I.E. Castellano's Blog, page 8

Friday Night Reads – Secrets of the Sages Edition

An excerpt from Secrets of the Sages Book 3 of the World In-between Series for #FridayNightReads
A little set-up and background: The World In-between Series is a portal fantasy.  Portals connect the modern, mundane world to a magical one.  Most have no idea the portals exist.  Modern-day man, Berty Chase, lives a secret life in the magical world.  Only his six-year-old niece, Hope, knows.  However, his worlds are about to collide and not in the way Berty would have liked.
Hope spent the summer with her uncle Berty in the Land of Sages and it is time for her to go home to her life in the modern world.
*
At dinner, Hope ate quietly.  Her melancholic mood troubled Berty.  When she caught him staring, she asked, “Do I have to go back to school?”“Yes, you do.”She pushed food around with her fork.  “I hate school,” she muttered.“I’m sure your mom and dad will let you come back some weekends,” he said trying to lift her spirits.“I know,” she said.  “I just didn’t wanna have to…”“I have a feeling this year is going to be different,” he told her with a little smile.She sighed, then returned Berty smile.  When she finished eating, she climbed the staircase with Freesia.He did not know what to do.  All the magic in the world would not make her like school or make the children within it not tease her.  His heart broke.  She wanted to stay as much as she wanted to see her parents.  When he finally tore his eyes from the stairs, he noticed Obie’s eyes were still glued to them.Silvia was a wonderful woman.  She understood or at least empathized.  He liked her suggestion of sparring in the training room.After changing his clothes, he took his stance.  He held his sword while focusing on the dummy on the floor.  “Begin,” he said.  The dummy did not move.  “Begin,” he commanded.  Nothing stirred.  “Begin!” he shouted.  The dummy remained a lifeless lump.He screamed in frustration.  Disappointed that he did not get a sort of live sparring partner, he turned the crank on the wall.  A dummy hanging from the ceiling swung into the center of the room.Unsatisfactorily, Berty released his frustrations on the defenseless form.  After removing his padding, he walked through the tree.  As he crossed the bridge, he saw Obie leaving Hope’s chambers.  “Goodnight, my Lord,” the boy said as he passed.When Berty entered, Hope was coming down the steps.  Melancholy had been washed away.  “I finished my painting for Mommy and Daddy,” she announced.  “It has to dry overnight.”He peeked at the colorful two-dimensional Empire Tree diorama.  “They are going to love it,” he told her.She smiled.  As she pushed an errant brown curl out of her face, Berty noticed something on her thumb.“What’s that?” he asked.“A ring.”  Hope held it out for her uncle to see.  “Obie made it.”  The light wood had reddish and dark wood petal-esque inlays that made it look like a flower.  “Declan helped him.”  Gazing at it, she smiled.Berty made a mental note to speak with Declan later.  “That’s nice,” he said.  “Do you have everything you’re bringing with you ready to go?”“Almost,” said Hope.  “Can I bring my Fairy Dust?”Staring at his niece, he did not know how to answer.  “I wouldn’t show your parents.  They won’t understand Fairy Dust.”  He thought that Teresa would make her leave her bow at his house.  “Ask Delyth at breakfast if it will even work on the other side of the portal.”“Oh.  I didn’t think of that.  Okay, Uncle Berty, I will.”  Hugging him, she said goodnight.Silvia’s smile was the sunshine in the morning rain.  Warm raindrops pelted his hood while they walked breakfast.“Obie gave Hope a wooden ring he made,” he mentioned to Silvia.  “Should I be concerned?”Laughing, Silvia replied, “They’re kids.  And they have become good friends.  If it were ten years from now, I’d be concerned that he did not ask you first.  It’s a lovely token of friendship.”Hope and Obie had been through plenty together.  She was not the only one experiencing changes in life.  Silvia always gave the proper perspective.At the breakfast table, Hope laughed.  He was going to miss the jovial environment that she brought to the Empire Tree.  Fun Uncle Berty who came and went was not going to cut it after her summer with him.He waited while Hope hugged everyone, saying goodbye.  “This was the best summer ever, Uncle Berty,” she said as they climbed the stairs.“I’m glad you could spend it with me,” he said, smiling.  She latched onto his waist when they entered her leafy green bundle.  Silvia and Freesia followed them into her chambers.“Are you ready?” Berty asked.  Hope’s curls bounced as she nodded.  “Freesia, you could meet her parents.  Do you have something that will disguise your folded Fairy wings?  Besides your cloak.”“Yes, my Lord.”Both Freesia and Hope hurried upstairs.  Giving Silvia a smile, he climbed the steps with her.Freesia emerged from her room wearing a soft pink vest over her blouse.  Entering Hope’s, she said, “I’ll carry your bag.”With a bow and quiver attached to her body, Hope walked into the hall with the box Delyth gave her.  In her other hand, she carried the painting for her parents.  Behind her, Freesia held a small bag.“After you,” Berty said.  Hope and her Fairy Godmother stepped into the tapestry.  With Silvia’s hand in his, they crossed through the portal.Silvia escaped to the third floor to change while Berty knocked on Hope’s open bedroom door.  Lightning flashed through the windows.  Thunder rumbled shortly after.“I can’t show them in a thunderstorm,” said Hope.  She sounded disappointed.“As soon as the rain clears,” said Berty.  “I’m going to change, then I’ll help you bring all your stuff to the foyer.”Freesia kept all of Hope’s things organized.  Clothes stayed in one area while school supplies were confined to another.  When the last of Hope’s belongings rested in the foyer, the four of them headed to the kitchen for lunch.Silvia was instructing the kitchen when the doorbell rang.  “Mommy and Daddy!”  Hope jumped off the kitchen chair.Following his niece, he reminded her not to answer the door.  Reaching the stained glass front door, he turned its brass handle.  Berty came face-to-face with a man who was not his brother.He quickly studied the man’s crisp pinstripe suit and neat, black, tight, curly hair.  “Can I help you?”  Hope stood behind Berty, holding onto his shirt.“Mister Hubert Chase?” the man said.Berty nodded.“I am Lawrence Trane from Silverman and Trane.”  He handed Berty his card.Berty glanced at the business card.  “You’re a lawyer.”“We represent Chase Technologies as well as Jonathan and Teresa Chase,” said Lawrence.His stomach dropped.  Opening his mouth, he could not get it to form words.“Is there somewhere private we can talk?” Lawrence asked.“Yes.  I’m sorry.  Come in.”  Berty stepped aside so the man could enter.  “Hope, go back in the kitchen and stay there.”Berty led Lawrence into the sitting room.  “Please, have a seat.”  He closed the pocket door, then sat across from the stranger in his home.“Mister Chase, there is no good way to tell you this,” Lawrence began.  “Your brother and sister-in-law did not make their flight today.  It seems as though that they are lost in Africa.”“Lost?”“They never returned from their safari,” answered Lawrence.“What?”“Mister Silverman is with your parents, George and Kate Chase, and Teresa’s parents, Robert and Lillian Regnik.  They are meeting with an official from the State Department,” Lawrence explained.  “They are following all the proper procedures to find Jon and Teresa.”“I see.”“Which leads me to why I am here.  Teresa set up a contingency plan.”  Lawrence opened his briefcase.  “In the event they did not return in time, you get legal temporary custody of their daughter, Hope.”  He placed a stack of papers on the coffee table.  “So she can go to school, the doctor, things like that.”Staring at the papers, he rubbed his eyebrow.  “School,” he swallowed, “of course.”“You also have temporary control of Chase Technologies with your father, George.”“I know nothing about the business,” he admitted.Lawrence continued, “Temporary means six months.  After that time, if they are not found, you get full guardianship of your niece.  All of their assets would be put in trust for Hope of which you would manage until she turns twenty-one.”  Berty looked blankly into his dark eyes.  “Mister Chase, I need you to sign these papers.”  He placed the pen on the table.Picking up the pen, Berty asked, “Can they be found?”Lawrence’s steely exterior softened.  “I don’t know.  Your brother is a good man.  I’ve known him for years.  Be assured that we are exploring all avenues open to us.”Nodding, Berty asked, “Where do I sign?”  He scribbled his name everywhere Lawrence indicated.After Berty received his copies, he walked the man to the door.  “I hope we don’t meet like this again,” said Lawrence.  “You will know when we know.”Berty shook his hand.  Opening the door, he could barely see the tree lined street through the deluge.  Thunder cracked as he closed the door.When he walked into the kitchen, Hope asked, “Will Mommy and Daddy be here soon?”  Lightning flashed in the windows.How could he tell her in the best possible way?  “Hope,” he sat down, “Mommy and Daddy won’t be back for a while.”“Why not?”“They are missing, but people are looking for them,” he answered.  “Until they come home, you’ll stay here.  And you will go to a new school.”Tears wanted to burst from her eyes at any moment.  “How long until they find them?”“I don’t know.”She ran to him.  As he comforted her, he did not want to think about the horrors of what might have happened to them.  The responsibility he now had weighed heavily on him.
*
Want to read more? Find Secrets of the Sages and the entire series on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, iTunes, Google Play, and Smashwords.  (The first 3 books of the series is 75% off at Smashwords through July and on sale on Google Play through August.)

The Kitty of Summer

Being in the picture is not as fun as playing with the phone
When I wasn’t looking, summer smacked us across the face.  It’s 80 degrees outside and my windows are open.  I sleep with the ceiling fan revolving above me.  The cats spring from window to window in the early morning, spying on birds.

Birds start their incessant chirping about 4 am.  The sky lightens above the northeastern edge of the ridge around 4:30.  Oranges and pinks poke through the strange blue sometime after 5.  And the cats pretend that their paws don’t thunder on the carpet covered, old, wood floors.
After running around knocks them out, my cat—who found me—sprawls on the cool tile bathroom floor.  He watches to see if I’m going to get up yet.  Once I do, he paws at my slippers as I try to find a place for my feet near the sink.
During the warmer weather, I wear thong sandals around the house.  This saves my cat from having to help me tie my shoes.  He follows me into the hall.  And by follow, I mean walks ahead of me or between my feet, guessing where I’m heading.
He grabs hold of the top riser of the staircase.  His head bobbles like one those dashboard dolls.  With a wild glint in his eyes, his ears flatten slightly.  I give him as wide of a berth as the top of the stairs will allow.  He plops down the stairs after me.
My black and white kitty will walk with me into my office to check my email.  He’ll race to the kitchen to be fed.  As he waits, he and the other male cat will play paw each other in the face.  After eating, he’ll attempt to spill the water out of the dish as I set it down with new, cool water.
He’ll chase a twist tie across the kitchen floor as water fills the coffee pot.  Coffee beans grind.  He slides on the carpetless floor, sprinting to get away.  Pounding echoes through the house.  He’s upstairs, possibly playing with my bed skirt.
Later, I’ll find him sitting at my feet as I write or curled in the corner of my bedroom that he claimed.  He’s an indoor cat now, and he loves every minute of it.
A few years ago, I found him meowing around my house.  I was in my office with the windows open when I heard the meows.  My small town has its share of cats, both domestic and feral.  I looked out my window to see this skinny little kitten struggle to walk towards the windows.  He made his way to the alley and I was afraid that he would fall into a window well.
Rushing to the back door, I flipped on the back porch light.  I ran down the alley, peeking into the window wells for this scrawny kitten.  I didn’t find him.  I followed the path to my back yard.  The little black and white cat ran to me from the other side of the house.  He meowed with every step.
Purring at my legs, he looked like he hadn’t eaten in a while.  Luckily, having two other cats, I had cat food.  I set water and food in plastic containers on the cement.  He ate all of it.  Around his neck, I noticed a flea collar.  He had to belong to somebody.  It started to rain and I couldn’t leave him outside.
In the mudporch, an old pillow in a box made a bed.  With a makeshift litterbox and some more food and water, he came inside.  He did not mingle with the other pets.  The dogs sniffed the door to the mudporch.  They knew he was there.
I gave him a dewormer as I called vets and shelters, looking to see if anyone had reported a missing kitten.  No one had.  I spoke to the local cat committee, in case they knew of any.  A found pet announcement went in the paper.  No one claimed him.
He was sweet.  He would cling to my leg so I wouldn’t leave him.  But he wasn’t steady.  He walked funny.  I thought that maybe he was hit by a car.  His head would bobble while he sat.
I took him to a cat clinic for all necessary shots and the like.  He had wobbly kitten syndrome (feline cerebellar hyposplasia).  It’s a neurological disorder in cats similar to cerebral palsy.  The vet figured that someone brought him out to the country and dropped him off possibly because of it.  He said that it’s a common occurrence and the too big flea collar was to ease guilt.
Now that he’s older, he is less clumsy.  He doesn’t run into as many things anymore.  However, he can’t really jump on anything that isn’t upholstered.  Beds and couches are fine.  Windowsills and radiator covers not so much.  An old ottoman has been pushed next to a window for his viewing pleasure.
He knows the other two cats can out jump him.  That doesn’t deter him.  He’s fast and can get himself under furniture where only the shaking of a bag of treats can weasel him out.  Every evening, he purrs on the couch with me while watching the tv.  He’s fond of the shopping networks, cooking shows, and watching the numbers climb as the Roku loads the next program.
When it thunders, he hides under the bed.  When it rains, he smells the air.  When a motorcycle roars down the street, he sits at the floor length window.  When he accidently finds himself on the back porch, he runs back inside.  When I go up the back stairs, he bounds up the front.  Meeting me at the top, he darts down the hall.
My constant companion helps me with the laundry.  He helps me dust, yet scrams when it comes to vacuuming.  If I’m searching for something, he is looking too.  He announces his presence with one of his versions of meow and touches his nose to mine to say hello.  I hope summer will be as considerate.

Short Story News: Across the Kármán Line

My short story, Sector Three-Three, is going to be in Laurel Highlands Publishing's next anthology, Across the Kármán Line.
Vace has a dream—to get to space.  At the moment, she is a kreel well worker with a past she’d rather forget.  An incident at the kreel lines forces her to face her past and tempt her fate.


Across the Kármán Line
In space, fate rests in the hands who created the craft.  Wits and creative risk separate life from death while navigating the three-dimensional sea or marooned on an alien planet.  The trust between captain and crew unifies a mission.  And sometimes, the final take-off is the hardest.

Across the Kármán Line will be released 19 May 2015.  Ebook pre-orders are available at Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Apple iTunes, and Google Play.

Sometimes, You Just Can’t Help It

To be cliché, I’ve been writing up a storm—even during a storm.  Pages of edge to edge ink have been stacking quickly atop my manuscript pile.  My pen only paused to do some research and take a few notes.  Whispers (The World In-between, book 4) is coming along well.  These last few scenes I’ve been writing are so much fun.
I typically write Whispers, as well as others, far from the distraction of my computer.  When I’m sitting in front of the keyboard, I type.  Supposedly, typing the piles of pages that form my manuscripts.  However, I recently opened a new file.  And, I began to type something different.
I couldn’t help myself.  The idea just came to me.  It’s going to be a science fiction short story for the anthology Across the Kármán Line.  I wasn’t going to write a story for it.  I told myself I didn’t have the time.  I have other books to finish.
But, here I am.  Writing a story I wasn’t going to write directly on the computer where I don’t write stories.
The tentative title may change at some point.  The female main character has a mysterious past that she’d rather keep in the past.  She wants to achieve her derailed dream any way she can.  If it means turning in or teaming up with the male main character, then she’ll do it—as long as it gets her into space.
At the rate I’m going, I’ll hit the 10,000 word upper limit soon.  Typing a story directly takes me a tad longer than scribbling on paper, but I’m up for the creative challenge.  Because, sometimes, I just can’t help it.

How to Achieve My 2015 Plans

January is a good month to evaluate and re-evaluate.  I don’t know about you, but the cadence of falling snow helps me think.  Not that my mountain rural community has had much … yet.  Snow or no, I’ve never been one to make resolutions.  Deviating from convention, my system of doing things has always been a little different.  Even the process I use to write my books sways away from the norm.
As I fill out this year’s calendar, I am finding that not everything I did last year will fit.  The things that I need to accomplish are taking me down a different path than the one on which I currently stand.

2015 Plans
Read as much as possible.  
I tend to read books that strike my fancy in cover and description.  The majority of the books I pick up are fantasy of some kind, but I like to read most genres.  What keeps me going to the very end are good, solid characters.  Without them, the plot is lost, and so I am.

Have 3 books published.  
Yes, I said three.  The specific three are the fourth installment of my fantasy series, a contemporary fantasy, and the continuation of the short story that is begging to be urban paranormal.  Whispers, The World In-between book 4, is coming along.  Check back during the year for updates and perhaps an excerpt or two.  My contemporary fantasy is staying under wraps for now, but I can divulge that it has plenty of magic, action, and romance.  The short story, The Hunt, is being continued in Hunted—ghosts, ghost hunters, and a city where humans are clueless of the battle between hunters and the hunted.

Get 2 others almost finished.  
Those two are the fifth book in the series and the sequel to my space opera.  Although Whispers has first priority, I am writing book five concurrently with book four.  My pen has just begun to scribble the space opera sequel.  The Space Pirates deal with a new threat tied to the old.

Accomplish some significant distance in other genres.  
Besides the detective story I’m writing, I have a folder of story concepts waiting for the pen.  I’d like to get a couple started to diversify my repertoire.

Pursue personal endeavors.
When I am not writing, reading, or thinking about writing, I cook and bake, garden, and enjoy the arts.  Cooking and baking are great outlets for me.  I love trying new recipes as well as making family favorites.  Food grown in my yard is always tastier than grown elsewhere.  I already have my graph paper ready for planning this year’s small crop of yummies.  Once upon a time, I used to perform in musicals and plays and paint.  Now, I’m a happy spectator either at the theater or the museum if I have the time.


Achievement Strategy

Renew my subscription to Scribd.

I love reading ebooks and being able to choose what to read via a book subscription.  I’ll read best-sellers, well-known authors, unknown authors, and indie titles.  Depending on the book, it takes me a little under a week to consume a book on my smart phone.  Want to know what I’m reading, what I’ve read, and what I couldn’t finish?  Seek me out on Goodreads.  I update my status as much as possible.

Start the first edit of the beginning while I’m writing the middle and the end.

My biggest hurdle is typing.  I have yet to find a decent alternative to transcribe my scrawl to times new roman.  The best thing to do is plod along the keys, trying to minimize typos while making the best use of autocorrect.

Set aside dedicated writing time for each title.

Wordsmithing is more than just a collection of words on a page.  Word choice, word order, and word variation are deliberate processes.  Scratching out, arrows, and asterisks or numbers collect on the page.  For me to make the best use of my pen, I need relative solitude without distractions beyond barely audible music playing in the background.  My mind needs to be focused on the story in front of me.  I can’t be thinking of another story line, either mine or another’s (I also edit others’ work—authors, businesses, and students).

Limit social media.

Now, my social media footprint is relatively tiny.  However, it still creates a black hole for my time.  For every good article I come across on social media, there are tons of cat photos, cute gifs, and mindless rants.  Pointed research, while eating the same amount of time, brings more worthwhile results.  

Reclaim my free time.

Because work has gotten busier, I am walking away from activities, some of which I have been involved with for a few years or more.  Sometimes, in order to move forward, we need to let go of what keeps us static.  Paths diverge.  We must take the one that best suits our needs.  New opportunities call.

I am looking forward to what may come.  A year full of adventures awaits me.  As Robert Frost wrote, “I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.”

The Writing Process for a Blog Post

The blank screen beckons for words to fill it.  My fingers are poised above the keys.  They wait for that little spark of inspiration.
Will it come?
What about now?
Maybe in fifteen minutes.
Okay, let’s type this.
Reread to see where I’m going.
Wow, what a bunch of crap.
Delete.
Refill my teacup.  Take a few sips.  Fingers type some more.  Stare at the screen.
Will this work?
Let’s check Google for pretty pictures.
Ooh, I still have tea in my cup.  Oh, it’s cold.  Chug it and pour warm tea from the pot.
Well, this is more…  Who wants to read this?
Delete.
Eh, sick of this song.  I need some new music in my playlist.
Hey, I can post this.  Save immediately.
Check for typos.
Laugh hysterically.
Read aloud.  Find more typos.
Copy.  Paste.  Preview.
Change formatting.  Preview again.
Looks good.  Publish.
Secretly hope someone reads it.

Holiday Flash Fiction

Used by permission from JosDCreations
The Ad
by IE Castellano
“Baubles bringing you down?  Has your jingle lost its jangle?  Bows have you in knots?  Is cheer a challenge?  Milk and cookies souring on the mantle?  Are you finding that giving the perfect gift has left you listless?
“Yes, with frosty days and icicle growing nights, a new bird is here to stay.  Silver bells ring on street corners and in front of shops.  Toys fill the stores.  Candy canes hang from branches.  Holly wreaths decorate doors.  Mistletoe dangles where all can see.  Nutcrackers guard everything sweet.
“Yet sometimes, rosy cheeks fail to glow.  Eggnog misses the mark.  Garland falls off the railings.  Jack Frost nips the nose a tiny too hard.
“Do not fret!  When standing in lines for hours ceases to delight, it’s easy to keep your stockings hanging with care.
“Introducing Holiday Joy!  One dose will have you seeing red and green.  With regular use this holiday season, all that’s tinsel will sparkle.  Little lights will twinkle in your eyes.
“Enjoy roasting chestnuts again!  Dance with sugarplums!  Build gingerbread castles!  Drive your sled down the silver lane!
“For only twelve easy payments of fifty-five eighty-eight, you, too, can re-light the joy of the season.  But wait!  If you act now, we’ll take off an entire payment, making it just eleven easy payments of fifty-five eighty-eight.
“But that’s not all!  With your order of Holiday Joy, you’ll receive a bonus bottle of Holly Jolly instant spray.  Small enough to carry in your purse or pocket.  And simple to use!  Just one squirt will restore your Ho, Ho, Ho.  Spritz in the mall or while waiting for that parking space.
“Say good-bye to fruitcake filled nights.  Sail away from that misfit island.  Clatter those sleigh bells with Holiday Joy!
“And if you call in the next thirty minutes, we’ll double the offer!  That’s two Holiday Joys and two bottles of Holly Jolly instant spray!  Keep one for yourself and give a friend Holiday Joy this year.  Reclaim your inner elf.  Only pay additional shipping and handling.
“Whoa!  Hold your horses!  Who can forget their pets this season of giving?  Ask your operator about Reindeer Magic.  Safe for dogs, cats, and ferrets.  Reindeer Magic has dogs wagging their tails in three quarter time and cats purring Bing.
“Do not delay!  Order now!
“Operators are standing by.  Sorry, no C – O – Ds.  Add seven ninety-nine for shipping and handling.  In Pennsylvania, Connecticut, New Jersey, Vermont, Texas, North Carolina, Idaho, Maryland, and California, include applicable sales tax.  Allow four to six weeks for delivery.  For priority overnight arrival, add fourteen seventy-five.  Gift wrapping available upon request.  Joy and jolliness guaranteed to work within five minutes directly following use.
“Holiday Joy side effects include making snowmen, singing carols, drinking hot chocolate, and rocking around the tree.  See your doctor if these symptoms persist beyond January sixth.”
Click

Book Fair Appearance

     Who?  Me and about 20 other authors
     Where?  Norwin Public Library in Irwin, PA  (Caruthers Lane off of Route 30)
     When?  Saturday, December 13th
     Time?  Noon to 3 pm
     Books?  Yes

My latest all ready to signI’ll be signing all my titles:  Where Pirates Go to Die, Tricentennial, The World In-between, Bow of the Moon, and Secrets of the Sages
Come say hi!  I’ll be sitting at the Laurel Highlands Publishing table with fellow author, Thomas Beck (who will, incidentally, be signing his cozy mysteries).
Tom’s new release (just out on the 4th) is entitled: The Tommy Two Shoes Mysteries: Entangled.  Lots of intrigue, some head cracking, and a touch of romance splattered on those pages.  I am looking forward to reading the third book of his series next year.
In the neighborhood?  Stop by.  Books make great gifts (if I do say so myself).  With roughly 20 authors and many genres from which to choose, someone could find presents a plenty for that grab bag or secret santa or loved one or friend or enemy (who I am to judge?).
When you come, I’m the short haired brunette in the ultra high heels.  See you there!

Let the Adventure Begin

One ship, a small band of Pirates, and an entire Galaxy in pursuit
Where Pirates Go to Die
The Chase Begins
The elusive and calculating Pirate known as Naria escapes from Torquor Prison, throwing the Galaxy into a panic.  Dignitaries of the Milky Way Circle employ any means necessary to recover what Naria stole.  After the pursuit across the Galaxy, will justice finally be served?
The space opera is available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple iTunes, Google Play, Kobo, and Smashwords.

How Do You Choose?

Recently, I was asked which one of my books is my favorite.  With the upcoming release of Where Pirates Go to Die, I have seven titles—plenty from which to choose.  My easy answer:  how can I?

The World In-between series is my baby.  With three novels and a short published, I am waist high into this epic portal fantasy.  Each book adds layers of complexity and a few new characters.  When I was talking about the series, someone asked why I wrote a male protagonist as a female author.  I told him it suited the story.  He looked at me strange.  The male main character tells the story from his point of view.  But is it his story or another’s?  Perhaps by book six, all will be revealed.
After writing Tricentennial, the avenue to science fiction opened before me.  I enjoyed the straightforward story line and the faster pace.  Laurel Highlands Publishing is releasing the second edition by the end of the year.
The Hunt (in Moon Shadows) was my first short story.  It will have a sequel in which I will use the scenes I had to cut to stay within the word count parameters.  Hunted takes place twenty some years later.  Plan on more ghosts, slashing, and screams in the night.
Penning Where Pirates Go to Die surprised me.  While staying within the cat and mouse chase, a darker element worked its way into the story.  My characters wanted what they wanted and who was I to deny them?  Third person omnipotence gave me a range of bad and not so bad heads in which to play.  Not to mention different planets, aliens, ships, and space stations.  It turned into a fun story with all the different characters and futuristic places.
Can I choose a favorite from the above?  Absolutely not.
Each project brings something new and exciting.  The ones I am working on now keep the pen dancing across the page.  Do I love them?  Yes.  Will I ever have a favorite?  Only time will tell.