaway Bag
Books:TOUCH OF DEATHOne Spencer Hill Press book (winner's choice--can include soon to be release selections)
Jewelery:BraceletTOUCH OF DEATH Handcrafted Pendant- www.stainedglasscreationsandbeyond.comHandcrafted Necklace and EarringsSo Many Books, So Little Time Necklace
Giftcards:$20 Amazon or Barnes and Nobel (Winner's Choice)$15 StarbucksTwo $10 Amazon
Critiques:First Chapter Critique-Mary GrayFirst Chapter Critique-Rhys A JonesQuery Letter Critique-Trisha Wolfe
Cool Stuff:GUARDIAN T-shirtBETRAYED Fridge Magnet FlashlightOrnaments Holiday Towel and PotholderCandy
Swag: BREAKING GLASS Handcrafted BookmarkFINN FINNEGAN Handcrafted Charmed Bookmark- www.stainedglasscreationsandbeyond.comPERFECTIONTOUCH OF DEATHFINN FINNEGANBETRAYEDANGELINA'S SECRETCOPPER GIRL OTHER TREEPODs
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SECOND Prize Holiday Cheer Away Holiday Giveaway Bag
Books:ANGELINA'S SECRET - 1st edition signed copy
Jewelery:BraceletTOUCH OF DEATH Handcrafted Pendant- www.stainedglasscreationsandbeyond.comEarrings
Giftcards:$10 Amazon or Barnes and Nobel (Winner's Choice)$15 Starbucks$10 Amazon
Critiques:First Chapter Critique-Trisha WolfeFirst Chapter Critique (2500 Words Max)-Elizabeth LangstonQuery Letter Critique-Kimberly Ann Miller
Cool Stuff:BETRAYED Fridge Magnet FlashlightOrnaments Holiday Towel and PotholderCandy
Swag: FINN FINNEGAN Handcrafted Charmed Bookmark- www.stainedglasscreationsandbeyond.comPERFECTIONTOUCH OF DEATHFINN FINNEGANBETRAYEDANGELINA'S SECRETCOPPER GIRL OTHER TREEPODs
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THIRD PRIZE Holiday Cheer Away Holiday Giveaway
Critiques:First five pages--Sarah GuilloryFirst 250 word-DK Mok Either query or first 250 word critique (your choice)--Michelle Pickett
I know, it's pretty awesome. Here are the rules:
Contest is opened to entries from Dec. 3rd to Dec. 16thContest is open to all ages from 13 to any adult age. ( I love to promote reading and writing with young readers.)Contest is opened to US and Canada residents only. Sorry :(I am not responsible for anything unless it is fun.
This is a Rafflecopter giveaway, so - go for it! Good luck!
***Update*** My thingamajig wouldn't work (must be an id 10 t error) so follow this link to enter:
http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/share-code/MDhiMTUxOWEzOWE1YWRmNWRmYWQ4NWRlYTQxMzViOjY=/
December 1, 2012
Cover Reveal: COPPER GIRL
Finally, I can show everyone the amazingly gorgeous cover for my upcoming novel, Copper Girl!
Here's the jacket copy: Sara had always been careful. She never spoke of magic, never associated with those suspected of handling magic, never thought of magic, and never, ever, let anyone see her mark. After all, the last thing she wanted was to end up missing, like her father and brother. Then, a silver elf pushed his way into Sara's dream, and her life became anything but ordinary. Available in print and e-book June, 2013 from Spence City
ISBN: 978-1-939392-02-2*** What's that, you want to see the back too? Well, here it is:
Here's the jacket copy: Sara had always been careful. She never spoke of magic, never associated with those suspected of handling magic, never thought of magic, and never, ever, let anyone see her mark. After all, the last thing she wanted was to end up missing, like her father and brother. Then, a silver elf pushed his way into Sara's dream, and her life became anything but ordinary. Available in print and e-book June, 2013 from Spence CityISBN: 978-1-939392-02-2*** What's that, you want to see the back too? Well, here it is:
November 24, 2012
Anthology: Year One
So, as you, dear reader, are probably aware, I write a few things here and there. My most recent publication is a short story called Stir the Bones, and it appears in Anthology: Year One. This anthology boasts some truly amazing talent, and I am honored to be included.
Below, I've pasted a snippet from Stir the Bones. If you like what you see, pick up the book and find out what happens to Josie, Paul and Bear, as they struggle to cope with the aftermath of a tornado, trapped in what may be a haunted basement.
Stir the Bones
I still couldn’t get over how loud it was –the wind had shrieked and wailed and howled like lost souls escaping from the abyss, swirling around the house, ripping away shingles and siding and God knows what else. My husband said it sounded like a thousand fighter jets taking off all at once. He would know, since he’s an Air Force brat. Me, I was amazed that there’d been a tornado in Massachusetts.
Everyone, even those like me who were born decades afterward, still talks about the tornado that hit Worcester in 1953, so I guess today’s tornado wasn’t such an unprecedented event. However, that doesn’t mean it wasn’t damn irregular. I mean, we get lots of thunderstorms in the summer, but nothing like a tornado. Nothing like that dark funnel cloud, spewing debris and destruction like an evil whirling dervish. There had never been anything like this.
When the rain started, my husband, Paul, and I hardly mentioned it, except to say that Bear would be unhappy when he went for his walk. Then, the wind picked up and the warning came over the local news, and the three of us hurtled into the basement. Then there was the noise, the horrible howling wind coupled with the sound of wood splintering and heavy things being tossed about. I wondered if our home had been reduced to kindling.
Now, the storm had ended but we were trapped in the creepy, cobwebby basement, being that some of the aforementioned flying debris had wedged the door shut. And, of course, we’d lost power and cell service. It wasn’t really a big deal; we had a second fridge in the basement, stocked mostly with Popsicles, old beer, and the other odds and ends not fit for the kitchen proper. Next to the fridge was a cabinet filled with canned goods, paper towels, and (luckily for Bear) a million pound bag of dog food. I figured we’d have cell service restored in a day, two at the max, and if the door remained stuck, we could call for help at that time.
Until help arrived, we were content to deplete our hoard of beer. Most of it was left over from various summer gatherings, and I couldn’t think of a better reason to celebrate than surviving a tornado. I used a screwdriver to open a green bottle of dubious origin, and grinned at Paul.
“I think this one’s German,” I declared after a quick sniff.
“Skunked,” Paul muttered as I waved it under his nose. “I bet most of that stuff’s bad.” He rummaged in the fridge and emerged with a bottle of his own. We poured a little in a plastic bowl for Bear, so named because he’s a gigantic brown mutt, and sat down by one of the narrow windows. “I wish the electric hadn’t gone out.”
“I hope we have a house left.” He didn’t have anything to say to that, and for a while we just sat there, drinking funky beer in the dappled light filtering in through the basement windows. I realized that the dappled light likely meant that the foundation shrubs were intact. It was a small bit of good news, but I’ll take what I can get.
We finished our drinks, had some Popsicles, then popped a few more beers. By now, the light was fading fast, we still had no cell signal, and our electric still wasn’t on. The only thing on was my buzz.
“Remember the wacko we got this place from?” I asked suddenly.
“Freak,” Paul muttered, because she was. The previous homeowner lived in this house for ten years, had an assortment of small caged pets (lizards, hamsters and the like) that she kept in the dining room, and had had a succession of husbands, boyfriends, and fiancés. According to the neighbors, eight different men lived here with her at one time or another. Must have really confused the mailman.
What was really weird was her love of concrete. We had this twenty-five square foot concrete patio in the backyard, our fence and deck posts were set in four foot deep concrete holes, and she’d raised the basement floor by two feet via her favorite medium.
“Too bad she didn’t put down carpeting,” my husband grumbled when I mentioned that last bit of trivia. We’d talked about finishing the basement but had never quite gotten around to it, and the concrete was pretty hard on our butts. The prior owner claimed the old floor was bare dirt, so in theory the concrete was an improvement, but I disagreed. Our basement was a cold, dark place, and it would take a lot more than a new floor to fix it.
After a while the sun went down, but it did nothing for the heat. The basement air was thick and wet, wrapped around us like a used dishrag. To add to our torment, we were in near-perfect blackness, and the lack of power made me worry that everything in the fridge was close to spoiling. Most miserable, however, was Bear. He didn’t like being confined, his thick coat meant that he hated the heat, and I suspect he was afraid of the dark.
“You think there’s anything over there that can hurt him?” I asked. Bear was scrabbling away at something in the far corner, behind the washer. Normally I wouldn’t let him scratch around like that, but I figured he was bored. I know I was.
“Nah. The detergent’s up high.” I heard Paul stand and make his way to the fridge, then the soft pop of a bottle opening. Normally, I would have something to say about this rampant drinking, but what else were we really going to do? Then he pressed a cold bottle into my hand, silencing me in his own way.
“It’s so creepy down here,” I said, hugging my knees to my chest. I’d never liked the basement, not when we did our first walk through and not now, after living on top of it for two years. There was something wrong, like the walls were watching. And, I don’t think they liked what they saw.
“Better than up there,” Paul said. He’d gone up the stairs and tried the door for the umpteenth time, verifying we were still stuck. Alive, but trapped.
“God, where is the power crew?” I got up and paced, which wasn’t a smart thing to do in the dark. I tripped, swore, then kicked whatever had tripped me and hurt my foot. Paul yelled at me to calm down while the dog barked his fool head off.
“Shut up shut up shut up!” I screamed. “Both of you shut up!”
Silence. Thank God.
I picked my way over to the washer and sat on the lid. I could just make out Bear in the moonlight, giving me that quizzical face dogs get after you yell. “Sorry.” I rubbed Bear’s ears, speaking loud enough for Paul to hear. “I’m just going a little stir crazy.”
Bear put his paw on my wrist; at least he didn’t hold grudges. My husband, now that’s another matter. I noticed Bear’s wet, sticky fur.
“Hey, babe,” I called. “I think Bear got into the detergent.”
Paul walked over and flicked his lighter. Bear had a thick, sticky liquid on his paw, matting down his fur. I bent closer, careful not to singe my hair on the open flame, and caught a faint metallic scent.
“I think he’s bleeding.”
Paul hauled Bear over to the sink and plopped him in; luckily, the water lines hadn’t been compromised. Bear’s no fan of water, but we got his paws rinsed off. After they were clean we inspected them as best we could with the lighter, but couldn’t find any cuts.
“He must have just gotten into something,” Paul stated in that brook-no-argument way of his. “Oil, or dirt.”
I nodded in the darkness. There wasn’t any oil or dirt in the basement, or anything else that would account for the dark liquid on Bear’s paws. However, the middle of the night after a tornado is not the time to explore the depths of the basement, especially this basement. I made another weak attempt at humor, and mentioned my theory that the last owner’s exes were the reason she raised the floor. Paul wasn’t having it.
“Will you get off that? There is nothing here. Nothing. Don’t you think the home inspection would have mentioned it?”
“Exactly what would it have said?” I countered. “Fresh grave in the northeast quadrant, financing denied?”
He blew out an exasperated breath and popped another beer. I considered one myself, but I wondered if alcohol was part of the problem. My fuzzy brain, coupled with this sweatbox that stank of dog and blood, was making me hallucinate.
Wait-we rinsed his paws. Why does it still smell like blood down here?
“Lemme see the lighter.” Paul tossed and I managed to catch it, and made my way over to the far corner where Bear had been scrabbling around. While the entire floor was a concrete slab, that end had some vinyl floor tiles affixed to it, a lame attempt at making the space livable. I crouched down and examined the vinyl. Bear had pulled up the corner and shredded the edges. There was more of that mystery liquid seeping up from underneath, and I wondered if we had a leak.
“Hey,” I called, “there’s some sort of goo oozing up through the floor.”
“Really?” Paul made his way over to me, peering over my shoulder at the black mess. “Is that oil?” I didn’t answer. Instead, I gingerly grabbed the shredded corner of the vinyl and slowly peeled it up.
I screamed. And screamed.
I leapt backward into Paul, now hyperventilating as I tried to tell him what was beneath our house. What our dog had found. I lost my breath, then darkness took me.
When I came to we were sitting halfway up the basement steps. Paul was holding me against him, and Bear was smushed up against my hip as if to guard me. Despite the heat, I welcomed the huge, furry mess of him.
“It was a stick,” Paul whispered in my ear. “Bear found a stick.”
“It wasn’t a stick,” I snapped, my voice raw. Had I screamed that much? I guess I had. “It was a bone.”
“It was not,” he insisted, but he was wrong. I remember seeing it there under the floor, red and meaty and gnawed on. It was bone, and it was human. God, I hope Bear wasn’t the one gnawing on it. I hope he doesn’t get sick.
If Bear wasn’t gnawing on it, who was?
Below, I've pasted a snippet from Stir the Bones. If you like what you see, pick up the book and find out what happens to Josie, Paul and Bear, as they struggle to cope with the aftermath of a tornado, trapped in what may be a haunted basement.
Stir the Bones
I still couldn’t get over how loud it was –the wind had shrieked and wailed and howled like lost souls escaping from the abyss, swirling around the house, ripping away shingles and siding and God knows what else. My husband said it sounded like a thousand fighter jets taking off all at once. He would know, since he’s an Air Force brat. Me, I was amazed that there’d been a tornado in Massachusetts.
Everyone, even those like me who were born decades afterward, still talks about the tornado that hit Worcester in 1953, so I guess today’s tornado wasn’t such an unprecedented event. However, that doesn’t mean it wasn’t damn irregular. I mean, we get lots of thunderstorms in the summer, but nothing like a tornado. Nothing like that dark funnel cloud, spewing debris and destruction like an evil whirling dervish. There had never been anything like this.
When the rain started, my husband, Paul, and I hardly mentioned it, except to say that Bear would be unhappy when he went for his walk. Then, the wind picked up and the warning came over the local news, and the three of us hurtled into the basement. Then there was the noise, the horrible howling wind coupled with the sound of wood splintering and heavy things being tossed about. I wondered if our home had been reduced to kindling.
Now, the storm had ended but we were trapped in the creepy, cobwebby basement, being that some of the aforementioned flying debris had wedged the door shut. And, of course, we’d lost power and cell service. It wasn’t really a big deal; we had a second fridge in the basement, stocked mostly with Popsicles, old beer, and the other odds and ends not fit for the kitchen proper. Next to the fridge was a cabinet filled with canned goods, paper towels, and (luckily for Bear) a million pound bag of dog food. I figured we’d have cell service restored in a day, two at the max, and if the door remained stuck, we could call for help at that time.
Until help arrived, we were content to deplete our hoard of beer. Most of it was left over from various summer gatherings, and I couldn’t think of a better reason to celebrate than surviving a tornado. I used a screwdriver to open a green bottle of dubious origin, and grinned at Paul.
“I think this one’s German,” I declared after a quick sniff.
“Skunked,” Paul muttered as I waved it under his nose. “I bet most of that stuff’s bad.” He rummaged in the fridge and emerged with a bottle of his own. We poured a little in a plastic bowl for Bear, so named because he’s a gigantic brown mutt, and sat down by one of the narrow windows. “I wish the electric hadn’t gone out.”
“I hope we have a house left.” He didn’t have anything to say to that, and for a while we just sat there, drinking funky beer in the dappled light filtering in through the basement windows. I realized that the dappled light likely meant that the foundation shrubs were intact. It was a small bit of good news, but I’ll take what I can get.
We finished our drinks, had some Popsicles, then popped a few more beers. By now, the light was fading fast, we still had no cell signal, and our electric still wasn’t on. The only thing on was my buzz.
“Remember the wacko we got this place from?” I asked suddenly.
“Freak,” Paul muttered, because she was. The previous homeowner lived in this house for ten years, had an assortment of small caged pets (lizards, hamsters and the like) that she kept in the dining room, and had had a succession of husbands, boyfriends, and fiancés. According to the neighbors, eight different men lived here with her at one time or another. Must have really confused the mailman.
What was really weird was her love of concrete. We had this twenty-five square foot concrete patio in the backyard, our fence and deck posts were set in four foot deep concrete holes, and she’d raised the basement floor by two feet via her favorite medium.
“Too bad she didn’t put down carpeting,” my husband grumbled when I mentioned that last bit of trivia. We’d talked about finishing the basement but had never quite gotten around to it, and the concrete was pretty hard on our butts. The prior owner claimed the old floor was bare dirt, so in theory the concrete was an improvement, but I disagreed. Our basement was a cold, dark place, and it would take a lot more than a new floor to fix it.
After a while the sun went down, but it did nothing for the heat. The basement air was thick and wet, wrapped around us like a used dishrag. To add to our torment, we were in near-perfect blackness, and the lack of power made me worry that everything in the fridge was close to spoiling. Most miserable, however, was Bear. He didn’t like being confined, his thick coat meant that he hated the heat, and I suspect he was afraid of the dark.
“You think there’s anything over there that can hurt him?” I asked. Bear was scrabbling away at something in the far corner, behind the washer. Normally I wouldn’t let him scratch around like that, but I figured he was bored. I know I was.
“Nah. The detergent’s up high.” I heard Paul stand and make his way to the fridge, then the soft pop of a bottle opening. Normally, I would have something to say about this rampant drinking, but what else were we really going to do? Then he pressed a cold bottle into my hand, silencing me in his own way.
“It’s so creepy down here,” I said, hugging my knees to my chest. I’d never liked the basement, not when we did our first walk through and not now, after living on top of it for two years. There was something wrong, like the walls were watching. And, I don’t think they liked what they saw.
“Better than up there,” Paul said. He’d gone up the stairs and tried the door for the umpteenth time, verifying we were still stuck. Alive, but trapped.
“God, where is the power crew?” I got up and paced, which wasn’t a smart thing to do in the dark. I tripped, swore, then kicked whatever had tripped me and hurt my foot. Paul yelled at me to calm down while the dog barked his fool head off.
“Shut up shut up shut up!” I screamed. “Both of you shut up!”
Silence. Thank God.
I picked my way over to the washer and sat on the lid. I could just make out Bear in the moonlight, giving me that quizzical face dogs get after you yell. “Sorry.” I rubbed Bear’s ears, speaking loud enough for Paul to hear. “I’m just going a little stir crazy.”
Bear put his paw on my wrist; at least he didn’t hold grudges. My husband, now that’s another matter. I noticed Bear’s wet, sticky fur.
“Hey, babe,” I called. “I think Bear got into the detergent.”
Paul walked over and flicked his lighter. Bear had a thick, sticky liquid on his paw, matting down his fur. I bent closer, careful not to singe my hair on the open flame, and caught a faint metallic scent.
“I think he’s bleeding.”
Paul hauled Bear over to the sink and plopped him in; luckily, the water lines hadn’t been compromised. Bear’s no fan of water, but we got his paws rinsed off. After they were clean we inspected them as best we could with the lighter, but couldn’t find any cuts.
“He must have just gotten into something,” Paul stated in that brook-no-argument way of his. “Oil, or dirt.”
I nodded in the darkness. There wasn’t any oil or dirt in the basement, or anything else that would account for the dark liquid on Bear’s paws. However, the middle of the night after a tornado is not the time to explore the depths of the basement, especially this basement. I made another weak attempt at humor, and mentioned my theory that the last owner’s exes were the reason she raised the floor. Paul wasn’t having it.
“Will you get off that? There is nothing here. Nothing. Don’t you think the home inspection would have mentioned it?”
“Exactly what would it have said?” I countered. “Fresh grave in the northeast quadrant, financing denied?”
He blew out an exasperated breath and popped another beer. I considered one myself, but I wondered if alcohol was part of the problem. My fuzzy brain, coupled with this sweatbox that stank of dog and blood, was making me hallucinate.
Wait-we rinsed his paws. Why does it still smell like blood down here?
“Lemme see the lighter.” Paul tossed and I managed to catch it, and made my way over to the far corner where Bear had been scrabbling around. While the entire floor was a concrete slab, that end had some vinyl floor tiles affixed to it, a lame attempt at making the space livable. I crouched down and examined the vinyl. Bear had pulled up the corner and shredded the edges. There was more of that mystery liquid seeping up from underneath, and I wondered if we had a leak.
“Hey,” I called, “there’s some sort of goo oozing up through the floor.”
“Really?” Paul made his way over to me, peering over my shoulder at the black mess. “Is that oil?” I didn’t answer. Instead, I gingerly grabbed the shredded corner of the vinyl and slowly peeled it up.
I screamed. And screamed.
I leapt backward into Paul, now hyperventilating as I tried to tell him what was beneath our house. What our dog had found. I lost my breath, then darkness took me.
When I came to we were sitting halfway up the basement steps. Paul was holding me against him, and Bear was smushed up against my hip as if to guard me. Despite the heat, I welcomed the huge, furry mess of him.
“It was a stick,” Paul whispered in my ear. “Bear found a stick.”
“It wasn’t a stick,” I snapped, my voice raw. Had I screamed that much? I guess I had. “It was a bone.”
“It was not,” he insisted, but he was wrong. I remember seeing it there under the floor, red and meaty and gnawed on. It was bone, and it was human. God, I hope Bear wasn’t the one gnawing on it. I hope he doesn’t get sick.
If Bear wasn’t gnawing on it, who was?
November 14, 2012
Cover reveal, CALL OF THE JERSEY DEVIL by Aurelio Voltaire
We from Spence City spent the last weekend at AnthoCon in Portsmouth, NH, revealing the cover for Aurelio Voltaire's CALL OF THE JERSEY DEVIL. Without further ado, here it is:
Five suburban mall rats and a washed up Goth singer find themselves stranded in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey where they discover two horrifying truths: The Jersey Devil, hellspawn of folklore and legend, is real; and New Jersey (as many already suspected) is the gateway to Hell!
With the help of one lone witch, this small group must face off against their deepest fears and the most unholy monsters in a battle where their very souls, the world they live in, and any chance of returning to Hot Topic in one piece is at stake!
The first novel by musician and horror media personality, Aurelio Voltaire, Call of the Jersey Devil is a hilarious and terrifying homage to 80s horror and genre films. Like a mad doctor, Voltaire has Frankensteined together elements of Evil Dead, The Breakfast Club, Poltergeist, and This is Spinal Tap to create a creature feature that will have you laughing out loud when you're not glancing nervously over your shoulder.
Available in print and e-book on May 28, 2013
ISBN: 978-1-939392-00-8
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Five suburban mall rats and a washed up Goth singer find themselves stranded in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey where they discover two horrifying truths: The Jersey Devil, hellspawn of folklore and legend, is real; and New Jersey (as many already suspected) is the gateway to Hell!
With the help of one lone witch, this small group must face off against their deepest fears and the most unholy monsters in a battle where their very souls, the world they live in, and any chance of returning to Hot Topic in one piece is at stake!
The first novel by musician and horror media personality, Aurelio Voltaire, Call of the Jersey Devil is a hilarious and terrifying homage to 80s horror and genre films. Like a mad doctor, Voltaire has Frankensteined together elements of Evil Dead, The Breakfast Club, Poltergeist, and This is Spinal Tap to create a creature feature that will have you laughing out loud when you're not glancing nervously over your shoulder.
Available in print and e-book on May 28, 2013
ISBN: 978-1-939392-00-8
October 11, 2012
The Next Big Thing Blog Hop
Hi! As a part of this blog hop, I'm to answer ten interview questions about my work in progress. Here goes:
What is the working title of your book?
Copper Girl (the first in a four book series, the Copper Legacy)
Where did the idea come from for the book?
I used to work in an office that overdid it on the air conditioning, so I took my breaks outside, sitting in my hot car. There was a fairly distinctive tree in the side lot, and after staring at it for a while my heat-addled mind decided it was the entrance to the Otherworld.
What genre does your book fall under?
Urban Fantasy
Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?
Hmm. I see Micah as a combination of Adrian Brody and David Bowie. As for Sara… Emma Stone?
What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?
In a world where practicing magic can have deadly consequences, Sara has spent her entire life trying to be ordinary, until an elf wanders into her dream and forces her to confront her heritage.
Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?
It will be published in June 2013 by Spence City
How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?
Once I decided to go with it, about three months.
What other books would you compare this story to within your genre? It's somewhere between Charles de Lint's Newford series and The Hunger Games.
Who or What inspired you to write this book? I've always written high fantasy, and I wanted to try my hand at something a bit more modern. I thought there would be less world building - boy, was I wrong!
What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest? Sara, the titular copper girl, goes from working as an underpaid desk jockey to the center of a war between humans and the Otherworld that was supposed to have ended years earlier. And, despite what all the propaganda says, she's not so sure the humans won. Along the way she rescues her brother, becomes the consort to a silver elf, and meets the Queen of the Seelie Court. And now on to five more awesome writers, and their Next Big Things: Lisa Amowitz http://lisa-amowitzya.blogspot.com/Heidi Ruby Miller http://heidirubymiller.blogspot.com/Vonnie Winslow Crist http://vonniewinslowcrist.wordpress.com/Lynda Williams http://okalrel.org/blog/Cat Rambo http://www.kittywumpus.net/blog/Suzanne Reynolds Alpert http://suzannereynoldsalpert.blogspot.com/ Thanks for stopping by!
(Also tag five other writers/bloggers and add their links so we can hop over and meet them.)
Include the link of who tagged you and this explanation for the people you have tagged. Here's a link to an example from the person who tagged me: http://screwinguptime.blogspot.com/
Let me know if you have any other questions. And, of course, email me the link to the blog you want tagged.
