Kristi Cramer's Blog: Bounded in a Nutshell, page 8
March 18, 2016
Introduction & Prologue - A True Prince (A Serialized YA Historical Fantasy)
Blurb for A True Prince:
Aslynn and Sebastian have been friends nearly since birth. A friendship cemented by a tragic common thread: Aslynn's mother died giving birth to her, and Sebastian had been found floating in a sea chest after a storm. Though a magic spell had protected him, there was no clue as to his identity or his origins. Aslynn's father, King Isaiah, took the boy in to be raised by his swordmaster, and the two motherless children shared a wet nurse, and a great deal of time over 15 years.
But now the forces of Change are moving, converging on the small island kingdom they call their home.
In a storm to rival the one that brought Sebastian ashore, a Stranger is shipwrecked, and rescued by Sebastian and Aslynn. In his gratitude, the traveling mystic offers to solve Sebastian's Mystery. In the course of his investigation the stranger uncovers clues, but events surrounding his arrival stir up more than just the past.
This story will be released in serial installments on a weekly basis until the story is complete, at which time it will be released as an eBook via all etailers.
This story is copyrighted 2016 by Kristi L Cramer and Kristi Cramer Books. All rights reserved.
Prologue - Year of Our Lord 1613
The maidservant scurried down the stone passageways of Castle Fair Haven, moaning to herself in her haste and fear. She glanced in the doorway as she passed the Great Hall, but turned her head before meeting the king’s gaze.
King Isaiah’s long fingers tightened around the golden cup in his grip.
Silence had reigned in the hall for several hours. The smell of cooked food lingered in the air, but no food graced the richly set tables. Silverware remained unused, and silver plates sat empty among flowers and golden candlesticks. Servants moved liked shadows around the table, refreshing wine in silver goblets while guests shifted uncomfortably. No one felt inclined to drink much, yet no one dared to leave.
Laid to celebrate the birth of the king’s first child, this feast should have been happily consumed, the guests passed out in joyful abandon. King Isaiah should be holding his firstborn—perhaps a son—by this time.
Footsteps again rang out in the passage and the king’s whole body tensed, only to see the maidservant dashing back to the birthing chamber with a bundle of cloth and ewer of water.
***
In the birthing chamber, one of the newborn babies whimpered, breaking the silence and tableau that had held in the moments since the queen’s last breath sighed away.
“Quickly,” Lady Tawnia murmured. The shadows falling across her face darkened her golden good looks. “Take the boy child away, Maudette. I care not where, only that he is never seen in the Bonnie Isles again. The king must never know of his existence.”
Maudette, the dark creature beside her, was hard to see in the flickering torchlight, but black-stained lips twisted into something approximating a smile. She wrapped the wriggling, naked babe in a soft blanket and lifted him into her arms. Her lilting voice held an edge to it, belying her gentle motions. “He’s a healthy child.” She looked up at Tawnia, her soulless black gaze meeting the lady’s gold-flecked eyes. “I expect he’ll bring a fair price on the market. Since I can’t have his soul, perhaps I’ll find a slaver whose soul I can taste.”
“Do as you please, so long as he stays out of my way.” Lady Tawnia could not be bothered with the machinations of the demon she had summoned.
“And the girl?”
“She’ll be a nuisance, but no threat to my plans. If the king thinks it was all I could do to save her, it will give him something to be grateful for.”
Maudette chuckled. “Gratitude is a good place to start.”
“Indeed. Go now. I will send for the king, to give him this bittersweet news.”
Without another word, Maudette inclined her head slightly, took the child to a passageway hidden behind the bedstead and passed through, the access panel sliding shut behind her.
Lady Tawnia turned to the maid who crouched by the foot of the bed, shivering in fear. Tawnia regretted her witness, but that was the only thing that had not gone according to plan. The maid would soon wish she had left when told.
“Inform the king his queen is dead, but his daughter lives.” She stepped up to the maid in order to loom over her, emphasizing her menacing intent. “Have a care and breathe not one word about the son, or I will see to it you never speak again.”
Terrified, the maid scrambled out of the chamber without even rising to her feet.
Lady Tawnia took great care to arrange the girl-child in her dead mother’s arms while the child’s whimpers grew more insistent. Her gaze fell on the packet lying untouched on the bedside table: the herbs that may have stopped the bleeding and saved the queen’s life. She slipped it into a pocket hidden in the folds of her skirt and composed herself, smoothing her skirts and touching the golden locks around her round face.
***
Miserable with waiting, Isaiah watched without really seeing the candle in front of him flicker and dance in the drafty room. Dimly, the restless shifting of guests grew in the periphery of his awareness, like the turning of a fog-gentled tide. Though he balked at the significance of the action, perhaps it was time to consider sending the guests home.
Then he heard more footsteps running in the corridor, and a woman’s voice, shrieking, “Dead! She’s dead!” The maidservant collapsed in a heap in the doorway to the Great Hall, wailing, “Majesty, Queen Aslynn is dead!”
King Isaiah stood, the force of his rising sending his heavy chair crashing to the floor. Others in the room rose too—guests and friends dressed gaily and gathered for what should be a happy occasion.
“My queen,” Isaiah whispered, his grief reaching all who heard him. Then louder, “The child?”
“A girl-child, Majesty. She lives.”
The king felt something inside him shrink into a hard knot of bittersweet pain. As he thought of the child, he steadied and drew himself together. “Praise Heaven. I will see her now.”
Heedless of his guests as they milled in confusion, Isaiah left the Great Hall.
The king heard a baby crying in the inner chamber as he entered the royal suite, and he followed the sound to the door. “Lady Tawnia?”
The lady opened the birth chamber door, lines of grief apparent on her perfect face. She curtsied low and gestured for the king to enter. “Your Majesty.”
The king stepped into the room and stood at the foot of the bed for a long moment, staring down at two forms lit by flickering candlelight: one still, the other squirming, crying out in frustration to be fed.
“Oh, Aslynn,” he said softly. “You look to be sleeping. Wake, and tell me the name of our child.”
He waited, as if expecting her eyes to open. Then, trance-like, he carefully lifted the baby into his arms.
“Then she will be Aslynn, after you.”
King Isaiah turned to Lady Tawnia. “Find me a wet nurse. The princess is hungry.”
Aslynn and Sebastian have been friends nearly since birth. A friendship cemented by a tragic common thread: Aslynn's mother died giving birth to her, and Sebastian had been found floating in a sea chest after a storm. Though a magic spell had protected him, there was no clue as to his identity or his origins. Aslynn's father, King Isaiah, took the boy in to be raised by his swordmaster, and the two motherless children shared a wet nurse, and a great deal of time over 15 years.
But now the forces of Change are moving, converging on the small island kingdom they call their home.
In a storm to rival the one that brought Sebastian ashore, a Stranger is shipwrecked, and rescued by Sebastian and Aslynn. In his gratitude, the traveling mystic offers to solve Sebastian's Mystery. In the course of his investigation the stranger uncovers clues, but events surrounding his arrival stir up more than just the past.
This story will be released in serial installments on a weekly basis until the story is complete, at which time it will be released as an eBook via all etailers.
This story is copyrighted 2016 by Kristi L Cramer and Kristi Cramer Books. All rights reserved.
Prologue - Year of Our Lord 1613
The maidservant scurried down the stone passageways of Castle Fair Haven, moaning to herself in her haste and fear. She glanced in the doorway as she passed the Great Hall, but turned her head before meeting the king’s gaze.
King Isaiah’s long fingers tightened around the golden cup in his grip.
Silence had reigned in the hall for several hours. The smell of cooked food lingered in the air, but no food graced the richly set tables. Silverware remained unused, and silver plates sat empty among flowers and golden candlesticks. Servants moved liked shadows around the table, refreshing wine in silver goblets while guests shifted uncomfortably. No one felt inclined to drink much, yet no one dared to leave.
Laid to celebrate the birth of the king’s first child, this feast should have been happily consumed, the guests passed out in joyful abandon. King Isaiah should be holding his firstborn—perhaps a son—by this time.
Footsteps again rang out in the passage and the king’s whole body tensed, only to see the maidservant dashing back to the birthing chamber with a bundle of cloth and ewer of water.
***
In the birthing chamber, one of the newborn babies whimpered, breaking the silence and tableau that had held in the moments since the queen’s last breath sighed away.
“Quickly,” Lady Tawnia murmured. The shadows falling across her face darkened her golden good looks. “Take the boy child away, Maudette. I care not where, only that he is never seen in the Bonnie Isles again. The king must never know of his existence.”
Maudette, the dark creature beside her, was hard to see in the flickering torchlight, but black-stained lips twisted into something approximating a smile. She wrapped the wriggling, naked babe in a soft blanket and lifted him into her arms. Her lilting voice held an edge to it, belying her gentle motions. “He’s a healthy child.” She looked up at Tawnia, her soulless black gaze meeting the lady’s gold-flecked eyes. “I expect he’ll bring a fair price on the market. Since I can’t have his soul, perhaps I’ll find a slaver whose soul I can taste.”
“Do as you please, so long as he stays out of my way.” Lady Tawnia could not be bothered with the machinations of the demon she had summoned.
“And the girl?”
“She’ll be a nuisance, but no threat to my plans. If the king thinks it was all I could do to save her, it will give him something to be grateful for.”
Maudette chuckled. “Gratitude is a good place to start.”
“Indeed. Go now. I will send for the king, to give him this bittersweet news.”
Without another word, Maudette inclined her head slightly, took the child to a passageway hidden behind the bedstead and passed through, the access panel sliding shut behind her.
Lady Tawnia turned to the maid who crouched by the foot of the bed, shivering in fear. Tawnia regretted her witness, but that was the only thing that had not gone according to plan. The maid would soon wish she had left when told.
“Inform the king his queen is dead, but his daughter lives.” She stepped up to the maid in order to loom over her, emphasizing her menacing intent. “Have a care and breathe not one word about the son, or I will see to it you never speak again.”
Terrified, the maid scrambled out of the chamber without even rising to her feet.
Lady Tawnia took great care to arrange the girl-child in her dead mother’s arms while the child’s whimpers grew more insistent. Her gaze fell on the packet lying untouched on the bedside table: the herbs that may have stopped the bleeding and saved the queen’s life. She slipped it into a pocket hidden in the folds of her skirt and composed herself, smoothing her skirts and touching the golden locks around her round face.
***
Miserable with waiting, Isaiah watched without really seeing the candle in front of him flicker and dance in the drafty room. Dimly, the restless shifting of guests grew in the periphery of his awareness, like the turning of a fog-gentled tide. Though he balked at the significance of the action, perhaps it was time to consider sending the guests home.
Then he heard more footsteps running in the corridor, and a woman’s voice, shrieking, “Dead! She’s dead!” The maidservant collapsed in a heap in the doorway to the Great Hall, wailing, “Majesty, Queen Aslynn is dead!”
King Isaiah stood, the force of his rising sending his heavy chair crashing to the floor. Others in the room rose too—guests and friends dressed gaily and gathered for what should be a happy occasion.
“My queen,” Isaiah whispered, his grief reaching all who heard him. Then louder, “The child?”
“A girl-child, Majesty. She lives.”
The king felt something inside him shrink into a hard knot of bittersweet pain. As he thought of the child, he steadied and drew himself together. “Praise Heaven. I will see her now.”
Heedless of his guests as they milled in confusion, Isaiah left the Great Hall.
The king heard a baby crying in the inner chamber as he entered the royal suite, and he followed the sound to the door. “Lady Tawnia?”
The lady opened the birth chamber door, lines of grief apparent on her perfect face. She curtsied low and gestured for the king to enter. “Your Majesty.”
The king stepped into the room and stood at the foot of the bed for a long moment, staring down at two forms lit by flickering candlelight: one still, the other squirming, crying out in frustration to be fed.
“Oh, Aslynn,” he said softly. “You look to be sleeping. Wake, and tell me the name of our child.”
He waited, as if expecting her eyes to open. Then, trance-like, he carefully lifted the baby into his arms.
“Then she will be Aslynn, after you.”
King Isaiah turned to Lady Tawnia. “Find me a wet nurse. The princess is hungry.”
A True Prince - a serialized YA Historical Fantasy, Introduction & Prologue
Blurb for A True Prince:
Aslynn and Sebastian have been friends nearly since birth. A friendship cemented by a tragic common thread: Aslynn's mother died giving birth to her, and Sebastian had been found floating in a sea chest after a storm. Though a magic spell had protected him, there was no clue as to his identity or his origins. Aslynn's father, King Isaiah, took the boy in to be raised by his swordmaster, and the two motherless children shared a wet nurse, and a great deal of time over 15 years.
But now the forces of Change are moving, converging on the small island kingdom they call their home.
In a storm to rival the one that brought Sebastian ashore, a Stranger is shipwrecked, and rescued by Sebastian and Aslynn. In his gratitude, the traveling mystic offers to solve Sebastian's Mystery. In the course of his investigation the stranger uncovers clues, but events surrounding his arrival stir up more than just the past.
This story will be released in serial installments on a weekly basis until the story is complete, at which time it will be released as an eBook via all etailers.
This story is copyrighted 2016 by Kristi L Cramer and Kristi Cramer Books. All rights reserved.
Prologue - Year of Our Lord 1613
The maidservant scurried down the stone passageways of Castle Fair Haven, moaning to herself in her haste and fear. She glanced in the doorway as she passed the Great Hall, but turned her head before meeting the king’s gaze.
King Isaiah’s long fingers tightened around the golden cup in his grip.
Silence had reigned in the hall for several hours. The smell of cooked food lingered in the air, but no food graced the richly set tables. Silverware remained unused, and silver plates sat empty among flowers and golden candlesticks. Servants moved liked shadows around the table, refreshing wine in silver goblets while guests shifted uncomfortably. No one felt inclined to drink much, yet no one dared to leave.
Laid to celebrate the birth of the king’s first child, this feast should have been happily consumed, the guests passed out in joyful abandon. King Isaiah should be holding his firstborn—perhaps a son—by this time.
Footsteps again rang out in the passage and the king’s whole body tensed, only to see the maidservant dashing back to the birthing chamber with a bundle of cloth and ewer of water.
***
In the birthing chamber, one of the newborn babies whimpered, breaking the silence and tableau that had held in the moments since the queen’s last breath sighed away.
“Quickly,” Lady Tawnia murmured. The shadows falling across her face darkened her golden good looks. “Take the boy child away, Maudette. I care not where, only that he is never seen in the Bonnie Isles again. The king must never know of his existence.”
Maudette, the dark creature beside her, was hard to see in the flickering torchlight, but black-stained lips twisted into something approximating a smile. She wrapped the wriggling, naked babe in a soft blanket and lifted him into her arms. Her lilting voice held an edge to it, belying her gentle motions. “He’s a healthy child.” She looked up at Tawnia, her soulless black gaze meeting the lady’s gold-flecked eyes. “I expect he’ll bring a fair price on the market. Since I can’t have his soul, perhaps I’ll find a slaver whose soul I can taste.”
“Do as you please, so long as he stays out of my way.” Lady Tawnia could not be bothered with the machinations of the demon she had summoned.
“And the girl?”
“She’ll be a nuisance, but no threat to my plans. If the king thinks it was all I could do to save her, it will give him something to be grateful for.”
Maudette chuckled. “Gratitude is a good place to start.”
“Indeed. Go now. I will send for the king, to give him this bittersweet news.”
Without another word, Maudette inclined her head slightly, took the child to a passageway hidden behind the bedstead and passed through, the access panel sliding shut behind her.
Lady Tawnia turned to the maid who crouched by the foot of the bed, shivering in fear. Tawnia regretted her witness, but that was the only thing that had not gone according to plan. The maid would soon wish she had left when told.
“Inform the king his queen is dead, but his daughter lives.” She stepped up to the maid in order to loom over her, emphasizing her menacing intent. “Have a care and breathe not one word about the son, or I will see to it you never speak again.”
Terrified, the maid scrambled out of the chamber without even rising to her feet.
Lady Tawnia took great care to arrange the girl-child in her dead mother’s arms while the child’s whimpers grew more insistent. Her gaze fell on the packet lying untouched on the bedside table: the herbs that may have stopped the bleeding and saved the queen’s life. She slipped it into a pocket hidden in the folds of her skirt and composed herself, smoothing her skirts and touching the golden locks around her round face.
***
Miserable with waiting, Isaiah watched without really seeing the candle in front of him flicker and dance in the drafty room. Dimly, the restless shifting of guests grew in the periphery of his awareness, like the turning of a fog-gentled tide. Though he balked at the significance of the action, perhaps it was time to consider sending the guests home.
Then he heard more footsteps running in the corridor, and a woman’s voice, shrieking, “Dead! She’s dead!” The maidservant collapsed in a heap in the doorway to the Great Hall, wailing, “Majesty, Queen Aslynn is dead!”
King Isaiah stood, the force of his rising sending his heavy chair crashing to the floor. Others in the room rose too—guests and friends dressed gaily and gathered for what should be a happy occasion.
“My queen,” Isaiah whispered, his grief reaching all who heard him. Then louder, “The child?”
“A girl-child, Majesty. She lives.”
The king felt something inside him shrink into a hard knot of bittersweet pain. As he thought of the child, he steadied and drew himself together. “Praise Heaven. I will see her now.”
Heedless of his guests as they milled in confusion, Isaiah left the Great Hall.
The king heard a baby crying in the inner chamber as he entered the royal suite, and he followed the sound to the door. “Lady Tawnia?”
The lady opened the birth chamber door, lines of grief apparent on her perfect face. She curtsied low and gestured for the king to enter. “Your Majesty.”
The king stepped into the room and stood at the foot of the bed for a long moment, staring down at two forms lit by flickering candlelight: one still, the other squirming, crying out in frustration to be fed.
“Oh, Aslynn,” he said softly. “You look to be sleeping. Wake, and tell me the name of our child.”
He waited, as if expecting her eyes to open. Then, trance-like, he carefully lifted the baby into his arms.
“Then she will be Aslynn, after you.”
King Isaiah turned to Lady Tawnia. “Find me a wet nurse. The princess is hungry.”
Aslynn and Sebastian have been friends nearly since birth. A friendship cemented by a tragic common thread: Aslynn's mother died giving birth to her, and Sebastian had been found floating in a sea chest after a storm. Though a magic spell had protected him, there was no clue as to his identity or his origins. Aslynn's father, King Isaiah, took the boy in to be raised by his swordmaster, and the two motherless children shared a wet nurse, and a great deal of time over 15 years.
But now the forces of Change are moving, converging on the small island kingdom they call their home.
In a storm to rival the one that brought Sebastian ashore, a Stranger is shipwrecked, and rescued by Sebastian and Aslynn. In his gratitude, the traveling mystic offers to solve Sebastian's Mystery. In the course of his investigation the stranger uncovers clues, but events surrounding his arrival stir up more than just the past.
This story will be released in serial installments on a weekly basis until the story is complete, at which time it will be released as an eBook via all etailers.
This story is copyrighted 2016 by Kristi L Cramer and Kristi Cramer Books. All rights reserved.
Prologue - Year of Our Lord 1613
The maidservant scurried down the stone passageways of Castle Fair Haven, moaning to herself in her haste and fear. She glanced in the doorway as she passed the Great Hall, but turned her head before meeting the king’s gaze.
King Isaiah’s long fingers tightened around the golden cup in his grip.
Silence had reigned in the hall for several hours. The smell of cooked food lingered in the air, but no food graced the richly set tables. Silverware remained unused, and silver plates sat empty among flowers and golden candlesticks. Servants moved liked shadows around the table, refreshing wine in silver goblets while guests shifted uncomfortably. No one felt inclined to drink much, yet no one dared to leave.
Laid to celebrate the birth of the king’s first child, this feast should have been happily consumed, the guests passed out in joyful abandon. King Isaiah should be holding his firstborn—perhaps a son—by this time.
Footsteps again rang out in the passage and the king’s whole body tensed, only to see the maidservant dashing back to the birthing chamber with a bundle of cloth and ewer of water.
***
In the birthing chamber, one of the newborn babies whimpered, breaking the silence and tableau that had held in the moments since the queen’s last breath sighed away.
“Quickly,” Lady Tawnia murmured. The shadows falling across her face darkened her golden good looks. “Take the boy child away, Maudette. I care not where, only that he is never seen in the Bonnie Isles again. The king must never know of his existence.”
Maudette, the dark creature beside her, was hard to see in the flickering torchlight, but black-stained lips twisted into something approximating a smile. She wrapped the wriggling, naked babe in a soft blanket and lifted him into her arms. Her lilting voice held an edge to it, belying her gentle motions. “He’s a healthy child.” She looked up at Tawnia, her soulless black gaze meeting the lady’s gold-flecked eyes. “I expect he’ll bring a fair price on the market. Since I can’t have his soul, perhaps I’ll find a slaver whose soul I can taste.”
“Do as you please, so long as he stays out of my way.” Lady Tawnia could not be bothered with the machinations of the demon she had summoned.
“And the girl?”
“She’ll be a nuisance, but no threat to my plans. If the king thinks it was all I could do to save her, it will give him something to be grateful for.”
Maudette chuckled. “Gratitude is a good place to start.”
“Indeed. Go now. I will send for the king, to give him this bittersweet news.”
Without another word, Maudette inclined her head slightly, took the child to a passageway hidden behind the bedstead and passed through, the access panel sliding shut behind her.
Lady Tawnia turned to the maid who crouched by the foot of the bed, shivering in fear. Tawnia regretted her witness, but that was the only thing that had not gone according to plan. The maid would soon wish she had left when told.
“Inform the king his queen is dead, but his daughter lives.” She stepped up to the maid in order to loom over her, emphasizing her menacing intent. “Have a care and breathe not one word about the son, or I will see to it you never speak again.”
Terrified, the maid scrambled out of the chamber without even rising to her feet.
Lady Tawnia took great care to arrange the girl-child in her dead mother’s arms while the child’s whimpers grew more insistent. Her gaze fell on the packet lying untouched on the bedside table: the herbs that may have stopped the bleeding and saved the queen’s life. She slipped it into a pocket hidden in the folds of her skirt and composed herself, smoothing her skirts and touching the golden locks around her round face.
***
Miserable with waiting, Isaiah watched without really seeing the candle in front of him flicker and dance in the drafty room. Dimly, the restless shifting of guests grew in the periphery of his awareness, like the turning of a fog-gentled tide. Though he balked at the significance of the action, perhaps it was time to consider sending the guests home.
Then he heard more footsteps running in the corridor, and a woman’s voice, shrieking, “Dead! She’s dead!” The maidservant collapsed in a heap in the doorway to the Great Hall, wailing, “Majesty, Queen Aslynn is dead!”
King Isaiah stood, the force of his rising sending his heavy chair crashing to the floor. Others in the room rose too—guests and friends dressed gaily and gathered for what should be a happy occasion.
“My queen,” Isaiah whispered, his grief reaching all who heard him. Then louder, “The child?”
“A girl-child, Majesty. She lives.”
The king felt something inside him shrink into a hard knot of bittersweet pain. As he thought of the child, he steadied and drew himself together. “Praise Heaven. I will see her now.”
Heedless of his guests as they milled in confusion, Isaiah left the Great Hall.
The king heard a baby crying in the inner chamber as he entered the royal suite, and he followed the sound to the door. “Lady Tawnia?”
The lady opened the birth chamber door, lines of grief apparent on her perfect face. She curtsied low and gestured for the king to enter. “Your Majesty.”
The king stepped into the room and stood at the foot of the bed for a long moment, staring down at two forms lit by flickering candlelight: one still, the other squirming, crying out in frustration to be fed.
“Oh, Aslynn,” he said softly. “You look to be sleeping. Wake, and tell me the name of our child.”
He waited, as if expecting her eyes to open. Then, trance-like, he carefully lifted the baby into his arms.
“Then she will be Aslynn, after you.”
King Isaiah turned to Lady Tawnia. “Find me a wet nurse. The princess is hungry.”
March 17, 2016
Review of Train Wreck, by Jason Brick
Do you know how hard it is to work out on an elliptical when you're trying not to LOL in the gym? I listen to books with a text to speech app while I work out, and this almost made me fall off the machine several times.
Let me be clear. There is nothing appropriate about this story. The language is foul, crass and vulgar, and the whole situation is totally absurd. Train Wreck couldn't be a more apt name for the string of circumstances our...heroes?...find themselves in. I couldn't look away.
That being said, I fully enjoyed the story. I laughed, I cried (tears of mirth) and I fully intend on purchasing the next episode. If you are not afflicted by PC-ness, then by all means, check it out. Read the sample. If you are offended by what you read there, you won't like the rest of it, but I can tell you, it just keeps getting funnier and funnier.
Let me be clear. There is nothing appropriate about this story. The language is foul, crass and vulgar, and the whole situation is totally absurd. Train Wreck couldn't be a more apt name for the string of circumstances our...heroes?...find themselves in. I couldn't look away.
That being said, I fully enjoyed the story. I laughed, I cried (tears of mirth) and I fully intend on purchasing the next episode. If you are not afflicted by PC-ness, then by all means, check it out. Read the sample. If you are offended by what you read there, you won't like the rest of it, but I can tell you, it just keeps getting funnier and funnier.
March 16, 2016
Gaming the System
I recently learned something that has me disillusioned, so I’m going to rant about it a bit. Did you know some people will do anything for a buck? I always figured that was true, but I hadn’t realized that it could extend to books, and just how rampant the problem is.
I’ve been the target of scams. Phishing emails from the “prince in Nigeria”, people phoning to get my information, and oh Lord, the people on Craigslist offering to buy my $70k semi-truck and trailer sight unseen, via PayPal. I’ll admit I’ve fallen for some scams, but in general I’m too cheap and suspicious to fall for the big ones.
The number of ways people can game the system is just mind-boggling. How do crooks think these scams up? If only they were this industrious at working for the light instead of the dark side...
The game I recently learned about affects me as a writer, and those of you reading this post—as presumably you are someone who enjoys reading—a LOT, if you’re taking the time to read my humble little blog.
As a reader, have you noticed how hard it is to find good books on Amazon? They’re there, but how many books have you found that, despite good rankings and ratings, you wonder why you just wasted your time and money trying to wade through it? How many of you are enrolled in Amazon Prime and get your reading fix by way of Kindle Unlimited?
Well, here’s what I think I know about Amazon’s Kindle Unlimited product, thanks to many others who have shared what they have learned. Kindle Unlimited is great, in theory, for bibliophiles who have a voracious appetite and read dozens of books every month. What’s not to love about the ability to borrow as many books as you like for “free” without even having to leave the house to go to the library? It’s awesome! And the writers even get paid every time you borrow a book, so you’re supporting your habit, right? Sort of.
Here’s the thing. People started realizing, hey I can ‘write a book’ and get paid, too. They started writing any old thing that came to mind. They didn’t bother to have it professionally edited. They whipped up a cheap cover using some open source software, came up with a catchy blurb, and put it out there, uploading it with overall a minimal investment of time and money.
And KU readers borrowed it, because hey, why not, it’s not costing me anything but time. And the newly hatched ‘author’ gets paid. Woot! That was easy. I’m going to do it again! They don't improve their craft; if anything, they get worse. And soon there are thousands of goofy stories about tater tots coming to life and turning virile Russian men gay. (This is a real offering on Amazon!)
Why is this a problem? There’s no harm, since KU members aren’t paying for it. It’s funny! Part of me agrees with that. Why not have a laugh? Legally there’s nothing “wrong” with it.
But it is problematic for people who don’t want to waste time (and money, if you happen to get suckered into buying it, even if it is “only 99¢”) wading through the junk to find the gems. And now that Kindle came up with the idea to pay writers by number of pages read, I understand there are more and more ways to game the system. (See this article by Selena Kitt, or this article from Germany for examples.)
I got caught out by someone who asked me to review their book, which WOW! came with more than 20 “bonus books” bringing the page count up to nearly 800 pages. There was a quick-link to the title story in the front, so it looks like the reader has read the whole book, when in reality they just skipped to the end. The title story read like a twelve-year-old wrote it. It was a real waste of my time, which is more valuable to me than the 99¢ I spent on the damn thing.
This is highly problematic for the writers who are genuinely trying to write good products, who are laying out money for editors and cover designers, and struggling to be seen by readers who appreciate quality fiction.
I’ve been a writer all my life. I’ve studied the art, taken classes and dedicated myself to learning the craft of writing a good story. I have put out four professional quality full length novels, and two novellas. And yet I can’t find my audience—or perhaps more accurately, my audience can’t find me.
I have resisted putting my books on Kindle Unlimited out of principle—not because of this issue, but because Amazon’s monopoly of the market bugs me and because in order to be in KU, you cannot have your book available on any other market. Amazon has become a monster-sized entity with, in my opinion, a very real potential of killing the love of reading in future generations by drowning them in bad fiction.
Self-publishing has been a mixed blessing from the start. It has opened up the dream of publishing to many aspiring writers like myself who, for whatever reason, were unable or unwilling to break into the big publishing houses. By the same token, it has opened up publishing to everyone who thinks they can write a book. And in my opinion, just because you can put words in a document and upload it, it doesn’t mean you should. That mixed blessing is not even accounting for the spammers who are just gaming the system.
I’m happy for the opportunity to share my work. But I’m equally bummed about the spammers who are making it so challenging to be found.
Unfortunately, I’m afraid every fix KDP comes up with is likely to be circumvented in short order. Short of killing the KU program altogether, hiring enough readers to police all uploaded books, or developing a smart, discerning AI to scan every upload, I don’t see the problem going away. None of those solutions are going to happen any time soon. So I’m just going to sigh and go on writing the next book—because that’s not just what I do, it’s who I am—and hope for my big break.
I don’t expect authors or readers to drop out of KU to make a point with me. Lord knows I’m probably shooting myself in the foot (or head) by staying out of KU, but ask anyone who knows me: I’ll play chicken with a runaway train if I think I have a principle to stand on.
I’m not asking anyone else to die on this hill with me, but I hope folks will care enough to at least not be taken in by the scammers, and maybe be motivated to let Amazon know that our time is valuable too, and we don’t appreciate wasting it on scams.
To that end, I’d better go back through this post and shave it down, so I’m sure I didn’t just waste YOUR valuable time. Thanks for reading.
(Bonus: if you want to support some 'genuine' authors who are struggling to be seen in this bent marketplace, click here to find links to their books on Amazon.)
Don't forget to sign up for my monthly newsletter!
I’ve been the target of scams. Phishing emails from the “prince in Nigeria”, people phoning to get my information, and oh Lord, the people on Craigslist offering to buy my $70k semi-truck and trailer sight unseen, via PayPal. I’ll admit I’ve fallen for some scams, but in general I’m too cheap and suspicious to fall for the big ones.
The number of ways people can game the system is just mind-boggling. How do crooks think these scams up? If only they were this industrious at working for the light instead of the dark side...
The game I recently learned about affects me as a writer, and those of you reading this post—as presumably you are someone who enjoys reading—a LOT, if you’re taking the time to read my humble little blog.
As a reader, have you noticed how hard it is to find good books on Amazon? They’re there, but how many books have you found that, despite good rankings and ratings, you wonder why you just wasted your time and money trying to wade through it? How many of you are enrolled in Amazon Prime and get your reading fix by way of Kindle Unlimited?
Well, here’s what I think I know about Amazon’s Kindle Unlimited product, thanks to many others who have shared what they have learned. Kindle Unlimited is great, in theory, for bibliophiles who have a voracious appetite and read dozens of books every month. What’s not to love about the ability to borrow as many books as you like for “free” without even having to leave the house to go to the library? It’s awesome! And the writers even get paid every time you borrow a book, so you’re supporting your habit, right? Sort of.
Here’s the thing. People started realizing, hey I can ‘write a book’ and get paid, too. They started writing any old thing that came to mind. They didn’t bother to have it professionally edited. They whipped up a cheap cover using some open source software, came up with a catchy blurb, and put it out there, uploading it with overall a minimal investment of time and money.
And KU readers borrowed it, because hey, why not, it’s not costing me anything but time. And the newly hatched ‘author’ gets paid. Woot! That was easy. I’m going to do it again! They don't improve their craft; if anything, they get worse. And soon there are thousands of goofy stories about tater tots coming to life and turning virile Russian men gay. (This is a real offering on Amazon!)
Why is this a problem? There’s no harm, since KU members aren’t paying for it. It’s funny! Part of me agrees with that. Why not have a laugh? Legally there’s nothing “wrong” with it.
But it is problematic for people who don’t want to waste time (and money, if you happen to get suckered into buying it, even if it is “only 99¢”) wading through the junk to find the gems. And now that Kindle came up with the idea to pay writers by number of pages read, I understand there are more and more ways to game the system. (See this article by Selena Kitt, or this article from Germany for examples.)
I got caught out by someone who asked me to review their book, which WOW! came with more than 20 “bonus books” bringing the page count up to nearly 800 pages. There was a quick-link to the title story in the front, so it looks like the reader has read the whole book, when in reality they just skipped to the end. The title story read like a twelve-year-old wrote it. It was a real waste of my time, which is more valuable to me than the 99¢ I spent on the damn thing.
This is highly problematic for the writers who are genuinely trying to write good products, who are laying out money for editors and cover designers, and struggling to be seen by readers who appreciate quality fiction.
I’ve been a writer all my life. I’ve studied the art, taken classes and dedicated myself to learning the craft of writing a good story. I have put out four professional quality full length novels, and two novellas. And yet I can’t find my audience—or perhaps more accurately, my audience can’t find me.
I have resisted putting my books on Kindle Unlimited out of principle—not because of this issue, but because Amazon’s monopoly of the market bugs me and because in order to be in KU, you cannot have your book available on any other market. Amazon has become a monster-sized entity with, in my opinion, a very real potential of killing the love of reading in future generations by drowning them in bad fiction.
Self-publishing has been a mixed blessing from the start. It has opened up the dream of publishing to many aspiring writers like myself who, for whatever reason, were unable or unwilling to break into the big publishing houses. By the same token, it has opened up publishing to everyone who thinks they can write a book. And in my opinion, just because you can put words in a document and upload it, it doesn’t mean you should. That mixed blessing is not even accounting for the spammers who are just gaming the system.
I’m happy for the opportunity to share my work. But I’m equally bummed about the spammers who are making it so challenging to be found.
Unfortunately, I’m afraid every fix KDP comes up with is likely to be circumvented in short order. Short of killing the KU program altogether, hiring enough readers to police all uploaded books, or developing a smart, discerning AI to scan every upload, I don’t see the problem going away. None of those solutions are going to happen any time soon. So I’m just going to sigh and go on writing the next book—because that’s not just what I do, it’s who I am—and hope for my big break.
I don’t expect authors or readers to drop out of KU to make a point with me. Lord knows I’m probably shooting myself in the foot (or head) by staying out of KU, but ask anyone who knows me: I’ll play chicken with a runaway train if I think I have a principle to stand on.
I’m not asking anyone else to die on this hill with me, but I hope folks will care enough to at least not be taken in by the scammers, and maybe be motivated to let Amazon know that our time is valuable too, and we don’t appreciate wasting it on scams.
To that end, I’d better go back through this post and shave it down, so I’m sure I didn’t just waste YOUR valuable time. Thanks for reading.
(Bonus: if you want to support some 'genuine' authors who are struggling to be seen in this bent marketplace, click here to find links to their books on Amazon.)
Don't forget to sign up for my monthly newsletter!
March 14, 2016
Review of The Cloud Seeker, by Jayne Lockwood
What a fantastic story. The characters are well drawn and very complex. The hero is by turn likeable and so messed up that I almost want to hate him. I rode that roller coaster right along with the heroine. Their relationship was definitely rocky and there was one point where I wasn't sure they would reconcile.
The story unfolds with beautiful symmetry, revealing each character's history with well-paced precision, at a tempo which--while not fast--nevertheless kept me turning pages. To the point What a fantastic story. The characters are well drawn and very complex. The hero is by turn likable and so messed up that I almost want to hate him. I rode that roller coaster right along with the heroine. Their relationship was definitely rocky and there was one point where I wasn't sure they would reconcile.
The story unfolds with beautiful symmetry, revealing each character's history with well-paced precision, at a tempo which--while not fast--nevertheless kept me turning pages. To the point that I was reading it exclusively, when I usually have one book going on each of my two devices.
The Cloud Seeker deals with some messed up experiences and people who are damaged by them. I don't want to give much away, but the author fearlessly deals with the aftereffects of one character surviving one of the most notorious events in recent history, and she does it with aplomb. The truth, when it comes out, has been built up so well that I thought "Of course that's what it was!" but I hadn't quite put it together myself.
The only quibble--and it is a very minor quibble--is that the characters from the US occasionally have speech mannerisms that are, in my opinion, not very American. But I was only aware of this on the periphery. It slipped me to the edge of 'the bubble' every so often, but not really enough to pop it for me. I could almost believe it was east coast vs my west coast colloquialisms.
Read the Cloud Seeker. You won't be sorry.
The story unfolds with beautiful symmetry, revealing each character's history with well-paced precision, at a tempo which--while not fast--nevertheless kept me turning pages. To the point What a fantastic story. The characters are well drawn and very complex. The hero is by turn likable and so messed up that I almost want to hate him. I rode that roller coaster right along with the heroine. Their relationship was definitely rocky and there was one point where I wasn't sure they would reconcile.
The story unfolds with beautiful symmetry, revealing each character's history with well-paced precision, at a tempo which--while not fast--nevertheless kept me turning pages. To the point that I was reading it exclusively, when I usually have one book going on each of my two devices.
The Cloud Seeker deals with some messed up experiences and people who are damaged by them. I don't want to give much away, but the author fearlessly deals with the aftereffects of one character surviving one of the most notorious events in recent history, and she does it with aplomb. The truth, when it comes out, has been built up so well that I thought "Of course that's what it was!" but I hadn't quite put it together myself.
The only quibble--and it is a very minor quibble--is that the characters from the US occasionally have speech mannerisms that are, in my opinion, not very American. But I was only aware of this on the periphery. It slipped me to the edge of 'the bubble' every so often, but not really enough to pop it for me. I could almost believe it was east coast vs my west coast colloquialisms.
Read the Cloud Seeker. You won't be sorry.
March 9, 2016
Spring Stream of Consciousness
Boy, the blog post was the furthest from my radar this week, and coming into this morning I looked at my to-do list and saw “Blog Post” and realized, I got nothing. So we’re going to go with a stream of consciousness.
I don’t know about where you are, but here in the Pacific Northwest, we’re going through the throes of spring madness. I got all excited about planting our garden. We had been waiting and waiting to even fill our new garden beds with soil because “it’s still winter” then all the sudden the trees are blooming, it’s 60 degrees out during the day, and people are talking about planting peas. And here we are with no soil, even. So while the weather was nice for a few days, we brought in four pickup loads of soil from Lane Forest Products, our local go-to for yard and garden products, and filled up nine raised beds and three old truck tires—shoot, I just realized I never bought the beans! We put in peas, but no beans, darn it! Told you this was stream of consciousness. Anyway, now I’ve also planted a beet (beat) box, a ton of onions, and started a bunch of plant seeds under a grow house. There’s even some tiny lettuce plants in there already.
I’m super excited, but I’m also very nervous. It’s been over 5 years since I’ve had a garden, and while I was never close to being an expert, I’m afraid I’ve forgotten most of what I knew about when to start plants, and spacing, and transplanting...all that good stuff. Hubby and I recognized that this year is going to be just a crap shoot as to whether we succeed or fail, but we’re hoping to have a good supply of our own green groceries. I plan to try my hand at canning some stuff, too.
As nervous as I am, I very much enjoy gardening. It is fun to get my hands dirty, and once things start peeking out of the ground, it becomes this satisfying miracle to nurture the plants and see them through to harvest. It’s still really early for it. March has really decided to come in like a lion this year. The temps have dipped, and the rain keeps falling, rain keeps falling down, down... (Hey hey hey hey!) (There’s the stream again, taking me down with Simple Minds...)
We still have much to do in the yard, too. We’re going to put in a small blueberry hedge, and some fruit trees, if we can find dwarf stock. Gotta make the best use we can out of our tiny lot. About an 8th of the yard still needs to be leveled out, and walk-on bark put down, and then (at last!) we’ll be able to gravel the driveway, which I can’t wait to do. (No more mud and sand getting tracked into the house!) But all of that depends upon the rain stopping long enough to dig in the dirt without creating a mud pie. Which we already did, once. What a mess that was! Then we can move the sheds around to their permanent homes, and tear down the last of the old shed. Oh, and by the time things dry out, we’ll want to have the well back up and running. That will be an advantage over paying for city water to water the garden.
So much to do, but you know what, I’m super glad to be home and working on it this year. This is the first summer since 2010 that we will be home, and I am totally psyched for it. I always got twitchy on the truck, wishing my hands were getting dirty with soil rather than grease and carbon soot and whatever else we got out hands into while loading and unloading the trailer.
What do you do in the spring? What are your plans for summer?
I don’t know about where you are, but here in the Pacific Northwest, we’re going through the throes of spring madness. I got all excited about planting our garden. We had been waiting and waiting to even fill our new garden beds with soil because “it’s still winter” then all the sudden the trees are blooming, it’s 60 degrees out during the day, and people are talking about planting peas. And here we are with no soil, even. So while the weather was nice for a few days, we brought in four pickup loads of soil from Lane Forest Products, our local go-to for yard and garden products, and filled up nine raised beds and three old truck tires—shoot, I just realized I never bought the beans! We put in peas, but no beans, darn it! Told you this was stream of consciousness. Anyway, now I’ve also planted a beet (beat) box, a ton of onions, and started a bunch of plant seeds under a grow house. There’s even some tiny lettuce plants in there already.
I’m super excited, but I’m also very nervous. It’s been over 5 years since I’ve had a garden, and while I was never close to being an expert, I’m afraid I’ve forgotten most of what I knew about when to start plants, and spacing, and transplanting...all that good stuff. Hubby and I recognized that this year is going to be just a crap shoot as to whether we succeed or fail, but we’re hoping to have a good supply of our own green groceries. I plan to try my hand at canning some stuff, too.
As nervous as I am, I very much enjoy gardening. It is fun to get my hands dirty, and once things start peeking out of the ground, it becomes this satisfying miracle to nurture the plants and see them through to harvest. It’s still really early for it. March has really decided to come in like a lion this year. The temps have dipped, and the rain keeps falling, rain keeps falling down, down... (Hey hey hey hey!) (There’s the stream again, taking me down with Simple Minds...)
We still have much to do in the yard, too. We’re going to put in a small blueberry hedge, and some fruit trees, if we can find dwarf stock. Gotta make the best use we can out of our tiny lot. About an 8th of the yard still needs to be leveled out, and walk-on bark put down, and then (at last!) we’ll be able to gravel the driveway, which I can’t wait to do. (No more mud and sand getting tracked into the house!) But all of that depends upon the rain stopping long enough to dig in the dirt without creating a mud pie. Which we already did, once. What a mess that was! Then we can move the sheds around to their permanent homes, and tear down the last of the old shed. Oh, and by the time things dry out, we’ll want to have the well back up and running. That will be an advantage over paying for city water to water the garden.
So much to do, but you know what, I’m super glad to be home and working on it this year. This is the first summer since 2010 that we will be home, and I am totally psyched for it. I always got twitchy on the truck, wishing my hands were getting dirty with soil rather than grease and carbon soot and whatever else we got out hands into while loading and unloading the trailer.
What do you do in the spring? What are your plans for summer?
March 2, 2016
New Facebook group = What makes a Strong Woman?
I had something of an epiphany while I was at my sister’s house, after the Writer’s Conference. At the conference, I learned that I need to interact with people in my genre more, but I didn’t want it to be just about me, you know? I was trying to figure out how to encourage more interactions with people who, like me, enjoy a good suspenseful read with a strong female lead. Then it hit me: I could start a Facebook group for and about Strong Women in Suspense.
It’s off to a pretty good start. We’re already up above 25 members (which was my 3 month goal) and having some lively discussions about what makes a strong woman, in life and in fiction. We’ve shared some inspiring stories of current and historical strong women. We’ve shared inspirational memes and held each other up to the light.
We’ve even shared a blog post from a man who is suggesting tips for dating strong women. After all, the group shouldn’t just be limited to women. There are men out there who encourage, support, and inspire strong women, and it was never my intention to be a hen party of women bashing men. (So by all means, if you know a man who wouldn’t be threatened by this group and would, in fact, contribute, invite him!)
I like to write my female characters as strong women. Maybe they won’t always start out as strong women, but by the end of their story arc, they will be. My stories may even have more strong women than weak, or I like the word undeveloped better.
In my latest novel, I had two beta readers (out of four) say the teenage girls didn’t react realistically to the situation they were in. Part of me rebelled. How was the story supposed to move forward if all they did was scream and huddle together? Then I realized I was having a knee-jerk reaction to the perceived suggestion that my females were too strong, and I took a step back to look at it objectively.
I knew my girls were strong, especially the heroine, so what the beta readers were really telling me was that I hadn’t convinced them by showing why and how they could be so strong. Which led me to consider the kinds of things that make us strong.
First and foremost, education. In my book, Kylie is the daughter of a veterinarian, and her (single) mother brought her along when she’d go to special trainings, like disaster preparedness. In a small town where there isn’t a big hospital and most of the emergency crews are volunteer, it made sense to me that a vet, who has a base of medical training anyway, would want to be ready in the event of a tornado or a wreck on the highway. Janie isn’t the sort to just let Kylie sit in the car and wait. She was exposed to these clinics, and learned alongside her mother how to handle a crisis.
Second, I think, would be a loving and supportive family. Kylie’s dad only recently came back on the scene, but her mother was always there for her, as were her grandparents. She always had someone to look up to and receive love from. They encouraged her to be her own person, and even let her make her mistakes, but they were always there to love her.
This third element isn’t something every woman has access to, but Kylie grew up around animals that were larger than her. She learned to respect that size, but also not to let her fear of it control her. She gained confidence through the knowledge that she could work with a creature who outweighed her by hundreds of pounds, and bend it to her will. She learned that to give in to fear was to get trampled, hurt, thrown, and broken, and she learned to control her fear—not to say she never felt it, she just never let it control her.
I guess that could break down to learning about fear in general. I had a friend once who told me there are two kinds of people in the world. Those who are afraid and shut down, and those who are afraid and do it anyway. She and I were in the latter category, and so is Kylie.
What do you think makes women—or anyone—strong? What experiences have made you strong?
It’s off to a pretty good start. We’re already up above 25 members (which was my 3 month goal) and having some lively discussions about what makes a strong woman, in life and in fiction. We’ve shared some inspiring stories of current and historical strong women. We’ve shared inspirational memes and held each other up to the light.
We’ve even shared a blog post from a man who is suggesting tips for dating strong women. After all, the group shouldn’t just be limited to women. There are men out there who encourage, support, and inspire strong women, and it was never my intention to be a hen party of women bashing men. (So by all means, if you know a man who wouldn’t be threatened by this group and would, in fact, contribute, invite him!)
I like to write my female characters as strong women. Maybe they won’t always start out as strong women, but by the end of their story arc, they will be. My stories may even have more strong women than weak, or I like the word undeveloped better.
In my latest novel, I had two beta readers (out of four) say the teenage girls didn’t react realistically to the situation they were in. Part of me rebelled. How was the story supposed to move forward if all they did was scream and huddle together? Then I realized I was having a knee-jerk reaction to the perceived suggestion that my females were too strong, and I took a step back to look at it objectively.
I knew my girls were strong, especially the heroine, so what the beta readers were really telling me was that I hadn’t convinced them by showing why and how they could be so strong. Which led me to consider the kinds of things that make us strong.
First and foremost, education. In my book, Kylie is the daughter of a veterinarian, and her (single) mother brought her along when she’d go to special trainings, like disaster preparedness. In a small town where there isn’t a big hospital and most of the emergency crews are volunteer, it made sense to me that a vet, who has a base of medical training anyway, would want to be ready in the event of a tornado or a wreck on the highway. Janie isn’t the sort to just let Kylie sit in the car and wait. She was exposed to these clinics, and learned alongside her mother how to handle a crisis.
Second, I think, would be a loving and supportive family. Kylie’s dad only recently came back on the scene, but her mother was always there for her, as were her grandparents. She always had someone to look up to and receive love from. They encouraged her to be her own person, and even let her make her mistakes, but they were always there to love her.
This third element isn’t something every woman has access to, but Kylie grew up around animals that were larger than her. She learned to respect that size, but also not to let her fear of it control her. She gained confidence through the knowledge that she could work with a creature who outweighed her by hundreds of pounds, and bend it to her will. She learned that to give in to fear was to get trampled, hurt, thrown, and broken, and she learned to control her fear—not to say she never felt it, she just never let it control her.
I guess that could break down to learning about fear in general. I had a friend once who told me there are two kinds of people in the world. Those who are afraid and shut down, and those who are afraid and do it anyway. She and I were in the latter category, and so is Kylie.
What do you think makes women—or anyone—strong? What experiences have made you strong?
February 29, 2016
Review of Carter, by SJ McCoy (Remington Ranch #3)
This latest installment of the Remington Ranch series continues the trend of feel-good romances from SJ McCoy. Carter and Summer's romance is both hopeful and bittersweet, with a perfect happy ending. I could see what needed to happen to solve the lover's dilemma, but the way it happened was a bit of a surprise. If anything, though, I contemplated knocking off half a star for the few and--hmmm--rather lackluster sex scenes. They were, to me, far less steamy than the other books. I didn't mind so much--I know I may be in the minority, but I get tired of sex scenes. So maybe it was me more than the writing.
I have to say, though, I think I know what's going to happen in Beau's story. Or at least, WHO is going to happen to Beau. Should be fun. I predict seeing much more of a precocious little child named Ruth.
I have to say, though, I think I know what's going to happen in Beau's story. Or at least, WHO is going to happen to Beau. Should be fun. I predict seeing much more of a precocious little child named Ruth.
February 24, 2016
And Now For Something Completely Different....
Did you know I have written a Young Adult Historical Fantasy trilogy? Since it is so different from my other works, I've been trying to decide how to proceed. I think I've landed on serializing the story before a summer publication. As a result, the Prologue and Chapter One are up on Goodreads right now. Not sure if I'll publish one chapter per week, or two. I can probably do two, and get them all up before a June 1 release date.
Does this even make sense? I don't know. You don't have to have a Goodreads account to read them, but if you do have one, you can comment on the chapters, let me know what you think, ask questions, and ask for more. Once all three books are out, I will release them together, and put them out as a paperback.
Read the Prologue and Chapter One of A True Prince , the first book in the Bonnie Isles Trilogy on Goodreads.
Here is the working blurb:
Aslynn and Sebastian have been friends nearly since birth. A friendship cemented by a tragic common thread: Aslynn's mother died giving birth to her, and Sebastian had been found floating in a sea chest after a storm. Though a magic spell had protected him, there was no clue as to his identity or his origins. Aslynn's father, King Isaiah, took the boy in to be raised by his swordmaster, and the two motherless children had shared a wet nurse, and a great deal of time over 15 years.But now the forces of Change are moving, converging on the small island kingdom they call their home.
In a storm to rival the one that brought Sebastian ashore, a Stranger is shipwrecked, and rescued by Sebastian and Aslynn. In his gratitude, the traveling mystic offers to try to solve Sebastian's Mystery. In the course of his investigation the stranger uncovers clues, but events surrounding his arrival stir up more than just the past.
Does this even make sense? I don't know. You don't have to have a Goodreads account to read them, but if you do have one, you can comment on the chapters, let me know what you think, ask questions, and ask for more. Once all three books are out, I will release them together, and put them out as a paperback.
Read the Prologue and Chapter One of A True Prince , the first book in the Bonnie Isles Trilogy on Goodreads.
Here is the working blurb:
Aslynn and Sebastian have been friends nearly since birth. A friendship cemented by a tragic common thread: Aslynn's mother died giving birth to her, and Sebastian had been found floating in a sea chest after a storm. Though a magic spell had protected him, there was no clue as to his identity or his origins. Aslynn's father, King Isaiah, took the boy in to be raised by his swordmaster, and the two motherless children had shared a wet nurse, and a great deal of time over 15 years.But now the forces of Change are moving, converging on the small island kingdom they call their home.
In a storm to rival the one that brought Sebastian ashore, a Stranger is shipwrecked, and rescued by Sebastian and Aslynn. In his gratitude, the traveling mystic offers to try to solve Sebastian's Mystery. In the course of his investigation the stranger uncovers clues, but events surrounding his arrival stir up more than just the past.
February 21, 2016
Review of Bait, by Kasi Blake
This wasn't a perfect 5 ***** for me, but it was pretty darn close. The first 3/4 was amazing. I was especially impressed with the opening scene. Then somewhere in there things got a little fuzzy. Not a lot, and I can't out my finger on what, exactly. Just stopped being amazing for a minute and became just really good. Then the unexpected happened - and that felt a little contrived - but things got back on track. I am definitely curious to know what happens in the second book, so it goes on my TBR, although I don't know when I'll get to it.
Bounded in a Nutshell
The skinny on Kristi's life, musings, and occasional bits on writing, works in progress, and promotions.
My blog title is from Shakespeare's Hamlet:
Hamlet:
O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell, and ...more
My blog title is from Shakespeare's Hamlet:
Hamlet:
O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell, and ...more
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