Rabia Gale's Blog, page 3

Bookwyrms!

Are you on Pinterest? Are you looking for your next great indie SF&F read?

Then come follow Bookwyrms, where fellow indie author Intisar Khanani and I pin books we’ve enjoyed along with a mini-review! From hilarious space opera to inventive fantasy-of-manners to lyrical original fairy tales, we’re excited to share these indie and small press books with you.

And the winner is…

I asked, you prompted. I wrote, you voted.

And the fairy tale flashfic that won is… To Grandma’s House, based on the prompt Red Riding Hood/boxes suggested by DKoren!

So, here is my fun idea for the winning story: an adorable chibi Red Riding Hood struggling with a stack of boxes (watch out, Red! I think there’s a wolf off-screen!):

This super-cute chibi was created by yogurtm, whose work you can see here!

writing update

At the beginning of the year, I wrote up a list of resolutions. How am I doing on these one month into 2016? Let’s dig in and see!

Write 25K words a month: January was a great writing month for me, with over 40K in new words. I’ve adjusted my February word goal to 20K, though, because…

… I finished the first draft of Flare (about 95K) words and read through the ms. It hangs together surprisingly well (yes, I was surprised!) but I do have some big-picture revisions I want to do before sending it out to alpha readers this month. I’m one (big) step nearer to publishing the third installment of The Sunless World.

All of my current new words are going towards Ghostlight, the first book of The Shadow Lands. Here’s the working blurb:

Trevlyan Shield knew that Arabella Trent was trouble the moment he saw her hesitating on the side of a busy street one morning. But it wasn’t her sparkling eyes or dark ringlets that caught his attention—it was the way the sun shone through her translucent form.

Bella has no memories of the runaway carriage that hit her and left her for dead. Nor does she know why she was found so far from home. Those hours are a total blank in her memory.

Fortunately, Trey is no stranger to dealing with ghosts and other phantasms. But the rules of his profession are strict: spirits must be sent on into the afterlife. Any who linger are susceptible to corruption and being preyed upon by the denizens of the Shadow Lands.

Time is running out for Bella. If she doesn’t figure out how to return to her body soon, she’ll be dead for good.

I’m about 24K into the book, with less than half of the story left to go. Finishing it this month seems a doable goal.

How am I doing taking better care of myself? Eh. This is the one thing that gets easily shoved aside. I’m getting sleep and watching my eating, but exercise is one thing that doesn’t fit into my schedule (and *confession* I’m not fond of exercise so I don’t try very hard, either).

How about you? How’s your year going so far?

House Bound

I’m participating in another fiction blog hop! This is more of a snippet than a complete story, but I was persuaded to put it up anyway. Make sure to check out the other linked stories below.

House Bound

Jack Callahan rode up to Hopeswell Keep on a late summer day. Warm light gilded the tiled roof and grey stone of the manor, a hodge-podge of architectural styles that was surprisingly charming. The long-abandoned, ivy-covered keep that gave the place its name peeked up from behind the great house.

The edifice would be a bear to heat in the winter.

And it was all his.

Jack rode his bay to the stables, off to one side. No one was around, but there was fresh straw in the stalls, water in the trough, and hay in the rick.

Impressive. Even her diminished power reached to the outbuildings.

After seeing to True, Jack slung the saddle bags over his shoulder and headed up the paved path to a side door.

It stuck, just like he’d been told. He wrestled it open and entered a narrow corridor. He turned left into spacious kitchen, scrupulously clean, utterly silent, and empty of life. The weak sunlight trickling in could not banish the chill or the shadows in the corners.

Jack tossed the saddle bags onto a bench, pulled a spindly chair up to a scarred wooden slab of a table, and sat down.

He didn’t have long to wait.

Between one glance up at the ceiling and another across the table, she was there.

Red haired. Green eyed. Narrow face and pointed chin. Bare feet contrasting with a blue brocade gown that had been in fashion last century.

“Who,” she said, annoyance in every stiff line of her, “are you?”

Jack rose and bowed. “My apologies for my sudden arrival. Since there is no gentler way to put this: I am Jack Callahan, and I’m the new owner of Hopeswell Keep.”

She jerked back, as if struck. “What?”

“I’m afraid,” he said, “the choice was between exorcism or a sale.”

“I am a Guardian, not a ghost!” the woman snapped.

“I believe you. But Lord Staveley was most determined to unload himself of this place.”

“Of course he was! That lily-livered maggot! Mincing fop and unmannerly fool, too. How his ancestors would spin in their graves if they knew their mutton-headed descendant had sold his birthright!” The woman heaped scorn on the current Lord Staveley with more choice words. Jack, sharing her sentiments, listened with great appreciation.

“And you?” she finished, rounding on him. “What is your part in all this foolishness?

“Only that I paid five hundred thousand pounds for this manor of yours. It was the only way I could set you free.”

Her stare was icy. “Explain yourself, sir.”

“Gladly, m’lady—”

“Sorka will do,” she interrupted.

“Sorka, then.” She had given him her name. A reassuring step. “Aside from Idlewood Castle and Buckworth Abbey, this is the only house in existence to boast a Guardian. Did you know?”

She snorted. “Of course. It’s unfashionable. Something about bleeding a mage out on the foundations and pumping their veins full of ichor tends to put people off their dinners. These new generations don’t have the stomach for it, like their forebears did.

“Most of the other great houses and their Guardians are gone—destroyed in the Shadow Wars. Except for you. You’ve been alive a long time, Lady Sorka.”

“But you are here to offer me freedom, aren’t you?” She arched an eyebrow. “How?”

Jack pulled out the sale contract and unfolded it on the table between them. He placed a finger on Lord Staveley’s signature and his own. “These will allow me to break the spell that binds you here. Will you permit it?”

“At what price?” She wore the face of a young woman, but those eyes had lived a long time.

His insides fluttered, but his face was calm. “Help me find the lost Island of Avenir.”

Sorka’s face was a mask. “Impossible.”

He smiled at her. “Not for a priestess.”

She let her breath out in a hiss. “So you know that, too? You’ve planned this well, haven’t you, Jack Callahan?”

He winced, thinking she might’ve recognized him. No. She suspected something, but she didn’t know for sure. “Please. You have my word that I’ll not use the knowledge or power of Avenir for evil. I’ll even take the Oath, and put myself under your authority. But I need to find it.”

“You’re willing to go that far?” Sorka straightened. “I have conditions for my help.”

“Name them.”

She did. There were many and they were restrictive. But at the end, he said, “Done.” No quibbling. He hadn’t made it this far just to quibble.

“Of course,” said Sorka, “all this is moot if your ritual doesn’t work.” Skepticism dripped from her voice.

Jack rolled up his sleeve and pulled a knife from his belt. As Sorka watched, he drew a cut into the skin of his forearm.

Silver ichor dripped from the slash and onto the table.

Sorka’s eyes widened. Then her face set with resolution. She extended her arm.

“Then do it. Set me free.”

Click through to read the other stories in the blog hop.

Juneta Key Consequence

Mel Corbett If It’s Not Yours

Elizabeth McCleary Essence

Katharina Gerlach Scars

Karen Lynn My Story

Angela Woodridge Uninvited Guests

Barbara Lund New Space

Kris Bowser Smithereens

Justine Ohlrich Two Deaths on My Birthday

Flux is out!

The daughter of a disgraced family returns to restore her name–only to find that conspiracy and corruption threaten her entire city.

I am super-excited about this book. We get to experience the story from Sable’s POV and delve into the events that shaped her. We explore a new part of the Sunless World–and the lush domed cities of Sable’s homeland are very different from Oakhaven and Ironheart! We get to see more magic in action, including Rafe’s growth.

I hope you will enjoy it, too! One of my proofreaders said Flux might be her favorite of all my work–and she has read a lot of it over the years.

Find it now on Amazon.

And if you haven’t already, consider signing up for my mailing list. Subscribers get special sales, free short stories, and other extra content, along with sneak peeks of covers and upcoming releases.

fairytale prompt fiction: the master list

Before I get into the real purpose of this post, I’d like to mention that Flux (Book 1.5 of The Sunless World) is looking good for a January 15th aka This Friday release (hooray!). So grab the sparkling cider, the confetti, and the party hats, and I’ll see you then!

Having wrapped up the fairy tale prompt project, I feel a great need to make a list. And I’m sharing this list with you in case you missed a story. If you didn’t… well, keep reading because there’s something for you at the end of this post.

First, the List:

To Grandma’s House (Red Riding Hood/Boxes)
A Sackful of Treasure (Puss in Boots/Pinecones)
Another Adventure (Little Mermaid/Gyrocopter)
One Shot (Sleeping Beauty/Tranquilizer)
Stitches in Time (Rapunzel/Yarn)
A Royal Encounter (Frog Prince/Rose)
Unforgiven (Rumpelstiltskin/Charging Bull of Wall Street)
Home Before Midnight (Cinderella/Birthday Cake)

Next (and last), I would love for you to vote on which of the eight was your favorite. This isn’t an idle question–I have a cute idea for the winning story. What is that? Wait and see!

I haven’t quite decided what to do for blogged fiction this year. Once I’m past the launch of Flux (and finishing the first draft of Flare), I’ll do some thinky-thinking and figure out my options.

Until then, catch up on the stories you missed and pick your favorite.

cinderella bakes a cake

The final prompt, requested by unboundscribe! Sorry it took so long. I made a false start that would’ve turned this from a flashfic to a short story. I liked the idea, but it defeated the purpose of these prompts, which was to to practice writing short.

The prompt is Cinderella/birthday cake. And since the Happy Birthday song is no longer under copyright, I took great glee in including a lyric or two.

resolutions for 2016

Even though I know what happens to the best-laid plans on first contact with the enemy (in my case, reality), I can’t help myself. I love making lists and setting goals. And the new year is such a perfect excuse for doing so, how can I resist?

This year I resolve:

To write 25K words every month. This is not that big of a stretch for me. I can write over 1K a day easily when I’m in my writing routine. It’s consistency I need to work on. I’ll have a few great writing months followed by burnout (or is it a lying fallow period? I can’t decide). It’s also hard for me to balance first draft writing with all the other aspects of publishing.

The 25K words, by the way, includes work on all my other side projects. If it’s fiction, it goes into the monthly word pot. In the past, I’d lock myself into working on particular stories and then waffle about, not writing, if that stalled for some reason.

As always, I’m using my husband’s WriteTrack to measure my progress.

To publish the third installment of The Sunless World series. Unless the series takes off, Flare is the last book. I’m 85K into writing it and expect to finish the first draft this month. A mid-year release is a reasonable goal from my current vantage point.

If the series does get popular, I have very broad sketches of two more books. Working titles: Lune and Flow.

To write all four novellas of The Shadow Lands. I planned this as a series and I have a complete outline of the first book. I even cheated on my current WIP to write the first scene over the weekend. Sorry, Flare. It’s hard to compete with the New Shiny.

The Shadow Lands is a romantic fantasy with paranormal elements. In a quasi-Regency setting. I tried so hard not to cross genres with this one. And what did I do? Crossed genres. You may laugh, but the series concept started out as a bit of sweet Regency romance fluff. Then the dead bodies started piling up. My fluff grew fangs!

To look after myself. Healthy eating, regular exercise, enough sleep. ‘Nuff said.

I reserve the right to revisit and readjust these goals as necessary. I’m fully prepared to jump ship to more marketable projects if need be.

What about you, gentle writers and worthy readers? What are your resolutions for this brand-spanking-new year?

Cover Reveal: Flux

I’m currently in the middle of line edits for Flux, the short novel that takes place between Books 1 and 2 of The Sunless World series. Aside from a few scenes, the bulk of the story is told from Sable’s POV. Not only did I get to explore this interesting character’s back story, but I got to open up another part of the sunless world which looks very different from Oakhaven, Blackstone, and Ironheart.

Check out the cover and blurb below.

Actress. Businesswoman. Trend-setter.

Before she was all these, Sable Monarique was the timid, awkward daughter of a disgraced family. After leaving home and crossing the Divide, she reinvented herself in Oakhaven.

But now it’s time to return home.

Her friend, Rafe, is a mage newly come into his powers and in desperate need of training. Sable brings him to the domed city of Monaria, with its giant trees, massive platforms, and impressive magic. While he studies, she works to rebuild her family’s fortunes.

But Sable’s not the only one who changed in the last seven years. New families have risen to prominence. Conspiracies are hatched in the dark. An old flame isn’t the man she loved and left. Sable must navigate troubled waters, before her entire city falls apart.

Coming in early 2016!

fairy tale prompt: unforgiven

This is for C. M. on Facebook, who prompted Rumpelstiltskin/Charging Bull of Wall Street.

Unforgiven

The immortals don’t forgive and they certainly don’t forget.

I didn’t take much from them: only a small ability to change a tiny handful of straw into a minute amount of gold, once a month, under certain strict conditions. If I was lucky.

And for that, they sent the Bull.

The first I knew of it was in India, by the banks of a brown-snake of a river. The Bull charged out of the churning waters, trailing plagues and curses and death. The people of the mud-brick cities fled, and so did I, into Persia.

The Bull followed me there and then across the plains, flattening mountains, gouging valleys.

That was only the beginning.

I never knew what form the Bull would take. I never knew whether it would steal up to me by night or come roaring after me by day. Sometimes it was enormous, blotting the sun. At other times it would slip on a cloak and hide in a crowd.

It charged me, horns lowered, eyes reddened, at an island festival. Men and women laughed as I leapt over its back, thinking I was one of their honored bull jumpers. It stalked me in a labyrinth under a palace on two legs, bull head heavy on a hairy man’s body.

The immortals disseminated their own warnings about theft from the gods. They told stories of foolish kings with golden-statue daughters. They turned me into a twisted dwarf with a ridiculous name, swallowed up by the earth.

Finally, I fled across the ocean, to the New World. The Bull pursued me there, across the mountains and the plains to the ranges of the west.

There I waited.

We fought our biggest battle in that place, a silent, secret struggle within mountain caves.

When it was over, the Bull was dissipated and I walked free.

I went east afterwards, where the buying and selling of hopes and dreams and the movement of numbers from column to column enthralled me more than gold ever had. I lived and breathed stocks and shares for decades, and smiled to see my old foe represented as a bronze statue on the streets I walked as a secret king.

Let it be a symbol. Let it be a good luck talisman.

In fact, I rubbed its nose bright every time I walked past it. I may have, in my most defiant moments, even grabbed it by the… horns.

Until last night.

Last night, as dusk fell, I walked past its hulking shape. As usual, I reached out for its nose.

My fingers never touched the metal.

They froze an inch away. The hair on the back of my neck rose.

The eye of the statue gleamed with the Bull’s red fury.

I felt hot breath on my neck. I heard the snort of the Bull’s hatred, the stamp of its hoof, the sizzle of its acid drool on the pavement.

I heard it straining to break loose.

And so I’m leaving.

I’ve packed a duffel, booked a ticket, moved money to secret accounts.

Tomorrow I’ll have a new name. A day later, I’ll be in a different place. After that, a new face.

The immortals never forgive and they never forget. They are implacable.

So is the Bull.

And he’s coming for me.