Mary Newman's Blog, page 6
October 14, 2015
Autumnal Thinking
The first day of autumn has actually already occurred according to the calendar, but here in Oklahoma it's only just starting to feel that way. The trees are starting to turn and fall decorations are popping up around the area, as well as cooler evening temperatures.
This season brings with it Halloween for many, but for me it's Samhain because I kind of prefer the old ways. It's also a nod to my late husband, Alan Futrell, and his beliefs as an old Pagan. Samhain is the celebration of the previous year and looking forward to the next. The time when the harvest is in, signaling plans for what to plant next time. It was Alan's favorite holiday.
Several events happened this year that hit me hard and threw my equilibrium into full-on bipolar/WTF/isitevergonnaend mode. My mom, who I've not had a good relationship with since the beginning of my teens, suffered a stroke and died a few months later. Coming to terms with how I felt about her and what happened was difficult. My youngest daughter's pregnancy, which was a truly happy occurrence, turned into a stressful time, when things started going wrong. A cesarean birth, followed by still-unexplained, seizure-like events in my new granddaughter has almost wrenched my heart from my chest.
Those are the two main events, but little, every day type things happened, as well. Needless to say, everything negative seemed to overpower my thinking and it was hard to drag myself up out of the abyss. I'm still working on it.
And what does Samhain and autumn have to do with all this? I'm glad you asked. I'm going to use this time of year to turn myself back around and get on with my writing. I've got a book in the wings awaiting polishing so it can be released and I'm going to get to that. My personality is generally an upbeat one, so the negative, blah, crappy stuff is just going to have to take a back seat and let me live my life. As I watch the earth here in the northern hemisphere put herself to bed for the winter, the sadness and stress are going with it. It's not necessarily a "new leaf" so much as it is a continuing on with life. Stagnation has never been my style.
This season brings with it Halloween for many, but for me it's Samhain because I kind of prefer the old ways. It's also a nod to my late husband, Alan Futrell, and his beliefs as an old Pagan. Samhain is the celebration of the previous year and looking forward to the next. The time when the harvest is in, signaling plans for what to plant next time. It was Alan's favorite holiday.
Several events happened this year that hit me hard and threw my equilibrium into full-on bipolar/WTF/isitevergonnaend mode. My mom, who I've not had a good relationship with since the beginning of my teens, suffered a stroke and died a few months later. Coming to terms with how I felt about her and what happened was difficult. My youngest daughter's pregnancy, which was a truly happy occurrence, turned into a stressful time, when things started going wrong. A cesarean birth, followed by still-unexplained, seizure-like events in my new granddaughter has almost wrenched my heart from my chest.
Those are the two main events, but little, every day type things happened, as well. Needless to say, everything negative seemed to overpower my thinking and it was hard to drag myself up out of the abyss. I'm still working on it.
And what does Samhain and autumn have to do with all this? I'm glad you asked. I'm going to use this time of year to turn myself back around and get on with my writing. I've got a book in the wings awaiting polishing so it can be released and I'm going to get to that. My personality is generally an upbeat one, so the negative, blah, crappy stuff is just going to have to take a back seat and let me live my life. As I watch the earth here in the northern hemisphere put herself to bed for the winter, the sadness and stress are going with it. It's not necessarily a "new leaf" so much as it is a continuing on with life. Stagnation has never been my style.
October 2, 2015
I Am a Writer
I was reminded of something I learned 20 years ago that I had honestly forgotten. I am a writer. I have been one since I was a teenager. My original genre was children's stories, which I wrote for extra credit in an English class, and later for my own children. I didn't begin writing romance until 17 years ago, and only published in that genre three years ago.
A little more than twenty years ago I belonged to a writing group in Wyoming. We met about once a month to critique each other and share what we had written. It was a wonderful group made up of published and unpublished writers. What I remember most is that we always supported each other. Each success was a victory for all. We celebrated unpaid articles the same as a new book deal. At one time, a well known author came to one of our meetings and spoke to us. During a Q&A session one of our group made a comment about wishing she were a "real" writer. His response is what I remembered today. He asked her if she wrote and she said of course, but she'd never been published. He replied that if she wrote, she was a writer. Being discovered and published was not what made her a writer. She was a writer because she wrote.
I've been questioning myself as to whether I wanted to continue being a writer since my last few books have had so few sales. That was when I remembered what that author told our group and I was reminded that I am a writer. Regardless of whether I ever sell another story, I am still a writer. Even if no one else ever reads what I've written, I am a writer. Publishing, sales, reviews, etc., do not make me a writer. As long as I write, I am a writer.
A little more than twenty years ago I belonged to a writing group in Wyoming. We met about once a month to critique each other and share what we had written. It was a wonderful group made up of published and unpublished writers. What I remember most is that we always supported each other. Each success was a victory for all. We celebrated unpaid articles the same as a new book deal. At one time, a well known author came to one of our meetings and spoke to us. During a Q&A session one of our group made a comment about wishing she were a "real" writer. His response is what I remembered today. He asked her if she wrote and she said of course, but she'd never been published. He replied that if she wrote, she was a writer. Being discovered and published was not what made her a writer. She was a writer because she wrote.
I've been questioning myself as to whether I wanted to continue being a writer since my last few books have had so few sales. That was when I remembered what that author told our group and I was reminded that I am a writer. Regardless of whether I ever sell another story, I am still a writer. Even if no one else ever reads what I've written, I am a writer. Publishing, sales, reviews, etc., do not make me a writer. As long as I write, I am a writer.
September 7, 2015
Excerpt from The Healers' Warrior
Interested in a scene from my newest book, "The Healers' Warrior"
The entry chime sounded just as Bostel had reclined on his bunk, and he felt like throwing something at the offending noise. He was off duty right now. What was so important they needed to bother him just as he’d managed to get comfortable? A feat that wasn’t so easy right now. Fuck! He stood up and adjusted himself in the tight pants he’d not bothered to take off yet. He so needed to get laid.
“What?” he growled when the panel opened.
“Gods, you’re sexy when you’re all grumbly,” Thurus pushed past him into his quarters.
He’d let him, of course. The smaller Hashani wasn’t big enough to push anyone anywhere.
“Shut the door, Bostel, I’ve got private business with you.”
“Oh yeah?” Bostel let the panel slide shut and turned to his guest. “Did you finally decide to lay off the mating business and let me take care of all your itches, little bit?”
“Little bit?” Thurus laughed. “That’s the best you can come up with? Damn, Bostel, I’m disappointed. I was hoping for something really fun and exciting. Like me.”
Bostel glared at the other male and deliberately went to his bunk and lay down again.
“I’m tired, I’m cranky, and I need sex. If you can’t help me with any of those, get out.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so,” Thurus came towards the bunk with a sashay that would have put one of the whores that worked with Bostel’s mother to shame.
It would be too much to hope he was going to put it to use, though. Bostel lay still and watched the other male approach.
“I’m not giving you any happy pills, Bostel. You’d be too loopy in an emergency, but I’ve got a sleep patch if you want it.”
“I don’t want a sleep patch,” Bostel growled, oddly disappointed.
What had he thought? Thurus was going to just hop onto his bed and climb aboard? Yeah, his luck hadn’t been going that way for over a year.
“You sure? I’ve got a couple with me.”
“No, they don’t work on me anyhow,” Bostel grumbled. “Don’t even make me relax.”
“Which brings me to my reason for coming here,” Thurus said. “You, sweetheart, have put our medical training on its ear. Care to explain your physiology?”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
There, that said it all, didn’t it? Now the irritating pest could go away.
“In that case, I need a small sample of your DNA to run it. No biggie.”
Thurus pulled a slim package from the pocket of the hip-length, loose fitting, open robe he wore over a sleeveless jumpsuit and waved it at him. Did he have to get so damn close? Bostel felt like crawling further away on his bunk. He didn’t use force on his playmates. Didn’t have to. He’d yet to be turned down. Okay, Galon and Mango had turned him down, but that was different.
He watched the Hashani rip open the package and withdraw a vial with a stick poking out of it, and kneel on the edge of the bed.
“Open up, sweetheart.”
“Open up what?” Bostel eyed the vial and stick with trepidation. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to slide this little piece here out of its package,” Thurus said in a slow sexy voice, putting actions to his words. “And then I’m going to slide it into your…”
“Get away from me with that!”
This time Bostel did jump off his bunk and went to the far wall.
“Aw, is the big bad man afraid of a little swab?” Thurus’ grin was pure evil. “Come on, big boy, I know you’ve had worse than this in your mouth.”
Bostel choked. Thurus’ voice had all kinds of images flashing through his brain, and every one of them was making his pants even tighter. He caught the Hashani’s eyes sliding down to the very obvious bulge he had no way of hiding. Thurus sauntered over and pressed himself up against Bostel and tilted his head up, bringing an arm up around Bostel’s neck and grabbing the back of his head to pull it down towards him.
Just one little kiss. That wouldn’t hurt anything, would it? He wouldn’t find himself claimed and mated with just a single little kiss, would he? Bostel found himself bending his head, surrendering to the pressure Thurus was exerting. He opened his mouth to claim his kiss.
And the little fucker jammed that damn stick in his mouth, pulled it back out again, quickly slid it into the vial, snapped the end off and closed the vial with a click of finality.
“Thanks so much, sweetie. That’s all I needed.”
The Healers' Warrior
The entry chime sounded just as Bostel had reclined on his bunk, and he felt like throwing something at the offending noise. He was off duty right now. What was so important they needed to bother him just as he’d managed to get comfortable? A feat that wasn’t so easy right now. Fuck! He stood up and adjusted himself in the tight pants he’d not bothered to take off yet. He so needed to get laid.
“What?” he growled when the panel opened.
“Gods, you’re sexy when you’re all grumbly,” Thurus pushed past him into his quarters.
He’d let him, of course. The smaller Hashani wasn’t big enough to push anyone anywhere.
“Shut the door, Bostel, I’ve got private business with you.”
“Oh yeah?” Bostel let the panel slide shut and turned to his guest. “Did you finally decide to lay off the mating business and let me take care of all your itches, little bit?”
“Little bit?” Thurus laughed. “That’s the best you can come up with? Damn, Bostel, I’m disappointed. I was hoping for something really fun and exciting. Like me.”
Bostel glared at the other male and deliberately went to his bunk and lay down again.
“I’m tired, I’m cranky, and I need sex. If you can’t help me with any of those, get out.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so,” Thurus came towards the bunk with a sashay that would have put one of the whores that worked with Bostel’s mother to shame.
It would be too much to hope he was going to put it to use, though. Bostel lay still and watched the other male approach.
“I’m not giving you any happy pills, Bostel. You’d be too loopy in an emergency, but I’ve got a sleep patch if you want it.”
“I don’t want a sleep patch,” Bostel growled, oddly disappointed.
What had he thought? Thurus was going to just hop onto his bed and climb aboard? Yeah, his luck hadn’t been going that way for over a year.
“You sure? I’ve got a couple with me.”
“No, they don’t work on me anyhow,” Bostel grumbled. “Don’t even make me relax.”
“Which brings me to my reason for coming here,” Thurus said. “You, sweetheart, have put our medical training on its ear. Care to explain your physiology?”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
There, that said it all, didn’t it? Now the irritating pest could go away.
“In that case, I need a small sample of your DNA to run it. No biggie.”
Thurus pulled a slim package from the pocket of the hip-length, loose fitting, open robe he wore over a sleeveless jumpsuit and waved it at him. Did he have to get so damn close? Bostel felt like crawling further away on his bunk. He didn’t use force on his playmates. Didn’t have to. He’d yet to be turned down. Okay, Galon and Mango had turned him down, but that was different.
He watched the Hashani rip open the package and withdraw a vial with a stick poking out of it, and kneel on the edge of the bed.
“Open up, sweetheart.”
“Open up what?” Bostel eyed the vial and stick with trepidation. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to slide this little piece here out of its package,” Thurus said in a slow sexy voice, putting actions to his words. “And then I’m going to slide it into your…”
“Get away from me with that!”
This time Bostel did jump off his bunk and went to the far wall.
“Aw, is the big bad man afraid of a little swab?” Thurus’ grin was pure evil. “Come on, big boy, I know you’ve had worse than this in your mouth.”
Bostel choked. Thurus’ voice had all kinds of images flashing through his brain, and every one of them was making his pants even tighter. He caught the Hashani’s eyes sliding down to the very obvious bulge he had no way of hiding. Thurus sauntered over and pressed himself up against Bostel and tilted his head up, bringing an arm up around Bostel’s neck and grabbing the back of his head to pull it down towards him.
Just one little kiss. That wouldn’t hurt anything, would it? He wouldn’t find himself claimed and mated with just a single little kiss, would he? Bostel found himself bending his head, surrendering to the pressure Thurus was exerting. He opened his mouth to claim his kiss.
And the little fucker jammed that damn stick in his mouth, pulled it back out again, quickly slid it into the vial, snapped the end off and closed the vial with a click of finality.
“Thanks so much, sweetie. That’s all I needed.”
The Healers' Warrior
August 28, 2015
A Week to Remember
Originally, this blog was going to be about what and who inspired my writing and how ideas turned into books. This week was all about that... And then some.
Monday started out relatively normal. Since I knew I would be going to the hospital that evening with the youngest daughter to support her as she had her first baby, I was just making sure I had everything in order to leave for a night and maybe part of the next day. Best laid plans, huh? Normal hasn't had a place in this entire week. Where to begin?
A simple induction didn't work out. After twenty some hours of no progress, my baby girl was taken into surgery to deliver her baby girl by cesarean. Mom and baby are doing fine, now. Grandma? Still catching my breath and trying to calm my nerves. While I was busy being strong for my daughter I kind of forgot to be there for myself.
Writing was put on hold and taking notes for ideas went out the window. Sleeping was entirely overrated. Who knew I could go with none for thirty hours at this age? I don't recommend it, however.
I'm still a ways from normal, since I'll be hosting mommy and baby for a couple of days when she gets out of hospital. That should be today, sometime. My little RV will be much easier for her to get around than her upstairs rooms at her house. Her SO also has to return to work, so she needs the extra helping hands for a bit. And, I get to spoil my newest grandchild. It's a win-win for me.
So, about those ideas? When you have that much family around waiting for a little one to make their appearance you get some real gems. The poor SO's family razzed him unmercifully when they found out I'd included his traits (and a few sayings he's well-known for) in a story, but the character I borrowed him for was bisexual. I've already put the SO's family on notice they will be appearing in future books, and they may not survive. *Evil cackling laugh* I LOVE being a writer.
Monday started out relatively normal. Since I knew I would be going to the hospital that evening with the youngest daughter to support her as she had her first baby, I was just making sure I had everything in order to leave for a night and maybe part of the next day. Best laid plans, huh? Normal hasn't had a place in this entire week. Where to begin?
A simple induction didn't work out. After twenty some hours of no progress, my baby girl was taken into surgery to deliver her baby girl by cesarean. Mom and baby are doing fine, now. Grandma? Still catching my breath and trying to calm my nerves. While I was busy being strong for my daughter I kind of forgot to be there for myself.
Writing was put on hold and taking notes for ideas went out the window. Sleeping was entirely overrated. Who knew I could go with none for thirty hours at this age? I don't recommend it, however.
I'm still a ways from normal, since I'll be hosting mommy and baby for a couple of days when she gets out of hospital. That should be today, sometime. My little RV will be much easier for her to get around than her upstairs rooms at her house. Her SO also has to return to work, so she needs the extra helping hands for a bit. And, I get to spoil my newest grandchild. It's a win-win for me.
So, about those ideas? When you have that much family around waiting for a little one to make their appearance you get some real gems. The poor SO's family razzed him unmercifully when they found out I'd included his traits (and a few sayings he's well-known for) in a story, but the character I borrowed him for was bisexual. I've already put the SO's family on notice they will be appearing in future books, and they may not survive. *Evil cackling laugh* I LOVE being a writer.
August 24, 2015
Running Behind...
The title says it all for me this past week. I've had my head elsewhere and there has been hardly a word written.
I've been a grandma for several years now, twelve to be exact. I have two more on the way, and I do mean on the way right now. The newest granddaughter will be born sometime tonight or in the morning. And that's exactly where my head is right now - with my youngest daughter as this is her first child. I figured since I had a few minutes I'd get a blog post in and let you all know what's going on with me and why I've been basically incognito for the past week.
I am working on the third and fourth books in The Brethren series. The third book, A Warrior's Strength, (an M/M/M romance) is still in the editing phase and soon to head off to the beta readers. The fourth, and probably final book of the series, His Broken Warrior, (an M/M romance) is currently being written; somewhere around the halfway mark. Both books are in the fantasy romance genre, same as all of my other books.
Happy Monday, everyone, and hope your week is going great!
I've been a grandma for several years now, twelve to be exact. I have two more on the way, and I do mean on the way right now. The newest granddaughter will be born sometime tonight or in the morning. And that's exactly where my head is right now - with my youngest daughter as this is her first child. I figured since I had a few minutes I'd get a blog post in and let you all know what's going on with me and why I've been basically incognito for the past week.
I am working on the third and fourth books in The Brethren series. The third book, A Warrior's Strength, (an M/M/M romance) is still in the editing phase and soon to head off to the beta readers. The fourth, and probably final book of the series, His Broken Warrior, (an M/M romance) is currently being written; somewhere around the halfway mark. Both books are in the fantasy romance genre, same as all of my other books.
Happy Monday, everyone, and hope your week is going great!
August 17, 2015
Release Day!
Release days are always exciting, at least they are for me. it's the day I turn my baby loose for the last time and let ya'll have your say.
The Healers' Warrior is the second book in The Brethren series, and if you've been following along on my other books, you'll recognize a few characters that wanted a part in this book. It is a stand alone, since I'm just not evil enough (yet) to leave you guys with a cliffhanger.
This book is a menage, but not really. There's hot man on man action, but since one main character is bisexual, there's also some hot man on woman action. The kicker: his love interests are twins. No twincest here, it's just they both happen to love the same guy. It works, really. give it a read and you'll see.
The Healers' Warrior
Happy reading, and if you do enjoy any of my books, please leave a review.
The Healers' Warrior is the second book in The Brethren series, and if you've been following along on my other books, you'll recognize a few characters that wanted a part in this book. It is a stand alone, since I'm just not evil enough (yet) to leave you guys with a cliffhanger.
This book is a menage, but not really. There's hot man on man action, but since one main character is bisexual, there's also some hot man on woman action. The kicker: his love interests are twins. No twincest here, it's just they both happen to love the same guy. It works, really. give it a read and you'll see.
The Healers' Warrior
Happy reading, and if you do enjoy any of my books, please leave a review.
August 9, 2015
Just One Night
A little something different this week:
Galon checked his preparations one last time – scented candles, wine, Silian chocolates, lots of pillows and cushions – he didn’t think he’d forgotten anything. He couldn’t believe how hard it was to try to surprise Mango. When someone lived in your mind with you, secrets were just not possible. He’d finally gone to Lord Marohi and Lady Cleona to help: Please! Distract Mango and keep him out of my head long enough to get things together for a romantic getaway. Lady Cleona had jumped at the chance to have a little fun with his mostly-taciturn mate.
All that was left was to go get Mango, keep him from reading his mind about what he’d done, and then enjoy an evening of no distractions, no assignments, no missions to save the galaxies – just he and Mango. They hadn’t been able to do something like this since Lord Marohi had allowed them to take off on an extended holiday after Mango had been injured. Injured so severely he’d almost lost the man he loved more than anyone else.
And how had that happened? How had he come to love Mango so much? Gods! He couldn’t even imagine his life without Mango now.
Galon felt a presence and whipped around.
“Damn it! Mango! I was supposed to come get you!” Galon crossed his arms over his chest and pouted.
Apparently he looked silly because he got one of Mango’s rare full-out smiles.
“You were not ready for me, Galon?” Mango asked.
“Well, yeah, but I was going to come to you and put a blind fold on you and… well… You know you’re really hard to surprise,” Galon still felt like pouting.
“You will be pleased to know Lady Cleona and Lord Marohi succeeded until only a moment ago,” Mango said, coming to stand before him.
“Yeah?”
“Yes,” Mango nodded. “However, Manu has learned how to teleport and needed them.”
“Oh, Gods!” Galon couldn’t help but laugh. “Where did he go?”
“Lord Bendel’s office,” Mango replied with that adorable twitch of his lips. “Alone. I am sure they will eventually find everything.”
“Good thing I plan to keep you here for a couple of days,” Galon said, thinking there was no way he was going on a search and rescue mission for whatever Manu had ‘ported to wherever.
Mango looked past him at the piled cushions and candles, and raised a brow. Galon turned around to look, as well, with a critical eye, wanting to see it from Mango’s perspective. He’d purposely not used anything even resembling pink; not after the pink lover’s bower Lowe had gifted them with. He turned back to Mango, who was now watching him with those dark eyes. He could lose himself so easily in those eyes.
“You wished for an evening alone with me?” Mango asked. “Out here? Is our room at the palace not comfortable?”
“Our room is fine,” Galon sighed. “I wanted a place where we wouldn’t be disturbed by some emergency.”
“Galon, your logic is not sound,” Mango stated. “The Kawanas can reach us at any time simply by calling for us telepathically.”
“Yeah, but they won’t,” Galon shook his head. “Lord Marohi promised. Tonight and tomorrow are all ours – no calls, no missions.”
Galon looked over his shoulder again and ran a hand through his short, dark hair. Okay, so maybe he was just being silly. He’d just wanted to show Mango how much he meant to him, how much he loved him; let him know he wouldn’t change anything about their mating, no matter what kind of shock it was to find out his mate was a male.
He turned back to find Mango was standing much closer, yet not quite touching. Galon put a hand on Mango’s face, feeling the spark of desire he always felt for this man. That lip twitch was back. Gods, that was so sexy. He brought their lips together in a gentle kiss, tasting the spice of his mate. Mango put his arms around Galon’s waist, drawing him close.
“All night?” Mango asked. “And did you bring everything we would need?”
Galon reached into his jumpsuit pocket, retrieving the small vial of oil and showed it to Mango.
“Oh yeah, baby,” he smirked.
Galon checked his preparations one last time – scented candles, wine, Silian chocolates, lots of pillows and cushions – he didn’t think he’d forgotten anything. He couldn’t believe how hard it was to try to surprise Mango. When someone lived in your mind with you, secrets were just not possible. He’d finally gone to Lord Marohi and Lady Cleona to help: Please! Distract Mango and keep him out of my head long enough to get things together for a romantic getaway. Lady Cleona had jumped at the chance to have a little fun with his mostly-taciturn mate.
All that was left was to go get Mango, keep him from reading his mind about what he’d done, and then enjoy an evening of no distractions, no assignments, no missions to save the galaxies – just he and Mango. They hadn’t been able to do something like this since Lord Marohi had allowed them to take off on an extended holiday after Mango had been injured. Injured so severely he’d almost lost the man he loved more than anyone else.
And how had that happened? How had he come to love Mango so much? Gods! He couldn’t even imagine his life without Mango now.
Galon felt a presence and whipped around.
“Damn it! Mango! I was supposed to come get you!” Galon crossed his arms over his chest and pouted.
Apparently he looked silly because he got one of Mango’s rare full-out smiles.
“You were not ready for me, Galon?” Mango asked.
“Well, yeah, but I was going to come to you and put a blind fold on you and… well… You know you’re really hard to surprise,” Galon still felt like pouting.
“You will be pleased to know Lady Cleona and Lord Marohi succeeded until only a moment ago,” Mango said, coming to stand before him.
“Yeah?”
“Yes,” Mango nodded. “However, Manu has learned how to teleport and needed them.”
“Oh, Gods!” Galon couldn’t help but laugh. “Where did he go?”
“Lord Bendel’s office,” Mango replied with that adorable twitch of his lips. “Alone. I am sure they will eventually find everything.”
“Good thing I plan to keep you here for a couple of days,” Galon said, thinking there was no way he was going on a search and rescue mission for whatever Manu had ‘ported to wherever.
Mango looked past him at the piled cushions and candles, and raised a brow. Galon turned around to look, as well, with a critical eye, wanting to see it from Mango’s perspective. He’d purposely not used anything even resembling pink; not after the pink lover’s bower Lowe had gifted them with. He turned back to Mango, who was now watching him with those dark eyes. He could lose himself so easily in those eyes.
“You wished for an evening alone with me?” Mango asked. “Out here? Is our room at the palace not comfortable?”
“Our room is fine,” Galon sighed. “I wanted a place where we wouldn’t be disturbed by some emergency.”
“Galon, your logic is not sound,” Mango stated. “The Kawanas can reach us at any time simply by calling for us telepathically.”
“Yeah, but they won’t,” Galon shook his head. “Lord Marohi promised. Tonight and tomorrow are all ours – no calls, no missions.”
Galon looked over his shoulder again and ran a hand through his short, dark hair. Okay, so maybe he was just being silly. He’d just wanted to show Mango how much he meant to him, how much he loved him; let him know he wouldn’t change anything about their mating, no matter what kind of shock it was to find out his mate was a male.
He turned back to find Mango was standing much closer, yet not quite touching. Galon put a hand on Mango’s face, feeling the spark of desire he always felt for this man. That lip twitch was back. Gods, that was so sexy. He brought their lips together in a gentle kiss, tasting the spice of his mate. Mango put his arms around Galon’s waist, drawing him close.
“All night?” Mango asked. “And did you bring everything we would need?”
Galon reached into his jumpsuit pocket, retrieving the small vial of oil and showed it to Mango.
“Oh yeah, baby,” he smirked.
August 2, 2015
Writing Prompts
So, where do I get my ideas from? Good question and there's not a simple answer. My first romance was a conglomeration of ideas gleaned from years of being a romance reader. I'd read a book - particularly a fantasy or scifi romance - and think: Wow! I wonder what would have happened if...
Eventually, they all came together and I started putting them on paper. From there it just kind of morphed into an actual book that set on my shelf for about ten years before I finally decided to publish it myself.
Each following book, after the first one, was a side character which would start whispering. I'd get a little tableau in my head and make notes, before finally trying to turn them into a story.
The first two books were hard to write. I would get stumped or go off on some tangent and have to go back and find my way. But, by the third book, it was like a light bulb went off. While writing the end of the Love Trilogy, Love Awakened, another character caught my attention and I had to start a fourth before I'd even finished the third.
Which is what happened when I started the current series. Mango was a side character that caught at my heart because of his solemn, almost sad, demeanor. From his book, His Warrior's Heart (and Following Fael) Bostel popped out and he was so damned irritating I just had to give him his own story. Initially, I was going to give him his comeuppance, but that didn't work out after I got to know him. There are now three books in The Brethren series, with the first published, and two waiting in the wings to complete the process. A fourth is currently being written.
I've got this entire world living in my head and I'm still getting ideas. They come from family and friends, a particular scene in another book I've read that I think "what if", standing in line at the grocery store and overhearing a conversation, or even seeing some commercial on TV. They come from just about any place, at any time.
From reading posts from other writers and interviews on blogs, I don't think I'm alone in this. I guess the simplest answer of where we get our ideas from is "everywhere". So if you're reading a book sometime and something sounds kind of familiar, it probably is. More than likely, you saw the same commercial, photo, drawing, cartoon, etc. the author did, but he/she took off with it and made it a story.
You're welcome.
Eventually, they all came together and I started putting them on paper. From there it just kind of morphed into an actual book that set on my shelf for about ten years before I finally decided to publish it myself.
Each following book, after the first one, was a side character which would start whispering. I'd get a little tableau in my head and make notes, before finally trying to turn them into a story.
The first two books were hard to write. I would get stumped or go off on some tangent and have to go back and find my way. But, by the third book, it was like a light bulb went off. While writing the end of the Love Trilogy, Love Awakened, another character caught my attention and I had to start a fourth before I'd even finished the third.
Which is what happened when I started the current series. Mango was a side character that caught at my heart because of his solemn, almost sad, demeanor. From his book, His Warrior's Heart (and Following Fael) Bostel popped out and he was so damned irritating I just had to give him his own story. Initially, I was going to give him his comeuppance, but that didn't work out after I got to know him. There are now three books in The Brethren series, with the first published, and two waiting in the wings to complete the process. A fourth is currently being written.
I've got this entire world living in my head and I'm still getting ideas. They come from family and friends, a particular scene in another book I've read that I think "what if", standing in line at the grocery store and overhearing a conversation, or even seeing some commercial on TV. They come from just about any place, at any time.
From reading posts from other writers and interviews on blogs, I don't think I'm alone in this. I guess the simplest answer of where we get our ideas from is "everywhere". So if you're reading a book sometime and something sounds kind of familiar, it probably is. More than likely, you saw the same commercial, photo, drawing, cartoon, etc. the author did, but he/she took off with it and made it a story.
You're welcome.
July 28, 2015
Sweating vs Glistening
I live in Oklahoma - well, that's where I'm currently parked - and they're currently experiencing some very hot temps. We're talking high 90s with a heat index in the 100s. It's been a weird year with a wetter than normal spring and a hotter than normal summer, and the forecast is for a wetter and cooler than normal fall. Go figure.
But back to the current heat wave. I live in an RV - her name's Myrtle - and over that wetter than normal spring she developed some leaks that nearly drowned me, so I got the bright idea of putting a tarp over her. Now tarps come in many sizes and colors and mils (that's thickness) and costs. With my budget I got one that is medium thickness and was probably a little bigger than I needed, but better safe than sorry. Right?
The problem? It's dark green. Now anyone who's been paying attention in science class can tell you that dark colors absorb heat. Yes, they really do. Myrtle is an oven. With the tarp over her the AC is out of commission because it's a roof unit. Even with the fans going and every window as well as the door open, I average in the low 100s inside.
Honest. I checked the thermometer just to make sure. With the wetter than normal fall predicted I don't dare take the tarp off or I'll drown again. So I sit here, writing my little stories... and I sweat. Buckets. Not a good picture, huh? Sorry, I passed glistening about 30 degrees ago.
But, help is on the way. I finally broke down and ordered a portable AC unit that can be hooked into a window via a cool dryer vent looking thing. It should be here in about a week. In the meantime, I may go sit in my car, which does have AC, and chill.
And what does this have to do with your writing? Good question. I decided to share the wealth with my characters and keep giving them desert planets to land on so they can swelter along with me. Yeah, I'm evil, but at least I share.
But back to the current heat wave. I live in an RV - her name's Myrtle - and over that wetter than normal spring she developed some leaks that nearly drowned me, so I got the bright idea of putting a tarp over her. Now tarps come in many sizes and colors and mils (that's thickness) and costs. With my budget I got one that is medium thickness and was probably a little bigger than I needed, but better safe than sorry. Right?
The problem? It's dark green. Now anyone who's been paying attention in science class can tell you that dark colors absorb heat. Yes, they really do. Myrtle is an oven. With the tarp over her the AC is out of commission because it's a roof unit. Even with the fans going and every window as well as the door open, I average in the low 100s inside.
Honest. I checked the thermometer just to make sure. With the wetter than normal fall predicted I don't dare take the tarp off or I'll drown again. So I sit here, writing my little stories... and I sweat. Buckets. Not a good picture, huh? Sorry, I passed glistening about 30 degrees ago.
But, help is on the way. I finally broke down and ordered a portable AC unit that can be hooked into a window via a cool dryer vent looking thing. It should be here in about a week. In the meantime, I may go sit in my car, which does have AC, and chill.
And what does this have to do with your writing? Good question. I decided to share the wealth with my characters and keep giving them desert planets to land on so they can swelter along with me. Yeah, I'm evil, but at least I share.
July 17, 2015
New Direction?
Recently, I wrote an MM romance, His Warrior's Heart. This was an entirely new direction for me, as a writer. As my readers know, my normal genre is M/F Fantasy Romance with a menage thrown in once in a while just to keep it exciting.
The main character in His Warrior's Heart wormed his way into my heart by appearing in a couple of my previous titles as a side character. But he was so unhappy, withdrawn, and had angst written all over him (pun intended). I tried pairing him up in my head with a couple of different females, but there was just no chemistry. Then one night -- literally it was night and I'd gone to bed -- it hit me. Mango wanted someone who could understand and take care of him -- the warrior and the man. Who better to do so than another warrior. One who'd lived the same kind of life. And The Brethren series was born.
Mango and Galon really spoke to me, as a writer. They just fit together, and from them, another side character (That I actually hated as I wrote about him. I mean the guy's an asshole.) began asking for his own HEA. Once I got into his story, I could see why he was the way he was and he really did deserve happiness.
The second book in The Brethren series is a little different since it's kind of a menage with the main character having two mates: they're twins -- a male and a female. I know, but it works, just wait until you read it! The Healers' Warrior is set to be released in late August.
I'd actually started another story to be part of The Hashani series, and it just wasn't going anywhere. There was simply no connection between the two main characters and I was ready to pull my hair out and scream, but one of the minor side characters sat up and said "Me, me, me!" So I am now writing a third book in The Brethren series, which is also a menage, but involves three males.
I stepped out of my comfort zone and found a new direction. One that I find fits me well. Sure, I'll get back to the other book some day, but for now the voices in my head are shouting to me that love occurs however and whenever it wants.
The main character in His Warrior's Heart wormed his way into my heart by appearing in a couple of my previous titles as a side character. But he was so unhappy, withdrawn, and had angst written all over him (pun intended). I tried pairing him up in my head with a couple of different females, but there was just no chemistry. Then one night -- literally it was night and I'd gone to bed -- it hit me. Mango wanted someone who could understand and take care of him -- the warrior and the man. Who better to do so than another warrior. One who'd lived the same kind of life. And The Brethren series was born.
Mango and Galon really spoke to me, as a writer. They just fit together, and from them, another side character (That I actually hated as I wrote about him. I mean the guy's an asshole.) began asking for his own HEA. Once I got into his story, I could see why he was the way he was and he really did deserve happiness.
The second book in The Brethren series is a little different since it's kind of a menage with the main character having two mates: they're twins -- a male and a female. I know, but it works, just wait until you read it! The Healers' Warrior is set to be released in late August.
I'd actually started another story to be part of The Hashani series, and it just wasn't going anywhere. There was simply no connection between the two main characters and I was ready to pull my hair out and scream, but one of the minor side characters sat up and said "Me, me, me!" So I am now writing a third book in The Brethren series, which is also a menage, but involves three males.
I stepped out of my comfort zone and found a new direction. One that I find fits me well. Sure, I'll get back to the other book some day, but for now the voices in my head are shouting to me that love occurs however and whenever it wants.
Mary Newman's Blog
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