Melissa Snark's Blog: The Snarkology, page 29

Elemental Storytelling: Tropes in Valkyrie’s Vengeance #UF #amreading

As an author, TV Tropes is my absolute favorite toy and distraction. Countless hours spent on the site have vanished, whiled away as one link leads to another. Click. Click. Click. It’s the greatest menace known to productivity.

Last summer, I happened across The Periodic Table of Storytelling and started playing with the idea of constructing my own novels with the simple molecule model. Those musings led to my inspiration for the Elemental Storytelling event.

Many thanks to Vinny Green at the TV Tropes site for helping to promote the Elemental Storytelling event. My gratitude goes to Kayelle Allen for her hard work in creating the molecule graphics shown in each of the event posts. I’d also like to express my appreciation to Farah Evers Designs for creating the event banner.

I’d like to present my molecule for Valkyrie’s Vengeance, an urban fantasy novel and the first book in my Loki’s Wolves series. Readers interested in reading the story will find the links to download it for free at the end of this post.

 

 

Introducing the Tropes of Valkyrie’s Vengeance

Publisher: Nordic Lights Press

Date Published: Jan. 23, 2015

Genre: Urban Fantasy / Norse Folklore Fantasy

Word Count: 33,000 words

A thirty-year alliance that aligned wolves and hunters has shattered.

Victoria Storm leads a few surviving members of her pack in a desperate flight. As the only surviving child of their leaders, the she-wolf inherited the role of Alpha. The violent deaths of her parents and the man she loved left her devastated, and the lives of her followers depend on her decisions. Simple survival often conflicts with the demands of preserving her Norse heritage, so she must struggle to balance her duties as Freya’s priestess and Odin’s Valkyrie. When innocent children are abducted, she must set aside her differences and work with her worst enemy to rescue them.

Readers can receive a free ebook copy of Valkyrie’s Vengeance by subscribing to Melissa Snark’s newsleter at: http://goo.gl/I6J5NU

 

Action Girl  —   An Action Girl is a female Badass who is just as tough and kicks just as much butt as the guys do. Damsel in Distress? Not her.

Victoria Storm is a kick ass heroine with a take charge attitude. She is both a priestess of Freya and a Valkyrie to Odin. The tragic death of her lover resulted in a misunderstanding with horrific consequences. Now, her werewolf pack is at war with the same hunters who were their allies for over thirty years. She carries the burden of terrible guilt for all the deaths she caused, directly and inadvertently, which puts her on a Redemption Quest.

 

Redemption Quest  — The character is in a bad place but wants to do better, and they are granted one final chance to do so, usually in the form of a grand, nearly impossible task.

For Victoria, Redemption takes on many forms. While her highest priority is protecting her pack mates, she also owes her goddess obedience. So when Freya sends her on a mission to save a stolen child, Victoria  comes into direct conflict with Jake Barrett, her dead lover’s father. Jake blames her for Daniel’s death. As much as she fears and dislikes the man, she also wants him to know the truth. Balancing survival against an opportunity to achieve redemption forces Victoria to walk a tight line.

 

Badass  — To put it simply, a Badass is Rule of Cool personified.In more detail, Badass is an adjective used to describe a character who gets away with outright insane stunts that would be very hard to pull off in Real Life, or would get the person trying it killed several times over.

Jake Barrett is the Hunter King. Master of the Hunt. He has many nicknames, not all of them polite. Rumors purport him to be invincible. He suffers fatal injuries but doesn’t die. Men pledge their undying loyalty to him. Monsters fear him. To underestimate him means certain death.

In his own right, Jake is something of a Big Bad Badass, especially if you get on his bad side. He believes that Victoria murdered his oldest son, Daniel, and he wants revenge.

 

Misplaced Retribution —  Some retaliation exceeds what’s being retaliated to in its severity. But some retaliation isn’t even along the same line; it’s directed at those who can’t reasonably be blamed for what you’re retaliating for, except according to exceedingly shaky justifications, or even no real justification at all. Whether it is worse than what is retaliated to or milder, the point remains that it is still indefensibly directed at the wrong targets.

As Valkyrie’s Vengeance opens, Jake Barrett and his hunters are hunting Victoria and her werewolf pack. Torn between rage and reason, the Hunter King had to balance his bloodthirsty desire for vengeance against his need to know how his son dies. If he kills Victoria, then the truth dies with her.

 

They Fight Crime — Two very different characters are obliged to work together to solve a crime.  They Fight Crime must use both Wunza Plot and Odd Couple.

A monster is stealing children, so Victoria Storm and Jake Barrett are forced to set aside their differences and work together to find the missing youngsters and defeat the villain.

 

Odd Couple — Mr Neat/Tidy/Law-Abiding/By-The-Book forced to work/live with Mr Messy/Slob/Zany/Risk-Taker/Plays-By-His-Own-Rules.

At a glance, Victoria Storm and Jake Barrett are not an obvious Odd Couple. She’s an Alpha werewolf, a priestess of Freya, and a Valkyrie. He’s a hunter and a renown monster slayer…

Oh wait, maybe they are an obvious Odd Couple.

 

Wunza Plot — Put in its simplest form, a Wunza Plot is “One’s a [X]; one’s a [Y]. Together they [Objective Z]”

One’s an Alpha Werewolf; one’s a hunter. They are obligated to work together to save some kidnapped children from a monster.

 

Bad — The cause of all bad happenings in a story. The Big Bad may either be personally responsible for the events, or are the biggest force in opposition of the hero’s goals.

The Big Bad in Valkyrie’s Vengeance steals naughty children and punishes them…by killing them. I can’t reveal much more without spoiling the plot, but you may be familiar with this Christmas villain if you’re into mythology.

 

Excerpt from Valkyrie’s Vengeance

Mouth twisted in a grimace, Victoria spun on her toes and almost walked through the restless spirit of a woman. An icy hand closed around her arm. Startled, she rocked on her heels and wind-milled her arms to avoid tipping over. The chill of the grave swept through her body. Gasping, she froze, staring at the distraught apparition. Without question, this was why Freya had commanded her to wait.

“The child thief has stolen my son! Help me. Please!” The woman had light brown hair and an olive-toned complexion. A white nightshirt, stained with dried blood, hung to mid-thigh above her bare legs and feet. Her appearance mirrored the condition of her body at the time of death. Dark bruises marred her face and throat, and she had defensive wounds on her hands and forearms. The side of her skull had been bashed in.

“Please, Michael is all alone. He’s so scared. I need you,” the spirit pleaded, taking advantage of Victoria’s silence.

Her gut clenched. As Valkyrie and priestess, Victoria had a duty to respond to a spirit’s call for help. As a nurse, a healer, she had a nurturing nature and rarely passed on an opportunity to render assistance to those in need. The circumstances left her questioning Freya’s wisdom, even though such thoughts were wrong. With resources so scarce and her pack’s straits so dire, she wasn’t sure she could take the risk. Living people were counting on her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but I don’t think I can help you.”

“You must help me,” the woman pleaded. “No one can see or hear me.”

“Do you understand why that is?”

Approaching at a jaunty trot, Jasper skidded to a halt. His bright eyes focused on the empty spot before her, and his eyebrows rose, disappearing beneath his lank brown bangs. His tongue flickered across his lips and moistened them against the aridness of the winter air.

“What’s up?” he asked, eyes bright with curiosity. “Is a ghost here?”

“Shhh.” Victoria waved a silencing hand at him. She cast an anxious glance about, concerned their odd behavior would attract the wrong sort of attention. Neither Jasper nor any of the other humans present could see the dead woman. They lacked Victoria’s gift of spirit sight.

Fortunately, no one spared them a second glance.

Ignoring her shushing, Jasper bounced on the balls of his feet. “What does it want? C’mon, tell me what’s going on!”

Victoria stepped closer to him and dropped her voice. “It’s a woman. She says her son was kidnapped, and she needs me to help him.”

Jasper grinned. “Cool!”

“Not so much for her.” Victoria glared at him, irritated with the teen’s insensitivity. Not that she really blamed the boy for craving excitement, but their lives were already dangerous enough. They didn’t need to add to it.

“Find out what we can do for her,” Jasper urged. He had a good nature and a kind heart, but he didn’t take the dangers the pack faced into account. He failed to consider how assisting the ghost would sap their resources and expose them to discovery.

Rolling her eyes, Victoria exhaled through her nostrils so her breath formed a cloud of vapor on the brisk air. Born and raised in Arizona, she found the extreme winter temperatures of the high desert familiar. The thin air left her lightheaded.

“Come over here so we can speak privately,” Victoria said, addressing both the spirit and the boy. She shook off the ghost’s hand.

Victoria grasped Jasper’s forearm and moved out of the path of pedestrians. The fifteen-year-old stood a full head taller than her and outweighed her by a whole lot, but she moved him with ease. He lacked the stature of an adult male and deferred to her because she outranked him within their pack’s hierarchy. They sought shelter in the natural alcove provided by the Western apparel storefront.

The dead woman followed.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know how I can help you,” Victoria said. “I have to protect my own people.”

The spirit moaned, low and anguished.

Jasper cut in, “Victoria, we have to help her! It’s the right thing to do.”

Victoria stifled a groan. Yep. Too much testosterone, no common sense.

The ghost mother clasped her hands together as if praying. “Please, he’s going to be eaten.”

 

Download your free copy of Valkyrie’s Vengeance at:

Amazon: http://goo.gl/gLd386

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Newsletter: http://goo.gl/I6J5NU

 

Subscribe to Melissa Snark’s newsletter for new releases, prizes, and lots of fun. http://wp.me/P28tOk-av (Just copy & paste the link into your browser.) You’ll get a free ebook just for signing up!

Author Melissa Snark lives in the San Francisco bay area with her husband, three children, and a glaring of litigious felines. She reads and writes fantasy and romance, and is published with The Wild Rose Press & Nordic Lights Press. She is a coffeeoholic, chocoholic, and a serious geek girl. Her Loki’s Wolves series stems from her fascination with wolves and mythology.

* She blogs about books and writing on http://www.thesnarkology.com/.

* Visit her website at http://www.melissasnark.com/.

 

Follow her:

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MelissaSnark

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/MelissaSnark

Amazon Author: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0076EEQIU

Elemental Storytelling: Tropes in Dead Man’s Deal by Jax Daniels #UF #amreading @JaxDNOLA

The Dead Man’s Deal is an urban fantasy set in New Orleans. The following molecule contains elements that outline the character, the plot, and the enemy the heroine faces, as well as the sit-back-and-relax attitude readers should enjoy.

Introducing the Tropes of The Deal Man’s Deal

First of the Witherspoon Mansion Adventures

Genre: Urban Fantasy

Published: August 11, 2014

ISBN-13: 9781628279535

When Winki Witherspoon lost her husband she inherited his New Orleans mansion and his magical talent. Can she master it and discover his traitor before she too is destroyed?

Available from Amazon

 

The molecule begins with the audience.

 

MST-Mystery Science Theater 3000 – “Repeat to yourself it’s just a show, I should really just relax.”

The reader will not find any hidden life changing advice or guidance, nor will they be required to understand how the universe works, nor will they be asked to ponder life, the universe, and everything. Just suspend disbelief, sit back, and go for a fun and exciting ride.

 

NEO-The Chosen One who is also the ST-Storyteller. Neo is the ultimate victim, because Destiny Says So. The Storyteller is the character noted for her ability to tell tales.

Winki Witherspoon doesn’t want this job! In fact, she didn’t even know this world existed until her husband passed away and imbued her with magical abilities. This is her story, told in first person, in her voice.

 

C-Conflict. Conflict is the basic problem to overcome.

Winki discovers that the death of her husband might not have been the accident she thought it was. After an attempt on her own life, she realized she needs to unveil the traitor before she becomes a victim. Her life devolves into nothing but conflict, from the Tournaments she’s forced to participate in (bloody, physical, brutal battles for the best) to fighting the liar in her midst.

 

EWI-the enemy within and the final RE-Reveal. When we discover how the villain has been manipulating everyone.

“Someone isn’t who they claim to be.” Those are the words Winki reads in a letter left by her husband, warning that he’d been betrayed. Winki, thrust into this odd and perplexing world, must discover the truth and reveal the traitor before she herself is killed. Or turns evil.

 

Excerpt:

We ate in silence. For the first time that prattling man shut up and kept quiet. Thank God. Only the settling sounds of the grandfather clock in the corner ticking away the seconds reached my ears.

I helped myself to seconds, pouring another ladle of gumbo into my bowl, and added a float of rice on top. Mr. Marble smiled. “Glad to see you eating, Mrs. Witherspoon,” he whispered.

At a whisper his voice soothed rather than grated. “First time I’ve felt like eating in a while. Mrs. White is a good cook.”

“No,” he said, taking another mouthful. “You’ll come to find she’s a fantastic cook. She knows exactly what to feed you and when.” After another bite or two he continued. “She’s also an herbalist. An herbal healer, for lack of a better term. You tell her what’s ailing you, and she’ll make you a tea guaranteed to cure it. Headaches, allergies, stomach ailments, cuts and scrapes. Hell, she took a wart off me once with a leaf and some ointment.” He looked at his thumb. “Completely painless. Never came back.”

Once I finished I sat back, my lips tingling, numb from the gumbo’s heat. I considered having thirds. Reluctantly I decided against it.

To my right, stretching along the length of the room, towered windowed doors that opened onto the patio in back. Through their laced curtains I could see the backyard, and just beyond a small glass house. I assumed the herbs came from there. Despite the worn interior of the room, the yard looked immaculate. I envisioned this grand old home in its heyday, hosting spectacular parties with wealthy people dressed in costumes, ambling from the dining area out to the lamp-lit yard to dance, the happy music darkened by my despair.

“Quite a place, don’t you think?” Mr. Marble broke my reverie.

I wiped my mouth with my napkin and scooted my chair back to face him better. “Yes. And thank you for showing it to me, Mr. Marble. But I’d like to go home now.”

“But we haven’t covered the trust arrangement yet.”

I looked out the window, flooded with both questions and anger. This house? This was the big secret? This run down, dilapidated building and its quacky occupants? Why didn’t Will mention this to me? Why wouldn’t he have? I felt betrayed he’d kept this a secret. “Mr. Marble–,” I started.

“Nathan, please. Call me Nathan–.”

“–I don’t care about the trust. I don’t care about this house. I don’t care what my husband wanted.” He twisted his head, perplexed. “I was married to him for seventeen years. I thought I knew everything about him. I thought we shared everything. Now I find out that he had a separate trust, with separate money, and a possible separate life? I don’t get it. I don’t see why this had to be kept from me and now, frankly, I don’t care.”

“Please, let me–”

“You’ve had your shot. You sold it well. I did everything you asked. But now I want to go home.”

“You stand to inherit–”

“I. Don’t. Care.”

He hung his head for a moment and we sat there in silence. Mr. Marble cleared his throat.

Jeeves entered the room. “Yes, sir?”

“Jeeves,” Mr. Marble said, “can you please bring me my briefcase. I left it in the foyer.”

“Indeed, sir,” Jeeves bowed and left. Left me, there, with my mouth open. Jeeves? He called him Jeeves?

My utter shock read loudly. “Well, that’s what you were gonna call him, isn’t it? He’d best get used to it.”

“But I never told you that.”

“Nope. Didn’t have to.” He smiled. Not the salesman smile I’d had more than my fill of already. Rather a kind and gentle smile, the smile of a man who actually cared. “It’s what Will used to call him.”

I slumped in my seat and folded my arms. Another wave of anger washed over me. Dammit. Why couldn’t I have been a part of this, whatever this was? It’s just a house, for Minerva’s sake.

“I know,” he started slowly and softly, “that you’re angry. I know that you’re hurt and overwhelmed. I get it. But Will is dead, Mrs. Witherspoon. It’s time for you to live.” I sniffed back the tears and rubbed my watery eyes. “He didn’t share this with you in life, but it was his dying wish to share it with you in death.” Jeeves quietly placed the briefcase on the table. “Thank you.” He returned his gaze to me. “Please, just hear me out for a few more minutes. Then, if you want me to, I’ll take you back. I promise.”

I didn’t argue, which he took as a sign of agreement. He opened his briefcase, pulled out a thick three-ringed binder, and continued. “Will and I set up this trust when the two of you married and kept it current. It was last updated–”

“How long?” I interrupted.

“Excuse me?”

“How long did you know him? Will. How long did you know my husband?”

He sighed. “Just a couple of years before he met you.”

“Why did he never mention you?”

“Never mentioned me? I, well…” It was back. That annoying, grating texture of his voice. I hadn’t realized it had fully disappeared until now.

“Don’t use that tone of voice with me!”

He sat back, stunned. He slowly closed his mouth and nodded. “Alright.” He flipped through a page or two. “How we knew each other and why isn’t important right now, Mrs. Witherspoon. Please, let me get through this. Just hear me out. Hear Will out.”

“Fine,” I said curtly. My nervous thumb played with the table’s fluted edge.

He paraphrased as he read. “The terms of the trust are simple. I, as your executor and accountant, am to provide you a monthly stipend of two thousand dollars. I’m also to maintain and pay your staff here at Gateway Manor,” he waved his hand about to indicate the mansion, “as well as any supplies needed or used by the staff, including but not limited to food, tools, medicines, appliances–”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. Move along.”

“You, as the sole benefactor of the trust, must live here in Gateway Manor for a period no less than two years.”

“What?” I cried out.

“After that you are free to live anywhere you like and you inherit completely and without restriction the rest of the trust reserves, which is a–”

“Not interested.”

“But I haven’t told you what you’ll inherit.”

“Not interested!”

“Seventy-four million dollars.”

“Not inter… Great Gatsby, how much?” It wasn’t the money. Really. Never has been. In fact, one of the things that attracted me to Will right from the beginning was his total lack of enthusiasm to chase the almighty dollar. What shocked me was the sheer enormity of his deceit. “Where did Will get seventy-four million dollars? He was a CPA! He was good but… holy crap!”

“Family money. Passed down through generations. Like this house.” I must have looked like the words made no sense to me. Probably because they didn’t. “Mostly the money stays in bank accounts and conservative investments. Because, like you, Will, nor his ancestors for that matter, cared about the money. So they tucked it away. Just in case.”

“Just in case?”

“Yeah. Just in case. They lived mostly off interest and accumulated a little here and there. Over the years, violà.” He handed me a pile of papers. Savings accounts statements and government bond receipts mostly. A cover letter outlined the grand total. Seventy-four million. Give or take a few hundred thousand.

As I studied it Mr. Marble continued.

“Will never cared about money. And I know he’d never marry a woman who felt differently. But I’d like to tell you what will happen, what Will had outlined in his trust to happen, if you walk away right now.”

I looked up at him, and set the paper aside.

“If you leave the manor before the two year mark then the mansion is sold. The proceeds go to you. And only that. The remaining investments are to be shared amongst these charities,” he said, rustling out another piece of paper, “in the distribution outlined.”

I looked over the paper. I recognized most of the names. Habitat for Humanity, Red Cross, Doctors Without Borders, all charities Will and I supported in the past. The list also included an art school, a halfway house, and an orphanage in the city.

“You’d probably net ten or fifteen million from the mansion, so you’d still be set for life. That’s what Will wanted.” He mumbled, “We argued over that point a great deal, I assure you.”

“So why don’t I do that?” It seemed I was missing a part of the picture here. “What’s the downside of selling this dump and giving the rest to charity?”

His eyebrows shot upwards at the word “dump” and, simultaneously, the house issued a loud settling creak. The timing unnerved me a bit. He looked skyward, eyes darting about the ceiling, and yelled, “She didn’t mean it!” He looked at me, and cleared his throat. “Because if you sell this,” then whispered very quietly, “dump”, then continued, “everyone here not only loses a job, but they lose their home. They don’t just work here, madam. They live here. Some for all of their lives.”

I chewed on my bottom lip. I didn’t want to kick anyone out of their home. But I didn’t want to live in it, either.

Mr. Marble saw the spinning wheels in my head and rifled through the binder again, retrieving several old documents. As I looked through them he spoke.

“The manor was built in 1823 by Thomas Tyler Witherspoon, who settled here after fighting in the Battle of New Orleans in 1814. Served with Andrew Jackson. Here,” he pointed to one document. “He started with these three parcels, then purchased the next fourteen over five years. Initially it was–”

“Witherspoon Plantation,” I finished, reading the description.

“Slaves, cotton, the whole works.” He sat back. “Then the Civil War came.”

“I take it the Witherspoons’ backed the Confederates.”

He tilted his head. “Um, yes and no. The sons went to war to defend their rights to the land. But the daughters and the servants, well… There were several safe houses that started and organized passage through the Underground Railroad. This was one of them.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “That’s originally where the name came from. Gateway Manor.” He shrugged. “It swings both ways.”

I have to admit he had piqued my interest. “If I stay here, what happens to our place in Irish Channel?”

He whipped out another document. “This gives me power of attorney to manage the sale of your current house. The proceeds will add to the reserves you’ll inherit in two years.”

I scowled. “Will and I bought that place together.”

“And all the memories of your marriage and your life together are there. But, Mrs. Witherspoon,” he leaned close to me and tapped the table with his index finger. “Will is here.”

I stared at the scattered documents again, the small flat representations of decades of lives and stories. Who was I to end all of that?

Mr. Marble handed me a pen. I straightened the power of attorney document. And I signed it. Winki Witherspoon.

 

Author Bio:

Jax Daniels was born in Chicago, raised in Denver, educated in Berkeley (go Bears!), and employed as a software engineer in the Bay Area and Seattle. Needless to say, she’s seen a good deal of the continental US, so when it came time for her and her husband to settle down, they picked New Orleans. They live in a townhouse they call “The Tower” in Uptown with their two dogs, Savannah and Bert. Other passions besides writing are walks, yoga, and her stained glass creations.

 

Author Links:

Follow me: http://twitter.com/JaxDNOLA

Friend me: http://facebook.com/jax.daniels.180

Read me: http://winkiwitherspoon.com

Find me: http://jaxdaniels.com

Bug me: http://bugsmind.com

EVERYWHERE IT’S YOU by C.B. Salem (Contest) #Mystery #Suspense @Goddessfish

Legal investigator Kristina Andersen has been drugged.

It started when she came into work and was tasked with finding the firm’s biggest client: the intense, enigmatic pharmaceuticals billionaire Landon Tatum.

She’d just had a sexy encounter with him while working a birthday party undercover at a seedy strip club the previous night. Now he’s missing, and she needs to find him.

Problem: the drug coursing through her veins makes it so every man she sees looks like the man she’s looking for.

And that’s just the start of it.

 

Available on Amazon

 

Excerpt:

Her last-night’s-self walked to the front of the room, balancing gracefully on very high heels as the first guest arrived. Then another bout of nausea washed over her, fogging her mind. Her eyes had to be lying.

Landon Tatum had just entered the room.

This was wrong. He’d come in later, she knew it. Fifteen minutes before the birthday boy, maybe twenty. There had been more than a dozen people there. Even Fordelli, the man she had come to watch, had arrived first. She’d been watching very carefully and this wasn’t the kind of thing she’d forget.

He wore a black suit, black shirt and a silver tie. That wasn’t right either. But the clean-cut, brown hair, the thin-lipped mouth, the dark eyes, they were as she’d remembered. The perfect, sharp cheek bones with a slightly crooked nose that looked like it had been broken in a fight once and never fixed. It was the kind of “blemish” she couldn’t take her eyes off of.

She breathed shallowly. This was wrong. When had she become this attracted to him? Until recently, she’d thought of him as an attractive guy. Not mouth-watering can’t-take-my-eyes-off. That hadn’t happened to her since high school.

She watched herself approach to offer him a drink. Then the next guest came in, to the right of where her eyes had been focused.

Tatum again. Sharp cheeks. Slightly crooked nose. Dark, perceptive eyes.

Another black suit, black shirt, but this time a blue tie. She flicked her eyes between the two of them. They were both there. She was seeing two of him.

 

GIVEAWAY INFORMATION and RAFFLECOPTER CODE

C.B. Salem will award a randomly drawn commenter via Rafflecopter a $20 Amazon/BN GC.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Author Bio:

C.B. Salem lives, writes, and dreams in Chicago. When she isn’t reading or plotting the next scene in her book, she enjoys cooking new dishes and having quality cuddles with her two dogs: Murphy and Oliver.

 

Website: www.cbsalem.com

Twitter: @cbsalem

Facebook: www.facebook.com/cbsalem

 

Buy On Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Everywhere-Its-You-C-B-Salem-ebook/dp/B00UXK9HQU/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

 

Elemental Storytelling: Tropes in The Last Vhalgenn by Kayelle Allen #scifi #amwriting

My sincere thanks to Melissa Snark for putting together another presentation of the Periodic Table of Storytelling. If you missed last year’s, you can find it here. The other authors in this presentation are:

July 7
Kayelle Allen


July 8
Jax Daniels


July 9
Melissa Snark


July 10
Houston Havens


July 13
Caroline Warfield


July 14
Jude Knight


July 15
Emily Walker


July 16
Mari Christie


July 17
Jami Brumfield


July 21
Beth Caudill


July 22
Jordan K. Rose







What is a Trope?

In literature, a trope is a theme that recurs across a genre, like the ‘mad scientist’ of horror movies or ‘once upon a time’ as an introduction to fairy tales. It’s similar to archetypes and clichés, although not necessarily negative in aspect. Tropes are often considered shorthand by writers. Readers expect heroes or villains to react in certain ways. Writers can alter those expectations by having the characters act in different manners, or by give the characteristics of a hero to the villain, and vice versa. There are thousands of tropes.

 

The wiki site TV Tropes is a catalog explaining the tricks of using them for fiction writers and fans. If you want proof, take a look at the Periodic Table of Storytelling chart.

Here’s how The Last Vhalgenn fits within the tropes on this chart. We’ll read the elements in the molecule below from left to right. I’ll explain each item and show you how it fits within the tale, without giving away the ending. You can click the element name to visit the page for that trope on the TV Tropes site.

 

Introducing the Tropes of The Last Vhalgenn

Publisher: Romance Lives Forever Books

Date Published: April 1, 2014

Genre: Fantasy, Scifi

Word Count: 38 pages

Blurb:

Duty to king and country has shaped Raik’s life since birth, but to protect them, she must perform a ritual that betrays all she holds sacred.

The Vhalgenn is a warrior, bedmate, soulmate, companion, and friend. Trusted by the king. Hated by the queen. To save the newborn prince, the Vhalgenn will risk her position, her honor, and death itself to honor the Old Ways. But when she takes the newborn prince to the queen’s homeland for a ritual blessing, she discovers a betrayal so deep the kingdom — and her heart — might never recover.

 

BKS – Backstory

The backstory is what happened to one or more of the characters prior to the beginning, and is vital to what’s happening now. If the story is about a warrior with PTSD, it’ll be the war trauma that created the problem. If it’s about a survivor of an apocalypse, it’ll be about the catastrophe/invasion that caused it. In The Last Vhalgenn, it’s about the relationship between Kin Orix and Raik. Raik is a Vhalgenn, a person of the opposite sex who is given to the king or queen of Qarth at birth. The Vhalgenn is to be everything but a spouse. They fight together, play together, laugh and cry and live together. They are more than lovers, more than family. It’s a lifetime commitment, never broken.

However, prior to the beginning of The Last Vhalgenn, the Queen of Kellindahr and the King of Qarth are joined in a loveless marriage, and must beget a child to cement the relationship of their warring nations. The queen cast out the king’s Vhalgenn, and thus laid the foundation for the conflict.

MPB – Manipulative Bastard

This is the master manipulator of emotions. This person can make you hate sweet little bunnies, or love ugly monsters. You don’t want to trust anything they tell you. I’m not going to say who this is in The Last Vhalgenn, because it’s better that you don’t know.

HFT – Heel Face Turn

When a bad guy becomes a good guy, this is a heel face turn. King Orix holds this position, and he starts out as a shallow womanizer. All I’ll say here is that he mends his ways. As to why, and how he does it, that’s for you to discover.

SCL – Star Crossed Lovers

Star crossed lovers are kept apart by fate, family, or feuds. They can never be together. When they try, they become Romeo and Juliet. Fate steps in the way to separate them. In this case, it’s King Orix and the Vhalgenn.

DET – Determinator

This person, male or female, young or old, is the driving force. Raik, the Vhalgenn, never gives up, no matter how dangerous, or how far, or how much it will cost her.

PG – Plucky Girl

The wetnurse who accompanies the Vhalgenn on her journey has been through trials, including facing the death of her own child if she doesn’t help. Yet she soldiers on, and refuses to go back until she’s accomplished her purpose.

NEO – The Chosen One

The newborn in The Last Vhalgenn is a child who will supposedly unite two warring countries. If he dies, war will ensue.

PHL – Applied Phlebotinum

The tropes site defines this as any technology so advanced it could appear to be magic. In The Last Vhalgenn, it’s the Gates, a sacred place where the newborn child is to be taken as part of a ritual. The true reason for the ritual isn’t revealed until the last pages.

Excerpt from The Last Vhalgenn

In this scene from The Last Vhalgenn, the heroine, Raik, is alone with King Orix. They grew up together, but his new queen barred Raik from the palace. Raik is back to deliver news of a battle and while delighted to be with Orix, she is nervous about his queen discovering them, and then finds out the queen is gravely ill.

 

“She’s in danger of losing the baby.”

“Again?” There had been a miscarriage four months after their marriage. “What’s wrong this time?” I poured more wine.

“Some woman thing. Her doctors fuss around her bed all day. It’s been weeks and she still has to stay on her back. I can’t even see her. All her doctors are from Kellindahr. I don’t think she trusts ours.”

“This child is crucial, Orix. You need an heir to both lands. If it helps for her to have her own people around her, so much the better.”

“Aye.” He rambled on about a rallying point and the Kellindahrii people’s love for their queen, while I mused over how much time would be lost begetting another heir. It struck me that if Dahr was abed she hadn’t met Orix’s needs. My throat tightened when I thought of him sleeping alone. I dared not look at the over-sized bed we’d so often shared. Nor did I look straight at him, afraid my rampant feelings would show. There was a war to finish. I’d been foolish to bring the dispatch. Being this close to him…

I flung myself out of the chair and stalked, stiff legged and sore, over to the fireplace and leaned my head against the mantle.

“I’m sorry.” Orix came up behind me. “You’re exhausted and here I am prating about my needs.” He pulled my hand to his mouth and pressed the palm against his lips.

 

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Kayelle Allen is a best-selling, multi-published, award-winning author. Her unstoppable heroes and heroines include contemporary every day folk, role-playing immortal gamers, futuristic covert agents, and warriors who purr. She is the founder of Marketing for Romance Writers and the owner of The Author’s Secret.

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Evolution of a cover: Viking Love Slave 6 #Romance @MelissaSnark

So, recall how everything was going so smoothly? My cover artist, Farah Evers, churned out four and five pretty fast. Then, we hit a pretty big speed bump.

 

While I liked this model (aptly nicknamed Legs), the final image just didn’t look right.

Either did this one.

Or this one.

 

The green and purple just didn’t seem right so we tweaked that too.

Gold highlights instead of green

Finally, we found the perfect model. I love the sense of atmosphere and motion this cover has.

Final cover

Evolution of a cover: Viking Love Slave 5 #Romance @MelissaSnark

Covers 4, 5, and 6 of Viking Love Slave came as a result of my decision to turn it into a serial. Farah Evers and I had most of the cover elements down by now so 4 and 5 happened quickly and withe very few revisions.

 

Here you can see the original model image.

I wanted a redhead since the story is about Viking love slaves.

 

The only actual debate that went into the Book 5 cover was over colors. The first thought was to do this cover in pink or purple, but silvers wound up really bringing out the model’s beautiful hair.

Final draft!

 

Evolution of a cover: Viking Love Slave 4 #Romance @MelissaSnark

Viking Love Slave: Norse gods getting it on with nubile love slaves. In Space.

As it happens, I managed to find the original file of the model for Viking Love #4…which became the new Part 3 cover.

original file

Lisa Rayns helped me with a mock up cover.

A mockup

 

Farah Evers followed the trail of hopes and dreams craftily laid out across some dollar bills. And voila! She nailed this cover immediately!

Final version

Evolution of a cover: Viking Love Slave 3 #Romance @Melissa Snark

This is another cover where I was unable to locate the original file from the stock photo site. If you’re following this blog series, then you’ll notice that Book 2 used to be subtitled “Ravished”. That title was specifically transferred to book 3 at my request to cover designer Farah Evers.

 

Spacy, fetish item, and red.

At this point, we had many of the cover elements down so there were fewer revisions. Also, Farah and I communicated on the color of this particular cover in advance, so there were no fuchsia nightmares. This cover underwent its next set of revisions when I decided to get rid of the fetish item and make the background more SciFiy.

Space Opera background

At some point, Farah reversed the image so the “Book 3″ could appear in the proper location. You’ll notice the swap to “Book 4″ in the final version which resulted from my decision to expand Viking Love Slave to a serial. (“Ravished” fits the theme of Book 4 better than Book 3.) You’re going to see an bit of orderly dissonance when I get to the next cover that is the new Book 3.

Ain’t she cute?

A chat with Michele Bardsley–You’ll Understand When You’re Dead #Romance

I’d like to welcome Michele to the Snarkology today. She’s agreed to answer a few questions for us and also to share her new book.

 

Michele, who is your favorite author and/or favorite book?

I have many favorite authors and books. While it’s difficult to pick one, or even ten, I will name a few books that I find inspirational, enjoyable, and re-readable. These books include: A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers, Lamb by Christopher Moore, Kiss an Angel by Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Shakespeare’s Landlord by Charlaine Harris, Shadows and Lace by Teresa Medeiros, American Gods by Neil Gaiman, and Making Money by Terry Prachett.

 

Are your characters inspired by real people?

Sorta, but not really. People-watching is part of the process. I may pick up mannerisms or looks or dialogue from someone I observe while I’m out in the real world. Sometimes, I’ll use quirks or personality traits from people I know to create a certain characters. Characters are often a conglomeration of imagination and personal experiences.

 

How long does it take you to write a book?

You know, I once asked Nora Roberts that very question, and she answered, “You time biscuits, you don’t time books.” I loved that response. And it’s true. The story, the genre, the writer’s mindset, daily schedule, and other factors can all determine how long it takes to write a book. Some of my stories have more “flow” than others, and those will often take less time to write the first draft.

What’s your ideal day?

My ideal day is being tucked into bed with my puppies reading on my Kindle or watching Netflix with my hubby. There may also be some canoodling.

 

What’s your favorite food?

Chocolate. It’s really the only food.

 

What’s your favorite quote?

“You are what you love, not what loves you.” (From the movie “Adaptation”)

 

Where do you get your ideas?

My theory is that a writer’s brain is wired to create stories. We use our observations, our experiences, and our emotions to come up with characters, settings, and plots. Ideas are plentiful. The trick is to find one that can become the foundation for entire novel, or better yet, as the foundation for an entire series.

 

What do you find yourself “Fangirling” over?

The Winchesters, of course. I love, love, love “Supernatural.”

 

 

LATEST RELEASE

You’ll Understand When You’re Dead is Book 12 in the popular, bestselling paranormal Broken Heart series…



When vampire Natalie Haltom starts receiving an influx of ghost suitors, she can’t seem to escape their amorous attentions. And with a ghost cow chasing her everywhere in town, she’s having the worst week ever.

Vedere psychic Matthew Dennison has moved to Broken Heart to escape the Vedere legacy and to start a new life as a psychic for the vampire queen. He manages to rescue Natalie from a persistent date-happy spirit by announcing his engagement to the beautiful vampire.

Just another day in Broken Heart with lonely ghosts, zombie dance-offs, spellcasting teenagers, wedding-planning fae, Little People fertility rituals, and maybe, just maybe, a vampire and psychic finding forever love.

 

Available on Amazon

Barnes and Noble

 

BIOGRAPHY

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Michele Bardsley writes about Oklahoma vampires, alpha werewolves, small-town romance, curvy heroines, and super hot heroes.

Michele received her first publishing contract in 1998 from pioneer electronic publisher Hard Shell Word Factory. She’s had numerous short stories, novellas, and novels published by electronic, independent, and traditional publishers, including New American Library and Harlequin TEEN. She’s also written articles for national magazines such as Writer’s Digest, RT BOOKReviews, and Byline. Her print books have sold more than 300,000 copies and counting.

Michele’s won many awards and honors throughout her writing career, including the Grand Prize in the Writer’s Digest annual writing contest, Grand Prize in the Silhouette Yours Truly Contest, a Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice award, and the Crème de la Crème award from Oklahoma Writers Federation, Inc.

Over the years, Michele has given workshops about inspiration, self-editing techniques, romance heroes, vampire fiction, electronic publishing, humor in fiction, selling erotica, winning contests, Internet promotion, and many other topics. She has presented workshops, spoken at luncheons, and participated in panels at events and meetings across the United States, including the annual conferences of Romantic Times,OWFI, Florida Writers Association, Tulsa Night Writers, FENCon, and Celebrate Romance.

 

Obsessed with dark chocolate, “Supernatural,” and all things yarn, she creates fictional worlds because, hey, it’s a lot more fun than housework. She lives happily-ever-after with her husband (The Viking) and their fur babies.

 

 

BIBLIOGRAPHY

BROKEN HEART VAMPIRE SERIES

I’m the Vampire, That’s Why

Don’t Talk Back To Your Vampire

Because Your Vampire Said So

Wait Till Your Vampire Gets Home

Over My Dead Body

Come Hell or High Water

Cross Your Heart

Must Love Lycans

Only Lycans Need Apply

Broken Heart Tails

Some Lycan Hot

You’ll Understand When You’re Dead

Lycan on the Edge (Fall 2015)

DEED BROTHERS DEMON SERIES

A Damn Deed

A Dirty Deed (TBA)

A Kind Deed (TBA)

A Good Deed (TBA)

A True Deed (TBA)

FRISKY SERIES

Frisky Business

Frisky Summer

Frisky Christmas (November 2015)

THE PACK RULES

The Werewolf’s Bride

Taken by the Werewolf Triplets

The Billionaire Werewolves

The Werewolf Bodyguard

Kidnapped by the Werewolf / Her Alpha Mate

Two Alphas and a Lady

Bear Witness

The Dragon’s Wife

 

WOLVES ON THE PROWL

A Wild Night

Wild Threesome

Blood Wild

Wild Darkness

WIZARDS OF NEVERMORE

Never Again

Now or Never

Never Say Die (TBA)

 

HOLIDAY BITES

Holiday Bites Collection #1

Fireworks for July

SINGLE TITLES

Heart of Magic

Love Gone Wild

 

THE REAPER DIARIES

(writing as Michele Vail)

Undeadly

Unchosen

Unbroken (TBA)

 

Evolution of a cover: Viking Love Slave 2 #Romance @Melissa Snark

Viking Love Slave began as a trilogy so there were originally three books in the series. I’ve searched my hard drive and was unable to locate the original model image so I’ll have to start with the first cover mock up by Farah Evers Designs.

I wish I knew all of the model’s names but unfortunately that’s not possible when you’re using stock art. You’ll notice the subtitle of this part “Ravished” gets swapped around to “Shattered” on a latter draft.

 

The funny thing here is that my personal aesthetics run contrary to pink, but it’s one of Farah’s go-to color palettes for erotic. I believe my initial reaction to this particular shade of fuchsia sounded something like “SQUAWK!”

Blinded by the Pinkness

Much whining resulted in a color change.

No more pink

Then the subtitle changed.

Subtitle changed

The background change happened to make it look more Sci-Fiy.

Space Opera Revision

And finally a zoom out!

Final version!