Jamie Marchant's Blog, page 37
August 15, 2013
Interview with Pie, An Old Brown Horse
Today, welcome to be blog, Pie’s Lucky Rocket, co-author of Pie An Old Brown Horse. If you like what you read, be sure to comment and buy the book.
What is the name of the book where we'll find you? Can you tell us a little about it?
The name of my book is Pie An Old Brown Horse (That Knows What He Is Doing). You can find it at http://www.amazon.com/Pie-Brown-Horse-Knows-Doing/dp/1478720476/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1376248879&sr=8-1&keywords=pie+an+old+brown+horse . It is the story of my second chance at life after surviving a near fatal accident.
Tell us a little about yourself. How do you fit into the book?
I am about to celebrate my 39th birthday. I am an old rescued ranch horse with a whole lot to say about a bunch of different things. Admittedly it was difficult to fit a personality as large as mine into a book, but we managed it quite well, I think.
I heard you were injured. Can you tell us a little about your injury?
I was gored in the hip trying to help a cowboy round up a stray bull. It also caused my eye to be injured, and I had multiple minor injuries due to the barbed wire I was tangled in for awhile.
Of the other characters in the book, which is your favorite and why?
People wise, my favorite character is Little One. She is my soul mate. Equine wise, my favorite character was Dusty. He was my total hero. He knew how to be a lead horse in a very large pasture, with very little effort. I was always amazed how it came to him so naturally.
What do you think about the treatment of horses?
Horses are treated different ways by different people so that is a hard question to answer. Some of the horses that have come to live in our barn have come with some total horror stories. That is a shame. I had a nice life, if not a tough one as a ranch horse. Now I live with the keeper and never knew life could be so good. I thought I had it made before because I didn’t know any better. Now I do know better, and this is the life I think I was meant to live. Apparently, everything I went through before was preparing me for the job I have now. I feel sorry for the horses that don’t have a keeper like mine.
What made you want to become a writer?
I never really thought about being a writer, but the keeper said I had a good story. She got me to do it. She can be very persuasive when she wants to be. She knows how to wield a mean carrot.
Do you think, in general, horses should write more books?
I don’t see any reason why they shouldn’t, but they need to have a person who can help them out. All of this work is hard for an old horse. A lot of horses wouldn’t have the patience to go through all of this.
What literary horse is your favorite (excluding yourself, for course)? Is there one in particular that inspires you?
I have several favorites; the first would be Trigger. Did you know he was also a therapy horse? I also like War Horse. I would have loved to have lived his life. I think I would have made a great war horse.
What are your favorite foods?
My favorite treats are carrots and sugar cubes. I also like to chew on alfalfa cubes. They are like an all day sucker to an old guy like me.
Can you tell us a bit about your co-author, Kandy?
I call her the keeper because, as a horse, we call them as we see them, and that is what she does; she keeps us safe and happy. She is okay for a person. She definitely knows how to take care of horses. The world needs more people like her; she is not prejudiced about breed or age or anything that I can see. She is willing to take in and help just about any horse. She can always find another one that needs her help. She doesn’t hide from her responsibilities. No matter the weather, she is here checking on us at least twice a day. Many major problems have been averted because she catches them early. She knows us all well and can tell when we are “off” and need something.
Is there a lesson you hope humans will take from your book?
Definitely, I want to people to not throw a life away just because it is a little bruised or broken. Sometimes those of us in that situation have a lot of experience to offer.
Tell us a little about your plans for the future. Do you have any other books in the works?
Right now, I am guest blogging and interviewing all over the internet, but I do have another idea for a book, I just have to talk the keeper into it.
Pie, An Old Brown Horse
This five star Readers’ Favorite review bookWhere can we find you online? Blog: http://www.kandykayscaramuzzo.comWebsite: http://www.kandykayscaramuzzo.com Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kandykay.scaramuzzoTwitter: @KKScaramuzzoAmazon: http://www.amazon.com/Pie-Brown-Horse-Knows-Doing/dp/1478720476/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1376248879&sr=8-1&keywords=pie+an+old+brown+horseBarnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/pie-kandy-kay-scaramuzzo/1113777795?ean=9781478720478Others: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UYGZK7vrbYA&feature=youtu.behttp://youtu.be/fQG9MUineGo
What is the name of the book where we'll find you? Can you tell us a little about it?
The name of my book is Pie An Old Brown Horse (That Knows What He Is Doing). You can find it at http://www.amazon.com/Pie-Brown-Horse-Knows-Doing/dp/1478720476/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1376248879&sr=8-1&keywords=pie+an+old+brown+horse . It is the story of my second chance at life after surviving a near fatal accident.
Tell us a little about yourself. How do you fit into the book?
I am about to celebrate my 39th birthday. I am an old rescued ranch horse with a whole lot to say about a bunch of different things. Admittedly it was difficult to fit a personality as large as mine into a book, but we managed it quite well, I think.
I heard you were injured. Can you tell us a little about your injury?
I was gored in the hip trying to help a cowboy round up a stray bull. It also caused my eye to be injured, and I had multiple minor injuries due to the barbed wire I was tangled in for awhile.
Of the other characters in the book, which is your favorite and why?
People wise, my favorite character is Little One. She is my soul mate. Equine wise, my favorite character was Dusty. He was my total hero. He knew how to be a lead horse in a very large pasture, with very little effort. I was always amazed how it came to him so naturally.
What do you think about the treatment of horses?
Horses are treated different ways by different people so that is a hard question to answer. Some of the horses that have come to live in our barn have come with some total horror stories. That is a shame. I had a nice life, if not a tough one as a ranch horse. Now I live with the keeper and never knew life could be so good. I thought I had it made before because I didn’t know any better. Now I do know better, and this is the life I think I was meant to live. Apparently, everything I went through before was preparing me for the job I have now. I feel sorry for the horses that don’t have a keeper like mine.
What made you want to become a writer?
I never really thought about being a writer, but the keeper said I had a good story. She got me to do it. She can be very persuasive when she wants to be. She knows how to wield a mean carrot.
Do you think, in general, horses should write more books?
I don’t see any reason why they shouldn’t, but they need to have a person who can help them out. All of this work is hard for an old horse. A lot of horses wouldn’t have the patience to go through all of this.
What literary horse is your favorite (excluding yourself, for course)? Is there one in particular that inspires you?
I have several favorites; the first would be Trigger. Did you know he was also a therapy horse? I also like War Horse. I would have loved to have lived his life. I think I would have made a great war horse.
What are your favorite foods?
My favorite treats are carrots and sugar cubes. I also like to chew on alfalfa cubes. They are like an all day sucker to an old guy like me.
Can you tell us a bit about your co-author, Kandy?
I call her the keeper because, as a horse, we call them as we see them, and that is what she does; she keeps us safe and happy. She is okay for a person. She definitely knows how to take care of horses. The world needs more people like her; she is not prejudiced about breed or age or anything that I can see. She is willing to take in and help just about any horse. She can always find another one that needs her help. She doesn’t hide from her responsibilities. No matter the weather, she is here checking on us at least twice a day. Many major problems have been averted because she catches them early. She knows us all well and can tell when we are “off” and need something.
Is there a lesson you hope humans will take from your book?
Definitely, I want to people to not throw a life away just because it is a little bruised or broken. Sometimes those of us in that situation have a lot of experience to offer.
Tell us a little about your plans for the future. Do you have any other books in the works?
Right now, I am guest blogging and interviewing all over the internet, but I do have another idea for a book, I just have to talk the keeper into it.
Pie, An Old Brown Horse
This five star Readers’ Favorite review bookWhere can we find you online? Blog: http://www.kandykayscaramuzzo.comWebsite: http://www.kandykayscaramuzzo.com Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kandykay.scaramuzzoTwitter: @KKScaramuzzoAmazon: http://www.amazon.com/Pie-Brown-Horse-Knows-Doing/dp/1478720476/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1376248879&sr=8-1&keywords=pie+an+old+brown+horseBarnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/pie-kandy-kay-scaramuzzo/1113777795?ean=9781478720478Others: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UYGZK7vrbYA&feature=youtu.behttp://youtu.be/fQG9MUineGo 
August 9, 2013
The Serpent's Disciple, by Deborah Stevens, excerpt
Yesterday, we met Deborah Stevens. Today read an excerpt from The Serpent's Disciple. If you enjoy what you read, be sure to comment.
CHAPTER 1Pesaro, Italy 1220 A.D.
Father Anthony, born Fernando Martins de Bulhoes, had just finished with his nightly prayers. Tomorrow, he and the young Giovanni would prepare the church for people to come and hear the Bishop from Rome speak about the Crusades.The bishop was Pope Honorius III’s special envoy. Because of the troubling state of affairs in Italy, the threatening attitude of the Tatars, and the fear of a schism, he was being sent to villages like theirs to inspire and recruit people to join the fight. In 1215, the Pope issued the Papal Bull “Ad Liberaindam” calling all Christendom to join the Crusades. His wish was to reacquire the Holy Land and Jerusalem. Anthony heard a light rap on the door to his room and someone softly whispering.“Are you still awake Father Anthony?” “Giovanni is that you? Yes, come in, my son.” Giovanni’s father and mother had brought him to the monastery when he was 12 years old. Since then he had grown to be a tall lad, slender with dark wavy hair and warm dark brown eyes.During the last six years the monks became his family and in exchange for helping around the monastery, he was taught to read and write, turning out to be an excellent student.“I’m sorry if I disturbed you father, but I couldn’t sleep. I keep thinking about the bishop coming the day after tomorrow. Do you think the war will end soon?”“Only our Heavenly Father knows the answer to that question. We can only pray on it and ask for the strength to follow the Lord’s will.”The priest could tell Giovanni had something else on his mind.“There’s something I wanted to give to you Father. I have been working on it for months, and I finished it a few nights ago.”Father Anthony watched as Giovanni brought something wrapped in a brown piece of cloth tied with a string, from behind his back. As he untied the string, the fabric fell away, and he held in his hands a beautiful wooden box.“I made it to thank you for teaching me to read and write. I hope you like it.”The priest held the box in his hands and saw that it was quite unique in design.“Giovanni, I don’t know what to say. We’ve been blessed having you here at the abbey. When you found the time to make such a beautiful box I will never know, but I will always treasure it. One with such devotion is surely one of God’s Chosen Ones. You will be a good servant to those who want to learn the faith.”Giovanni was fidgeting as the Father spoke.“Please Father Anthony, may I have it. There’s something very special about the box I want to show you.”Curious to see what Giovanni meant, the priest handed the box back to him.“First, the key to lock the box is inside, see.”Then he continued to explain to Father Anthony the secrets of the box.“Giovanni, what a genius you are. I must pass your gifts of artistry on to the bishop. Perhaps they will have need of someone with such a gift in Rome.”“My only wish was to please you, Father Anthony. I am so happy you like the box. Whatever God has planned for me, I will work to please Him the best way I know how but I must tell you a story about the box.“I was working in the fields a few months back and was trying to think of something I could do to thank you for teaching me to read and write. A monk I had never seen before was also working in the fields that day. When it came time to stop for the midday meal he came over to me and offered to share his.“He had packed more than he could eat, and a young lad like me, he was sure, would be able to eat more than what was in the small pouch I carried. As we ate, I told him I was trying to come up with an idea for a gift to thank you for all you have done for me.“He said he knew of you and was sent to tell me to make a box that could keep a secret safe from others’ eyes. I did not understand why it must hide a secret but he was so kind and wise of a holy man that I promised to create something special. I thanked him for the meal and went out to the field to finish my work. At the end of the day when I looked for him he was gone. I’ve never seen him again. I said a prayer that night and thanked God for sending me the messenger and that I would fulfill my promise both to Him and the monk I met in the field that day.”Father Anthony did not question God’s ways. He would accept the box from young Giovanni as a gift of kindness and great effort. If there was a purpose for the box he knew that he would be shown it when the time was right.“Dear Giovanni, though I would like to hear more about that day in the field, we must get our rest. We have much to do tomorrow to prepare for the bishop. Bless you, Giovanni, for your faith and kindness, and thank God for the gifts he has honored you with. Let us say a prayer and then we must get our sleep, for the morning will be here before we know it.”
CHAPTER 2 September 28, 1978 The Papal Palace
Cardinal Jean Villot, Vatican secretary of state, had gotten hold of the list of appointments, resignations to be asked for, and transfers Pope John Paul I planned on putting into motion the next morning. There was one common denominator that linked each of the men about to be replaced … it was Freemasonry.Villot was aware of each man’s affiliation to the Masons; more important, so was the Pope. It was the reason the Pope would strip these men of their power.Pope John Paul I had evidence indicating that within the Vatican City State, there were over one hundred Masons ranging from priests to cardinals. The Pope was further preoccupied with an illegal Masonic Lodge called Propaganda Due (P2), which had infiltrated far beyond even the Vatican in its search for wealth and power. The fact that it had penetrated the Vatican walls and had converted priests, bishops, and even cardinals made P2 anathema, a formal ecclesiastical curse accompanied by excommunication.The changes the Pope was intending on making would create, by any standards a dramatic reshuffle within the Vatican. It would set the church in a new direction, directions that Villot and others on the list considered dangerous for their movement.On the morning of September 29, 1978 at 4:45 a.m., Sister Vicenza entered the papal apartments to bring the Holy Father his morning tea, only to find the lifeless body of the Pope. Fifteen minutes later at 5:00 a.m. it was reported that Cardinal Villot confirmed the death of the Pope. Only thirty-three days after his election, Pope John Paul I was dead.Sister Vicenza gave two conflicting reports concerning the state in which she first found Pope John Paul I. According to a group of French priests that same morning, it was “in his bathroom” that she found the Holy Father dead, still in his papal robes. Later, after Cardinal Villot was present, she reported that upon entering the room she found the Pope sitting up in bed “with an expression of agony” before he died.This small detail is significant. If it was true that Sister Vicenza found the Holy Father dead in the bathroom still in his papal robes, it could be construed that he died shortly after his “toast” with Cardinal Villot, the night of September 28, 1978.That evening Villot hastily arranged for the embalming to be performed, a procedure as unusual as it was illegal, Villot also insisted that no blood was to be drained from the body, and neither were any of the organs to be removed. No official death certificate has ever been issued. No autopsy ever performed. Cause of death: Unknown.
CHAPTER 1Pesaro, Italy 1220 A.D.Father Anthony, born Fernando Martins de Bulhoes, had just finished with his nightly prayers. Tomorrow, he and the young Giovanni would prepare the church for people to come and hear the Bishop from Rome speak about the Crusades.The bishop was Pope Honorius III’s special envoy. Because of the troubling state of affairs in Italy, the threatening attitude of the Tatars, and the fear of a schism, he was being sent to villages like theirs to inspire and recruit people to join the fight. In 1215, the Pope issued the Papal Bull “Ad Liberaindam” calling all Christendom to join the Crusades. His wish was to reacquire the Holy Land and Jerusalem. Anthony heard a light rap on the door to his room and someone softly whispering.“Are you still awake Father Anthony?” “Giovanni is that you? Yes, come in, my son.” Giovanni’s father and mother had brought him to the monastery when he was 12 years old. Since then he had grown to be a tall lad, slender with dark wavy hair and warm dark brown eyes.During the last six years the monks became his family and in exchange for helping around the monastery, he was taught to read and write, turning out to be an excellent student.“I’m sorry if I disturbed you father, but I couldn’t sleep. I keep thinking about the bishop coming the day after tomorrow. Do you think the war will end soon?”“Only our Heavenly Father knows the answer to that question. We can only pray on it and ask for the strength to follow the Lord’s will.”The priest could tell Giovanni had something else on his mind.“There’s something I wanted to give to you Father. I have been working on it for months, and I finished it a few nights ago.”Father Anthony watched as Giovanni brought something wrapped in a brown piece of cloth tied with a string, from behind his back. As he untied the string, the fabric fell away, and he held in his hands a beautiful wooden box.“I made it to thank you for teaching me to read and write. I hope you like it.”The priest held the box in his hands and saw that it was quite unique in design.“Giovanni, I don’t know what to say. We’ve been blessed having you here at the abbey. When you found the time to make such a beautiful box I will never know, but I will always treasure it. One with such devotion is surely one of God’s Chosen Ones. You will be a good servant to those who want to learn the faith.”Giovanni was fidgeting as the Father spoke.“Please Father Anthony, may I have it. There’s something very special about the box I want to show you.”Curious to see what Giovanni meant, the priest handed the box back to him.“First, the key to lock the box is inside, see.”Then he continued to explain to Father Anthony the secrets of the box.“Giovanni, what a genius you are. I must pass your gifts of artistry on to the bishop. Perhaps they will have need of someone with such a gift in Rome.”“My only wish was to please you, Father Anthony. I am so happy you like the box. Whatever God has planned for me, I will work to please Him the best way I know how but I must tell you a story about the box.“I was working in the fields a few months back and was trying to think of something I could do to thank you for teaching me to read and write. A monk I had never seen before was also working in the fields that day. When it came time to stop for the midday meal he came over to me and offered to share his.“He had packed more than he could eat, and a young lad like me, he was sure, would be able to eat more than what was in the small pouch I carried. As we ate, I told him I was trying to come up with an idea for a gift to thank you for all you have done for me.“He said he knew of you and was sent to tell me to make a box that could keep a secret safe from others’ eyes. I did not understand why it must hide a secret but he was so kind and wise of a holy man that I promised to create something special. I thanked him for the meal and went out to the field to finish my work. At the end of the day when I looked for him he was gone. I’ve never seen him again. I said a prayer that night and thanked God for sending me the messenger and that I would fulfill my promise both to Him and the monk I met in the field that day.”Father Anthony did not question God’s ways. He would accept the box from young Giovanni as a gift of kindness and great effort. If there was a purpose for the box he knew that he would be shown it when the time was right.“Dear Giovanni, though I would like to hear more about that day in the field, we must get our rest. We have much to do tomorrow to prepare for the bishop. Bless you, Giovanni, for your faith and kindness, and thank God for the gifts he has honored you with. Let us say a prayer and then we must get our sleep, for the morning will be here before we know it.”
CHAPTER 2 September 28, 1978 The Papal Palace
Cardinal Jean Villot, Vatican secretary of state, had gotten hold of the list of appointments, resignations to be asked for, and transfers Pope John Paul I planned on putting into motion the next morning. There was one common denominator that linked each of the men about to be replaced … it was Freemasonry.Villot was aware of each man’s affiliation to the Masons; more important, so was the Pope. It was the reason the Pope would strip these men of their power.Pope John Paul I had evidence indicating that within the Vatican City State, there were over one hundred Masons ranging from priests to cardinals. The Pope was further preoccupied with an illegal Masonic Lodge called Propaganda Due (P2), which had infiltrated far beyond even the Vatican in its search for wealth and power. The fact that it had penetrated the Vatican walls and had converted priests, bishops, and even cardinals made P2 anathema, a formal ecclesiastical curse accompanied by excommunication.The changes the Pope was intending on making would create, by any standards a dramatic reshuffle within the Vatican. It would set the church in a new direction, directions that Villot and others on the list considered dangerous for their movement.On the morning of September 29, 1978 at 4:45 a.m., Sister Vicenza entered the papal apartments to bring the Holy Father his morning tea, only to find the lifeless body of the Pope. Fifteen minutes later at 5:00 a.m. it was reported that Cardinal Villot confirmed the death of the Pope. Only thirty-three days after his election, Pope John Paul I was dead.Sister Vicenza gave two conflicting reports concerning the state in which she first found Pope John Paul I. According to a group of French priests that same morning, it was “in his bathroom” that she found the Holy Father dead, still in his papal robes. Later, after Cardinal Villot was present, she reported that upon entering the room she found the Pope sitting up in bed “with an expression of agony” before he died.This small detail is significant. If it was true that Sister Vicenza found the Holy Father dead in the bathroom still in his papal robes, it could be construed that he died shortly after his “toast” with Cardinal Villot, the night of September 28, 1978.That evening Villot hastily arranged for the embalming to be performed, a procedure as unusual as it was illegal, Villot also insisted that no blood was to be drained from the body, and neither were any of the organs to be removed. No official death certificate has ever been issued. No autopsy ever performed. Cause of death: Unknown.
August 8, 2013
Interview with Deborah Stevens
Today we talk with Deborah Stevens, author of The Serpent's Disciple. Come back tomorrow for an excerpt from her work.
Your Name:
Deborah Stevens but I must inform you that my maiden name is Andruccioli. So, of course you realize my novel had to take place in Italy. In fact, I chose my father’s birth place of Pesaro, not knowing how important it would become to the plot.
Tell us a little about yourself?
First, I want to thank Jamie for allowing me this opportunity to introduce my new novel The Serpent’s Disciple.I am originally from Detroit, which unfortunately has been in the news lately for being the largest municipality in U.S. history to file for bankruptcy. After graduating from Michigan State University, I moved to Traverse City where I started my family and had the experience of living on a cherry farm. Eventually, moving to the Twin Cities where I now reside with my husband.
What made you want to become a writer?
I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have a book in my hand. Over time my preference for a certain genre of literature we know as “thriller fiction” was taking over my bookshelves. I might have remained a reader rather than an author of thrillers, except that my mind began to dream up plots for novels as I listened to the news of events from around the world. At such times, I’d jot down ideas for stories and books, doing so hundreds of times before the fateful day when the idea for The Serpent’s Disciple took up residency in my head and then took on a life of its own.
What genre do your works fall into?
Fiction Thriller, although I guess it could also be included under Historical Fiction or Mysteries since it is based on fact and there is a mystery to solve.
What about this genre appeals to you?
I love a good plot that pulls real facts from today’s headlines and combines them with events from the past. There’s nothing better to me then a plot that keeps you guessing: unexpected twists and turns throughout, creating suspense and uncertainty for the reader. It’s fascinating to think that what you are reading actually happened or is presently taking place in today’s world, wondering, how much of the story is true and what part of it was the author’s imagination. The desire for wealth and power never seems to disappear, so with a little luck and a lot of imagination the next #1 Best Seller could be right around the corner.
Could you tell us a bit about your most recent book and why it is a must-read?
Anyone who likes to combine some history with fiction, I believe, will find The Serpent’s Disciple an interesting read. In 1978 Pope John Paul I was about to release a list of names of the clergy within the Vatican who belonged to an illegal Italian Masonic Lodge known as Propaganda Due, or P2. The next day the Pope was found dead. This we know to be fact.
An ancient evil threatens to take over the Catholic Church and use it to create a New World Order. Thirty years after John Paul’s death the new leader of P2, Peter Romanus, sets in motion the final stages of his plot to kill the current pope and take control of world governments through the Church. A family secret and an ancient artifact could save humankind from this diabolical leader many fear is the Antichrist.
While visiting their father’s birthplace of Pesaro, Italy, Anthony and Nelli Andruccioli become entwined with the Grand Master’s plot where they learn of their family’s deep and ancient connection to Saint Anthony and are called to protect the Church: Nelli as the Chosen One and Anthony as one of the Guardians sworn to protect her from the false prophet. Together they must navigate the labyrinth of ancient prophecy and Vatican politics to expose the truth before it is too late.
P2 did exist and was believed by many to be behind the death of Pope John Paul I. In fact, most of the The Serpent's Disciple is based on widely accepted fact. The main characters and prophecy are of course creations of my imagination.
What gives you inspiration for your book?
The headlines from around the world is a treasure trove of ideas to any author. When you begin digging deeper into the facts leading up to an event, there is usually many factors involved behind why something happens. That is the arena where a writer can begin to create a real or make believe world of characters and plots to entertain the reader.
Are your characters based off real people or did they all come entirely from your imagination?
Many of the characters are based on real people and the positions they hold, but the main characters are creations of my imagination.
Of all the characters you have created, which is your favorite and why?
Christine is the mystery woman in the novel. The reader really doesn’t know much about her except she is very important to the storyline. She will again be important in the sequel. She’s a fascinating character because I can have her take on any identity I desire. What could be more exciting than that?
What is the biggest surprise that you experienced after becoming a writer?
The anticipation of sitting down and writing and seeing where my imagination takes me that day. I love doing research and get excited to pass on what I learn to the reader and maybe have them discover something they didn’t know before.
Is there any particular author or book that influenced you either growing up or as an adult?
Not really, there are just so many good books out there. My tastes have changed over time, but I have discovered that I am most interested now in studying the impact of people’s religious beliefs or lack of on individuals and the world. It makes for interesting reading.
Do you have a day job in addition to being a writer? If so, what do you do during the day?
I am lucky to be able to devote myself completely to writing at this time in my life and enjoying every minute of it.
What is your favorite writing tip or quote?
That’s very personal. I think every person who writes finds the secret of what works for them. For me, it’s spending time researching and finding interesting little tidbits of information that I can weave into the storyline. I think one must write every day to keep the thread of the story fresh in their minds, at least for me. It keeps that spark going that might be lost if you are not living the story.
Tell us a little about your plans for the future. Do you have any other books in the works?
I am very pleased to announce that I will be signing with an agency out of Rome, Italy, in the next few weeks. I am hoping to see the book translated into Italian, which will be very exciting for me. I have many events and reviews of the book coming out in publications around the country in the next several months. I hope to be attending two book fairs, one in the Twin Cities in October and another in Miami in November.I am working on the sequel which I am very excited about. This one will again be set in Italy. Many of the characters will be familiar to the reader if they read the first book, but of course a new plot inspired by the latest headlines answering the age old question will evil finally win over good?
Where can we find you online? Website:www.deborahstevensauthor.comFacebook: deborah.andrucciolistevens@facebook.comLinkedIn: www.linkedin.com/pub/deborah-stevens/45/7b6/253/Amazon: Available in eBook and Paperback week of August 12th
Your Name:
Deborah Stevens but I must inform you that my maiden name is Andruccioli. So, of course you realize my novel had to take place in Italy. In fact, I chose my father’s birth place of Pesaro, not knowing how important it would become to the plot.
Tell us a little about yourself?
First, I want to thank Jamie for allowing me this opportunity to introduce my new novel The Serpent’s Disciple.I am originally from Detroit, which unfortunately has been in the news lately for being the largest municipality in U.S. history to file for bankruptcy. After graduating from Michigan State University, I moved to Traverse City where I started my family and had the experience of living on a cherry farm. Eventually, moving to the Twin Cities where I now reside with my husband.
What made you want to become a writer?
I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have a book in my hand. Over time my preference for a certain genre of literature we know as “thriller fiction” was taking over my bookshelves. I might have remained a reader rather than an author of thrillers, except that my mind began to dream up plots for novels as I listened to the news of events from around the world. At such times, I’d jot down ideas for stories and books, doing so hundreds of times before the fateful day when the idea for The Serpent’s Disciple took up residency in my head and then took on a life of its own.
What genre do your works fall into?
Fiction Thriller, although I guess it could also be included under Historical Fiction or Mysteries since it is based on fact and there is a mystery to solve.
What about this genre appeals to you?
I love a good plot that pulls real facts from today’s headlines and combines them with events from the past. There’s nothing better to me then a plot that keeps you guessing: unexpected twists and turns throughout, creating suspense and uncertainty for the reader. It’s fascinating to think that what you are reading actually happened or is presently taking place in today’s world, wondering, how much of the story is true and what part of it was the author’s imagination. The desire for wealth and power never seems to disappear, so with a little luck and a lot of imagination the next #1 Best Seller could be right around the corner.
Could you tell us a bit about your most recent book and why it is a must-read?
Anyone who likes to combine some history with fiction, I believe, will find The Serpent’s Disciple an interesting read. In 1978 Pope John Paul I was about to release a list of names of the clergy within the Vatican who belonged to an illegal Italian Masonic Lodge known as Propaganda Due, or P2. The next day the Pope was found dead. This we know to be fact.
An ancient evil threatens to take over the Catholic Church and use it to create a New World Order. Thirty years after John Paul’s death the new leader of P2, Peter Romanus, sets in motion the final stages of his plot to kill the current pope and take control of world governments through the Church. A family secret and an ancient artifact could save humankind from this diabolical leader many fear is the Antichrist.
While visiting their father’s birthplace of Pesaro, Italy, Anthony and Nelli Andruccioli become entwined with the Grand Master’s plot where they learn of their family’s deep and ancient connection to Saint Anthony and are called to protect the Church: Nelli as the Chosen One and Anthony as one of the Guardians sworn to protect her from the false prophet. Together they must navigate the labyrinth of ancient prophecy and Vatican politics to expose the truth before it is too late.
P2 did exist and was believed by many to be behind the death of Pope John Paul I. In fact, most of the The Serpent's Disciple is based on widely accepted fact. The main characters and prophecy are of course creations of my imagination.
What gives you inspiration for your book?
The headlines from around the world is a treasure trove of ideas to any author. When you begin digging deeper into the facts leading up to an event, there is usually many factors involved behind why something happens. That is the arena where a writer can begin to create a real or make believe world of characters and plots to entertain the reader.
Are your characters based off real people or did they all come entirely from your imagination?
Many of the characters are based on real people and the positions they hold, but the main characters are creations of my imagination.
Of all the characters you have created, which is your favorite and why?
Christine is the mystery woman in the novel. The reader really doesn’t know much about her except she is very important to the storyline. She will again be important in the sequel. She’s a fascinating character because I can have her take on any identity I desire. What could be more exciting than that?
What is the biggest surprise that you experienced after becoming a writer?
The anticipation of sitting down and writing and seeing where my imagination takes me that day. I love doing research and get excited to pass on what I learn to the reader and maybe have them discover something they didn’t know before.
Is there any particular author or book that influenced you either growing up or as an adult?
Not really, there are just so many good books out there. My tastes have changed over time, but I have discovered that I am most interested now in studying the impact of people’s religious beliefs or lack of on individuals and the world. It makes for interesting reading.
Do you have a day job in addition to being a writer? If so, what do you do during the day?
I am lucky to be able to devote myself completely to writing at this time in my life and enjoying every minute of it.
What is your favorite writing tip or quote?
That’s very personal. I think every person who writes finds the secret of what works for them. For me, it’s spending time researching and finding interesting little tidbits of information that I can weave into the storyline. I think one must write every day to keep the thread of the story fresh in their minds, at least for me. It keeps that spark going that might be lost if you are not living the story.
Tell us a little about your plans for the future. Do you have any other books in the works?
I am very pleased to announce that I will be signing with an agency out of Rome, Italy, in the next few weeks. I am hoping to see the book translated into Italian, which will be very exciting for me. I have many events and reviews of the book coming out in publications around the country in the next several months. I hope to be attending two book fairs, one in the Twin Cities in October and another in Miami in November.I am working on the sequel which I am very excited about. This one will again be set in Italy. Many of the characters will be familiar to the reader if they read the first book, but of course a new plot inspired by the latest headlines answering the age old question will evil finally win over good?
Where can we find you online? Website:www.deborahstevensauthor.comFacebook: deborah.andrucciolistevens@facebook.comLinkedIn: www.linkedin.com/pub/deborah-stevens/45/7b6/253/Amazon: Available in eBook and Paperback week of August 12th
July 26, 2013
The King’s Ransom by Devorah Fox, an excerpt
Yesterday we met Devorah Fox, author of The Lost King and The King's Ransom. Today read a sample from her work. If you like the work, be sure to comment and buy the book.
About The Lost King
When all you have owned, everyone you have loved, and everything you have done are gone, who are you? In Book One of The Bewildering Adventures of King Bewilliam, King Bewilliam awakens one morning not in his castle but in a cow pasture. He has been inexplicably transformed from a beloved and respected ruler, husband, father, and dragon slayer of renown to a homeless vagabond. What mysterious spell so cruelly reversed his fortune? Who cast it and why? In his quest to uncover and break the curse that plagues him and regain his kingdom he journeys to strange lands where he finds adventure, danger, romance...and himself.
About The King’s Ransom
Book Two of "The Bewildering Adventures of King Bewilliam" finds Robin, the hero of The Lost King, at sea both literally and figuratively. At first directionless and purposeless, he determines to reunite with his sons and with them restore his shattered kingdom but Fate has different plans for the lost king. Driven far from his home in the Chalklands, Robin pits his will against a dragon, a fortress's duplicitous and deadly guards, high winds on the open water, and a horrifying sea monster only to meet his most formidable opponent.
The King's Ransom, excerpt
The clammy dungeon smelled of mold, rotted wood, and yes, of despair and death. Its dirt floor was damp and cool under Robin’s butt but not as cold as his heart. Lit only by whatever light filtered through a barred opening high above at ground level, the room was dim but his mood was darker. His death was certain. Without anything like a trial or even an inquiry, he had been taken for a sorcerer when he feared magic as much as did the guards.
Did they know who they had in their dungeon? He was a head of state, Bewilliam, King of Bell Castle, ruler of the Chalklands, and their treatment of him was a capital offense. Were it not for exhaustion Robin’s anger could have burst into flame. When he got out of here—
Robin looked about. How would he get out of here? There appeared to be no way to leave except to die. The only question was how soon would he die and by what means? How did they deal with witches and sorcerers in this realm? Drowning? Burning?
Or did they mean to leave him here to die slowly of thirst or hunger? He hadn’t eaten or drunk since last evening. He noted that his stomach ached and his mouth was drier than dust but the pain he felt most acutely was heartache. Poor Meeyoo! What would become of her? Was she still within the city’s walls or had she escaped to the wood beyond? She knew no more about her new surroundings than he did. Would she find food and water? Robin reminded himself that she was a good huntress and reassured himself she would not starve. But what about shelter? Would she find a safe place to hide? And hide she must because now Robin was more certain than ever that this domain was bewitched. Why else would the guards be so quick to assume that he was a sorcerer and that Meeyoo was his familiar? Meeyoo was canny but could she defend herself against magic?
Robin shivered although the temperature of the underground room was actually a comfortable respite from the heat of the outdoors.
And what of Thief? Robin hoped that the horse would find his way back to the last creek that they had found. Would Thief know to nibble on those sage-colored bushes? And what then? Would some journeyer or peasant find Thief and take care of him, an old horse? Robin didn’t want think about the alternative.
He propped his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands.
He could do nothing for either animal except feel guilty about its predicament. It was his fault that they were in peril. Had he not taken it into his head that he could reclaim his kingdom, he would not have accepted this dragon-slaying mission. Eian of Sweet Water was mistaken. It was wrong of Robin to have tried. He had failed and would die for his presumption, and two innocent lives would be lost.
Meeyoo and Thief trusted him. It was his responsibility to rescue them. Figuring out how to do that was a much more interesting line of thought than pondering his fate.
He studied his prison. Could he chip and tunnel through the masonry walls? With what? He had nary a tool at hand. The guards had taken his knife, and sword, his purse with the money that had been advanced him to kill the dragon. No doubt they had his pack too. Robin wondered what they would make of the ermine pelts buried in the bottom.
Without even a cup or spoon, how could he hope to make even the slightest dent in the bricked walls, especially as he had only one truly free hand with which to work? The other hand was shackled to a chain hanging from a ring bolted to the wall.
The cell had two openings. One was the heavy locked door. The other was the barred window a couple of feet over his head for which he was grateful even if he couldn’t reach it. The iron bars were set not in a frame but directly into the wall. Even if he could free himself, somehow reach the window, and remove the bars, the opening was too small. He would not be able to fit through it.
Before he could even attempt any escape he would have to free himself from the shackle. Why the guards had bothered to chain him to the wall was a mystery. Were he truly a sorcerer, chains and locks would not defeat him. But he was merely a human. Chains and locks were formidable impediments.
Robin studied the heavy iron padlock that kept the shackle fastened on his wrist. Now that, that had possibilities. Robin smiled. He knew a little something about locks. As a young prince curious about the working of things, he had spent a rainy afternoon with the castle’s locksmith. It had seemed to young Robin that locks were long on intimidating looks but not all that daunting as security devices. He was confident that he could pick the one that held his shackle fast, if he had the right tool.
Or any tool. Would that he had his purse. Maybe he could employ his steel as a tool. Even his belt would have been helpful. He might have been able to use the prong, but the guard had taken his belt as well. There was nothing in the room or on his person that would be of any use. His clothes were all made of soft fabric; nothing stiff or sturdy enough from which to fashion a pick. The instrument had to be rigid but it didn’t have to be very big. Something the size of his little finger would do.
His little finger. In the twilight he regarded his hands. If he could get down to the bone, the bone of his little finger might work. The prospect of pain and dismemberment did not discourage him. Animals escaped traps by gnawing off limbs and they survived. He probably wouldn’t even feel the pain, Robin thought. He was already numb with despair about the fate that was likely to befall Meeyoo and Thief if he didn’t find them.
He poked his little finger into the lock’s keyhole. Indeed, absent of flesh the finger bone would be the right size.
Robin slipped his finger into his mouth, tasted salt and dirt. He pressed his teeth against the finger and felt pressure but not pain. He clenched his jaw tighter. His finger throbbed and stung. He bit down harder but before he could break the skin, his finger’s weight on the back of his tongue made him gag. He took his finger out and rubbed it, thinking this was proving more difficult than he had expected. He didn’t want to bite off the finger, he wanted to skin it. Were his teeth sharp enough?
His desperate ruminations were interrupted by the sound of a voice.
“Me. You.”
The hair on the back of Robin’s neck rose. He lifted his head and looked around. The gray light cast shadows on the walls and floor but he saw no one and nothing else in the room. Yet he distinctly heard someone speak.
“Me. You,” came the voice again. An unusual voice, not quite human yet the words were clear, unmistakable.
Robin shook his head. He must be hallucinating. The hunger, thirst, shock of his arrest, and fear of imminent and painful death must have loosened his mind. All this talk of sorcerers and familiars had planted ideas in his head. Still, he was certain he had heard someone speak.
Robin’s mouth twitched in a small smile. “Me, you,” had been his cat’s first utterances. Then but a tiny kitten, she had camped out one night in his boot. From then on she stayed near him by day in his quarters, sleeping on his chest at night. When he made to go and leave her behind, she told him that she was going with him.
“Me. You,” she had said in no uncertain terms.
Robin heard it again. He looked up. A movement at the window caught his eye. Silhouetted in the fading light he saw a familiar shape against the bars.
“Oh, Meeyoo!” Robin replied. His heart swelled in his chest. “How did you find me? Are you all right?”“Me, you! Me, you!” came her excited reply.
Robin took the first deep breath he had breathed since first being approached by the guard. “Oh, my faithful friend, I am indeed in a sorry predicament and I have yet to find a way out.”
Aloud, Robin reviewed the escape strategies that he had entertained and rejected. “I think they mean to leave me to starve and wither away from thirst . . .” He stopped in mid-complaint. “I’m going to keep trying, Meeyoo, I haven’t given up. I will fight with all the fight that I have left in me. Meanwhile you need to look out for yourself. The people in this fortress are not friendly to cats. You must get yourself outside these walls. Escape. Go find Thief. The two of you, make your way back to Sea Gate Fortress. You were welcome there.”
At the window, Robin heard Meeyoo purr followed by a rustling. The shape of the cat vanished from view.Robin’s heart sank in dismay. He had sincerely meant that Meeyoo should go, save herself, only not so soon. He would have liked to have her company until he could see and hear no more.
He slipped into a torpor until a rustling overhead startled him alert. Again he saw Meeyoo’s dark shape against the bars. He wondered if it was a dream or if it was an image conjured by wishful thinking, but then the form moved. Meeyoo poked her head between the bars.
“No! Meeyoo, stay out of here,” he cried. “Run away!”
An object fell from her mouth, hit the floor, and bounced halfway to the door. He made out a shape the size of a sparrow. A dead bird. Tears stung Robin’s eyes. Meeyoo had done it again, had heard of his need for food and had answered his plea. This time he thought that he just might be desperate enough to eat.
He stretched out his hand toward the bird but could not reach it for the chain. He felt his head and shoulders slump and sighed, even this last relief denied him.
No, wait, there might be a way. He stretched out on the floor to the full extent of his arm, torso, and legs. With the toe of his boot, he scooped the bird and dragged it within reach.
Robin sat upright and studied the tiny prize. He tugged at the sparrow’s feathers but they would not loosen. He recalled with dismay the time that he had spent satisfying his youthful curiosity in Bell Castle’s kitchen. Kitchen maids had dunked fowl in boiling water to loosen the feathers before plucking.
He had seen Meeyoo devour a bird more than once. She ate every part, feathers, feet, beak, and all. He tried to do the same and bit into the bird’s side but ended up with only a mouthful of down for his efforts.He looked up at the windows where Meeyoo lay against the bars. “Thank you, Meeyoo. I’ll . . . eat this later,” he said. Perhaps later after the kill was not so fresh the feathers would loosen and he could get to the meat. He laid the bird beside him.
The dead sparrow made a dark spot against the gray earthen floor, its eyes dull as coal, its bony feet slightly curled.
Bony feet. Bones. Robin took up the sparrow again and studied the feet and legs. The scaly legs were about the size of the bones of his little finger, the tiny talons curved with sharp tips.
Bird in his right hand, he cradled the padlock in his left, and poked the bird’s talon into the keyhole. It appeared that with some modification, the bird’s feet and legs had potential as a lock pick. He bent back the smaller toe. The leg made a straight handle while the front and back talons made hooked picks. No serious burglar would ever attempt a hurried break-in with such a clumsy tool but Robin thought he might have the advantage of time. Since his incarceration, not a single guard had come near the cell. Sorcerers apparently didn’t merit even token human kindness, or perhaps the guards were simply too afraid to render it.
Robin set to work in the dark, relying on his senses of sound and touch. With deliberation he wiggled the improvised pick slowly, feeling his way through the lock, moving tiny unseen wards aside to their unlocked position. He made several false starts. His improvised tools proved to be frustratingly flexible and the ward kept slipping back onto place. Cursing he kept wiggling the tool until he found just the right size and configuration of bone and claw to keep the repositioned wards in place while he tackled the next. At last he moved the final ward and slid the bolt that clamped the shackle in the lock’s body. The lock opened and he removed the shackle from his wrist.
“Oh, Meeyoo, we did it!” he cried.
From her perch at the window, Meeyoo let out a congratulatory cry.
Now to tackle the iron lock that secured the door. Robin crawled across the room, sat beside the door, and studied the keyhole, outlined by illumination in the corridor. Would that the guard had left the key in the lock. Robin might have found a way to jostle it loose, snag it with a bird-bone hook, and slide it under the door, but no, the keyhole was empty. The lock was large and Robin suspected it was much more complex than the one he had just sprung. His examination was interrupted by a metal-on-metal sound on the other side. The keyhole went dark. Someone had inserted a key into the keyhole and turned the lock.
About The Lost King
When all you have owned, everyone you have loved, and everything you have done are gone, who are you? In Book One of The Bewildering Adventures of King Bewilliam, King Bewilliam awakens one morning not in his castle but in a cow pasture. He has been inexplicably transformed from a beloved and respected ruler, husband, father, and dragon slayer of renown to a homeless vagabond. What mysterious spell so cruelly reversed his fortune? Who cast it and why? In his quest to uncover and break the curse that plagues him and regain his kingdom he journeys to strange lands where he finds adventure, danger, romance...and himself.About The King’s Ransom
Book Two of "The Bewildering Adventures of King Bewilliam" finds Robin, the hero of The Lost King, at sea both literally and figuratively. At first directionless and purposeless, he determines to reunite with his sons and with them restore his shattered kingdom but Fate has different plans for the lost king. Driven far from his home in the Chalklands, Robin pits his will against a dragon, a fortress's duplicitous and deadly guards, high winds on the open water, and a horrifying sea monster only to meet his most formidable opponent.The King's Ransom, excerpt
The clammy dungeon smelled of mold, rotted wood, and yes, of despair and death. Its dirt floor was damp and cool under Robin’s butt but not as cold as his heart. Lit only by whatever light filtered through a barred opening high above at ground level, the room was dim but his mood was darker. His death was certain. Without anything like a trial or even an inquiry, he had been taken for a sorcerer when he feared magic as much as did the guards.
Did they know who they had in their dungeon? He was a head of state, Bewilliam, King of Bell Castle, ruler of the Chalklands, and their treatment of him was a capital offense. Were it not for exhaustion Robin’s anger could have burst into flame. When he got out of here—
Robin looked about. How would he get out of here? There appeared to be no way to leave except to die. The only question was how soon would he die and by what means? How did they deal with witches and sorcerers in this realm? Drowning? Burning?
Or did they mean to leave him here to die slowly of thirst or hunger? He hadn’t eaten or drunk since last evening. He noted that his stomach ached and his mouth was drier than dust but the pain he felt most acutely was heartache. Poor Meeyoo! What would become of her? Was she still within the city’s walls or had she escaped to the wood beyond? She knew no more about her new surroundings than he did. Would she find food and water? Robin reminded himself that she was a good huntress and reassured himself she would not starve. But what about shelter? Would she find a safe place to hide? And hide she must because now Robin was more certain than ever that this domain was bewitched. Why else would the guards be so quick to assume that he was a sorcerer and that Meeyoo was his familiar? Meeyoo was canny but could she defend herself against magic?
Robin shivered although the temperature of the underground room was actually a comfortable respite from the heat of the outdoors.
And what of Thief? Robin hoped that the horse would find his way back to the last creek that they had found. Would Thief know to nibble on those sage-colored bushes? And what then? Would some journeyer or peasant find Thief and take care of him, an old horse? Robin didn’t want think about the alternative.
He propped his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands.
He could do nothing for either animal except feel guilty about its predicament. It was his fault that they were in peril. Had he not taken it into his head that he could reclaim his kingdom, he would not have accepted this dragon-slaying mission. Eian of Sweet Water was mistaken. It was wrong of Robin to have tried. He had failed and would die for his presumption, and two innocent lives would be lost.
Meeyoo and Thief trusted him. It was his responsibility to rescue them. Figuring out how to do that was a much more interesting line of thought than pondering his fate.
He studied his prison. Could he chip and tunnel through the masonry walls? With what? He had nary a tool at hand. The guards had taken his knife, and sword, his purse with the money that had been advanced him to kill the dragon. No doubt they had his pack too. Robin wondered what they would make of the ermine pelts buried in the bottom.
Without even a cup or spoon, how could he hope to make even the slightest dent in the bricked walls, especially as he had only one truly free hand with which to work? The other hand was shackled to a chain hanging from a ring bolted to the wall.
The cell had two openings. One was the heavy locked door. The other was the barred window a couple of feet over his head for which he was grateful even if he couldn’t reach it. The iron bars were set not in a frame but directly into the wall. Even if he could free himself, somehow reach the window, and remove the bars, the opening was too small. He would not be able to fit through it.
Before he could even attempt any escape he would have to free himself from the shackle. Why the guards had bothered to chain him to the wall was a mystery. Were he truly a sorcerer, chains and locks would not defeat him. But he was merely a human. Chains and locks were formidable impediments.
Robin studied the heavy iron padlock that kept the shackle fastened on his wrist. Now that, that had possibilities. Robin smiled. He knew a little something about locks. As a young prince curious about the working of things, he had spent a rainy afternoon with the castle’s locksmith. It had seemed to young Robin that locks were long on intimidating looks but not all that daunting as security devices. He was confident that he could pick the one that held his shackle fast, if he had the right tool.
Or any tool. Would that he had his purse. Maybe he could employ his steel as a tool. Even his belt would have been helpful. He might have been able to use the prong, but the guard had taken his belt as well. There was nothing in the room or on his person that would be of any use. His clothes were all made of soft fabric; nothing stiff or sturdy enough from which to fashion a pick. The instrument had to be rigid but it didn’t have to be very big. Something the size of his little finger would do.
His little finger. In the twilight he regarded his hands. If he could get down to the bone, the bone of his little finger might work. The prospect of pain and dismemberment did not discourage him. Animals escaped traps by gnawing off limbs and they survived. He probably wouldn’t even feel the pain, Robin thought. He was already numb with despair about the fate that was likely to befall Meeyoo and Thief if he didn’t find them.
He poked his little finger into the lock’s keyhole. Indeed, absent of flesh the finger bone would be the right size.
Robin slipped his finger into his mouth, tasted salt and dirt. He pressed his teeth against the finger and felt pressure but not pain. He clenched his jaw tighter. His finger throbbed and stung. He bit down harder but before he could break the skin, his finger’s weight on the back of his tongue made him gag. He took his finger out and rubbed it, thinking this was proving more difficult than he had expected. He didn’t want to bite off the finger, he wanted to skin it. Were his teeth sharp enough?
His desperate ruminations were interrupted by the sound of a voice.
“Me. You.”
The hair on the back of Robin’s neck rose. He lifted his head and looked around. The gray light cast shadows on the walls and floor but he saw no one and nothing else in the room. Yet he distinctly heard someone speak.
“Me. You,” came the voice again. An unusual voice, not quite human yet the words were clear, unmistakable.
Robin shook his head. He must be hallucinating. The hunger, thirst, shock of his arrest, and fear of imminent and painful death must have loosened his mind. All this talk of sorcerers and familiars had planted ideas in his head. Still, he was certain he had heard someone speak.
Robin’s mouth twitched in a small smile. “Me, you,” had been his cat’s first utterances. Then but a tiny kitten, she had camped out one night in his boot. From then on she stayed near him by day in his quarters, sleeping on his chest at night. When he made to go and leave her behind, she told him that she was going with him.
“Me. You,” she had said in no uncertain terms.
Robin heard it again. He looked up. A movement at the window caught his eye. Silhouetted in the fading light he saw a familiar shape against the bars.
“Oh, Meeyoo!” Robin replied. His heart swelled in his chest. “How did you find me? Are you all right?”“Me, you! Me, you!” came her excited reply.
Robin took the first deep breath he had breathed since first being approached by the guard. “Oh, my faithful friend, I am indeed in a sorry predicament and I have yet to find a way out.”
Aloud, Robin reviewed the escape strategies that he had entertained and rejected. “I think they mean to leave me to starve and wither away from thirst . . .” He stopped in mid-complaint. “I’m going to keep trying, Meeyoo, I haven’t given up. I will fight with all the fight that I have left in me. Meanwhile you need to look out for yourself. The people in this fortress are not friendly to cats. You must get yourself outside these walls. Escape. Go find Thief. The two of you, make your way back to Sea Gate Fortress. You were welcome there.”
At the window, Robin heard Meeyoo purr followed by a rustling. The shape of the cat vanished from view.Robin’s heart sank in dismay. He had sincerely meant that Meeyoo should go, save herself, only not so soon. He would have liked to have her company until he could see and hear no more.
He slipped into a torpor until a rustling overhead startled him alert. Again he saw Meeyoo’s dark shape against the bars. He wondered if it was a dream or if it was an image conjured by wishful thinking, but then the form moved. Meeyoo poked her head between the bars.
“No! Meeyoo, stay out of here,” he cried. “Run away!”
An object fell from her mouth, hit the floor, and bounced halfway to the door. He made out a shape the size of a sparrow. A dead bird. Tears stung Robin’s eyes. Meeyoo had done it again, had heard of his need for food and had answered his plea. This time he thought that he just might be desperate enough to eat.
He stretched out his hand toward the bird but could not reach it for the chain. He felt his head and shoulders slump and sighed, even this last relief denied him.
No, wait, there might be a way. He stretched out on the floor to the full extent of his arm, torso, and legs. With the toe of his boot, he scooped the bird and dragged it within reach.
Robin sat upright and studied the tiny prize. He tugged at the sparrow’s feathers but they would not loosen. He recalled with dismay the time that he had spent satisfying his youthful curiosity in Bell Castle’s kitchen. Kitchen maids had dunked fowl in boiling water to loosen the feathers before plucking.
He had seen Meeyoo devour a bird more than once. She ate every part, feathers, feet, beak, and all. He tried to do the same and bit into the bird’s side but ended up with only a mouthful of down for his efforts.He looked up at the windows where Meeyoo lay against the bars. “Thank you, Meeyoo. I’ll . . . eat this later,” he said. Perhaps later after the kill was not so fresh the feathers would loosen and he could get to the meat. He laid the bird beside him.
The dead sparrow made a dark spot against the gray earthen floor, its eyes dull as coal, its bony feet slightly curled.
Bony feet. Bones. Robin took up the sparrow again and studied the feet and legs. The scaly legs were about the size of the bones of his little finger, the tiny talons curved with sharp tips.
Bird in his right hand, he cradled the padlock in his left, and poked the bird’s talon into the keyhole. It appeared that with some modification, the bird’s feet and legs had potential as a lock pick. He bent back the smaller toe. The leg made a straight handle while the front and back talons made hooked picks. No serious burglar would ever attempt a hurried break-in with such a clumsy tool but Robin thought he might have the advantage of time. Since his incarceration, not a single guard had come near the cell. Sorcerers apparently didn’t merit even token human kindness, or perhaps the guards were simply too afraid to render it.
Robin set to work in the dark, relying on his senses of sound and touch. With deliberation he wiggled the improvised pick slowly, feeling his way through the lock, moving tiny unseen wards aside to their unlocked position. He made several false starts. His improvised tools proved to be frustratingly flexible and the ward kept slipping back onto place. Cursing he kept wiggling the tool until he found just the right size and configuration of bone and claw to keep the repositioned wards in place while he tackled the next. At last he moved the final ward and slid the bolt that clamped the shackle in the lock’s body. The lock opened and he removed the shackle from his wrist.
“Oh, Meeyoo, we did it!” he cried.
From her perch at the window, Meeyoo let out a congratulatory cry.
Now to tackle the iron lock that secured the door. Robin crawled across the room, sat beside the door, and studied the keyhole, outlined by illumination in the corridor. Would that the guard had left the key in the lock. Robin might have found a way to jostle it loose, snag it with a bird-bone hook, and slide it under the door, but no, the keyhole was empty. The lock was large and Robin suspected it was much more complex than the one he had just sprung. His examination was interrupted by a metal-on-metal sound on the other side. The keyhole went dark. Someone had inserted a key into the keyhole and turned the lock.
July 25, 2013
The Sincerest Form of Flattery, a guest post by Devorah Fox
Today my guest is author, Devorah Fox. She writes about Fan Fiction. Tomorrow come back for an excerpt from her work.
The Sincerest Form of Flattery, a guest post by Devorah Fox
“Fan fiction” is a term that describes stories about characters or settings written by fans of the original work rather than by the original creator. Fan fiction is rarely commissioned or authorized by the original work's owner, creator or publisher. Writers of fan faction assume that their work will be read by other fans of the work that inspired the creativity and so readers of the fan fiction are expected to have some familiarity with the characters, setting, plot, etc. of the original work on which the fan fiction is based.
Fan fiction isn’t a new phenomenon. According to Wikipedia, the Bronte sisters wrote fan fiction, as did readers of Alice in Wonderlandand Sherlock Holmes. Fan fiction has been very popular in the sci-fi genre, and it really got a boost in response to Star Trek. The Internet gave rise to an increase in fan fiction. One statistic states that fan fiction comprises one third of all content about books on the Web. There are fanzines and conventions and Internet sites like www.fanfiction.net for publishing, sharing and reviewing fan fiction.
Though it seems innocent enough, fan fiction has given rise to controversy. Some argue that it’s plagiarism while other claim that fan fiction, or at least the nonprofit variety, falls under the fair use doctrine. Lucasfilms Ltd. has taken action to control the use of Star Warscharacters in fan fiction while J. K. Rowling has given the nod to writers of fan fiction based on her characters. A new effort launched by Amazon.com in May, 2013, is designed to give a forum to fanfiction writers while guarding the intellectual property rights of the original works’ creators. Kindle Worlds allows fan fiction stories of certain licensed media properties to be sold in the Kindle Store provided the writing meets certain conditions. The fan fiction writers and the creators of the licensed work are both compensated, as is of course amazon.
The issue of fan faction recently came up in a Facebook group to which I belong and the general consensus seemed to be resentment. I suppose if someone were making a mint from fiction based on my characters I’d feel differently but for now I cherish the fan fiction that’s been inspired by The Lost King and The King’s Ransom. For one, I find the mere fact that my writing spurred that initiative in someone else to be validating. Isn’t awakening creativity in someone else about the highest compliment an artist can be paid?
I’ve also learned a lot from the fanfic written about King Bewilliam and his world. It’s like someone held a mirror to my character, turned it at an angle and showed me a different side. I have in turn been inspired by the added dimensions that I see the character can have, the different paths that he can take. Because fanfic writers have their unique style, my character has had a chance to play in different arenas.
A fan of my novels who is a sand sculptor created his interpretation of King Bewilliam’s Bell Castle. Is a sand castle fan “fiction,” plagiarism, fair use or something else entirely? Whatever it is, I find it complimentary. Not only that, in my writing I have imagined what buildings are on the castle grounds and describe the rooms’ interiors but haven’t given much consideration to the buildings’ exteriors. Frankly, I’m eager to see what they look like.
So is fan fiction, like imitation, the sincerest form of flattery or is it theft?About Devorah FoxWinner of four National Novel Writing Month marathons, Devorah Fox has written for television, radio, magazines, newspapers, and the Internet. Publisher and editor of the BUMPERTOBUMPER®books for commercial motor vehicle drivers, she is also developer of the Easy CDL apps for the iPhone and iPad. She has written test preparation guides for Barron’s Educational Series, Inc. and edited books for Techni-Com, a Canadian publisher, as well as several novels. Born in Brooklyn, New York, she has lived in Port Aransas, Texas, since 2005. Secretary of the Rockport Writers Group, Fox writes the "Dee-Scoveries" blog at http://devorahfox.com and column of the same name for The Island Moon newspaper. She wrote her first novel in the third grade and has written several more since. The Lost King, a literary fantasy, is her first published work of fiction and its sequel, The King’s Ransom, is her most recent.
Website: http://devorahfox.comTwitter: @devorah_fox http://twitter.com/devorah_foxFacebook: http://www.facebook.com/devorah.foxFB author page: https://www.facebook.com/DevorahFoxAuthorLinedIn: www.linkedin.com/in/devorahfox/Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/devorahfoxGoogle+: https://plus.google.com/115373271462004436975/postsGoodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2751371.Devorah_FoxSmashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/mbapub
The Sincerest Form of Flattery, a guest post by Devorah Fox
“Fan fiction” is a term that describes stories about characters or settings written by fans of the original work rather than by the original creator. Fan fiction is rarely commissioned or authorized by the original work's owner, creator or publisher. Writers of fan faction assume that their work will be read by other fans of the work that inspired the creativity and so readers of the fan fiction are expected to have some familiarity with the characters, setting, plot, etc. of the original work on which the fan fiction is based.
Fan fiction isn’t a new phenomenon. According to Wikipedia, the Bronte sisters wrote fan fiction, as did readers of Alice in Wonderlandand Sherlock Holmes. Fan fiction has been very popular in the sci-fi genre, and it really got a boost in response to Star Trek. The Internet gave rise to an increase in fan fiction. One statistic states that fan fiction comprises one third of all content about books on the Web. There are fanzines and conventions and Internet sites like www.fanfiction.net for publishing, sharing and reviewing fan fiction.
Though it seems innocent enough, fan fiction has given rise to controversy. Some argue that it’s plagiarism while other claim that fan fiction, or at least the nonprofit variety, falls under the fair use doctrine. Lucasfilms Ltd. has taken action to control the use of Star Warscharacters in fan fiction while J. K. Rowling has given the nod to writers of fan fiction based on her characters. A new effort launched by Amazon.com in May, 2013, is designed to give a forum to fanfiction writers while guarding the intellectual property rights of the original works’ creators. Kindle Worlds allows fan fiction stories of certain licensed media properties to be sold in the Kindle Store provided the writing meets certain conditions. The fan fiction writers and the creators of the licensed work are both compensated, as is of course amazon.
The issue of fan faction recently came up in a Facebook group to which I belong and the general consensus seemed to be resentment. I suppose if someone were making a mint from fiction based on my characters I’d feel differently but for now I cherish the fan fiction that’s been inspired by The Lost King and The King’s Ransom. For one, I find the mere fact that my writing spurred that initiative in someone else to be validating. Isn’t awakening creativity in someone else about the highest compliment an artist can be paid?
I’ve also learned a lot from the fanfic written about King Bewilliam and his world. It’s like someone held a mirror to my character, turned it at an angle and showed me a different side. I have in turn been inspired by the added dimensions that I see the character can have, the different paths that he can take. Because fanfic writers have their unique style, my character has had a chance to play in different arenas.
A fan of my novels who is a sand sculptor created his interpretation of King Bewilliam’s Bell Castle. Is a sand castle fan “fiction,” plagiarism, fair use or something else entirely? Whatever it is, I find it complimentary. Not only that, in my writing I have imagined what buildings are on the castle grounds and describe the rooms’ interiors but haven’t given much consideration to the buildings’ exteriors. Frankly, I’m eager to see what they look like.So is fan fiction, like imitation, the sincerest form of flattery or is it theft?About Devorah FoxWinner of four National Novel Writing Month marathons, Devorah Fox has written for television, radio, magazines, newspapers, and the Internet. Publisher and editor of the BUMPERTOBUMPER®books for commercial motor vehicle drivers, she is also developer of the Easy CDL apps for the iPhone and iPad. She has written test preparation guides for Barron’s Educational Series, Inc. and edited books for Techni-Com, a Canadian publisher, as well as several novels. Born in Brooklyn, New York, she has lived in Port Aransas, Texas, since 2005. Secretary of the Rockport Writers Group, Fox writes the "Dee-Scoveries" blog at http://devorahfox.com and column of the same name for The Island Moon newspaper. She wrote her first novel in the third grade and has written several more since. The Lost King, a literary fantasy, is her first published work of fiction and its sequel, The King’s Ransom, is her most recent.
Website: http://devorahfox.comTwitter: @devorah_fox http://twitter.com/devorah_foxFacebook: http://www.facebook.com/devorah.foxFB author page: https://www.facebook.com/DevorahFoxAuthorLinedIn: www.linkedin.com/in/devorahfox/Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/devorahfoxGoogle+: https://plus.google.com/115373271462004436975/postsGoodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2751371.Devorah_FoxSmashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/mbapub
July 22, 2013
Lyrical Muse, Cover reveal
Welcome to the cover reveal for the upcoming release
LYRICAL MUSE
a collection of stories that reflects life's rhythms through the tales of everyday people. Please take a look below!
COVER REVEAL
LYRICAL MUSE
ANTHOLOGY
‘Music Heals the Spirit as the Words Give Life.’
LYRICAL MUSE
Lyrical Muse Anthology Publisher: Michelle Cornwell-Jordan (3CM Media)
SynopsisLyrical Muse is a collection of stories that reflects life's rhythms through everyday people. Each story is an example of the best and the worst of the Human soul. Every life lived has its own melody, and within these pages, the reader is taken on a journey to the blackest depths of a daughter's murderous soul to the prickly minefield of a jealous woman's heart and so much more. So enter of your own free will and allow our whimsical Muse to lead you on an odyssey which just might help redefine your own reality.
Set to release August 05th, 2013Add to Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18217475-lyrical-museThe cover was created by the amazing Joy StroubeDreamscape Covers www.dreamscapecovers.com dreamscapecovers@aol.com Thanks to the Beta Reader Who Rocks! Author Emma Meade http://emmameade.com/
ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTORS
RONDA L. CAUDILL, PhD
I was born and raised in Virginia. Writing has always been a passion of mine. I earned Ph.D. in Education from Capella University. The two writers who inspired me the most are Edgar Allan Poe and H.P. Lovecraft. My discovery of Mr. Poe when I was eleven years old opened up an entirely new world to me. It is a world that I have shared with my daughters. I am blessed with a wonderful husband and two beautiful daughters who both inspire me and support me. I am thankful to them for their love, encouragement, and support (and many new ideas). http://www.rondacaudillbooks.com/
Jamie White
JamieBMusings is a music addict, book lover, pet servant & NaNoWriMo survivor. When she's not busy writing posts for Culture Shock, she's taking pictures for her new obsession (That Photo Blog) and spending time with her husband and pets. Her first book, The Life and Times of No One in Particular, was released in May 2012. www.jamiebmusings.webs.com
C.P. Bialois
CP Bialois completed his first full-length novel, Call of Poseidon, in 2007. Armed with a finished product, Bialois began working on another book, The Sword and the Flame: The Forging, unsure of what he would ultimately be doing with either. As with many others in the later part of the first decade of the 2000’s, he found himself out of work and looking into new options. Over the next two years, he would spend most days at the library, completing an additional half-dozen works. With five books currently out, Bialois is planning for the release of many more and enjoying the feedback he receives. The up-and-coming author takes inspiration from favorites such as Steven King, Tom Clancy and Sue Grafton. His love of history, fantasy and old monster movies has also served as a muse. http://cpbialois.webs.com/
Michelle Cornwell-Jordan
Michelle Cornwell-Jordan is a New Adult/Young Adult-Paranormal Author. Her titles include a YA Novella series Night School Vampire Hunter Trilogy and upcoming novel Chrysalis. She is also the producer of the online radio segment IndieReview Behind The Scenes, where she and her co-host Jamie B Musings interviews Indie Authors and Musicians. Michelle has been married for 18 years and has a 15 year old daughter. A book lover, her favorite genre has always been paranormal adventures. Another love is writing. Michelle has been writing about as long as she has been a bibliophile! Losing herself in a fantasy world that she is creating on paper is how she loves spending her spare time. Oh, and one final secret about Michelle is that she believes that she also has a secret power, but if she told, she would have to zap ya! http://michellecjordan.wix.com/author#!
Big Hug and Much Gratitude to the very awesome hosts of today’s cover reveal!Listed in no particular orderLyrical Muse HostsSheryl Steines: http://www.sherylsteines.com/ Eden Baylee: http://edenbaylee.wordpress.com/ Cherie Reich: http://cheriereich.blogspot.com/ Shay West: http://shay-west.com/ Alex Laybourne: http://alexlaybourne.com/ Sharon C. Williams: http://newenglandmuse.wordpress.com/2013/06/25/1941/ Mysti Parker: http://www.mystiparker.blogspot.com/ Evan Bollinger: http://www.meanderm.blogspot.com/ Kerry Taylor: http://kerrytayor74.wordpress.com/ Xuanire Javed: http://revampinglife.com/ Jamie Marchant: http://jamie-marchant.blogspot.com/ Teshelle Combs: http://teshellecombs.com/. Blakely Chorpenning: http://indiscriminatewrites.blogspot.com/ Marianne Spitzer: http://mariannespitzer.blogspot.com Susan Finlay: http://susansbooks37.wordpress.com/
COVER REVEAL
LYRICAL MUSE
ANTHOLOGY
‘Music Heals the Spirit as the Words Give Life.’
LYRICAL MUSE
Lyrical Muse Anthology Publisher: Michelle Cornwell-Jordan (3CM Media)
SynopsisLyrical Muse is a collection of stories that reflects life's rhythms through everyday people. Each story is an example of the best and the worst of the Human soul. Every life lived has its own melody, and within these pages, the reader is taken on a journey to the blackest depths of a daughter's murderous soul to the prickly minefield of a jealous woman's heart and so much more. So enter of your own free will and allow our whimsical Muse to lead you on an odyssey which just might help redefine your own reality.
Set to release August 05th, 2013Add to Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18217475-lyrical-museThe cover was created by the amazing Joy StroubeDreamscape Covers www.dreamscapecovers.com dreamscapecovers@aol.com Thanks to the Beta Reader Who Rocks! Author Emma Meade http://emmameade.com/
ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTORS
RONDA L. CAUDILL, PhD
I was born and raised in Virginia. Writing has always been a passion of mine. I earned Ph.D. in Education from Capella University. The two writers who inspired me the most are Edgar Allan Poe and H.P. Lovecraft. My discovery of Mr. Poe when I was eleven years old opened up an entirely new world to me. It is a world that I have shared with my daughters. I am blessed with a wonderful husband and two beautiful daughters who both inspire me and support me. I am thankful to them for their love, encouragement, and support (and many new ideas). http://www.rondacaudillbooks.com/
Jamie White
JamieBMusings is a music addict, book lover, pet servant & NaNoWriMo survivor. When she's not busy writing posts for Culture Shock, she's taking pictures for her new obsession (That Photo Blog) and spending time with her husband and pets. Her first book, The Life and Times of No One in Particular, was released in May 2012. www.jamiebmusings.webs.com
C.P. Bialois
CP Bialois completed his first full-length novel, Call of Poseidon, in 2007. Armed with a finished product, Bialois began working on another book, The Sword and the Flame: The Forging, unsure of what he would ultimately be doing with either. As with many others in the later part of the first decade of the 2000’s, he found himself out of work and looking into new options. Over the next two years, he would spend most days at the library, completing an additional half-dozen works. With five books currently out, Bialois is planning for the release of many more and enjoying the feedback he receives. The up-and-coming author takes inspiration from favorites such as Steven King, Tom Clancy and Sue Grafton. His love of history, fantasy and old monster movies has also served as a muse. http://cpbialois.webs.com/
Michelle Cornwell-Jordan
Michelle Cornwell-Jordan is a New Adult/Young Adult-Paranormal Author. Her titles include a YA Novella series Night School Vampire Hunter Trilogy and upcoming novel Chrysalis. She is also the producer of the online radio segment IndieReview Behind The Scenes, where she and her co-host Jamie B Musings interviews Indie Authors and Musicians. Michelle has been married for 18 years and has a 15 year old daughter. A book lover, her favorite genre has always been paranormal adventures. Another love is writing. Michelle has been writing about as long as she has been a bibliophile! Losing herself in a fantasy world that she is creating on paper is how she loves spending her spare time. Oh, and one final secret about Michelle is that she believes that she also has a secret power, but if she told, she would have to zap ya! http://michellecjordan.wix.com/author#!
Big Hug and Much Gratitude to the very awesome hosts of today’s cover reveal!Listed in no particular orderLyrical Muse HostsSheryl Steines: http://www.sherylsteines.com/ Eden Baylee: http://edenbaylee.wordpress.com/ Cherie Reich: http://cheriereich.blogspot.com/ Shay West: http://shay-west.com/ Alex Laybourne: http://alexlaybourne.com/ Sharon C. Williams: http://newenglandmuse.wordpress.com/2013/06/25/1941/ Mysti Parker: http://www.mystiparker.blogspot.com/ Evan Bollinger: http://www.meanderm.blogspot.com/ Kerry Taylor: http://kerrytayor74.wordpress.com/ Xuanire Javed: http://revampinglife.com/ Jamie Marchant: http://jamie-marchant.blogspot.com/ Teshelle Combs: http://teshellecombs.com/. Blakely Chorpenning: http://indiscriminatewrites.blogspot.com/ Marianne Spitzer: http://mariannespitzer.blogspot.com Susan Finlay: http://susansbooks37.wordpress.com/
July 18, 2013
Prologue from The Soul Stone
I don't have any interview this week, so I decided to post the prologue to The Soul Stone, my soon-to-be-finished sequel to The Goddess's Choice. I'd love to hear your comments.
Prologue As she braided Awena’s hair, Mother Venetia shivered. Their undyed wool robes were not warm enough for the freezing dungeon. “I’m so cold, Mother!” Awena cried. “I know, child.” Venetia rubbed the young novice’s arms to warm her. She and Awena were two of hundreds locked up due to Father Shylah’s edict. How the Lundian high priest had got the king to ban and imprison female members of the clergy, Venetia couldn’t imagine. Perhaps the rumors were right, and the king had lost his mind. It was so cold she could see her breath, but Venetia shivered for another reason. Tonight was the night of the new moon, the night all priestesses throughout Korth would perform the ritual to keep the Ancient Evil contained behind the shield of Armunn’s soul. Since her village of Balley Beg was closest to the source of that evil, Mother Venetia’s role in the ritual had always been pivotal. This would be the third month in a row she’d been unable to play her part, and because of the mass imprisonment of Korthian priestesses, she was hardly the only one absent. Prophesies spoke of a day when Armunn’s shield would fail. She feared the weakened ritual might well lead to such a time. She abruptly stopped braiding as she felt warm tingling through the soles of her shoes. Awena grabbed Mother Venetia’s arm. “What is it, Mother?” “It’s Mother Bensaggyrt. She’s sending a call through the earth for all of us to gather.” “Why would she do that? That will only make it easier for the Royal Guard to arrest more of us!” Mother Venetia shook her head. “I don’t know, child.” But she could think of only one reason. Had the ancient prophesies come true and evil been loosed to ravage Korthlundia again?
Prologue As she braided Awena’s hair, Mother Venetia shivered. Their undyed wool robes were not warm enough for the freezing dungeon. “I’m so cold, Mother!” Awena cried. “I know, child.” Venetia rubbed the young novice’s arms to warm her. She and Awena were two of hundreds locked up due to Father Shylah’s edict. How the Lundian high priest had got the king to ban and imprison female members of the clergy, Venetia couldn’t imagine. Perhaps the rumors were right, and the king had lost his mind. It was so cold she could see her breath, but Venetia shivered for another reason. Tonight was the night of the new moon, the night all priestesses throughout Korth would perform the ritual to keep the Ancient Evil contained behind the shield of Armunn’s soul. Since her village of Balley Beg was closest to the source of that evil, Mother Venetia’s role in the ritual had always been pivotal. This would be the third month in a row she’d been unable to play her part, and because of the mass imprisonment of Korthian priestesses, she was hardly the only one absent. Prophesies spoke of a day when Armunn’s shield would fail. She feared the weakened ritual might well lead to such a time. She abruptly stopped braiding as she felt warm tingling through the soles of her shoes. Awena grabbed Mother Venetia’s arm. “What is it, Mother?” “It’s Mother Bensaggyrt. She’s sending a call through the earth for all of us to gather.” “Why would she do that? That will only make it easier for the Royal Guard to arrest more of us!” Mother Venetia shook her head. “I don’t know, child.” But she could think of only one reason. Had the ancient prophesies come true and evil been loosed to ravage Korthlundia again?
July 12, 2013
Horse Country, Excerpt
Yesterday, we met author Christine Meunier. Today read an excerpt from her novel, Horse Country. If you like what you read, please comment and buy the book.
Book blurb:
Christine Meunier has lived a life breathing, dreaming and working with horses in the thoroughbred industry in Australia and has also travelled overseas to work in the industry. Horse Country takes her own personal experiences woven into a story about four young women studying and working in the horse industry.
Follow Lise and Wes as they work their way around North East Victoria, Australia in the seasonal world of breeding thoroughbreds. Horse Country follows the seasons of the thoroughbred industry and what the day to day of working on a stud could look like.
A few hours away, Maddie and Melanie are working hard in their parent’s metropolitan riding school, teaching others about horse riding and care of the horse. From the nervous first time rider, to the child who wants to run fast and jump high, the young women shape lessons to suit the individual.
Horses offer a great opportunity to study, learn, work and develop an incredible career around the world. Set in Australia, this novel shows that the land down under is indeed a Horse Country.Horse
Excerpt:
"Watch this here filly. I think she's just slightly over having had IV needles for the past three days," Declan warned, holding the young animal as Lise pulled the cap off the needle.
"Well, you'll just have to save me if anything goes wrong," she commented dryly, expertly putting her thumb to the equine's jugular groove, inserting the needle smoothly into the vein and pulling back with the syringe, noting with satisfaction the red liquid that coloured the small tube before administering the previously clear liquid.
Declan was slowly becoming impressed with Lise. He’d seen a lot of her over the past week as any work that had required two; Trevor had made some poor excuse to not help but not so surprisingly, always seemed to know what Lise was up to and where she could be found to help. Declan grinned as he realised the older man’s plan was working. A figure came to stand in front of the box the pair were working in, his body blocking out the light as he peered in curiously. Declan rolled his eyes at the sight of the older male's sudden interest as his gaze fell upon Lise.
"Well hello gorgeous! Why doesn’t anyone tell me when we get a new worker? I don't believe we've met. I'm Tony. And you are?" he questioned as she brushed past him out of the box.
"Uninterested," Lise commented dryly, never taking her gaze off the treatment chart she had picked up to fill in.
Still in the box with the sick yearling, Declan chuckled softly, amused at her bluntness.
"What have the others already told you about me? It's all a pack of lies, I promise you," Tony commented, winking at her.
"So you being found hung over in Declan's bed wasn'treally a mistake? The girls swore it was," she stated sincerely.
"I… what?" he asked, suddenly confused.
Declan thrust his hand over his mouth, barely managing to contain the laughter that was now coming out in bursts. This girl knew exactly how to treat males like Tony… and pick them it appeared, as he was sure she hadn't yet been warned about the sleazy stud hand. The female staff hadn’t exactly taken a liking to Lise, something he found surprisingly appealing.
"Give it up Tony, she knows about us. I guess everyone does," he commented as he exited the box, sighing dramatically to add emphasis to his statement.
Lise grinned as the young Irishman winked at her before strolling down the breezeway whistling YMCA. Observing the whole display from the other end of the stables, Trevor shook his head, grinning wryly."I should have made that bet fifty bucks," he muttered, entering the next box with a full hay net.
***
The young woman sat down at the end of the day, her back resting against a stall door. The second week in April marked the start of the school holidays which for her meant two weeks of work experience at an impressive looking racing property. Her mother had dropped her off early that morning and now at the end of her first day, she was going back over things she’d seen and learnt while waiting for the same parent to come and pick her up.She chewed on her pen thoughtfully as she opened up the small notebook she’d been carrying in her back pocket on her mother’s suggestion. This way she could make notes while the day was fresh in her mind, making her diary report for school that much easier.
Day one...
The horses are kept on straw in boxes which is around 20 centimetres deep (not to be exact, or anything) and it’s even higher around the edges. Supposedly, the higher walls are to stop the horses from getting cast. That is, stuck in their box and unable to get up. Making them sound pretty stupid animals, isn’t it? But, I’ve been told that when a horse rolls it’s possible for them to get stuck, especially in the corner of a box and this extra height around the walls either keeps them away from the corners, or perhaps it gives them something to scramble up on? I haven’t worked out which, yet.
Routine for the day – visit the horse boxes, search for horse poo (can you say “yay”?); remove the wet straw (read: empty the whole box); replace with new straw and in the afternoon do another poo hunt, removing this.In between is the constant emptying of water buckets, cleaning out and refilling each one before replacing. I believe this resulted in me having at least five impromptu showers and that was just in the morning. Must fill buckets less…
After the poo and water madness, feeds are made up consisting of chaff and many other feedstuffs I don’t yet recognise… oh, and a good amount of hay that is supposed to go into hay racks well out of my reach. Many a wash due to water buckets and then getting covered in bits of hay! Think I got those two round the wrong way…Currently occupying the stalls are thirteen horses, seven bays, four chestnuts and one gorgeous roan. I wonder if they’d notice if I put her in the car and took her home? Oh, and the coolest thing so far? One of the chestnut horses is worth $250,000. A quarter of a million dollars! And they let me brush him and pick horse poo out of his feet. The best, huh?
She paused from her writing with a smile, looking back down the breezeway of the stables. Her grin widened as she heard the crunch of gravel under tyres. Mum’s here! Wait till I tell her about my day! Calling out a goodbye to her boss she ran toward the car, flinging the door open with a grin, not even giving her mum a chance to ask about her day before she started relaying every little event. Her mother listened with a smile, driving them both home.
Book blurb:
Christine Meunier has lived a life breathing, dreaming and working with horses in the thoroughbred industry in Australia and has also travelled overseas to work in the industry. Horse Country takes her own personal experiences woven into a story about four young women studying and working in the horse industry.Follow Lise and Wes as they work their way around North East Victoria, Australia in the seasonal world of breeding thoroughbreds. Horse Country follows the seasons of the thoroughbred industry and what the day to day of working on a stud could look like.
A few hours away, Maddie and Melanie are working hard in their parent’s metropolitan riding school, teaching others about horse riding and care of the horse. From the nervous first time rider, to the child who wants to run fast and jump high, the young women shape lessons to suit the individual.
Horses offer a great opportunity to study, learn, work and develop an incredible career around the world. Set in Australia, this novel shows that the land down under is indeed a Horse Country.Horse
Excerpt:
"Watch this here filly. I think she's just slightly over having had IV needles for the past three days," Declan warned, holding the young animal as Lise pulled the cap off the needle.
"Well, you'll just have to save me if anything goes wrong," she commented dryly, expertly putting her thumb to the equine's jugular groove, inserting the needle smoothly into the vein and pulling back with the syringe, noting with satisfaction the red liquid that coloured the small tube before administering the previously clear liquid.
Declan was slowly becoming impressed with Lise. He’d seen a lot of her over the past week as any work that had required two; Trevor had made some poor excuse to not help but not so surprisingly, always seemed to know what Lise was up to and where she could be found to help. Declan grinned as he realised the older man’s plan was working. A figure came to stand in front of the box the pair were working in, his body blocking out the light as he peered in curiously. Declan rolled his eyes at the sight of the older male's sudden interest as his gaze fell upon Lise.
"Well hello gorgeous! Why doesn’t anyone tell me when we get a new worker? I don't believe we've met. I'm Tony. And you are?" he questioned as she brushed past him out of the box.
"Uninterested," Lise commented dryly, never taking her gaze off the treatment chart she had picked up to fill in.
Still in the box with the sick yearling, Declan chuckled softly, amused at her bluntness.
"What have the others already told you about me? It's all a pack of lies, I promise you," Tony commented, winking at her.
"So you being found hung over in Declan's bed wasn'treally a mistake? The girls swore it was," she stated sincerely.
"I… what?" he asked, suddenly confused.
Declan thrust his hand over his mouth, barely managing to contain the laughter that was now coming out in bursts. This girl knew exactly how to treat males like Tony… and pick them it appeared, as he was sure she hadn't yet been warned about the sleazy stud hand. The female staff hadn’t exactly taken a liking to Lise, something he found surprisingly appealing.
"Give it up Tony, she knows about us. I guess everyone does," he commented as he exited the box, sighing dramatically to add emphasis to his statement.
Lise grinned as the young Irishman winked at her before strolling down the breezeway whistling YMCA. Observing the whole display from the other end of the stables, Trevor shook his head, grinning wryly."I should have made that bet fifty bucks," he muttered, entering the next box with a full hay net.
***
The young woman sat down at the end of the day, her back resting against a stall door. The second week in April marked the start of the school holidays which for her meant two weeks of work experience at an impressive looking racing property. Her mother had dropped her off early that morning and now at the end of her first day, she was going back over things she’d seen and learnt while waiting for the same parent to come and pick her up.She chewed on her pen thoughtfully as she opened up the small notebook she’d been carrying in her back pocket on her mother’s suggestion. This way she could make notes while the day was fresh in her mind, making her diary report for school that much easier.
Day one...
The horses are kept on straw in boxes which is around 20 centimetres deep (not to be exact, or anything) and it’s even higher around the edges. Supposedly, the higher walls are to stop the horses from getting cast. That is, stuck in their box and unable to get up. Making them sound pretty stupid animals, isn’t it? But, I’ve been told that when a horse rolls it’s possible for them to get stuck, especially in the corner of a box and this extra height around the walls either keeps them away from the corners, or perhaps it gives them something to scramble up on? I haven’t worked out which, yet.
Routine for the day – visit the horse boxes, search for horse poo (can you say “yay”?); remove the wet straw (read: empty the whole box); replace with new straw and in the afternoon do another poo hunt, removing this.In between is the constant emptying of water buckets, cleaning out and refilling each one before replacing. I believe this resulted in me having at least five impromptu showers and that was just in the morning. Must fill buckets less…
After the poo and water madness, feeds are made up consisting of chaff and many other feedstuffs I don’t yet recognise… oh, and a good amount of hay that is supposed to go into hay racks well out of my reach. Many a wash due to water buckets and then getting covered in bits of hay! Think I got those two round the wrong way…Currently occupying the stalls are thirteen horses, seven bays, four chestnuts and one gorgeous roan. I wonder if they’d notice if I put her in the car and took her home? Oh, and the coolest thing so far? One of the chestnut horses is worth $250,000. A quarter of a million dollars! And they let me brush him and pick horse poo out of his feet. The best, huh?
She paused from her writing with a smile, looking back down the breezeway of the stables. Her grin widened as she heard the crunch of gravel under tyres. Mum’s here! Wait till I tell her about my day! Calling out a goodbye to her boss she ran toward the car, flinging the door open with a grin, not even giving her mum a chance to ask about her day before she started relaying every little event. Her mother listened with a smile, driving them both home.
July 11, 2013
Reading and Writing Horses, Guest Author Christine Meunier
Today my guest is author, Christine Meunier, who talks to us about working with horses.
Reading and Writing Horses
Today I have the great privilege of providing you with a guest post on my recently released novel Horse Country – A World of Horses. A big push behind writing this novel was that many people seem to love the idea of pursuing a career with horses, but feel or get told that it isn’t viable.
Horse Country is written to show how much fun in can be to work in the horse industry – almost anywhere around the world – and how travel is an option, as well as the development of amazing contacts and the chance to learn to much about a great animal. Horse Country aptly shows:
o the seasons on a stud and associated work that can be expected for anyone working with horses for breedingo the equestrian world from an instructor’s point of view in a busy metropolitan riding school.o how a horse crazy teenager can pursue education with horses, resulting in a full time career
If you know of someone that is horse crazy and would love to learn more about them and working with them, perhaps you’d like to consider encouraging them with a copy of this book!
Horses are an incredible animal that you can never stop learning about. They’re also one that will always require people to work with and look after them. There are definitely job and career opportunities with horses, particularly in the racing and performance industries.
The joys of writing with regards to horses, is that it is always worth writing about what you know. This has been a possibility for me, combining two things that I dearly love.
Author Biography:
Christine Meunier considers herself introduced to the wonderful world of horses at the late age of 13 when her parents agreed to lease a horse for her. She started experiencing horses via books from a young age and continues to do so, but recognizes that horses cannot be learnt solely from books.
She has been studying horses from age 16, starting with the Certificate II in Horse Studies and is currently undertaking her Bachelor of Equine Science via distance education.
Christine has worked at numerous thoroughbred studs in Australiaas well as overseas in Irelandfor a breeding season.
She then gained experience in a couple of Melbourne based horse riding schools, instructing at a basic level before heading off overseas again, this time to South Africa to spend hours in the saddle of endurance and trail horses on the Wild Coast.
Particularly passionate about the world of breeding horses, she teaches equine studies focused on breeding, at a TAFE, Victoria, Australia.
She also writes a blog about equine education which you can view at http://equus-blog.com/
You can find her online at:
http://www.horsecountrybook.com/http://www.facebook.com/HorseCountryBookhttp://www.lulu.com/shop/christine-meunier/horse-country-a-world-of-horses/paperback/product-21089074.htmlhttp://www.lulu.com/shop/christine-meunier/horse-country/ebook/product-21089246.html http://www.amazon.com/Horse-Country-World-Horses-ebook/dp/B00DH526KM/ref=tmm_kin_title_0
Reading and Writing Horses
Today I have the great privilege of providing you with a guest post on my recently released novel Horse Country – A World of Horses. A big push behind writing this novel was that many people seem to love the idea of pursuing a career with horses, but feel or get told that it isn’t viable.
Horse Country is written to show how much fun in can be to work in the horse industry – almost anywhere around the world – and how travel is an option, as well as the development of amazing contacts and the chance to learn to much about a great animal. Horse Country aptly shows:
o the seasons on a stud and associated work that can be expected for anyone working with horses for breedingo the equestrian world from an instructor’s point of view in a busy metropolitan riding school.o how a horse crazy teenager can pursue education with horses, resulting in a full time career
If you know of someone that is horse crazy and would love to learn more about them and working with them, perhaps you’d like to consider encouraging them with a copy of this book!
Horses are an incredible animal that you can never stop learning about. They’re also one that will always require people to work with and look after them. There are definitely job and career opportunities with horses, particularly in the racing and performance industries.
The joys of writing with regards to horses, is that it is always worth writing about what you know. This has been a possibility for me, combining two things that I dearly love.
Author Biography:
Christine Meunier considers herself introduced to the wonderful world of horses at the late age of 13 when her parents agreed to lease a horse for her. She started experiencing horses via books from a young age and continues to do so, but recognizes that horses cannot be learnt solely from books.She has been studying horses from age 16, starting with the Certificate II in Horse Studies and is currently undertaking her Bachelor of Equine Science via distance education.
Christine has worked at numerous thoroughbred studs in Australiaas well as overseas in Irelandfor a breeding season.
She then gained experience in a couple of Melbourne based horse riding schools, instructing at a basic level before heading off overseas again, this time to South Africa to spend hours in the saddle of endurance and trail horses on the Wild Coast.
Particularly passionate about the world of breeding horses, she teaches equine studies focused on breeding, at a TAFE, Victoria, Australia.
She also writes a blog about equine education which you can view at http://equus-blog.com/
You can find her online at:
http://www.horsecountrybook.com/http://www.facebook.com/HorseCountryBookhttp://www.lulu.com/shop/christine-meunier/horse-country-a-world-of-horses/paperback/product-21089074.htmlhttp://www.lulu.com/shop/christine-meunier/horse-country/ebook/product-21089246.html http://www.amazon.com/Horse-Country-World-Horses-ebook/dp/B00DH526KM/ref=tmm_kin_title_0
July 10, 2013
Indie Author Promo
READERS! A mixed genre bag of featured best books & eBooks from our finest Indie authors. Take a quick peek: http://indieap.cucinavivace.com/currentlyfeatured/
