S.M. Pace's Blog

Writer’s World Interview with Eleanor Konik

June has arrived, and it’s time to welcome a new guest to the Writer’s World.  Everyone say hello to Eleanor Konik.





A Little More About Eleanor:







Eleanor Konik was born and raised in a close-knit neighborhood just outside of Baltimore, where she is putting the final touches on her teaching certification. She spends her free time gardening and playing cards with coworkers. She also enjoys fishing, hiking, and visiting attractions around the city. Her blog showcases insights she’s gleaned while researching THE LAST COLLARED MAGE, a fantasy mashup of Rome’s greatest defeats.













How much research do you do?

Oh man. Tons. I think it’s really important that my world be internally consistent, which means tracking down what sorts of circumstances create different cultures. I like to understand things like the interplay of geography and diet with politics and religion, so I spend a lot of time tracking down maps and records. It’s fun, though, and gives me a lot of great fodder for my blog.

 If you could go anywhere in the world for research, where would you go?

I would love to visit Teutoberg Forest in Germany. I’m actually really hoping to do a cruise of the Rhine for my honeymoon. It would be amazing to see such a cinematic location in person, since it plays such a major part in my book. I love the water — grew up on the Chesapeake Bay — so I would definitely rather see the border by boat instead of hike it, but to see the forest that defined so much of European history, where the Romans were handed their greatest defeat. They lost a quarter of their army, you know? That’s incredible.

It’s sort of amazing how much trouble the Germans caused for Rome, over the centuries.

What’s the most challenging thing you’ve ever done? 

Oh boy. Most of my hobbies are pretty challenging. I’d have to say playing bridge. For a card game, it’s very complex, and I’m not naturally good with numbers. Between having to remember all of the bidding conventions, counting trump, anticipating what my partner really means, and guessing how the cards will fall… it’s pretty tough.

Still, I’m glad I learned. It makes me feel so adult. More so than chess, I think, because there’s usually a “right answer” in chess. I don’t think I could beat a computer at chess — but bridge is still a very human game.

What is your favourite quote?

A lot of my favorite quotes come from Robert Heinlein. I actually bought an illustrated copy of The Notebooks of Lazarus Long when I was younger — it’s just a collection of quotes from the book, a sort of meta in-joke from Time Enough For Love. A lot of quotes from that book have stuck with me, but one in particular: “How do you argue with a woman who won’t?” It reminds me that it takes two people to have an argument, and as a teacher, the last thing I want to do is be in an argument.

​

Which writers would you say taught you the most?

Other than Heinlein?

I often say that the Chronicles of Verraine is basically The Saga of Recluse meets The Codex Alera, so it’s fitting that my biggest inspirations are Jim Butcher and L. E. Modesitt, Jr.

Jim Butcher was the author who made structure really “click” for me. He said once in an INTERVIEW that he wrote the first book of his series in a class, where he was horrified by the incredibly formulaic method the teacher taught. When he wrote his first book, it was with the intention of proving her wrong — instead, he wound up with Storm Front which went on to spawn a 15+ book series, a role playing game I adore, a comic series, and a television show.

He started the Codex Alera with a pitch, which I’ve come to believe is the best method for me. Someone thought he was joking when he said he could turn even the silliest idea into a great book, and gave him “Pokemon meets StarCraft.” Butcher added in the Lost Roman Legion for good measure and created a series I adore. If you haven’t read it yet, I highly recommend it.

If Butcher is my inspiration when it comes to the craft of writing, then Modesitt is the author whose content most speaks to me. I’ve always found Modesitt’s work to be very thoughtful and intelligent, with themes that really make me think and examine my own biases and morality. He asks hard questions in his work, and does an amazing job of presenting issues from multiple perspectives — and eras.


Modesitt is one of the rare authors whose worldbuilding procedes backwards. Often the first book in a series by Modesitt is the last book in the chronological order of that world. He does a lot of what I call longitudal worldbuilding — which is to say that he writes books at vastly different time periods for a given world. It gave me a lot of insight into how societies develop, and taught me a lot of tricks about how to whet someone’s curiosity.

 If you could live in any fictional society, which would it be? 

I think it would be really interesting to live in the world of Anne Bishop’s Black Jewels Trilogy — Kaeleer, the “Shadow Realm,” straddles the line between the Darkness and the Light. I think it’s a very honest world, where might makes right, men are violent, and women are nurturing… but also capable of being more violent. I think the genders have fundamentally equal power in the macro-sense, but on a micro level it’s very different and very unique. The social classes exist for reasons that make sense. In a way, I think it’s a very exaggerated version of our own world, but in a way where a lot of the hurtful parts have been lanced.

I used to write BJT fanfiction, and I spent a lot of time working out the logical ramifications of different laws and magical quirks that were mentioned in the series in passing. It’s a fascinating world that has a great many unique elements that don’t seem like they should work, but at the core of it, I think it’s as real and as flawed and as functional as anything else I’ve ever read, but a lot more interesting because it takes so very many risks.

IWSG and Did I Ever Say “I Quit!”

Hello all you lovely people, and happy first month of summer.  Let’s kick this month off with some writerly love.  It’s Insecure Writer’s Support Group time!

IWSG is run by Alex J Cavanaugh.  Pop over to the IWSG website to read all about the group and sign up to post on the first Wednesday of the month.  Our hosts for the month of June are JH Moncrieff, Madeline Mora-Summonte, Jen Chandler, Megan Morgan, and Heather Gardner!  Be sure to stop over at their blogs to leave some comment love and thank them for hosting.

The question for the month of June:  Did you ever say “I quit”? If so, what happened to make you come back to writing?

I can honestly say I’ve never straight up said “I quit” in regards to writing.

There have been more than a few times that I couldn’t write, because I had too much going on.  With full time jobs, having a baby and taking care of our various properties, there have been many times when there was simply no time to write.  Or at least, no time given that physically and mentally, I’ve lost the drive to get myself out of bed before 6am.  Or even before 7am these days, if my son is willing to sleep in.

Working from home now, with more flexible hours, I can get a lot more writing time in.  But even before that, when there was simply no time, I still never wanted to quit.  I found time whenever I could, even just a few minutes a week, to sit down and write.  At no point did I ever say I didn’t want to write anymore.  I always knew once I had more time, I would come back to writing.

I still refuse to give up.  This poor blog suffers the brunt of my neglect these days.  My fiction gets most of my love and attention.  I’ve started revising Cry of the Hawk, the third book in my Threads of Magic series.  In a few months, I’m planning to put out the first chapter of Chalice, a novella set in the Threads world.

I keep pressing forward.  I may never make money as a writer, but I will always write.

Was there ever something you loved that you gave up?  Did you ever come back to it?  Sound off in the comments.  

Cheers my dears

Do You Have Goals – Yes, I Still Do

It’s the last Friday of the month, and that means it’s time for Misha and Beth’s Do You Have a Goal Blog Hop, where bloggers share their monthly goals.  The hop is hosted by Misha Gericke and Beth Fred.  Click the links to read the guidelines, join the hop and find some great bloggers to follow.

It’s been shockingly too long since I posted a update to my goals, and for that I’m sorry.  But I’m back and I do have goals.  They’ve changed quite a bit from my last post, but that’s life.

We won’t discuss  how I did with my last stated goals.  Sort of starting from scratch here. 

 

Goals for June

My focus at this point is to get focused.  I have a lot of trouble with that.  I can’t seem to commit to a personal work schedule for more than a week.  Since I’ll be starting a temporary, part-time job in mid June, I’m hoping that will help with focusing/sticking to a schedule.  We shall see.

Finish my revision of Cry of the Hawk (Threads Book 3)
Finish the final revision of The Arm Coil (a fantasy short story) and post to my website, Wattpad, etc
Continue working on our new house (Major fixer upper, planned move in date is sometime in early 2018)
Enjoy spending time with my family

Good luck to my fellow Goal Blog Hoppers, and to everyone striving to meet their goals this month.  Sound off in the comments and share you own goals.  

Wilde Born Chapter 7

You have to remember, because if you don’t, we will all die.  Lou shuddered and lifted her gaze.

Warren huddled against the corner of the small prison cell, head tilted back, eyes closed, as if he listened to some distant music.  As soon as her gaze settled on him, he opened his eyes.

“Did he care about me this much back then?  My first life.”

Warren cleared his throat, a rough, terse sound.  “He did.  Half-blood children are rarely healthy, and even more rarely do they possess any magic.  You were … a novelty.”  He flinched.  “That was why she wanted to leave.  She knew he would want to mate you off soon, as you were almost a woman.”  He looked away.  “As you are now.”

Her stomach tightened.  “I’m only fourteen.”

“Age means little to my kind.”  He turned his eyes to the ceiling again, and began to whisper, words so soft it took a full minute for Lou to understand.  “I’m sorry, Bea.  So, so sorry.”

“Bea.  Tell me about her.  I want to remember her.”

At first, she thought he would ignore her.  Minutes passed in almost silence, while he muttered his useless apologies.  Then his tone changed.

“I will tell a story about you.”

Lou looked up in surprise, but kept her mouth shut.

“You loved to dance, lifting onto your toes, arms flying.  You never walked anywhere, you always ran, or skipped, or hopped.  But your favorite was to dance.  You loved music, and always, you lingered at the edge of the Court Hall, dreaming up dances.”

Faint wisps of … not quite memory, but sensation drifted back to Lou.  Lilting pipe music, the soft melodies of a flute.  Odd words that hung at the edge of understanding.  More than a little afraid, she held herself still, not wanting to lose those traces.

“The others would marvel at you, as children are so rare among my kind.  They would touch your hair, give you sweets and ask you to dance for them.”

Hands ghosted over her hair.  So soft, they whispered.  She touched theirs, felt the coarseness of roots and long grass.  The taste of sugar and maple exploded on her tongue.  Her breath hitched.

“You told me one day that you would learn to dance-“

“So fast I could fly.”  She gasped as the words came, unbidden to her mouth.  Like a dream, half remembered it started to fade away.  She closed her eyes, called back the feelings.  Tangled roots twining in her fingers, the coolness of rock against her bare feet.  The music.  Her magic, hot and bursting from her fingers.

My sweet Jay Bird.      

“Mama,” Lou cried, vaguely aware that tears stained her cheeks.  Her head pounded, as if the new memories had filled it to breaking.  No, old memories, of a life she had forgotten.  Memories of Mama, the smell of her skin and hair, and sweet sound of her voice in Lou’s ear.

Hands touched her arms, and she jerked away before realizing Warren knelt in front of her.  “You remember?”

She nodded, brushing away the tears that clung to her cheeks.  “It hurts.  Like I have two different people in my head, or something.”

Warren muttered under his breath, one hand going to his stomach.  Lou stared at the stain of blood on his shirt, and reached out to touch him.  Green light poured from her hand, and she hissed at the burn.  It overwhelmed them both, and Warren gasped.  “Lou, stop.”

The magic faded, as if scared away.  Warren stretched, moving easily despite having been stabbed less than an hour earlier.  “Use too much, and they’ll notice.  We don’t want then checking on us.”

Lou nodded, but she was barely listening.  Her headache was gone, and fresh determination seized her.  She went to the door, then turned back.  “I’m going to find them.”  She wasn’t sure what she expected from Warren.  A refusal would not have surprised her, though she found her feelings toward him marred by the man she’d once known.

He nodded, touching his stomach.  “Let’s go.”

The door opened at Lou’s touch.  The corridor was empty, and Lou crept out, followed closely by Warren.  She closed her eyes for a moment, and simply breathed.  Her magic, so long forgotten, came to her slowly, like a timid dog.  Lou pushed away any impatience, any worry or fear.  Mama’s voice drifted to her, “be strong, Jay Bird.  You can do anything.”

Lou turned and walked down the corridor.  Warren stayed close, but always tossing cautious looks over his shoulder.  They saw no sign of the fae, a fact that made Lou especially nervous.  “Why isn’t there anyone watching us.”

Warren let out a quick hiss and shook his head.  “The prince loves his games, Lou.”

“So this is just another trap?”

He shook his head.  “I don’t know.”  He stood silent for a moment.  “If we escape now, what will happen?  You and your parents will go back to your farm.  And Cian will track you down again.  Or will they agree to run away, and give up everything they’ve built.  Because he won’t give you up.”

Lou allowed the words to sink in, and made a decision.  It knotted her stomach, but she had no choice.  She followed the guiding sense to a door that, like all the others, opened with a brush of her fingers.

Mami and Daddy huddled against the far wall.  Daddy shifted forward as if to defend her, but Lou knew the moment he recognized her face.  He surged forward and caught her up in his arms.  Mami joined them, and Lou allowed herself one moment of peace.  One more second to feel safe in her parents arms.

Then she pulled away. “We need to get out of here.”  If it was all part of Cian’s plans, maybe they didn’t need to hurry.  But Lou so no benefit in dawdling.  Her parents reacted with some surprised at seeing Warren, but all three exchanged cordial nods.  Warren took the lead, guiding them through the winding corridors, and finally back to the outer door.

“I will get you out safely.”  Warren took her parents hands.  “Lou, take the back of my coat.”

“No, get them out first.  Make sure they’re safe.  Then me.”

“Absolutely not.”  Daddy yanked away from Warren’s hold at nearly the same second Mami did, and both went back to Lou.  “Not for one second are we-“

“Daddy, listen.  We both know, I’m not like you and Mami.”  When he opened his mouth to protest, she shook her head.  “I’m safer here than you are.  Please, go first, so I know you’re safe.  Don’t worry about me.”

The way he looked at her, she wondered if he could somehow read her mind.  He yanked her into another tight embrace.  “Girl, wherever you came from, whatever you can do, you are still our daughter.  You always will be.”  Mami nodded, tears in her eyes.

Lou swallowed down the painful lump in her throat, kissed them both on the cheek, and nodded at Warren.  He led them outside.

Seconds later, he returned.  “Both still young and healthy and waiting for you.”  He held out a hand.

“I’m not going.”

Warren’s face fell, and he closed his eyes in resignation.

“You I can’t leave Cian to terrorize them.  Even if we did move away, he knows who I am now.  He won’t ever stop, will he?”

Warren shook his head.

“Not unless I kill him.”

“And how will you do such a thing?”

“I probably won’t, but I will try.  And I end up dead, at least he’ll leave them alone.”  She turned away, because she knew Warren wouldn’t stop her.  A new thought came to her and she turned back to find him still watching her.  “Keep an eye out for them.”

“I will.”

Heart hammering against her chest, Lou made her way to the Court Hall.

Writer’s World Interview with A. J. Flowers

Here on the east coast, I stand at the brink of summer, my dears.  And Writer’s World is back, interviewing A. J. Flowers for the month of May.  

A little bit about A. J.

Originally from an island a mile and a half wide named Sugarloaf Key, A.J. discovered new lands and cultures through books. Life has drastically changed since her childhood, and she currently resides in Detroit as an automotive designer, which has given her the opportunity to travel the world and experience regions and cultures she can incorporate into her work. During her free time, she saves the world from annihilation on her favorite video games side-by-side with her Dutch husband and princess Blue Russian Kitty named Mina. You can follow her writing advice, published work, and fun personal stories on her blog at ajflowers.wordpress.com.

A.J. Flowers wrote her first trilogy, a fantasy angel series, through college while studying to become an engineer. Once active in Detroit with her automotive career, she decided to make her personal goals a reality. Writing as a hobby and taking it seriously as a secondary career is daunting, to say the least. She started out by documenting any new tidbits of knowledge on her blog, and after five years writing, and two years blogging, had enough information to create a writing resource guide.

She’s written 5 books, hundreds of flash and short stories, and is just now about to blossom in her career. If you’re a writer, this interview may be a peek into your future. Here we go!

Tell us about your writing process and how you brainstorm ideas:

For the initial draft, I often start without thinking, just write the first thing that comes to mind. That will develop perhaps a character or story element I want to work with. Once I’ve gotten far enough, and that may be 1,000 or 10,000 words, I’ll have a good sense of what the story is meant to be about and who the characters are, what goals they have and what’s keeping them from meeting their goals. At this point I’ve learned to start outlining. I probably will have to scrap everything I’ve written, but the hard part is done. I know what my book is about! More so, I’ve grown familiar with my characters and can continue to develop them as I work through the story. This is a great place where a writing group comes in. I can discuss my outline and with other people’s help, we can spot places where character motivations don’t make sense or could be improved. From there the process gets more and more refined. I might write some chapters, and if they work, I’ll keep them. If not, I may have to start over. But the more I write, the more I outline, the closer I will get to that finished product.

I know everyone has their own process, and each writer needs to do what works for them. I’ve only met one other writer who has a process similar to mine and it’s terribly time-intensive. But it works!

I love learning about how other author’s write.  Your process does sound really intensive.   How long on average does it take you to write a book?

It depends if you mean write a first draft or actually finish the book. I wrote Sanctuary in 6 months. But the rewrite generally takes me 3 times as long as the draft stage. (So, a year and a half for revising, and 6 months for the first draft = 2 years in total to finish a book.)

I hope to improve and get faster, which I think will come naturally. I’ll keep writing and see!

 3 times as long as writing is where I fall on revising as well.  Fixing a draft really does take so much more than that first flood of creativity that created it.  What motivated you to become an indie author?

A writing guide isn’t something I’d consider going through a traditional publisher. I know what it is I want to say and I know the audience for which it’s intended. Additionally, self-publishing is far more profitable than traditional and I can dedicate royalties towards my future novels for better editing and book cover designs. Amazon KDP offers 70% royalties whereas traditional publishers offer typically around 30%, and that’s even considering that it takes 2-3 years longer to go the traditional route which is time that the book could have been making sales. There are many pros and cons to indie publishing, but I’ll be the first to say it’s a tough decision. Both have their benefits.

It is a mixed bag, but indie publishing does have so many benefits.  I know marketing is one area where I struggle.  What are your views on social media for marketing, and which of them have worked best for you?

I believe social media is a place to be social, not market your book. Other than a tweet or Facebook post to announce book releases or giveaways, generally merchandise should never be advertised. People want to get to know you as a person, and once you build your fan base you will naturally sell more books. That’s the best marketing you can do for yourself, especially when it comes to social media.

That’s an excellent point.  In the end, the best marketing for your current book is publishing the next book Let’s have a little flashback: Do you remember the first story you ever wrote?

I’m not sure if it was my first story, but I believe that would be a poem which was published by a magazine lost to time before I’d turned ten. It was after the loss of a cherished pet and I discovered I could express myself through writing. What came out was a poem and the realization that I was a writer.

After a bunch of poetry that was probably terrible, I started writing an angel novel in college, and 10 years later it’s been rewritten beyond recognition of the first horrid 180,000 word draft into the first novel in a series I can be proud of, Fallen to Grace.

I can’t imagine how different my first attempt at a novel will be once I go back and revise it.  Congrats on getting it done, and published.  

Find A. J. at the links below and check out her self-published works, including a guide for aspiring authors,

Blog: ajflowers.wordpress.com

GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15169303.A_J_Flowers

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorAJFlowers/

Twitter: @AJFlowers86

Newsletter: E-mail Signup (New Releases, Free Promotions, and AJ Updates)

 

Writer’s World Interview with Heather Hayden

Spring is in the air my dears, and the joy of picnics and laying out in the grass reading new stories by new authors.  It’s another Writer’s World, this month with Heather Hayden.  

A Little More About Heather:

KODAK Digital Still Camera

 

 

Though a part-time editor by day, Heather Hayden’s not-so-secret identity is that of a writer—at night she pours heart and soul into science fiction and fantasy novels. In March 2015 she published her first novella, Augment, a YA science fiction story filled with excitement, danger, and the strength of friendship. She immediately began work on its sequel, Upgrade, which continues the adventures of Viki, a girl who loves to run, and her friend Halle, an AI. Her latest release is a short story “Beneath His Skin,” which is part of an anthology her writer’s group put together called From the Stories of Old: A Collection of Fairy Tale Retellings. You can learn more about Heather and her stories through her blog and her Twitter, both of which consist of equal amounts of writerly things and random stuff she’s interested in.

 

 

 

 

Welcome to my online home, Heather.  If one of your protagonists were transported to our world in the modern day, what would they think? 

That would depend on which story they were coming from. If, say, Halle from Augment were to appear in our world, it would find itself quite lost—the Internet is huge by our standards, but much, much smaller and less widespread than the Cloud that exists in its world. Viki, its friend, might find our world primitive, but would probably have a better time fitting in… However, her implants would not be treatable here, so ultimately it wouldn’t be a good experience for her. An astral, from The Astrals (working title), might also find it an odd experience—since no one here believes in the astrals, she or he wouldn’t be able to use their powers. Not to mention how terrifying some of our technology would seem!

Sounds like you’ve thought a lot about your worlds.  What inspires your world-building?

I love creating new worlds, whether in the future or on a different world entirely. Sometimes I’m inspired by things I see around me, or things I read or see in books, movies, tv shows, or on the news, other times my imagination just wanders off and comes back with brilliant ideas for how this or that could work.

What would you do if you could wield the magic you have written?

Hm, which magic? I’ve got a variety of kinds scattered through my different stories. If I could choose one, though, I would probably want to be able to either have the ability to fly, transform, or manipulate water (better swimmer, no drowning.) I’ve always wanted to have wings—but with the caveat of being able to make them disappear when I’m not using them, since I don’t think they’d be very comfortable for sleeping!

I agree.  I’ve always side-eyed human shaped characters with permanently attached wings, as they rarely seem to deal with problems getting around on foot.  What is your favorite scene you’ve ever written?

That’s a tough question! How do I even pick something like that? One of them definitely would be writing from Halle’s point-of-view in Augment and Upgrade—it’s been challenging to describe its world in terms that don’t get too technical for people to follow, but really rewarding at the same time. So I think any of the scenes where I captured its world would count. I also loved the opening of Augment, with Viki running down the street—I love running and although I’m not nearly as good as her, I tried to capture my passion for it in that scene.

Wow, describing the view of an AI would have to be difficult, but I know it can be so much fun to dive into a truly alien character.  What is your favorite motivational phrase? “It is perfectly okay to write garbage – as long as you edit brilliantly.” CJ Cherryh, my favorite science fiction author, said this, and she’s absolutely right. Or at least, her words resonate with me. As a pantser, my first drafts are sometimes quite messy, but editing is where I clean it until it sparkles.

Editing is actually my favorite part  Thank you so much for joining me, Heather.  Cheers to all of you out there, and here’s hoping that as the seasons change you’re enjoying whatever the weather and life brings you.  

Wilde Born Chapter 6

A few feet beyond the door, the flashlight did her no good.  The darkness seemed to swallow the light, so it barely shown a few inches.  Frustrated, Lou muttered a curse about stupid magic tricks as she shoved the flashlight back into her backpack.

“Stupid magic tricks indeed.”

Lou jumped as a torch flared to life near her head.

A dozen fae surrounded her, their eyes black and dangerous in the light of the torch.  Lou raised her flashlight like a club, and held her ground.  “Where are my folks?”

A cackle answered her right before hands seized her arms.  Lou fought for all she was worth, but they clawed away her backpack and dragged her down the winding corridor.  She heard shouts and cursing that told her they had collected Warren as well.

The tunnel twisted in confusing loops, descending ever down, into cloying darkness, until they emerged into a massive chamber.

Twinkling lights spotted Lou’s eyes, and she stared up at the cavernous ceiling.  She’d never imagined such a huge opening could exist underground.  Great rock spears hung down, carved into twisted spires.  From these hung ropes of moss and vines, somehow still green despite the lack of sunlight.  Braided vines, in full flower, hung from the ceiling and against the walls, dropping brightly colored petals to form a rainbow carpet over the mossy floor.

At the far side of the chamber, seated on a cliff that jutted out from the rock wall about ten feet up, was the Wilde Prince.

He leapt down with casual grace, and grinned at Lou.  She licked her lips against the urge to spit at him.

“Welcome, dear Jay Bird, back to the home of your birth.”

“Where are my parents?”

He looked taken a back for a moment, but his smiled returned.  “Yes, the humans who cared for you.  I’ll tell you what.  Agree to stay with us, forever, and I will free them.”

“Lou.” Warren’s voice cut off as another fae hissed at him.

Lou knew better than to look at him, but she remembered Snowtail’s warning.  “Free them.  You mean you won’t hurt them, you’ll send them safely out of the Mound so they won’t grow old, and let them go home.”

Malice darkened Cian’s eyes for the briefest of seconds, then he laughed.  “Clever little Jay Bird.  I’m afraid I find it tricky to speak so plainly, after all, who knows when fate will belie one’s words.”

“Let Warren guide them to the entrance, and they will all leave together, unimpeded,” she added with a last hard look at the gathered fae.  They snickered and hissed at her.

Cian remained silent for several seconds, expression a mystery to Lou.  “And you shall remain here?”

Never.  “Why?  They cared for me, so you owe them a debt.”

Now Cian hissed, darting close to her.  Lou held her ground, though she trembled at having him so near, feeling his hot, rotten-leaf breath against her cheek.  “We owe them nothing, for we asked them for nothing.  You belong to me.”

She met his eyes calmly, heart stuttering like a hummingbird’s wings against her ribs.  “I don’t belong to anybody.”  With that, she smashed her ring into his eye.

He screamed, and flung himself away from her.  The gathered fae erupted in a panic.  Lou lashed out again, wriggling away from the hands grasping her, and throwing out punches.  Where her ring connected even the smallest bit, the fae shrank back with squeals and shrieks.  She searched for Warren.

The fae swarmed over him.  One brandished a black knife.  Thrust it forward.  Lou watched it sink deep into his belly.

“Warren!”  In her few seconds of distraction, they covered her.  One grabbed her hand, and with a jerking motion, ripped away her ring.  It landed on the floor, a curl of smoke rising from the flowers it touched.

They forced Lou to her knees, and Cian stood over her.  Blood poured from a gash under his eye, the skin blackened as if she’d burned him.  But he smiled.  He had won.

IWSG – Looking Back on Old Writing

Welcome all, to another Insecure Writer’s Support Group.

 

The awesome co-hosts for the March 1 posting of the IWSG will be Tamara Narayan, Patsy Collins, M.J. Fifield, and Nicohle Christopherson!

March 1 Question: Have you ever pulled out a really old story and reworked it? Did it work out?

I did recently pull out a not so old story and tried to rework it for a flash fiction contest.  In the end, the story didn’t fit the contest all that well, but no worries.  My plan is to rework it into a more typical length short story, and eventually start submitting it.  Wish me luck on that.

As for a really old story, the oldest one I can think of is the Keepers.  It was the first original work I ever wrote, when I was around seventeen.  I cringe just thinking about it, because it was pretty hokey.  Think cliche plot about a family of witches guarding an ancient artifact of evil, and set upon by minions of the dark lord.  Also set in Hawaii, a place I’ve never been but thought would be cool.  I also remember devoting several pages to describing the characters looks and personalities in minute detail.

If I ever did go back to that story, I would have to do some serious reworking.  But the basic premise still sounds kind of cool to me, so it might be worth a look.  Maybe it’s not quite as bad as I remember it.

What old stories would you consider digging out and trying to revive?

Cheers

Wilde Born Chapter 5

Lou hoofed it through the forest, anger burning her insides as much as fear.  Anger at herself for leading the fae right to her family.

She found Warren’s little hovel, but he was not outside, and everything looked shut up tight.  She went to the door, and wrapped hard.  The sound was not terribly impressive on soft wood, but seconds later, the door swung open.

Warren greeted her with a look a disappointed shock, then tried to close the door in her face.  Lou thrust out her leg to block him.  “I need your help.  They took my family.”

Warren closed his eyes, and sighed.  “I can’t help you.  I’m a coward, my magic is weak.”

“But you can tell me how to fight them, and you can get us out safely once I find my parents.  I don’t want them growing old or young just from walking out a door.”

He looked away from her, flinching.  “The last time you relied on me for that, I failed.  I’d rather you not be disappointed again.”

Lou kicked against the door when she felt him try to close it on her.  “Then don’t disappoint me.”

He glared at her.  “I may not be strong for a fae, but I am stronger than you.”

She knew that.  She had felt his strength in how he pushed the door against her and knew he held it in check.  Lou caught her lower lip, realizing she could not force the man to do anything.  “At least tell me what weapons I should take.”

He stared up at her a moment.  “Iron.  Something sharp if you can find it.  And salt is poisonous to us.”

Lou recalled how iron always made her hands feel stiff and sunburned, and how much she hated salty food.  Mami had taken to making separate spaghetti sauce just for her.  “Anything else.”

Warren leaned against the door, looking very old though his odd face betrayed no particular age that Lou could recognize.  “Fae can’t lie, but most are clever with words.  Cian especially.  Think carefully about what he says, and take nothing for granted.”

She backed away, and turned to leave.  A rough hand seized hers, and Lou turned back to meet Warren’s large green eyes.  “I’m sorry.  I really am.”

Not able to resist driving the knife a little deeper, Lou narrowed her eyes at him.  “If you say so.”

Warren rocked back as if she struck him.  The door slammed closed, and Lou found herself alone again.  She ran back to the house to find her weapons.

 

****

Warren thumped his head against the door, fingers flexing into the soft, pulpy wood.  He loved his little house.  It was not the Mound, by any stretch, but he felt safe, tucked away.

Had she known?  Had she remembered what those words meant to him?   

Always a little joke between Warren and Beatrice.  Because he could never lie, and he’d always been so terrible at twisting words.  Beatrice would insist she made a better fae then he was.  And always, he would tell her, “if you say so.”

His Beatrice.  He missed her still.  He hadn’t even been able to say goodbye.

So, you abandon her daughter and those that raised her to the same fate. Warren flinched at the dark voice in his head.  He was a coward.  He knew that well and good.  Beatrice had died knowing it, and certainly Jay Bird, no Lou, now knew it, if she had forgotten it.

You get called things, but that don’t mean they’re true.  Her voice drifted back to him from so long ago.  When I was a little girl, out picking berries, these men snatched me up, called me a slave, but that didn’t make it so.  I was born free and I’ll always be free.  I just have to make the world see it that way.

“I was born a coward, Bea.”  No answer drifted to him from his memories, because he had never said that to her.  Because before that awful night, when he’d been too afraid to meet them, he never thought himself a coward.

He closed his eyes against the onslaught of possibilities.  The life he, Bea, and Jay Bird might have had if he had only gone to them.

Lou had managed to save herself once, and she still had a chance for a good life ahead of her.  Or she might well lose everything trying to escape the Mound.

Warren backed away from the door, and it opened for him.  He hurried out into the falling dark.

 

****

 

“Weapons?”  Snowtail hissed.  “Are you a complete fool?”

Lou gave the cat a sour look, and for a moment contemplated the odd turn her life had taken.  Her parents had been kidnapped by fairy people and she was having an argument with a cat.  “Well, my common sense told me my Daddy’s rifle wouldn’t do much good against these fae, but feel free to tell me otherwise.”

The cat’s tail flicked with obvious annoyance, then she seemed to soften.  “I know you fear for your family, but …”

“Don’t say it.”  Lou pointed the iron poker she held at the cat.  “I’m getting them back.  They won’t die because of me.”

“You may well die for them.”  Snowtail proceeded to lick her paw and smooth her whiskers, a cat’s way of avoiding an undesirable topic of conversation.  Lou almost laughed at the novelty of it, understanding a cat’s mannerisms.  She sobered quickly, and resumed packing her supplies.

Iron poker, a container of salt, Mami’s gardening gloves, all went into the backpack Lou took to school.  Perhaps not the best storage for weaponry, but she had no time to fashion a Batman style utility belt.

Lou shouldered her backpack, and looked around.  The disaster in the kitchen drew her gaze.  Tears stung her eyes at the sight of the cake pans and smears of milk sauce all over the floor.  She lifted her gaze to the stove top.

The pan of cherries still on the stove.  On a whim, Lou found a small jar in the cupboard.  She scooped a few spoonfuls of cherry sauce into the jar.  She went to the bathroom, and found Mami’s iron pills.  A few minutes of grinding, and she poured the powder into the jar.  A quick stir with her finger, thought she winced at the sting.  She screwed the lid on tightly, and tucked the jar into her pocket.

She crossed the living room, past Snowtail still sitting on the coffee table.

“There is an unspoken agreement,” the cat began.

Lou looked back, and waited, though she itched to leave.

“The fae do not harm each other within their own walls, except in self-defense.”  She gave a cat shrug, rolling herself along an invisible wall.  “That will afford some meager protection, as they won’t attack you right away.”

Lou filed the information away, and headed toward the woods.  She had always had a good sense of direction, and found the woven door fairly quickly.  She stared at it, so utterly unassuming in the day, but eerie at night.  The moon seemed to shine straight down on the door, casting a milky glow over the interwoven lengths of bark.

She approached it.

“Take care.”

The voice startled her so badly she damn near jumped out of her skin.  She whirled around to find Warren behind her, large eyes flashing in the night.  “What are you doing?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.  I would have gone to the house, but I was afraid I’d miss you.”

Lou pinched between her eyes, hoping to stave off the headache building behind them.  “What do you want?”  She winced at her tone.  Mami and Daddy had raised her to be polite.  “I don’t mean to be rude, but you did say you wanted nothing to do with this.”

Warren nodded.  “I failed Bea and you once.  I won’t do it again.”

Lou studied his expression, trying to read any hint of deception in his odd, but still somewhat human features.  She gave a brief nod and moved to the door.  Warren seized her hand.  “Wait.  They don’t like me much.  I’m not sure …”

“Just stay by the door.”  Lou rolled her shoulders, as if to shift off her unsettled feelings.  She knew nothing about what she was walking into, yet she was ordering him to stay behind.

He didn’t look pleased, or even relieved by her order.  As they approached the door, he glanced at her.  “Do you remember anything?”

Lou shook her head.  “It only comes in little flashes, when I’m not thinking about it.  I tried to force it and …” She shook her head.  She reached for the door, and grazed it with her fingers.

It flexed and peeled away, revealing the same long tunnel, shrouded in darkness.  Lou retrieved her flashlight and clicked it on.  And entered the Mound.

IWSG – Where Have I Been

Sigh.  February, and I’m trying to be back.  I have plenty of insecurity.

Welcome back me and everyone, to the Insecure Writer’s Support Group!  On the first Wednesday of every month, bloggers get together to share their thoughts and experiences, and find/offer support across the blogosphere.

ISWG is captained by Alex J. Cavanaugh. The awesome co-hosts for today are Misha Gericke, LK Hill, Juneta Key, and Joylene Buter!  Please also be sure to congratulate the new site admins, Heather M Gardner and C. Lee McKenzie.

Now on to my issues.  Late fall and early winter was a chaotic time in our household.  Bear and I bought a new house.  To clarify, new to us.  It is, in fact, a rather old house.  And it needs a lot of work.  We’ve been spending the last couple months doing as much of the demo as we can ourselves and scraping together as much cash as possible to pay professionals for the things we can’t do.  So, I’ve had to work more hours to bring in more funds.

Bunny is also getting older, and while he’s more independent, he’s certainly not ready to take care of himself.  We’re in the midst of potty training at the moment, and he’s learning how to dress himself.  It’ll be a long time before all I have to do is bang on his door in the morning and leave him on his own to get ready.

As such, writing has fallen off considerably.

I am still writing.  I did a short piece for a contest a few weeks back.  I’ll post the story here in a few weeks after winners are announced.  I’m critiquing quite a bit to keep up my membership on the two critique sites I use.  My short story, “Wilde Born,” is chugging along (Chapter 5 out this Friday!)  and sometime after that’s finished, I’ll be releasing Chalice.  I have plans to submit a few works to ebook publishers, and with any luck, next winter I’ll be able to work on the revision for Cry of the Hawk, the third novel in the Threads series, and finally get it published.

All is moving slowly, but steadily.  I feel a bit melancholy about this update, for many reasons.  I’m sad that I don’t have as much time for writing or my blog, though I hope that will change once things even out a little.  Wish me luck and good luck to all of you as we head into the second month of 2017.

Cheers!