Beth Alvarez's Blog, page 4

How my book got too long

At the beginning of August, I made a decision regarding the next book in Spectrum Legacy. At the time, I had written about 45,000 words for Paragon of Shadow after working on it since Paragon of Light came out. I previously shared the fruit of my 15-day personal writing challenge, where I set a goal of writing 50,000 words for this book. After thinking about the story all summer, the words came easily, and when I got to the end of my writing challenge and had more than doubled the length of the book, I was confident I was near the end. A few more days to write and it would be finished, last quarter off to my editor, and on we’d go to the next story.

That was the idea, anyway. Not quite what happened. A month and another 44,000 words later, the book is done, but how did the writing run so long when I’m normally really good at projecting how long a book will be when finished. When I assembled a quick index card outline for The Witch and the Wyrm, for example, I guessed it would be between 45,000 and 50,000 words long when it was done. Guess how long the finished book was?

48,723.

The first draft was a little shorter, but well within that 45k to 50k range. I know I tend to under-write, so my books will grow a little from the final draft, and I plan accordingly. If I need to hit a minimum goal, as I sometimes do when I want all the books in a series to be roughly the same length, I try to outline appropriately and break down my outline based on how long I think each section will take me to achieve. It’s a method that has never let me down before, so what happened this time?

Easy enough to explain.
I forgot stuff.

Not just in the respect that I forgot some plot threads until the last second and had to go back and work them in, but I also woefully underestimated the amount of time it would take to move characters around to wherever they needed to be. For example, while a lot of travel scenes can just be skipped, the POV character crossing the entire country on foot is a big enough happening that it needed a few paragraphs or two to explain how it was even possible.

Another big failure was a simple underestimation of how long it would take to cover some of the big things that happened, and also failing to account for the emotional fallout the characters would suffer after each big hit. All of those things deserved more space on the page than I had allowed them in my outline, which is why by the time I got to 70,000 words, I was just starting to hit the stuff I’d planned for the midpoint.

The end result was conveniently even, though, because it’s not like I missed these things only in one spot. It was consistent throughout my outline, so the story pacing was ultimately the same as what I planned at the beginning.

The biggest downside is that it put me behind on my intended writing schedule. I was supposed to start writing the final book in the series this month, but instead, I’ll be working through edits on this one. Not the end of the world, since everything is still overall on track: Paragon of Shadow will be out in November, and the final book will most likely be out in the spring, so the publication timeline hasn’t changed at all.

It does mean I won’t be done with writing the series by January, though, which was part of my big plan for 2025, so I guess I’ll have to do some re-evaluation… especially considering I don’t know how long the last book will be, and I need to brace myself for a potential repeat.

I don’t think it will be as long as Paragon of Shadow. I think this one is my longest yet and will stay my longest book in print for quite some time.

Until the next big idea, anyway…

An Exercise in Frustration (Pt. 5)

This is an ongoing companion piece to be read after completing the Snakesblood Saga. Because it takes place during the final chapter of the last book, it will be very full of spoilers. It’s also unedited first draft fluff… just for fun! Read at your own risk, and expect installments no closer together than once a month.

* * * * *

Firal had always prided herself on her independence, but there were some places in her life where having extra hands had been a welcome benefit.

Pinning her hair into place was one of those.

She struggled in front of the mirror for ages before Minna came to her rescue.

“You’ve such curls,” the older woman crooned as she twisted them into tidy shapes and trapped them with pearl-headed pins. “Always so beautiful.”

“And hard to manage,” Firal muttered, though she admitted they were less troublesome here. The island’s humidity had ensured her hair always resembled a black storm cloud tumbling about her head. Here, the air was more dry, and while some strands still escaped to stand free, most had resigned themselves to the orderly life that the Triad expected from her.

“Oh, hush.” Minna swatted her shoulder. “You might fuss about it, but you know someone loves your hair. He’d be just as happy with it rolling around your shoulders like it does, but I think you’ll dazzle him tonight.”

Firal hoped that was true. It was the point, after all—to charm her husband into… something. Now that she sat and stared herself in the eye, she could not tell her reflection what her end goal actually was.

To reclaim what they’d shared before? That was impossible; they weren’t the people they once were.

To be something more than occupants of the same house, perhaps. To find fellowship and camaraderie, to hear thoughts and secrets and smile again.

That felt the most out of reach. She stared at herself in the mirror and her shoulders sank.

Minna paused to examine her in the mirror, then continued. “What’s on your heart that has you looking so forlorn?”

“I feel terribly shallow for saying this, but I don’t think I look like much of a queen without all the jewels I once wore.” Firal had gained a few treasures since she’d sought refuge in the Triad, but it was nothing like the necklaces and diadems she’d had before. Nor were her dresses anywhere as fine. She brushed her hands over the dark silk gown she wore and wondered what color it was. Her first thought was navy, but perhaps it was a dark green, or even just black or deep gray. The evening light made everything look golden and it was not kind to the eye. But it was the cut she found most flattering, so it was what she would wear, regardless of the color.

Little of what she had now was to her taste. None of it had been meant for her and was simply what had been turned up in a moment of need, scavenged from what was on hand at the Spiral Palace or, less comfortably, hidden about Rune’s house.

She knew he had guests. People he was expected to entertain, who he likely did not even consider friends, and it was only proper to have clothing on hand in case of emergencies. One never knew when a formal dinner might lead to problems. Worse still if anyone went riding. Firal had never grown comfortable with horses, but she knew they existed on the property. As she knew of the winding game trails that sprawled through the trees.

But it was still dresses for some unknown woman, and while they had been adjusted by Minna’s deft hand to fit her, their existence had bothered her.

Clearly, she would have to schedule a day to visit a tailor.

Firal tore her eyes from the gown as Minna’s reflection returned alongside her own, and she blushed at the realization the woman had left, letting her sulk over her appearance while Lulu played on the floor. Shame on her; she’d been so caught up in her own vanity that she’d forgotten to be decent companionship.

She opened her mouth to apologize at the same time Minna opened a box. Its contents made her gasp, instead.

Inside, a silver diadem with glittering white jewels rested on a cushion of black velvet.

“Where did you get that?” Firal scarcely breathed the words, lest it disappear like some sort of apparition.

“It was delivered while you washed. Here, let me pin it in your hair.” Minna had it free of its box and atop Firal’s head in a moment, and Firal sat in silence as she fastened it in place.

The next question was where he had gotten it. Or perhaps why. His station as some sort of war hero and the king’s apparent right hand meant such pieces were easily within his reach, but Rune had never been given to excess. Even his manor was testament to that. It was large, but she had gathered its ownership had a story of its own, one she had not been privy to yet. And while its furnishings were fine, they were not unreasonable. Quality, but not lavish. Adequate for his station and not a drop more. The furnishings in the uppermost floor of the house—the part he reserved for himself—were far more modest. As were things in the kitchen, and the study into which he disappeared most nights.

All parts of the house he frequented most often, she noted.

So why, then, would he spend such money on her?

“There we are.” Minna fastened the last pin and stepped back. “See if that’s more to your liking, then.”

Firal turned back to the mirror one last time and didn’t know if she was pleased or disappointed to see that her appearance was far more palatable with the diadem in her hair.

But to not respond would have been rude, after all the effort her companion put into aiding her. “Perfect. Thank you, Minna.” It was not entirely truthful, but she’d grown skilled at stretching the truth in whatever direction she needed, and the praise pleased the old woman.

“Good.” Minna smiled at her, then turned to Lulu. “Look at your mother, isn’t she so pretty?”

The girl’s head lifted, her eyes sparkling bright. “Pretty,” she agreed.

Firal almost blushed.

Then Minna made a sweeping motion with both hands, chasing her away from the vanity. “You go on, then. Your sweetheart will be waiting for you. Little Lu and I will be just fine while the two of you have a night out.”

“Thank you.” Firal slid from her seat and bent to kiss her daughter’s forehead. “And thank you. Be good for Auntie Minna. I’ll be back soon.”

“No sooner than midnight, or it means you’ve not had any fun,” Minna corrected.

Firal wasn’t sure she’d make it that long, but she was willing to try. “I’ll be back,” she repeated, without the promise of time.

She stopped at the door and took in the scene one last time before she made for the parlor. All that remained now was to Call for a Gate, and the rest was just waiting.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~

The Spiral Palace was bustling by the time the mages opened a Gate for Firal. She stepped into a sea of people arriving for what she swiftly surmised was more than just a banquet. Judging by the noise, she was more likely to describe it as a party. But she had been through the palace enough times by now to know where she was meant to go, and the crowds moving toward the ballroom, rather than the dining hall, proved she was correct. There would be food, no doubt, but first there would be socializing to do.

There were no formal introductions for the people who entered, merely a steady flow of the well-to-do and important members of the Royal City’s society between the ballroom and the adjacent banquet hall. In a way, Firal was glad for it. How was she to be introduced? She’d been a queen, recently enough that it felt peculiar to be without a crown. But now she was nothing. An ordinary woman, not even a fully-fledged mage. She had no claim to fame or power, yet here she was, her skirts brushing past the ankles of people with far more standing than she. Strange, she thought, how swiftly her life had gone about in a circle.

The last time she had visited a ball with Rune, she had been in the exact same position—a nobody dancing with a stranger who belonged in that world.

She didn’t know where Rune would be, but she was willing to guess the king had already chased him into the ballroom to socialize.

She was not mistaken.

He was at the far end of the room already, in the thick of things rather than avoiding them. Men clustered around him, unfamiliar in face but recognizable as nobles by the finery they wore. All of them held drinks in their hand, she noted with a hint of displeasure. Not the goblets of fine wine that serving staff carried about on gilded trays, but tiny things of cut crystal that held the sort of strong-smelling amber liquor Rune kept at home.

That would be another subject to discuss as they moved forward, she supposed. She had never known him to drink; somewhere along the line, he had developed a fondness for it that troubled her now.

One step at a time, she told herself. Part of her felt bad to have a list of things about him she wished to fix, but she was quick to chase it away. There would be things about her he would wish to change too, she had no doubt. Besides, that was a vice and it ought to be fixed, either way.

Now was just not the time.

Firal held her skirts just high enough for her to walk, but shy of letting the toes of her silk slippers peek out. She had learned to traverse ballrooms and events with a gliding grace and she employed it now; it let her fit in when she felt she didn’t belong, though it did not keep eyes from falling on her.

That people stared was no surprise. She was an oddity and a mystery here. A queen many of these nobles had heard of, due to her trade arrangements with Vicamros that allowed the Triad to prosper beyond any of the northern countries, yet few had met her—if any. That would have been enough to earn their curiosity. Adding on the fact that she had lost her kingdom and crown and yet still walked among them was sure to fuel gossip, and already she caught soft whispers between nobles as they tried to determine why she had been invited and what value she brought.

She ignored them all. Let them talk; it made no difference to her. As long as her husband wanted her present, she would be there, not caring what anyone had to say.

Only a quarter of the way across the ballroom, a white-bearded gentleman in fine velvet robes stepped into her path. “Ah, Lady Kaim-Ennen! I had not expected you might come on such short notice.”

Half a dozen heads whipped around at the name with which he addressed her. Firal smiled, though she could not keep her brows from climbing toward her hairline. She recalled the man, yet a moment passed before she succeeded in finding his name. “Councilor Parthanus. I happened to be in the Royal City today, so I caught wind of the event early.”

“A delight, to be sure.” He wiped his hands against his robe as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them. Maybe he wasn’t. Was a handshake appropriate? Or were they better off just exchanging pleasantries?

Firal released her skirts, but kept her own hands relaxed at her sides. She wouldn’t give anyone the pleasure of flustering her. At this point, only one man present could do that. “As it is a delight to be here. We’ve been so busy, you know. Settling the new residents of Aldaanan.”

“A large undertaking, but I’ve heard rumors it’s not the first time you’ve had to move a large number of people.” His bushy white brows twitched with interest. “I fear we know very little about your country’s history. I spend a great deal of time volunteering with the library and would love to see our collection on the subject expand, if it interests you? I understand you’re something of a scholar, yourself.”

“I am.” And as fond as she was of libraries, she found herself wishing she could slip away to join her husband. Her eyes traveled to the far end of the ballroom.

He was no longer there.

“Ah, wonderful to hear!” The councilor exclaimed, and Firal realized belatedly that she had not specified which part she was agreeing with. It wasn’t that she didn’t not wish to share her homeland’s history, simply that she did not wish to share it right now. Too late for her to correct it; a light already sparked in the man’s eyes. “Might I introduce you to the head librarian? I suspect the two of you will get along fantastically.” It was a question, yet not at all, for he already motioned for her to move in the right direction.

Firal forced herself to smile again. “Of course.” And any other time, it would have been a pleasure. She glanced up again as the councilor herded her toward a cluster of obvious scholars, but no matter where she looked, Rune was nowhere to be found.

No surprises there, she thought bitterly. Some things never changed, and when she figured out where he went, that would be the first problem they fixed.

46,311

I had 15 days to write in the month of August.

Well, that’s not exactly true–I wrote a little bit all summer long, despite my best intentions to not do that. I always think I’ll be able to schedule time off in summer, then something goes horribly wrong, and then I’m just hobbling along in hopes of staying afloat and knowing I’ll never catch up. This summer wasn’t really any different. My first two book releases of the year ran long, then I had issues in the way of writing, then summer came and all I could do was trudge.

But I didn’t want to trudge through August. I had 15 days that were supposed to be uninterrupted writing time, a scarce commodity the rest of the year, but strangely generous that time. So I set a lofty goal. Maybe a bit silly of a goal.  Why not, I reasoned, dive back into writing with a “full steam ahead” mentality? You know, hit it hard. Like the NaNoWriMo challenges, pushing hard to get tons of words down in a month. Except I didn’t have a month; I had half a month.

Oh well. Surely that would be enough.

So I set out to write 50,000 words in my 15 days of writing. 50k is a lofty month for me any time, but doing it in half the time was… interesting, especially since it only took a few days for things to come up and interfere with my plans to sit at home and do nothing but write for days and days and days.

But for a while, it was just me, Paragon of Shadow, and a kitten on my lap.

Stuff came up. Work got shuffled around. I sacrificed a lot of evenings and weekends were really busy. But I managed to have 14 whole writing days out of my intended 15, and in that time I logged 46,311 words. Since I was aiming for 3,400-ish a day, and my actual word counts varied, that’s roughly one day short… which lines up with my intended goal for 15 days of work.\

I wish I could say that meant Paragon of Shadow was done. Paragon of Fire and Paragon of Water were both right around 95,000 words, but this one is just shy of 95k and still has at least 25,000 left to go before we’re done. Right now, it looks like it’ll be the second longest in the series, coming in right behind Spectrum Blade, which had a lot of ground to cover. If that doesn’t tell you there’s a lot going on in this book, I don’t know what does.

September is a busier month, though, and so my writing pace will be slower, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to finish the book before the end of the month. It just won’t… you know, happen in the span of 7 days or anything crazy like that.

Maybe 21.

A first foray into colorful edges

I first saw people talking about sprayed edges on books a few years ago. It was rare and I’d never seen it outside of creatives who do art on the fore edge of a book. I was intrigued, but not enough to try it. I guess I’m just not that cutting-edge.

Now it seems like books with sprayed edges are everywhere. Bigger authors even get digital prints on the edges of their books, which means they can have pretty much anything put there. But those kind of things take very large print runs, and I am still very small. While I’m currently speaking with a new manufacturer about getting books produced with some attractive extra features, I still don’t have the readership to support very big ventures like that, so I guess it’s time to add a new skill to the list of things I can do.

The concept seemed pretty simple: wrap the covers with paper, tape the edge of the spine, clamp the books between boards, and paint. Well, I already had everything needed for the project, so I figured it would be a great opportunity to practice by making some special hardcovers as thank-you gifts for the wonderful beta readers that helped me develop The Witch and the Wyrm.

The first hitch was that my airbrush decided to do nothing but clog. Unfortunately, that’s just sort of the way airbrushes are, so I decided to give it a go with a regular paint brush instead.

I learned a couple things pretty quickly.

One, don’t use too much tape on the spine. It’s better to get paint on the cover and wipe it off with a cotton swab than to have too much tape and end up with bare spots at the base of the pages.

Two, don’t thin the paint for application by brush.

Three, trying to fix thin spots results in everything turning blotchy. Better get it right the first time.

Only one of those really matters for airbrushing, but I think in the future, I’ll pick up some Tamiya or Vallejo acrylics for painting edges instead of trying to thin regular acrylics.

In the end, though, I think the books turned out well enough, and my betas were delighted by the idea of having the only hardcovers that came with colored page edges.

Combined with the features the new printer I’m planning to work with has to offer for books, I think this spells good things for the future and what kind of special editions I’ll be able to offer.

I’m considering getting more of my books made in hardcover format, but right now, I’m a bit unsure.

Are you more of a hardcover reader or a paperback person?

An Exercise in Frustration (Pt. 4)

This is an ongoing companion piece to be read after completing the Snakesblood Saga. Because it takes place during the final chapter of the last book, it will be very full of spoilers. It’s also unedited first draft fluff… just for fun! Read at your own risk, and expect installments no closer together than once a month.

* * * * *

For a long time, the click of Firal’s shoes against the pavement was the only sound between them. She wasn’t sure whether to envy the near-silence of Rune’s boots or wish the noise of the city would rise enough to make conversation impossible. If nothing else, it might take her mind off the oddity of not hearing him move. He’d always been the one who clicked, the tap of his claws against the ground bringing a steady cadence she’d grown to find comforting. The boots had to be more comfortable, but she admitted she missed the sound.

It was only once they moved onto a less occupied street that his voice broke the still. “You’re allowed to say that was awful.” There was such a dryness to his tone that it almost made her laugh.

“It was… fruitful,” she said instead.

His lack of response indicated he did not agree.

Firal couldn’t blame him. It had produced a lot of awkward questions, which were sure to spawn awkward conversation. It had produced the paperwork she carried, too, and given they were both intended to study it before their next meeting with Setta, she was sure it would be filled with awkward experiences too.

Not that she knew if they were meant to study it together. Nor was she certain when Rune would be free to join her in study. He had refrained from opening the latest summons from the king until their session was over—she didn’t know when it had been delivered or how long he’d put it off—but the way his jaw had tightened when he read the note made it clear the way he had shirked his responsibilities of late would no longer be tolerated. For all she knew, he would be kept in the capital for weeks, and what good would Kytenia’s advice be then?

He said nothing else, so she took the papers in both hands and cleared her throat.

“Don’t read that out—” he started, but she’d already made up her mind.

“’Methods of Intimate Communication and How to Use Them,’” she announced.

Rune grimaced. “I am perfectly capable of intimate communication, thank you.”

“Oh, is that so? You feel you know all about…” She trailed off as she scanned the rest of the page. “’The Importance of Verbal Reassurance’ and how it may be best applied?”

“I am verbally reassuring you that I do not need a counselor’s handwritten guide for how to speak nicely to my wife.”

Firal snorted a laugh. “I don’t think she hand wrote this herself. What about ‘The Act of Giving as a Sign of Remembrance?’”

“I believed I remembered you would need to be given somewhere to live,” he replied mildly, though a hint of amusement rose in his voice. Good; she wanted him to laugh.

She smiled. “Oh, you’ve mastered all of it already, have you? What about ‘Forging Emotional Intimacy by Proximity and Touch?’”

His expression faltered.

That one had been a wrong choice. Foolish; a lack of proximity had been one of the driving issues in the difficult conversation they’d only just finished. But he caught himself fast, and when she looked at him again, his face was calm.

Maybe it would be wise to try and bridge that gap. Her hand twitched with a longing to take his, but she held it still. Instead, she lowered the papers and gazed ahead. “It’s perfectly normal, you know. Nobles keeping separate bedchambers.”

That was wrong, too, for the corners of his mouth twisted with distaste. “Is that how you did it?”

Firal flinched. He’d asked so little about the marriage she’d had after him. It was easy to surmise that he preferred to pretend it didn’t exist. But it was one of the blocks that stood between them, at least according to Setta; they’d have to climb over it sooner or later. “Well, no.” She wanted to fidget, but there were the papers in her hands, and she did not want to muss them. She settled for lining up their edges a little better. “But our situation was unusual in every way. What about your father?”

Rune’s snort was difficult to decipher. Annoyance? Pity? Scorn? “They were about as separate as we’ve been, living in completely different countries. There were no other women in my father’s life. When it became clear his wife wouldn’t have him, that was it.” Then he paused, and the corners of his eyes grew pinched as he gazed ahead. “He was… a better man than me.”

And that was a wound she hadn’t meant to reopen. Not for him, and not for herself. Her jealousy over the matter was absurd. The circumstances leading to both situations had been a mistake, but she had remarried; he never had. With all he’d built for himself in the Triad, it was a wonder he’d remained alone, clinging to some fragile hope that what he’d lost might be restored. Even now, he threw himself into their renewed relationship with a vigor she both admired and envied—but there was still a gap of comfort and closeness they had not bridged.

It had been foolish to think returning to the way things were would be easy.

She puzzled over how to reply for a long time before she settled on, “I don’t blame you, you know.”

Again, he snorted. “You should.”

“It was a long time to be apart. A quarter of our lives thus far, looking back on it. And so little time together beforehand—”

“Did that make it easy for you? That it was just a few months, so it was easy to leave behind?” He never looked at her, his gaze always fixed on the Spiral Palace ahead.

“Well, no.” In truth, it had been the hardest decision she’d ever made, and one she’d second-guessed a thousand times both before and after she’d made it. It had been the right decision for her own safety. For the safety of their child. And it had been politically wise, allowing her to tap into the reputation of a well-regarded family with long-standing ties to the crown. It had certainly helped her win over the city, and the late king’s council had been more willing to accept her because of it. Ennil had not been a good man, but he had been a good leader, and she often doubted she would have settled the uproar in Ilmenhith without his guidance.

In the grand scheme of things, marrying the man’s son for appearances had been a small sacrifice to make.

Rune opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. Closed it like the rest of himself, shut off from anything she could see or reach.

She didn’t know why it took her by surprise. He’d always been that way, walled up and shut tight, holding everyone at bay. But he’d let her in before, and being on the outside again was a sore reminder of how badly she’d betrayed his trust.

More things they’d have to discuss, eventually.

As soon as she figured out how to get him to speak at all.

She shuffled the papers in her hands and changed the subject. “What was in that letter? The one from Vicamros?” She still struggled to know how to speak of the king. They had been allies for years, but she had no power now and they were no longer equals. Including his title when she spoke of him felt odd after years of omitting it, but perhaps she would be pardoned. Rune certainly didn’t shy away from addressing the king by first name. Or raising hands against him.

Truly, she did not understand how Rune related to people at all.

“An urgent request for my presence this evening. A surprise visit from western dignitaries to discuss a trade agreement that hasn’t gone well. They’re coming by Gate this afternoon and Vicamros is hosting a banquet in their honor this evening, ahead of negotiations tomorrow.” The face he made told her enough of what he thought of that.

She rather agreed. “I don’t think feeding them first is going to make them more agreeable.”

“No, but it gives Cam a chance to flex his power and show he won’t be intimidated. He’s mild mannered, but he is an emperor, even if he doesn’t like the title.” Rune shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. Maybe to him, it didn’t—he had earned a number of luxuries beneath the Triad’s crown, and his reputation with the people meant they would not easily be stripped. “The Triad has only grown under his rule, and it shows no sign of its expansion slowing.”

“It doesn’t strike me as the sort of empire that continues to push its borders outward,” Firal murmured.

“I don’t think he plans for it, but Cam is the sort of ruler who won’t tolerate impertinence from the outside. If someone raises a blade against him, they’d best be ready to see their country flattened and claimed. The skirmishes along the eastern edge of Roberian are proof enough of that.”

“Impertinence from the inside is certainly treated differently,” she said with a hint of a smirk.

To that, Rune replied with a sly half-smile.

There; she’d finally gotten a bit of emotion from him. Her own smile warmed, but she could not hold it for long. “I suppose that means you’ll be away from home for several days. What will you need me to tend to while you’re absent?”

He paused outside the Spiral Palace’s gates and looked at her with his brows knit. “What do you mean?”

Firal shuffled her papers again. Why did he have to stop there? Out in the streets, where they were still surrounded by strangers? “You’ll be busy here, won’t you? And I’ll return to the manor, and—”

“I want you here,” he said before she could finish. “I want you with me. Tonight.”

Her brows climbed before she could catch herself. It was as close to a proposition as he’d ever come, but he seemed to realize it, for he winced a moment later and waved a hand as if he could brush those words away and start over.

He tried again. “When the dignitaries are here. I want you here. At the banquet. With me, tonight.”

That was both clearer and somehow more disappointing. “But I don’t know anyone, and Lulu—”

“She’ll be all right,” Rune reassured her. “Minna is with her. She knows we have responsibilities. She’ll understand. You can go to get her settled if you must, but come back afterward. Please.”

The sincerity in that last word took her off guard and she drew back. “Why? Who’s going to be there?”

This time, he grimaced. “Earlier, the counselor said… that is, while I was here, and you were…”

A wave of uncertainty rose through her middle and threatened to choke her. “Just say it.”

Rune bit his lower lip and shut his eyes a moment, then shook his head. “The trade agreement hasn’t gone well because negotiations didn’t go well from the start,” he said, as if that explained anything.

She stared at him, puzzled, while the guards nearby pretended not to see them. “And?”

“The princess of Loriath will be here,” Rune said at last, and the conclusion came with a great frown. “And Vicamros expected me to marry her cousin.”

Firal’s heart dropped and an uncomfortable surge of indignation took its place. Her jaw tightened and she forced herself to unwind the muscle enough to speak. “Give me two hours.”

He studied her face, a pinch of confusion tugging his brows together.

She lifted her chin. “Then, once Lulu is settled and Minna has directions, I shall return. Does that suffice?”

Rune let out such a breath that she thought he might crumple at her feet. “Thank you.”

She gave a stiff nod and led the way onto the palace grounds, every bit a queen.

He thanked her now, but if he thought her presence this evening would bring him peace, he was woefully mistaken.

New covers for the Snakesblood Saga

It’s hard to believe it’s been more than four years since I started releasing that series. Which means it’s been five years since I started drawing the covers. A lot has changed since then!

I think I’ll always love the illustrated covers–they’re some of the best work I’ve ever drawn. But one thing that’s always changing is cover conventions. Even back when I started, epic fantasy and romantic fantasy were already leaning away from having characters or illustrations on the covers. Over the past several years, everything I would have considered a comparable series has had a cover change–or two, in some cases–and all of them went toward typography-based or iconography-based imagery. The end result is that eventually, illustrated covers no longer look like they belong.

A lot of people hear that and say, “Well, it’s good to stand out and be different.” But in practice, it’s a double-edged sword. Yes, a book that does something visually different stands out–but the end result isn’t being eye-catching in a good way. Instead, it looks like it doesn’t belong on the shelf where it’s been placed. So what’s the real result?

People look at it and say, “Oh, I love YA fantasy!”
Because YA continues to have a lot of character-oriented covers… so it works fine for Spectrum Legacy, which is an epic fantasy with teenaged characters. But Snakesblood isn’t YA, won’t pass for YA with all the characters being in their twenties and thirties, and people expecting YA won’t be happy when it’s an adult epic fantasy with strong romantic elements.

So we try something new.  It was tough to choose a direction to go because the series is six books, which heavily limited my options for making covers that tie together. It was also hard because I’m honestly not a huge fan of iconography in book covers. I am a big believer in giving my work the best chance I can, though, so for a bit, we’ll be giving them a try… with a caveat, which I’ll explain below.

Once I finished the first, I shared it with a little focus group, and they all gave it their stamp of approval. So, here we go: The new look for the Snakesblood Saga, and the fruit of many, many hours of design effort, trial, and error.

Now, the caveat: The new covers are, for now, ebook-edition only.
Why?
Because these books are printed through Ingram, and it costs a lot to change paperback covers. I’m all for updating the paperbacks to match if people love the new covers and want them, but it’s something that will happen a little later down the road. Most likely after the last two Spectrum Legacy books go out, because I love those books, but big fat epic fantasies are expensive to produce.

So the paperbacks will be keeping the original illustrated covers for a bit longer.

What do you think of the new look for this series?

A look inside my newest book: The Witch and the Wyrm

Book covers get a lot of hype. I don’t think it’s unwarranted; it’s the first thing you see of any book, the thing that whets your appetite for the story inside, and it plays one of the most important roles in book development. But the more I work on books, the more I find myself enjoying the design elements that go into the book’s interior.

I’ve always liked making them pretty. I made custom graphics for my very first book, and I’ve continued to do something special for pretty much every story I put out. When I released the Artisan Magic books, I experimented with full-page graphics as part of the chapter beginnings. Naturally, I wanted to carry that into the next book, too… which led to a photo shoot for the chapter header pages.

It was one of those rare photo shoots where almost every photo turned out nice. Any one of them could have worked, so narrowing it down to which one was best proved to be a real challenge. I spent a whole afternoon experimenting with the images to decide which photo worked best…

…and eventually settled on one that worked for a dark background with white text. These are popular in indie books, and I’d been itching to try one for ages, so why not now?

Making it line up just right took a little trial and error, but I love the outcome. This was also my first time using drop caps, and I love the effect. Both are things I think I’ll use more in future series.

While I made most of the graphics myself, the lily flourish was one I bought, just because my mind always blanks when it comes to drawing swirls.

The same graphic also makes a beautiful chapter break marker…

…and the lily makes an appearance on the cover, as well, so it helps tie together exterior and interior designs!

I think the easiest part was the title page, which was just the cover text with a few adjustments to make it more legible.

All together, it makes for a beautiful print edition. The paperback and hardcover editions have the same interior, too, so no matter which print edition you choose, it’ll be beautiful inside and out!

…I did mention the hardcover, didn’t I? Maybe that’s another post for later…

The Witch and the Wyrm is now available!

It’s release day!

The Witch and the Wyrm, my very first fairy tale retelling (but my newest romantic fantasy story) is now available in ebook and print versions.

You can get your ebook copy on Amazon now, and if you preordered the book, it should already be available on your device.

It’s also available to read free with Kindle Unlimited, and signed paperbacks can be ordered through my shop.

I really enjoyed working on this fun little book, and I hope you enjoy it, too. If you read it and like it, make sure you leave a rating or review after you’re done – this helps me decide which projects to continue, and if you want to see more fairy tale retellings like this from me, you know I always have more ideas than I have time to write!

Happy reading, and I’ll be back with more book news soon.

An Exercise in Frustration (Pt. 3)

This is an ongoing companion piece to be read after completing the Snakesblood Saga. Because it takes place during the final chapter of the last book, it will be very full of spoilers. It’s also unedited first draft fluff… just for fun! Read at your own risk, and expect installments no closer together than once a month.

* * * * *

Firal stared at the placard above the doorway and wished she could shrink in on herself until she disappeared.

Councilor. Counselor.

She had misunderstood.

Rune stood beside her, no less tense, though she suspected his anxieties stemmed from a different source. At least he’d been prepared for this. He’d been the one to arrange this meeting, one she would have expected if they’d been discussing the same problems at all.

She should have asked. She should have clarified what he wanted to address.

He cast her one hesitant look before he opened the door and motioned for her to precede him.

The room on the other side reminded her of an infirmary more than a receiving parlor, though there were no desks and no one waited inside to greet them.

“Do we just sit down?” she asked in a whisper, unsure she wanted the answer. She would have preferred to run the other direction.

It would have been different if she’d had time to prepare. If she’d known this was coming, that this was what he meant by speaking with someone. Brant’s shaking branches, she didn’t even know what to expect. She was perfectly familiar with the concept, of course; as a healer, she was expected to aid with health of the mind in addition to that of the body. Such a role had never been required of her, though. The people of Core had prioritized improvement of physical health only, and after she’d taken leadership of Ilmenhith, such tasks would have been beneath her.

Rune led her to the simple padded chairs and motioned for her to sit, so she did. From how easily he sank into the seat beside her, she assumed his chair was more comfortable than hers. She sat rigid, perfectly upright, and gripped the small purse she’d brought with both hands. It hosted little more than a notebook, but everything she’d scribbled inside had struck her as important regarding the status of her people—if she could still call them that.

For whatever awaited them here, the notes would be of no use at all.

It was not long before a pleasant-looking woman in spectacles peeked around the corner. “Good afternoon. Are you ready? Come with me.”

Rune stood first. He offered a hand, but Firal rose on her own.

A mistake, perhaps, from the way the woman’s smile shifted.

Counseling. A shudder crawled down Firal’s spine at her own foolishness. Well, perhaps this was best. The sooner they sorted things out, the better.

Belatedly, she realized the woman had addressed them in her tongue.

The two of them followed the woman into a more cozy sort of office, with a couch and chairs and a low table stacked with folded handkerchiefs.

“You speak Old Aldaanan?” Firal asked as she chose a chair over the couch, lest they have to sit with her thigh touching his. Kytenia would be disappointed, but she needed a moment to recover her bearings.

“Yes. It was a specific request made by your husband.” A gleam lit the woman’s eye. “I have to confess I was surprised by the request for marital mediation. For a long time, Lord Kaim-Ennen was viewed as a highly sought-after bachelor. I suppose now we know why no one managed to win his interest. Tea? Either of you?”

“No, thank you,” Rune said.

Firal shook her head at the same time. She barely managed to keep a sour twist from her face. “And will your familiarity with him not interfere with your impartiality here?”

The corners of the woman’s eyes crinkled in a friendly way. “Impartiality is a mediator’s job, and I am well accustomed to working with people of high social standing. Which includes you, my lady. Don’t worry, nothing said here will leave this room, unless you choose to take it with you. Now…” The counselor sat across from them and drew a small lap desk onto her thighs. “My name is Setta, and as you have probably guessed, I will be the one serving as mediator and offering counsel on how to improve your situation. Why don’t you introduce yourselves? In your own words. Not how the Royal City sees or names you. Your name and your role, in your own eyes.”

Easy enough. Firal gripped her purse with both hands. “All right. My name is Firal Tanrys. I am a mage of Kirban Temple and I was queen of the Eldani half of Elenhiise Island before it sank.”
The counselor nodded. “And you?” Her eyes drifted to Rune.

“Rune Kaim-Ennen.” His words rolled free easily, devoid of doubt or uncertainty.
Firal gave him a curious look.

“And what do you do?” the counselor prompted gently.

“Whatever I please.”

The woman’s brows rose. “I see. So, how long have the two of you been together?”

“Together as in married?” Firal asked. “Or do you mean the time spent married and actually together?”

“Several months,” Rune added as explanation before Setta could clarify, “thirty or so years ago.”

Had Firal not had such practice minding her expressions, she would have cringed. “Our union wasn’t recognized by my people.”

“But it wasn’t nullified by mine,” he said with heat in his voice.

Firal motioned for him to settle.

The counselor only wrote a few notes. “It’s not unusual for mages who marry to become estranged, due to their longer lifespan. I’m sure you’re aware of that. This, though, sounds like unusual circumstances. A few months is not much of a foundation, and thirty years…” She shook her head. “You’re certain this is a relationship you want to resume?”

“This doesn’t sound very reconciliatory.” Rune leaned sideways in his chair, a pose Firal had come to recognize as irritation—or an attempt to be irritating.

“Because if you choose to pursue this path and try to improve this relationship, it’s going to be very difficult, and it would be better for everyone if we know this is what you want before we start. So, is it? Your goal is to remain married?” Setta replied to Rune, but her eyes were trained on Firal’s face. Asking for certainty. Promising an escape.

The unspoken suggestion made her skin crawl with a strange sense of guilt. It would be easy to turn away, to walk out, to find a new path. Kytenia would welcome her as a mage in the Grand College, and then…what?

What came after that, when everything was settled and all her dreams had been abandoned? She almost scoffed.

“Yes,” Rune said. Again, the word came so easily, so certainly.

Firal almost hated that confidence, for all that it had been one of the things that first drew her to him.

“You want to remain married?” Setta repeated softly, inviting her to answer.

“It’s the most practical solution,” Firal said.

The shift in Rune’s expression was infinitesimal, but the way the fire in his eyes cooled tore at her heart in a way she’d never expected.

The counselor leaned forward. “That’s very pragmatic, but we aren’t talking about practicality right now. Is this what you want?”

Firal stared back and found her voice failed her.

Setta eased back in her chair. “Lord Kaim-Ennen, may I have a moment to speak with your wife in private?”

He gave no reply and merely stood, his demeanor stiff and formal. He did not so much as look Firal’s way as he silently excused himself from their meeting room.

The counselor watched him go and did not speak again until the door closed at his heels. “Lady Tanrys, I cannot help you if you won’t tell me what conclusion you want. Now please, be candid. What do you want?”

~:~:~:~:~:~:~

Yes.

Yes.

That was all she’d had to say. The word had been at the tip of his tongue, but he hadn’t been asked, and she…blight it all, she’d been the one to suggest this meeting, to look delighted when she’d heard he’d secured one so soon. Yet she couldn’t even tell the counselor if she wanted this?

Rune raked a hand through his hair and held his breath as he pushed through the front door and into the remaining sunlight. The waiting room was too still for him; he needed to feel the wind. It wasn’t strong in the streets of the Royal City, but it brought relief in a way he could not explain. He shut his eyes and focused on that soothing wind.

It called to him, sometimes. It and the sun on his face, the ground beneath his feet. But none of it answered the way it used to. Nothing did in the Royal City, held at bay by a barrier the city’s mages only sort of understood, but even outside it, the power escaped him in ways that were both frustrating and strange.

Yet it still called and called, begging for him to reach out and try to touch them, whispering his name—

“Lord Kaim-Ennen!”

His eyes peeled open as a new wave of agitation flowed through him.

The messenger offered a cheery wave. “His Majesty’s mages said you were down here.”

“His Majesty’s mages should mind their own business and respect people’s privacy.” Rune had always hated how readily the court mages used the tools at their disposal to track him about the city. He couldn’t help his magic or its source, but they could certainly help their nosiness and the king’s desire to keep him close at hand.

Vicamros the First had been the same way.

“Oh. Well, that’s something you can discuss with His Majesty, I suppose.” The young man gave a laugh, unfazed, and extended a sealed envelope. “The king has sent an urgent summons for you.”

Rune ignored it. “The King is more than welcome to have his authorized and unfettered mages send a Calling and then wait for a reply.”

“I believe he said he sent one, my lord, and so he sent this letter instead.” The youth offered the letter more insistently.

Agitated, Rune smacked it away. “Tell Vicamros he can take his letter and shove it—” The door beside him swung open and Rune spun to face the counselor. “—Into the correspondence box in the Gating office.”

Setta glanced between them, her smile tight. “Is this a bad time?”

“No,” Rune and the messenger replied at the same time.

Rune shot the young man a dirty look and snatched the letter out of his hand. “Tell Vicamros he can wait,” he said, a shade more gently than what he’d suggested before. “I’m doing something important.”

“Of course, my lord. We’ll see you at the palace tonight, then.” The messenger beamed at him and trotted on his way.

Tonight? Rune glanced at the envelope and fought back a groan.

The counselor led him back to her office without concern for whatever had just transpired. “We’ll keep things brief today, don’t worry. I have a few more questions for you, and then just a simple assignment you both may take home to read at your leisure. I assume the reading won’t be a difficulty?”

“Certainly not,” Firal said. She wouldn’t look at him as he returned to his chair, though her tone struck him as less steady than before. A curiosity for what had been said in his absence itched in the back of his mind, but there would be time for that.

“Good. Now.” Setta folded her hands in her lap, her little desk back on the table beside her. “This is, perhaps, the most important question I have. Mediation can improve many things, but the two of you are seeking reconciliation after an unusually long time, with very little ground work completed. What does reconciliation look like to you?”

Rune hardly knew where to begin. “There are probably a lot of things to fix.”

“Yes, that’s why you’re here. Do you have any examples?”

At least a hundred. He rubbed the back of his neck and thought of the way Firal had grown pale outside the door, her lips pressed so tightly shut that they’d lost all color, too. That was probably the worst of it. The silence she answered him with, any time something grew difficult. “We—” he started, though the word felt wrong the moment it left his mouth. No; it was hardly her fault. He corrected himself. “I…struggle with clear communication. And making myself approachable.”

“I assumed that would be a challenge,” Setta said.

Had she not just interrupted his short spat with the messenger outside the door, he might have questioned her impartiality, but he’d set himself up for that.

“I want a functional family.” This time, Firal spoke without hesitation. “Preferably one with as little strife as possible.”

“A family with children?” the counselor suggested.

Color rose in Firal’s cheeks and she faltered.

Well, his opinions mattered, too. “More children,” Rune said. “If possible. We already have one, and I’d like her to have a warmer upbringing than I… than we experienced.”

“Is this something you’ve discussed prior to today?”

“Yes, albeit a long time ago,” Firal stared at her hands as she rubbed patterns in the velvet of her purse.

“Good.” Setta smiled and reached for a stack of papers. “I’ll be frank with the two of you. Having a child now would be unwise. They tend to introduce more complications than they fix, but that does give us a reason to discuss one more important factor before I send you off with homework. Let’s take a moment to discuss intimacy.”

To Rune’s relief, he was not the only one who groaned.

How I outline my books with index cards

Over the past couple months, I’ve had multiple people ask how I do the outlining for my books. Rather than trying to explain in words, I figured it would help to show them my index card method.

Despite it being a popular method for a lot of writers to use for outlining, it was something I came up with independently when I was trying to manage a very big fantasy book with a huge cast and lots of tangled plot threads. It worked out incredibly and I’ve been using it ever since, though not so much with my shorter works!

I ultimately made a video about the method, which you can view on my writing-related YouTube channel.

If you have any questions about my method, please do ask! You can leave me a comment here, there, or message me elsewhere if you’re shy. I’ll probably do a follow-up at some point to talk about how I handle the individual character arcs that go on the colored cards, so let me know if that’s something you’re interested in, too.

And of course, subscribing to my second channel helps it grow, so consider that, too.

Until next time!