Jami Gray's Blog, page 35

Back to School…

Ah yes! The smell of new backpacks and crisp notebooks fill the air, while the sighs of the tortured youngsters forced to trod the linoleum halls of learning create its own breeze to ruffle newly shorn hair.  Yes, it is that time again. That time when parents try hard to restrain their mad grins of relief while breaking out into random happy dances.  School’s in and my Prankster Duo is not amused.  I, however, am.

Let’s face it, as much as I love having my two little troublemakers home, by the time the school opens, I’ve got them, packed, pressed and pushed out the door to the bus stop.  The sound of the bell marks the beginning of my ability to reclaim an actual routine. Which for my little OCD heart is almost (I said-almost) as good as a chocolate.  While my darlings are busy learning new concepts, I somehow manage to juggle the job-that-pays-the-bills and my writing much more effectively.  Perhaps it’s the fact I don’t have to stop for feeding time, referee the hotly debated questions of computer usage/Nerf ownership, or find myself scheduling appointments that I’ve put off all year because it may interfere with class schedules.  Whatever it is, the start of their school marks the start of my more effective use of time.

My oldest started his journey into Junior High last week.  We had prepared, as many do, for this adventure.  We’ve discussed choosing your associates wisely, maintaining your shield and swords, and the importance of completing any mission given you.  So far, so good. He’s proven he actually heard all those bits and pieces the Knight and I have given him, even if it didn’t seem like he was listening.  It’s strangely wonderous.

The youngest is off on his adventure this week.  Unlike his older counterpart, he’s quite excited to be rejoining old friends.  Not like Mr. Social Butterfly hasn’t been out of touch during these summer months (I wonder if there is a Skype addiction program out there?).  Yet as this is the first year in a while where my Duo will be split, I think their excited about taking their own paths, knowing, if  they need the other, all they have to do is ask. 

So although I spent the first week of the oldest one’s entry into middle school world choking back my worries and concerns, I’m finding I’m relaxing bit by bit as he begins his journey and discovers how strong he really can be and unknowingly setting a very awesome example for his brother.  As my youngest begins his trip, I take comfort in the fact that his witty humor and inquisitive mind will keep his teachers on his toes, instead of just me!

Drum roll please! It’s the Amazing Liv Rancourt!

Alright my warped little crowd! Gather round! It’s that time again…we’re hosting the gorgeously brillant, LIV RANCOURT, author of the wickedly delightful A VAMPIRE’S DEADLY DELIGHT!  Sit up, stop messing around and be NICE!  Pull out your pens & paper, or iPhones & recorders, because it’s time to figure out how we keep those voices in our heads straight.  Without further adieu, I give you Liv…

Why cats?

So, I live with cats. Two elegant, aloof, endearing, amusing felines. I was inspired to write about them because of an incident that just occurred. One cat was draped across the dining room table – don’t think poorly of me, it’s a BIG table – when the other made a surprise leap onto one of the chairs. Table Cat, apparently unprepared for the sight of a creature with whom she’s shared an existence for over nine years, lifted about three inches straight in the air and came down of her feet, hissing ferociously, tail flying.

She’s a bit skittish.

Either that or she’s just not very observant. I mean, come on. Did you forget that there’s another cat in the house? Like, you know, your competition for the scratching post and the originator of those other turds in the litter box? I’m supposed to be a writer, capable of observing, notating, and regurgitating the minutiae of daily life, and yet I live with creatures who seem to forget each other’s existence over the space of a few hours.

Maybe if they took better notes, things wouldn’t sneak up on them that way.

An addition to having opposable thumbs, it’s the ability to take notes that separates me from my kitties. When a particularly snazzy bit if dialogue drops into my head from wherever those things come from, I jot it down on the nearest available piece of whatever (hopefully a post-it note and not the back of an envelope that’s destined for the recycling bin). If the solution to  a snarly scene catches me between hits on the snooze button, there’s always a spiral bound notebook and a pencil on my bedside table.

I’ll whip out my smart phone and make notes while stuck in slow-moving traffic. I tend to keep those fairly concise, for obvious reasons (Why no, officer, I WASN’T texting!), and I try to label them with the name of the WIP they relate to so I can find them later. And then there’s my on-line brain, Evernote, a website that has so many features I’ll be a (much) old(er) lady before I figure them all out.

Working with so many sources might sound confusing, and perhaps suggest to you that I’m not very organized – I let my cats sleep on the dining room table, for goodness sake. It is complicated,  but I seem to be able to make it work. The important thing is to capture the moment so that I’m not left staring at a blank document wishing I could remember that funny thing that just happened or the really cool thing someone said.

I’ve known writers who always carry a small spiral notebook or a stack of index cards to make notes on. Others swear by programs like Evernote. What about you? How do you record the stuff you see so you can scramble it up and spit it back out on the page?

And more importantly, cats or dogs?

Peace,

Liv

Want to Know More about Liv?

Liv Rancourt writes paranormal and romance, often at the same time. She lives with her husband, two teenagers, two cats and one wayward puppy. She likes to create stories that have happy endings, and finds it is a good way to balance her other job in the neonatal intensive care unit. Liv can be found on-line at her website (www.livrancourt.com), her blog (www.liv-rancourt.blogspot.com), on Facebook (www.facebook.com/liv.rancourt), or on Twitter (www.twitter.com/LivRancourt).

Don’t miss her exciting book:

She’s a quiet, unassuming bookstore owner by day, but by  night…

Kristen has a deadly secret—when she smells a vampire, she turns into Jai, a beauti-licious babe who makes vamps permanently dead. To a vamp, Jai is like ambrosia. They can’t resist her. She uses this attraction, plus her super strength and her trusty blade, Mr. Sticky, to end their undead lives. The thrill of wearing miniskirts without worrying about cellulite stifles any qualms Kristen might have about killing the undead. Being

Jai is the most fun she has ever had—until they come up against the one vampire Jai can’t kill. If he and Jai have a history, as he claims, Jai can’t remember it…or him.

But when her work catches the attention of some old enemies—who won’t hesitate to destroy Kristen if it also means the end of Jai—this vampire may be their only hope. Can Kristen and Jai learn to tell the difference between good and evil in time to defeat Jai’s ancient nemesis? Or will being Jai’s hostess cost Kristen more than just her beauty sleep?

Available from Black Opal Books, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Smashwords.

Who’s Head Are We In?

As a writer, you are made aware that there are a number of rules by which you must write.  Part of me, the one pepetually stuck in my teenage years, wants to thumb my nose at this never ending list of Do’s and Don’ts.  However, I’m a logical, thinking adult…and I still want to thumb my nose at the damn list.  Since writing is a craft you are continually perfecting, I have no doubt that I have broken several of these rules without even thinking about it. 

Yet, until my latest WIP, there is one rule I’ve been very careful of not breaking–keeping a consistent point of view.

If you’ve read (or are planning to read) my first two books, you’ll note that we are always in Raine’s point of view.  Since I’m easily confused, will just label my style as Third Person Limited–basically the story is told from the protagonist’s POV using “he” and “she”.  This has worked quite well for me, until Xander and Warrick decided to show up. 

I’ve tried the First Person POV–everything told from the protagonist’s POV.  This style lures you in with the promise of pulling your readers in closer to your character.  Those snickers you hear as you dive in? That’s the style laughing it’s ass off at you because you have stepped into the quagmire of “I thought…”,  “I moved…”, “I…”,  “I…” and it so hard to drag yourself free.  I have mad respect for all those writers who’ve used First Person POV brillantly.  I’ll even admit to having a partial story in this style.  It’s now sitting in a corner by itself until it learns to behave better.

There is this term–”Head hopping” that most writers hear.  For those not familiar with this term, pick up a book and tell me, how many of the characters are telling the story?  Are there chapter or scene breaks inbetween each character’s scene?  If so, the writer is skating the thin edge of the rules, but doing well.  But say you go from John’s perspective to Mary’s, then to Roman’s all within a page, back to John’s, then to Roman’s, then to Mary’s, all within two pages, that’s called head hopping.  It’s a bit like standing in the center of the room with the characters surrounding you and you spin endlessly trying to follow along.

Now, one of my favorite authors (and no, I’m not sharing the name) likes to head hop, and they have TONS of books out there.  As a reader I’m okay with it, those stories work for me. As a writer, I’ve tried very hard never to head hop.  For me (THIS IS MY OPINION!) I always felt like I was cheating if I had to use multiple perspectives to get the story across to the readers. 

*clears throat* 

Recently, I’ve had to change my mind.  Those who’ve been following along know I’ve struggled to get Shadow’s Moon under way as I searched for the correct POV to do the story from.  Finally, this weekend, it hit–this story is about two very distinct people, therefore the reader needs to hear both of their voices. 

*sigh*

So those rules you hear all the time, take them with a huge salt lick.  Rules are a great way to help you start out in writing, but don’t be afraid of ignoring them and jumping off your creative cliff occassionally. You’ll be surprised what meets you half way down! 

 

Perfection is so hard to acheive…

The other day our highly intelligent and quite demanding Snarky Dwarf sent me a link to a blog post. 

http://kriswrites.com/2012/06/27/the-business-rusch-perfection/

Here’s the thing, this post was just what I needed to read at this particular moment. With two books out there, and working on a third, I’m starting to recognize that there are a couple of stages in the writing game every writer goes through.  The first one comes after you begin to fall from that high of being published and seeing your first work out there–all alone in the big bad world of readers, where it can be raised up and kicked down faster than lightning.  You try not to get obsessive about the reviews, feedback and those pesky things known as ratings, but those little voices manage to wiggle their way in and tear bits and pieces off of your creativity.  Together those small things gain strength, and so the debilitating question looms on your writing horizon—can I really manage to write another book?

Answer: Hell, yeah you can.  You’re a writer, stop worrying about what’s being said out there.  You’re out there. Readers are reading you. You have to be doing something right. So in a truly horribly NY/Bronx accent “Forget about it!” and write your story.  Take the things you’ve learned with your first book, do them better or fix them in your second.

Once I made it through and got the second book done, it was time to tackle the third.  This was hard because I was leaving behind the familiarity of Raine and Gavin to focus on another character, Xander.  Granted she has some of the same things that makes Raine, well Raine, but she uniquely herself.  It took me longer than expected to get Xander and Warrick’s story off the ground.  Now that I’m about 100 pages in, it’s starting to come together…bit by bit. 

Yet while I’m crafting this story, I’m still getting feedback on Shadow’s Edge and Shadow’s Soul.  I know you’ll never please all your readers all of the time, but it is so easy to fall into the downward spiral of  “OMG, I need to change this…” or “Maybe I should do this instead…” Second guessing ourselves is not productive, not even a little bit.

Reading Kris’s post as she discusses when is your book truly done…I so needed to hear her when she said,

“I’m here to tell you this: If you want a career as a writer, ignore your critics.

When the book is finished, when the book is published for heaven’s sake, then it’s done. Irrevocably done. Mistakes and all.”

So now, I make it a point not to obsess over rankings or critiques–readers will either love it or hate it, it’s out there, I’m not changing it.  For now, all I can do as a writer, is take what I’ve learned, and use it for Shadow’s Moon.  And the mistakes I make in that story, I’ll just use those to make the next one even better. 

I’m a writer, but I won’t be much of one if I don’t learn and grow from my screw-ups.  Besides, who knows, maybe one of those screw-ups will turn into a flash of genius!

GIVE IT UP FOR BONNIE HEARN HILL AND CHRISTOPHER ALLEN POE…

Welcome back, my fearless readers! Today I’m thrilled to introduce Bonnie Hearn Hill and Christopher Allen Poe. Two extremely talented authors who have some vitally important advice to share on the one aspect most writers dread facing…editing.  Don’t mind the shuffling corpses wandering outside, I’ve made sure to have the shack sprayed by our local Zombie Pest Control service to keep them under control.  I think Dreamer Dwarf brought some lovely pasteries, and Eerie’s supplied the beverages.  Have a seat and give an enthusastic welcome to Bonnie and Chris! Don’t forget to pipe up at the end for your chance at winning DIGITAL INK!

THE EDITING GENIE

Bonnie Hearn Hill & Christopher Allan Poe

BHH: Thanks for hanging out with us today, Jami. We appreciate it. As a fiction writer yourself, I’m sure you’ll agree that one of the most difficult jobs for a writer is being your own editor. We all need an editing genie, but before our manuscripts even make it to our publishers, they have to be clean.

CAP: That means you need to be your own editing genie. We’ve each picked a few of our favorite tips from DIGITAL INK to discuss today. Here’s a basic one. Know the difference between your and you’re. Their, there, and they’re. To, two, and too. If you don’t know the difference, look it up. The Internet is for more than just online stalking and porn.

BHH: Obviously, most authors know the difference. That’s why they’re called typos, but that doesn’t matter to the reader. They’ll forgive your first mistake, maybe even your second.

CAP: Soon, though, you’ll start to sound like a black-toothed hillbilly, spinning tales of pig grease.

BHH: I think I hear a banjo in the distance, Chris.

CAP: That’s right, you do. And the reader will too.

JAMI: Actually I think that’s the Swamp Thing’s cousin…or maybe the Prankster Duo is practicing, either way, I get it!

CAP: The easiest way to spot these errors immediately on the page is to learn to interpret you’re as you are while reading. They’re as they are. Too should be read as well. You’d be surprised how easy it is to retrain your brain, and this alone will knock out 90 percent of the minor typos.

BHH: Absolutely, and did you know that 57 percent of statistics are made up on the spot?

CAP: I did not know that. Thank you.

BHH: Here’s one that I see in my own work as well as my clients’ work. Words and phrases that belong in The Old Words Home.

CAP: You mean words and phrases like commenced, ace in the hole, forthwith, bump in the night, toiled—

BHH: Exactly. Commenced was fine when Saroyan used it, but there are less clunky ways to get your point across now. Check your manuscript. Ask yourself if the language is fresh. If you spot a tired word or phrase, send it to the Old Words Home. Don’t worry. They’ll have nurses and shuffleboard, and you won’t have to deal with those words in your writing.

CAP: That’s not the same as The Word Spa. I actually have a file for that on my computer, and I know you do. That’s where you send your wonderful scenes and speeches that really don’t belong where you put them. They may not even belong in the book you are writing, but they are wonderful enough that you know you can use them one day. Send them to the Word Spa. They’ll get massages and pedicures and be perfect as ever when you’re ready for them.

JAMI:  Hmmm…a day at the spa…maybe I need to become one of those words…think of the pampering…

BHH: When editing, don’t forget to always focus on to-be verbs as well. Is, was, were. Usually, when you see these gems in your manuscript, you’ve probably created a weak sentence construction, which forces you to use a dreaded ING verb. For example:

Jenna was trying to behave.

Now look at the alternative.

Jenna tried to behave.

CAP: See the difference. Fewer words, more flavor. Problem solved.

BHH: Each time you see the dreaded was word, ask yourself if you can replace it with a power verb. I think this brings us to our overall point. I was an editor for many years, and even the best of us miss typos sometimes. So how can you be expected to catch everything and be objective when you wrote the manuscript?

CAP: We’re not saying that it’s easy, but it’s necessary. If you self-publish, and most modern writers probably will at some point, you have the added burden of dozens of jobs that publishers used to take care of. Hell, even if you land a deal with one of the big six publishers, you’ll soon learn that they’re not tolerant of sloppy work. Neither are agents. You have to learn to edit yourself. Plain and simple.

BHH: That still doesn’t cover one of the biggest problems authors face. Mental fatigue. It occurs when we’ve read certain passages in our work too many times, and our brains start filling in ghost words and punctuation that isn’t there.

CAP: Or when our minds cover up garbage that is there, and we read it differently than it actually appears on the page.

BHH: Here are some old tricks, and some new ones, that we use to keep a fresh eye. Hands down, the best ways to catch typos is to read out loud because it forces you to use different parts of your brain. Not only will you see more errors, but troublesome sentences become obvious when you speak them.

CAP: Another excellent way to catch typos is to print your book out and read from that. Or if you have an e-reader, convert your Word document and do a sweep on your Kindle or Nook. That will also change the way the type appears in front of you and force you to see things differently.

BHH: That way, your reader can focus on your killer story, instead of the errors in your punctuation. One of my students tells me she actually has the creepy Kindle robot voice read her story back to her. She says that makes it easy to pick out the awful stuff.

What about you? Tell us your favorite editing tips, and that will enter you into a drawing for a copy of DIGITAL INK.

Jami:  Huge thanks to Bonnie and Chris for this post! I know many *cough—Eerie* will benefit from this advice.  Remember—‘Let’s eat Grandpa’ and ‘Let’s eat, Grandpa’ have two very different results!

Bonnie Hearn Hill is the author of six thrillers and four young adult books as well a nonfiction title. www.bonniehhill.com.

Christopher Allan Poe, a Los Angeles-based touring musician, is the author of THE PORTAL, a paranormal thriller, and co-author, with Bonnie, of DIGITAL INK: WRITING KILLER FICTION IN THE E-BOOK AGE. www.christopherallanpoe.com. Their website is www.digitalinkbooks.com, and they welcome questions from readers.

A Visit with Adriana Ryan…

Welcome back everyone! Nice to see you all here. Today’s guest is the fabulous Adriana Ryan, so stop snickering and singing over there, Muses and focus. Put those damn flowers down, you all are embarrassing me.

Swamp Thing stop handing out those stupid plants! Mischievous, go drag Eerie away from that Venus Flytrap, it’s not his friend. Prankster Duo, release the Piranha Hummingbird and sit!

Adriana traveled all this way, you motley crew, so the least you can do is give her your attention.

*chaos drops to muted rumblings*

Thank you. Now, without further ado I give you Adriana Ryan, the most awesome author of Enlightened Book 1 of The Awakened Series and Her Heart’s Desire.

Pinterest for Spooky Inspiration!

By Adriana Ryan

Unless you’ve been trapped in a wormhole (or are a writer on deadline), you’ve heard of the internet sensation that is Pinterest. Pinterest is a great tool for filmmakers, photographers and others in the visual arts, of course, because it lets you advertise your wares. However, it can also be a great visual dose of inspiration for those of us who pen fiction.

The creepy pictures you see in this post are all courtesy of Pinterest. Wouldn’t it be amazing to have a board full of spooky pictures? Imagine all the monstrous tales you could create!

I’m currently working on book two of my Awakened series. I can’t go into details because I don’t want to list any spoilers, but I needed to look up female demons for inspiration for one of my scenes. I just scrolled through Pinterest one evening, and within five minutes, I had scads of material to base my scenes on (and also for nightmares to last me through the century).

Another great use for Pinterest? A visual story prompt. Scroll through the front page until you find an eye-catching picture. Then, using a thousand words or less, challenge yourself to create a story worthy of it. What is happening in the picture? To whom? Why?

Now, the only caveat is: Pinterest in addictive! Use at your own risk.

Adriana Ryan writes spunky supernatural fiction in beautiful Charleston, SC. She is currently at work on an urban fantasy series. A huge fan of spooky stuff and shoes, she enjoys alternately hitting up the outlet malls and historic graveyards.

         You can find her at: http://adrianaryan.com                                                     

On Facebook at: http://www.facebook.com/AuthorAdrianaRyan

On Twitter at: http://www.twitter.com/adrianaryansc

On Pinterest at: http://pinterest.com/adrianaryansc/

IT’S HERE! SHADOW’S SOUL!

DRUM ROLL PLEASE!

Today is the official release day for Shadow’s Soul!  The exciting follow-up to Shadow’s Edge by moi, Jami Gray!

Even though I’m out roughing it with the other Evil 7, without electronic interruptions so my Muse can focus, I had to share the exciting news!

So drop everything and go pick it up!

Here, I’ll even give you the links:

Black Opal Books

Amazon

Just so you have an idea of what you’re getting…here’s a teaser (because yes, I’m cruel that way!)…may it whet your appetite for more!

But before I do: remember next week’s guest is Adriana Ryan so make sure you pick up all your falling body parts so she won’t trip when she’s over!

CHAPTER 1

Blood dripped into her eyes. Raine McCord raised a hand to brush it away, smearing the warm wetness across her face. The world shimmered feverishly around her, sunlight glinting off the snow draped forest. She stumbled over a fallen log. Pain screamed through tattered nerve endings and down her right leg before the overload caused it to go limp. Collapsing to her side, she tried to protect her right shoulder, which was singing its own chorus of agonies. With a groan, she used her left hand to push herself up to her knees.

She knelt, head down, eyes closed, trying to breathe through the never-ending dizziness. She had to keep moving. Struggling to lift her heavy head, she forced her eyes open so she could focus on the ground ahead of her. You’re dead if you don’t move, Raine! her mind screamed. Faint whimpers and the sound of ragged breathing filled her ears as she dug her bloodied hands into the wet, cold dirt. Dead leaves and fallen twigs scraped against her tender palms. The chill from the patches of snow still clinging to the forest floor under the white barked trees barely made a dint in the pain.

Inadvertent sounds fell like whispers on the icy air as she pulled her battered body along the ground. Somewhere a branch cracked, jerking her attention behind her. Only drag marks denoted her path, looking as if they’d been made with scarlet paint. Forcing her attention forward, she blinked. Her vision wavered between gray and bright white. She aimed for the large, dark shape looming just out of reach.

Inch by agonizing inch, she made her way forward. The indistinct shape came into focus. It was the remains of a large tree, large enough to hide behind. Reaching the dubious protection, she managed to crawl behind it before her arms and knees gave out, sending her face first into the cold, wet earth. The winter forest was strangely silent. Each slow movement torture, she pulled her knees to her chest and curled into a ball.

Quiet. She had to be quiet. Stuffing her fist against her bruised lips, she muted the soft pain-filled noises coming from her abused throat. The rattling shivers from earlier had been replaced by a bone deep weariness. She might freeze to death, but she couldn’t find the strength to care. Closing her eyes, she let the swirling darkness and cold drag her under.

***

Her dreams included strangely soothing chants and curiously subdued drumming. It was a new experience. Generally, her nightmares involved cages, mad scientists, and monsters. At least the forest motif remained familiar. Rough edges dug into her spine. Trying not to be obvious, Raine reached behind her and found—tree bark? Slitting her eyes open, she was met with a curtain of dark, matted hair. Hazy light filtered through the strands. She rolled over. Her hair slid away to reveal a lattice work of branches above her with leaves dancing in the soft green light. Something was off. Something beside the fact she was lying at the foot of a freaking huge tree. The towering branches swayed hypnotically. There was no wind. How did leaves dance without wind?

Gingerly she sat up, brushing her hair out of her face and snagged her hand on a twig. Pulling the tangled mass forward, she found crushed sticks and leaves snared in the inky strands. Flowing white sleeves fell back from her arms as she pushed the mess back.

White? Flowing? What the hell? She didn’t own a white, flowing anything. Jeans, leather and steel, that’s what she was comfortable in.

The crackling of dried leaves heralded the arrival of a new player. All thoughts of the weird clothing disappeared as she instinctively moved into a crouch, reaching for her weapons. A streak of panic hit when she found nothing.

All she could do was wait. It didn’t take long before a wolf emerged from the shifting shadows. Its amber gaze was strangely calm as it padded forward then sat, like a dog. Not once did its attention waver. No dog she knew had fur blending from white to gray to black. She slowly eased back until the great oak pressed against her spine, not once breaking eye contact with the waiting animal.

Unsure of where she was, she dropped the mental barrier she held for protection between herself and the everyday world. Her senses flared to life. Thanks to her Fey heritage she could feel the presence of the natural magic in the fauna around her, a steady ebb and flow of life. If she really wanted, she could dig a little deeper and paint that energy with a visible palette of colors. A recently discovered talent which had nothing to do with her bloodlines and everything to do with her time spent as a lab rat.

She reached for her magic, only to have it slip through her psychic fingers like mist. Startled, she tried again while the strange wolf continued to watch her. The result was frustratingly the same. “What the hell?” she muttered.

Feeling behind her she dug her physical fingers into the rough edges of the tree bark. That was definitely real. She eyed the wolf, possible options cascading through her mind. Escape or confront?

As if reading her mind, the wolf gave her a canine grin full of very pointed teeth. The taunt was clear.

She snorted. “Yeah right, Mr. Big Bad Wolf. Do I look like I’m wearing a little red hood?” She was surprised at how hoarse her voice was. Only one thing had ever made her throat this raw. Problem was she couldn’t remember anything requiring that much screaming.

“Red would not be your color, Raine,” a female voice mocked. Raine jerked her head up so fast everything did a slow, stomach-churning spin. Once her vision settled, she was able to refocus on her surroundings. Other than the wolf and the tree behind her, everything else was shrouded in shadows and mists.

“You need to come back.” A woman stepped out of the shadows. Moving to stand beside the wolf, she scratched behind one gray ear. The woman was tall, taller than Raine’s own five-foot-five frame by a good couple of inches. Various shades of blonde were drawn into a simple braid. Deep brown eyes sparkled with some inner amusement. “You can’t stay here.”

“I don’t know where here is.”

The blonde tilted her head in a strange bird-like manner. “Here is where you go to heal, to get away from the rest of the world. Think of it as your own personal garden of Eden.”

Raine couldn’t stop the snort of disbelief or the bitter twist of her mouth. “This is the first time my Eden doesn’t look like hell, so I’m not so sure this is all my doing.”

Impatience passed over the strong-boned face. “Regardless, you need to go back now.”

The snappy tone didn’t sit well with Raine. Rising from her crouch, she hid the shakiness of her legs with a sneer. “How am I supposed to get back?”

This place set her teeth on edge and getting out of here was priority number one.

Frustration tightened the woman’s lips. “Don’t you know how to do this?” Her voice was sharp, impatient. “It’s your spirit you’ve trapped here. You have to make the decision to come back to yourself. If you don’t, you’re going to die.” Her braid slid over her shoulder when she crossed her arms. A flash of comprehension passed over her face. “Ah. Perhaps that’s what you want then?”

Raine found her hands clenching into fists at her sides. Her instincts were screaming that danger was barreling toward her. “If this is my Eden, who the hell are you?”

“Tala Whiteriver, and you, Raine McCord, are dying.” Tala’s voice was melodic, yet there was something in the undertones which sent shivers down Raine’s spine.

The woman turned, her voice floating back to Raine. “Follow then, if you have the courage.”

The last was a challenge. Rising to its feet, the wolf stood, its tongue lolling out in obvious canine laughter. Tala’s figure disappeared into the thick surrounding shadows. The wolf began to follow his mistress into the haze.

Not one to ever back down, Raine stepped away from the sheltering tree. As she moved near the gray shifting shadows, the drums and chanting came back. At the edges of the glade, they became insistent, driving. A few more steps and she was in the mist of dark shadows

Missing the Blog Train…

Sincerest apologies! Totally dropped the dagger on the blog post for last week–and honestly, I have no excuse.  Even the fact that the Prankster Duo have revved up their antics, the Hellhound has decided to start expierementing with strange growths near his butt, the Knight in slightly muddy armor has been fending off the dragons single handedly, and me…I don’t think I’ve slowed down since the week prior.

Summer is when the temps rise, so you laze around a body of water (hopefully flying kola free), drink something cold and fruity (maybe a new blush from the Werewolf Monastary), and watch the days pass on by while Swamp Thing’s new and decidely more colorful garden blooms.  Right?

Wrong.

Summer is when you realize that although every other Swamp resident may get to sleep in, you’re SOL.  Because as soon the sun starts to burn off the miasma of Zombie stench, you should have already:

hunted down breakfast for the Hellhound and presented it to him, making sure your presentation is up to Gordan Ramsey levels, because if it’s not you and the entire neighborhood will be forced to listen to his displeasure.
made sure Knight’s armor is still slightly muddy, plus make sure he was able to find not only his lunch, but his assorted weaponary before he takes the loyal steed out for his next adventure.
confirmed that Eerie’s Zombies did not breach the perimeter security during the night and invite Grandpa and Grandpa Wizard to participate as snacks (‘Let’s eat grandma & grandpa!’ takes on a whole new meaning when it’s moaned!).
yell at the computer as it slowly decides to find an electronic signal in North Timbuktu so I can do my quick pop in/pop out to all the overwhelming social venues I am now indentured to for the next eternity.
straighten up the shack, including but not limited to, putting away the stack of dishes that have re-populated during the evening hours (I so don’t want to know what those dishes are really up to in the wee hours!), push/pull the Prankster Duo from their nesting spots with minimum of cursing, try to find the other boot that disappeared between taking it off and getting up (damn poltergeists!), shoving the detrius that is determined to conquer the entire cabin behind the boys’ doors, and then…
discuss, rationally, the pros and cons of sugar coated sugard versus fruit and oats as a nutritional requirement for growing males.

And that’s just the first 30 minutes.  It growing like a snowball of doom after that.

So the fact that I’ve been buried under the avalache of “responsibilities” has put some serious hurdles into getting Shadow’s Moon some alone time.  I’ve managed to re-write the first couple of chapters three (or is it four?) times now, but think Xander’s finally decided to settle down a bit and share.  Considering the annual trip of the Evil 7 (we’re currently at 8, but unlike Snowhite and the Huntsman, we haven’t decided which one gets to take the arrow yet!), is quickly decending, I CAN NOT WAIT!

Think about it…4 blissful days of no internet (except for research, of course!), no phones (did you know cell phones have off buttons?), no TV (no hardship there, it’s why DVR’s were invented) and no outside responsibilities to pull me away from my fantasy world and the nightmares that inhabit it!  Plus, there is enough food to feed a small garrisson of trolls, witty humor with others who understand the necessity of demonstrating the proper techinques behind breaking necks and can intellecutally debate the merits of various herbal poisons and sharp, pointy weapons.  Ah…nirvana!

Plus, the cherry on top?  Shadow’s Soul is set to hit shelves on JUNE 23rd!

All of this is what will get me through the next week…then I’ll be back and we’ll chat again!

So BZZZZ BUSY!

So looked at my calendar and realized that OMG I NEED TO GET A POST DONE!  So huge apologies for the very brief post this week but man, oh man, has it been busy. Small fires flaring up everywhere, the Prankster Duo turning my hair gray (not like it had far to go), and then just hours ago realizing that the third revision of chapter 2 for book 3 must be re-written.

And here’s why Chapter 2 is up for another rewrite and a small peek into a writer’s brain–

You have a rogue werewolf who’s chasing down his ex-girlfriend who’s dumped him and was out clubbing with friends before hooking up with a new guy.  Furball takes exception to the rival and leaves him in a bloody heap, not breathing.  Then proceeds to corner ex in a club.  There they argue and she turns her back on him and walks away. Now, what’s more believable?

A.  Furball gets mad, Xander confronts him and he proceeds to head to the alley and the rumble between him and Xander ensues.  This means the humans are still in the dark about the existence of shifters.

or

B.  Furball gets mad, Xander confronts him and he proceeds to lose control tearing apart the varied humans around him causing a panic which limits Xander’s ability to reach him.  When she finally does, they rumble admist a screaming storm of body parts and panicking humans.  Now Division gets called in, Warrick the Alpha gets called in and it’s one big cluster.

So which makes more exciting reading?

Yep, I’m with you..so back to the drawing board and we’ll start drafting Version B.

*SIGH*  Even with an outline this book is being a stubborn ass from the get go.  Just when I think I have it all figured out, my characters snicker, slap me across the face and dash away.

I love being a writer…

PS: I’m hanging over at Marcia James’s place for the James Gang…swing over and visit!

Give a Great Swamp Welcome to Alison Stone…

Okay everyone, settle down and take a seat. 

Eerie, one of your Zombie’s is munching on the Hellhound’s tail.  Mischevious and Adile, if you two don’t knock it off, I’m tying a boulder to your tails and dropping you in Dreamer’s moat.  Smokey, you’re creating a haze even Snarky can’t cut through.  Quirky, could you open that window behind my Knight? Let’s get some Swamp Gas in here.  Prankster Duo, for the love of Pete would you please stop trying to get Angel Boy to launch from the ceiling beams!

Finally! Are you all ready?

Great, so be good and give it up for our guest-the most awesome Alison Stone!  Her debut novel, Random Acts, is now available so afterwards, we’re doing a trip to the bookstore!

  Listen up and find out how she got sucked into the crazy world of writing…

Why do I write?

I ask myself this question every so often. Like when I’m stuck on a plot point or when I’d rather be reading or watching TV or cleaning the toilet… Yes, some days it seems like I’d rather be doing anything other than writing. So, why do I do it?

Is it for the money? (Okay, you over there, stop laughing.) Even if they don’t admit it, I think most writers hope their book will be the next big thing. But who can actually predict these things?  I’d settle for a nice income, never mind a seven-figure income. Yet, if it’s income I’m truly after, why write? I could go back to my former career as an engineer and make far more money than I do as a writer. However, an office job wouldn’t give me the flexibility I have as a writer. Don’t get me wrong, I work long hours crafting my stories, but I’m home if my kids need me for something—like a ride or dinner. J

But why write? Is it because I have the burning desire to tell a story? I can’t say I have one particular story that needs to be told. Rather I have a lot of ideas bouncing around my head. Once the idea to try writing took hold, I couldn’t let go. There is something about the challenge of writing and fitting all the pieces of the story puzzle together (I write romantic suspense) that intrigues me. It occupies my mind.

The other night my husband and I went out for dinner and we discussed my new career. My debut novel, Random Acts, had just been released. I told him how I really hoped this new career would provide income to help send our children to college. Then, like usual, I started to doubt myself. Wouldn’t my time be better spent working at a job that paid me an hourly rate or one that paid a salary? My awesome husband equated my budding writing career to starting a business. My husband, an engineer, told me one of his co-workers quit to start a machine shop. He has the expense of a new building, machines and salaries. My writing career is also a new venture, but my overhead is low. I have the expense of my laptop and my time. I love the analogy. I have worked hard over the years to build a solid foundation. From here, I need to continue to produce quality books and build my readership. I am excited my second book, Too Close to Home, is coming out on August 7th. I also have other books in the works. From here, I will grow my business.

Writing is one of the most challenging things I’ve ever done. A few years ago, shortly after I signed with my wonderful agent, I received a crushing rejection from a New York publishing house.  This was not the first time my work had been passed up to the senior editor for possible acquisition only to be rejected, albeit with a “good rejection.”

The editor raved about my “clean writing style” and she was “eager to get Alison under contract and happy to read anything she submits.”  But this was the third time I had come so close, but yet so far. I was ready to throw in the towel, when my wonderful friend and critique partner—who always gave it to me straight— sent me his e-mail:

If an editor said “I’m eager to get her under

contract” I would have swooned. Do people still swoon? You’ve got it, kid. Don’t give up. At the very least, what a model for your kids on what it takes to succeed. Am I blowing smoke up your derriere? Nope. Close only counts when people use it as an excuse to bow out. Look at the many writers who struggled. I’m talking good writers who managed to believe in themselves no matter what. There are too many fools out there who make it because they are blind to their own BS. You just need to find your own unique voice, blend it to the “smooth, clean writing style.” 

This e-mail is over three years old, but it still sits in my inbox. I write because I enjoy it. I write because I hope to have a solid career. I continue to write even when the mountain seem insurmountable because I want to show my kids that sometimes you have to work hard—very hard—to achieve your dreams.

Much thanks to Alison for braving our Swamp and visiting with us!

 

Alison Stone graduated with a degree in industrial engineering from Georgia Tech. After working in Corporate America for a number of years, she retired to raise her young family. Soon the writing bug bit. After years of conferences, critique groups and writing, Alison sold two manuscripts that will be released in 2012. She claims it was easier to earn her engineering degree. Random Acts is her debut novel. To learn more about Alison Stone please visit www.AlisonStone.com.

Check out Random Acts…

Second chances can have a terrible sense of timing.

As a child, watching her mother always pick the wrong man left Danielle Carson wary of opening her heart to anyone—except Patrick Kingsley. But circumstances came between them and left Danielle with a broken heart. Now she buries the pain of what might have been by channeling all her energy into her career. When a family crisis brings her back to her hometown, she is forced to face the past—and the disturbing fact that her sister’s car accident was staged to mask a brutal beating.

A police officer and widower, Patrick guards his heart as fiercely as he guards his beloved daughter. Seeing Danielle again unexpectedly reignites their old flame, but no way will he introduce a woman into his daughter’s life. Certainly not one whose values on faith and family are so different from his own.

Despite their best intentions, they are drawn together—until Danielle learns Patrick had a hand in putting her sister in harm’s way. Her fragile trust is crushed, but Patrick is the only man who can help her stop the villain before everything they both love is destroyed. Faith, family…and their second chance at forever.

Run, don’t walk, and get your copy now!  Available at:

Samhain Publishing: http://store.samhainpublishing.com/alison-stone-pa-1705.html

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Random-Acts-ebook/dp/B00795G1X4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1334076604&sr=8-1

Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/random-acts-alison-stone/1108890294?ean=9781609288242&itm=1&usri=alison+stone

Kobo: http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/Random-Acts/book-OSXUgDoMQ0aVm-JoFxmVXg/page1.html?s=QoeSfSCRk0m4in6w2_-prQ&r=1

Also available at Sony and iTunes.