Angela Colsin's Blog, page 14

The Romance Stigma

Romance novels. You say the word, and some people give you a thumbs up in that “Oh yeeeah that’s my thing!” manner, while others cringe and slink into the nearest shadow as if it’s a force field that repels radioactive waves.

That may be an exaggeration, but it’s definitely a proper depiction of the split mentality held by the majority of readers in our society. Sure, there are a few who don’t mind reading romance once in a while, but at least 7 times out of 10, someone has to be a big fan of romance before they’ll even admit their enjoyment of reading it. Otherwise, it’s “noooo, I don’t read romances! How unseemly!”

Yet romance is one of, if not the biggest, bestselling genres of fiction there is. It has a ton of subgenres, various stories have been made into movies (we can argue their quality and worth some other time), and a plethora of conventions are available for readers to attend in the USA alone. So what is it that gives the genre such a wide range of reactions whenever it’s mentioned?

That’s actually not an easy question to answer as there’s no single underlying cause for this critical reception. But there are several reasons we can examine, some more notable than others, yet the single biggest instigator is a word most people won’t like. So prepare thyself, because it’s coming and may be like a swift fist to the gut; misogyny.

I can hear the collective sigh now. But yes, this article is all about the impact society’s views on women has had on the romance genre, and the stigma this impact has created. After all, romance is a genre that’s predominantly written by women, for women, a fact that even comes into play for a number of M/M fictions available. There are male authors of the genre, and successful ones, too. But for as many women who’ve adopted male pen names to sale their mystery/thriller/drama/whatnot books, male romance authors have adopted female pseudonyms to do the same with their love stories.

Examples include Leigh Greenwood (Harold Lowry), Jessica Blair (Bill Spence), and Jennifer Wilde (Thomas Elmer Huff). (Here’s an article about a few others if you’re interested :) )

The point is that romance is viewed by society as being a woman’s domain, and any time you find something that’s largely considered more feminine in nature, it typically gets a mixed reception. For instance, how many times have you heard something that’s weak or generally unlikable being referred to as ‘girly‘? If you told someone to ‘run like a girl’, they’d adopt a delicate stance and go sprinting with their arms fearfully flailing.

The same thing applies to romance novels. Ask anyone to tell you the first thing they think of when they hear the words ‘romance novel’, and you’ll get mentions of clincher covers, flowery prose, damsels in distress, and sickly sweet happily ever afters—in other words, girly stuff—and this view of romance novels has persisted throughout the years even though all of the stories I’ve read in recent times have plots that could rip your guts out with its teeth.

Something else I’ve noticed is that it’s almost as if society thinks it’s everyone’s job to police women in a way that determines what’s best for them, and if it doesn’t hold up to standard? Suddenly, we’re arguing over just how good/wholesome/healthy it actually is.

So here’s a theoretical concept to ponder; Romance novels are notorious for giving women unrealistic expectations when it comes to relationships. The way male protagonists are displayed in them is completely alien to the real world, and there’s no way in this life a reader would ever find the same type of gratification in connecting with a significant other.

Seems like a bleak outlook to me! Not that this concept isn’t partly true—relationships are hard to form and need to be worked at. So the chances of falling in love at first sight and having a long lasting HEA? Unlikely. However, there are plenty of romance novels out here that reflect this truth to some degree, and thinking every single one is simply a story about star crossed lovers who merely took a gander at their significant other and knew they’d found heaven does the overall genre of romance a serious disservice in terms of description.

So let’s examine these unrealistic expectations for a moment. One of my favorite genres of romance is (of course) paranormal, and I know before going into the book or even reading the blurb that whatever adventure I’m about to witness is never going to happen in real life. Why? Simple; Unless someone can prove that werewolves, vampires, fairies, and other such creatures exist, well … need I say more?

But what about books with a contemporary setting based in a world that more closely mirrors reality? There’s more of a chance that the story you’re reading might come to fruition, but do readers truly start reading with the expectation that it’s actually going to happen? Do they put their books down and attempt to recreate some situation in the story with the hopes of garnering the same results?

No one I know ever has, anyway. I mean, that’s like saying “I read an epic fantasy book, and now I’m going to go hunting for a dragon I can ride to the moon in order to unlock the Chest of Ultimate Good and use it to eradicate all evil in the world.”

If only things were so easy. =|

So basically, the point is this; reading fictional stories isn’t motivated by the need to search out ways to make something similar happen in real life. Instead, the point of reading romance stories, or any form of fiction, is to experience a fantasy world and escape the realities of day to day life; i.e., to be entertained.

Yet there’s a section on the wikipedia article about romance novels that states, “The romance genre has over the years generated significant derision, skepticism and criticism. Some critics point to a lack of suspense, as it is obvious that the hero and heroine will eventually resolve their issues, and wonder whether it is beneficial “for women to be whiling away so many hours reading impossibly glamorized love stories.””

As I read this, I have to admit I wonder if the same person who’s so concerned about women whiling away hours reading about impossibly glamorized romance is also worried about men who spend so much time watching pornography about impossibly glamorized sex. But I’ve never heard anyone say a word despite the fact that it’s just as easy to harbor under the misconception that what happens in porn videos also happens in real life every single time you have sex.

Here’s a secret; it doesn’t. =\

Still, a man might figure out what he likes by watching pornography, or what doesn’t work for him, and the same can be said about women reading romance stories (and I do mean this beyond a purely sexual implication). They may learn what traits they appreciate in a man, or how they’d like to be treated, and that type of self discovery is empowering. By knowing herself, a woman knows how to set higher expectations for her relationships.

More importantly, she also learns that she can actually set these expectations and have them met. In other words, being given the same type of consideration and respect is not too high a price to demand from her partner despite the blurred lines painted over what women should want vs. what they can realistically attain from their relationships.

So there’s definitely a stigma placed on romance fiction stemming from the misogynistic values of general society. Another point that comes to mind is the numerous times I’ve heard a woman stating she’d turn down a romance novel that might otherwise be enjoyable all because it has a “risque cover”, and if anyone were to catch her reading such a book, she’d feel ashamed.

But why should she feel ashamed? What’s so wrong with reading a freaking love story?

Simple answer; Girlishness and slut shaming.

Longer answer; What women enjoy is largely viewed as girly, hence weak or undesirable, and additionally, women aren’t supposed to want or enjoy the same things a man does. So if she desires to have sex, shows any interest in having sex, or just an interest in men generally, she’s obviously a slut/whore/tramp/harlot/hooker/a long list of shameful names that have been applied to women over the years for basically, well, having human needs.

Sadly, most women today have been ingrained with these values since birth, taught to think that there’s something wrong with them for wanting to enjoy themselves in such a manner, and many believe it. This is known as internalized misogyny, and it’s a large instigator of female erasure in that many authors are either afraid to write female characters due to unfair criticism, ashamed of their own needs as women, or simply can’t empathize with female characters and so prefer not to write them (or villianize them when they do).

In addition, this type of erasure has led to there being a much larger number of M/M fictions on the market than F/F fictions. I’ve seen groups on goodreads that have entire forums dedicated to the topic of M/M romance novels, but not a single thread even mentioning F/F romance in sight. I can scroll down my facebook feed and be met with post after post of M/M stories, but never once see anything F/F.

In fact, some would even try to tell you that there is no market for F/F romantic/erotic fiction whatsoever. I mean because you know, lesbians don’t actually exist. Or well, wait, they do, but only as enjoyment for men. So yeah, their relationships aren’t serious at all (and yes, that was all sarcasm).

Yet I’m honestly only touching the surface of this particular topic, and it really deserves it’s own article altogether (preferably written by someone much more knowledgeable about the LGBTA spectrum of fiction available than myself), so I’ll digress there, and get back to my original point.

That point? Romance is just as serious a genre of fiction as any other, and much of the stigma that’s been placed upon it is largely due to the mentality society has regarding women. A reader, whether male or female, can invest themselves in these stories as much or as little as they like, and hopefully, this notion will come to pass more and more as time goes on, breaking down the silly barriers of needless shame keeping us from enjoying the things we love.

As a last thought, I’d like to suggest a book for anyone who reads this post and would really like to learn more about the notorious reputation romance novels have garnered over the years. I’m not affiliated with the author or publishers of this book, nor have I been asked to share it. I simply think it’s an excellent read, and really drives home a lot of relevant points: Dangerous Books For Girls – The Bad Reputation of Romance Novels Explained by Maya Rodale.

Thanks so much for reading this guys, and I hope you’re having an awesome day! Cheers! :D
Check Me Out!

Books • The Final Calling • Box Set • About the Author

EDGy Reviews – Strange Brew

EDGy Reviews gave Strange Brew 4 Stars!

From their site:

“Strange Brew was a great story that I enjoyed very much.

Troy is a werewolf on the verge of losing his humanity, this is a curse they all face when they can’t find their mates before reaching 200 hundred years of age. He has almost given up hope when he gets word as to where his mate is… and he doesn’t waste time getting there.

Aislinn is a born witch whose magic hasn’t been quite right lately. Feeling off she is taking every opportunity that arises to help her get her powers up to what they should be. Her mother suggests a ritual for her 25th birthday, and having gotten an invite to join a coven, she accepts their initiation test intuiting something good will come out of it.” —See More

Check Me Out!

Books • The Final Calling • Box Set • About the Author

Ewwww No Updates!

So, I wanted to come and post a quick apology because I haven’t updated here in a while, and the honest truth is that I don’t actually have any updates. I am working on some posts though, and I thought I’d be done with them by now, but as it always turns out, life comes atcha fast. *Sigh* But stay tuned, because I will have some shiny new stuff up soon enough! :D

Check Me Out!

Books • The Final Calling • Box Set • About the Author

Strange Brew by Angela Colsin

Thanks so much for the review on Strange Brew, Debra! I’m so glad you enjoyed it!

Just read

Strange Brew is Book 3 of The Crucible Series by Angela Colsin, an independent author I recently found.

First, the Blurb:  Feeling out of touch with her magical gifts, Aislinn Carmichael is a witch seeking a means of restoring her ability to its fullest potential. Despite the warnings of family and friends, the endeavor inevitably drives her to accept the initiation trial of a witch coven called The Trine. 

Their test demands the capture of a supernatural creature, a task Aislinn has little doubt she can accomplish with relative ease. But of all the potentially benign creatures she could’ve snared, none other than a feral werewolf stumbles into her trap. Making matters worse is The Trine’s intentions for her dangerous captive, forcing Aislinn to release him and potentially risk retaliation. 

But vengeance is the farthest thing from the werewolf’s mind. 

Troy Ashland is a werewolf standing at death’s door…

View original post 413 more words

Valentine’s Day Book Sale!

♥ Book Sale! :D Interested in some love on Valentine’s Day? From Feb. 13th-15th, all books in The Crucible Paranormal Romance Series are only .99¢! ♥

♥ Blue Moon – Code: GK86U

♥ Light of Dawn – Code: YD99L

♥ Strange Brew – Code: DM35S

♥ Fallen Hearts – Code: VC34S

♥ Happy Valentine’s Day! ♥
Check Me Out!

Books • The Final Calling • Box Set • About the Author

Pre-Valentine’s Day Book Sale!

♥ Book Sale! :D Interested in some love on Valentine’s Day? From Feb. 1st-3rd, all books in The Crucible Paranormal Romance Series are only .99¢! ♥

♥ Blue Moon – Code: GK86U

♥ Light of Dawn – Code: YD99L

♥ Strange Brew – Code: DM35S

♥ Fallen Hearts – Code: VC34S

♥ Happy Valentine’s Day! ♥
Check Me Out!

Books • The Final Calling • Box Set • About the Author

Writing and Mental Illness

I’ll be honest, I’ve not only put this topic off for a while, I also sat here staring at my screen before I started writing, wondering just what the hell I was supposed to say exactly. There are a number of reasons for my hesitance, one of them being that I don’t like talking about my troubles mainly because the topic of mental illness is so misunderstood by so many people. But I thought it was important to say something about it, at least once, because I know for certain that I’m not the only person who writes and also suffers from some type of disorder or another.

Sadly, this means I feel as if I’m putting myself out on a very thin limb due to that same misunderstanding I’d mentioned above. The misunderstanding of disorders such as depression, anxiety, OCD, bipolar disorder, ADHD, and several others isn’t a problem limited to strangers or acquaintances, but in most cases, involves close friends and family–which is even more painful to deal with. I most certainly have family members who don’t understand exactly what I go through everyday, and sadly, I typically get a negative reception whenever I try to explain it.

So I stopped trying.

But recently, I’ve been attempting to learn more about networking and building an author platform, and in speaking with a few people to see what they have to say, many of them have all pointed out the method of “putting yourself out there”. Most times, this refers to social media and interacting with others, which is easy enough to accomplish from the comfort of your own home. You don’t have a commute to make, a schedule to keep, a wardrobe to plan, or any of those typical concerns that come with meeting new people or speaking in groups.

But sometimes, “putting yourself out there” does call for that type of social interaction–and that’s a terrifying prospect for some people struggling with mental illnesses.

This may be due to social anxieties, or it may be due to the fact that you simply can’t get yourself to attend some type of event or social gathering due to x,y,z reasons. Scheduling might be a problem, or driving, and like many a person who struggles with whatever debilitating sense of anxiety and fear they have, you resort to telling a “normal lie”, such as “My alarm clock didn’t go off”, or “I’ve been running back and forth to the bathroom”. In other words, you do whatever it takes to get out of that meeting without looking crazy. I mean, telling someone “I can’t drive ten feet down the street without having a panic attack” doesn’t always go over well. Or maybe your excuse does sound normal, such as “I couldn’t sleep,” but then people don’t seem to understand that this problem is actually attached to a mental disorder with a long history, or just how much anguish it’s caused you.

“Go to bed earlier,” they might say, or “Get someone else to drive you,” never realizing that their suggestions are things you’ve probably tried a million times, and it simply doesn’t work.

In my life, I’ve realized a very sad truth is in play when it comes to the treatment of people suffering from mental illnesses and how those who don’t understand view them. They say, “Stop making excuses,” and then proceed to come up with their own reasons–hence, excuses–as to why you simply shouldn’t feel so bad, or why “this, this, and this” would work for you. They typically think the afflicted are just eccentric, dishonest, irresponsible, and/or unreliable, and while there are mental illnesses that do cause erratic behavior, most of us are trying our damned best to cope and function in a way the rest of the world might deem acceptable.

So what does this have to do with writing? Many people suffering from these disorders write to escape the realities of their everyday heartaches, then learn that, if they actually want to make a name for themselves, they have to do something they’re not sure they can actually accomplish. Perhaps at this point, someone might be thinking, “Then you just don’t want to be successful badly enough,” but, and before I blow a gasket because that kind of attitude really pisses me off (sorry, not sorry), let me explain that I don’t mean “they need to face a fear and overcome it.”

What I mean is that they are physically incapable of getting out of their home, just the way a person who’s bedridden can’t easily get out and travel. When I was 18-19, I was stricken with a case of severe depression to the point that I was physically ill. I recall laying back in a recliner with a blanket over me, feeling for all intents and purposes like I had the flu. My entire body ached, and I’d had no idea depression could make someone feel that way before, even though I’d been diagnosed with OCD when I was 14-15 and had a lot of experience dealing with mental disorders by the time my depression started.

Overall, this is an extremely difficult topic for me to talk about, not only because of the potential nuances involved and how many cases differ from one another, but also due to my own personal history dealing with mental illness. Perhaps it seems like a strange topic for this blog as well, but it’s one I think needs to be drug out into the light. People shouldn’t have to suffer in silence. They deserve support in their efforts, and that won’t be easy to come by unless it’s being talked about–even if we have to deal with the misunderstanding that’s very likely going to come along.

Thanks so much guys, and I hope you’re having a great week!

Cheers! :D

The Final Calling Excerpt

So! I’d been kicking myself about getting an excerpt up from The Final Calling recently, and I finally found something to share! :)

Please keep in mind that this scene is A. Edited from its original state and B. A work in progress that’s subject to change as writing nears completion. Other than that, I hope you enjoy it!

• • •

Entering the kitchen on the ground level, Isaac found Ida at the counter mixing some kind of dessert cake in a bowl, and as soon he walked by, she started going on and on about how he needed to eat more often.

Without responding, he grabbed a tortilla shell to wrap a few toppings in, and she immediately grew quiet, grinning in obvious approval.

Once Isaac was done, he tugged a wad of cash from of his jeans’ pocket to place on the counter, then patted her cheek and relayed with a smirk, “Here’s next month’s rent, hermosa.”

Laughing, Ida called him a tease while he exited the house with a single idea in mind—scouting town for Perosian spies and assassins intent on locating and killing Edith.

After all, if Isaac had been tracked for centuries as a fugitive, he had no doubts she’d get the same treatment because of the prophecy. So he was taking every precaution to make certain no one knew her identity, from scouting her hometown to employing a trusted spy network that would spread misinformation and divert potential assassins—and it seemed to be working.

In the past few weeks, he’d only encountered a handful shadow fiends—spies adept at stealth and relaying information—and he doubted tonight would turn up a different story.

Still, scouting was the only activity he actually enjoyed anymore. Making sure Edith would be safe when she returned was fulfilling, and after his earlier dream, the distraction was much appreciated.

But no matter how much better ensuring Edith’s protection made him feel, after only a few bites of his food, Isaac knew he wouldn’t be able to finish it off. The flavor was enjoyable, but his heart simply wasn’t into eating, getting as far as the business district two blocks away before he tossed it aside purposefully.

The food flew through the air—and right into the open passenger’s window of a car that had just run a stop sign and was now recklessly speeding by. In turn, the vehicle swerved, slamming into a fire hydrant on the opposite side of the street.

The loud screech and crash soon followed by the driver’s shouts of angered confusion made the demon grin. Mortal flailing will never not be funny.

A few people rushed around the corner when they heard the crash, and Isaac would’ve stayed to admire his handiwork. But he hoped scouting might provide him with something a little more entertaining, deciding to take a shortcut between two buildings in his search for potential problems.

And damned if that wasn’t where he found one.

But this problem wasn’t exactly what he’d expected to find—it was sorceress-shaped and called itself Chandra.

Isaac thought his eyes were playing tricks on him at first, but there she was, standing near the center of the alley, her mien just as impassive as ever. Such austerity made it difficult to tell why she’d decided to show up, and her greeting didn’t offer any clues either.

“Hello, Isaac. It’s been a while,” she started, looking him over. “You’ve lost weight.”

Isaac rolled his eyes without responding to the observation. “Unless you have something to tell me about Edith, I don’t wanna fucking hear it.”

“Funny you should mention her because she’s the exact reason I’m here.”

Isaac’s gut clenched at her declaration, a strange sensation after so long feeling nothing but apathy to most situations. But he hid his desire to know more under a mask of calm, returning, “Oh? What happened? Did she fuck up and blow Mystikkar away?”

Chandra didn’t even crack a smile. Instead, her face was a mask of sincerity when she replied, “Edith is one of the best students Mystikkar has seen in quite some time, well on her way to becoming a formidable enchantress, which is fitting considering the prophecy, don’t you think?”

Some unidentifiable part of Isaac bloomed with pride in hearing this. Enchanters were supposed to be pretty high up on the food chain in mage society. But Edith’s achievements meant little unless she was returning to Terra.

To me.

“So?” he asked indifferently.

“So,” the sorceress echoed, “as per our bargain, I’m alerting you that she’s already achieved the necessary skill to attempt her Final Calling, and she’s accepted it. So I’ve released her from training.”

Now Isaac let his interest show. But he didn’t quite get the chance to demand to know where Edith was when Chandra lifted a hand to stop him. “Before you teleport in a frenzy to find her, there’s something you have to know.”

“What?”

“It’s Rothario. I learned soon after Edith’s departure that he’s once again sent spies to try attaining the truth behind my instructor status. So there’s a chance he knows of Edith now, or soon will, meaning she could be followed this very night, and as her mentor, there is nothing I can do to protect her … ”

Chandra trailed off to let him fill in the blanks, and Isaac was already balling his fists. He couldn’t remember Rothario, the Steward of Perosia, but as he’d told Ulric once, if given the chance, I’d strangle him just for my extended stay in the Pit, and might just take so much pleasure watching the life drain out of him I’d come in my pants.

“Where is she?” he impulsively demanded.

In response, Chandra began wordlessly teleporting away, unable to take any action that would aid Edith’s Calling without nullifying it. Still, Isaac didn’t actually have to ask, knowing the best place to start looking would be his mate’s apartment.

And if Rothario did know about her, it would be imperative to act fast.

So Isaac got started without hesitation, realizing on the way that for the first time in over two years, he actually felt … unburdened.

The sensation had a devious grin lifting his lips.

Time to claim what’s mine.

• • •

Edith hadn’t expected to feel so strange being back home. It wasn’t her first trip back to Terra since she’d started training, but knowing she probably wouldn’t return to Mystikkar anytime soon was … odd.

Maybe it was due to the fact that everything in her apartment was exactly the way she’d left it ten months prior because of a magical hold Chandra placed on her belongings, making it seem as if she’d never left. The food in her refrigerator hadn’t spoiled, bills weren’t piled up in the mailbox, and all of her utilities were still working.

Even her cell phone was fully charged despite the fact that she’d left it unplugged.

But the hold had broken the moment she’d stepped foot inside, meaning everything would now return to normal—not that she planned on staying long anyway. The first sign for her Calling could appear at any moment, and who knew what she’d have to acquire, or if she’d even figure it out before coming under attack by some assassin.

If any were even looking for her.

But most importantly, Edith wanted to see Charlotte again after spending so long away, and an added benefit of visiting was that Ulric did mercenary work, and probably had experience dealing with assassins.

So it would definitely be worth a trip.

With the thought in mind, Edith eagerly changed out of her light blue apprentice robe in favor of donning something more suitable for the mortal world—a plain black top and a pair of jeans—then adjourned to her bathroom and flipped on the lights. There, she stood at the sink to brush her hair and tie it into a ponytail before leaving, trying to envision what her friend’s home looked like now. The framework without walls had been impressive, so she could only imagine.

But her musings quickly died when she looked in the mirror and noticed … movement behind her.

Freezing in place, she inspected the reflection more closely to make certain her eyes weren’t playing tricks, realizing with no lack of consternation that her face wasn’t the only one in the mirror.

In the doorway was … an apparition, or so it appeared to be. The creature was nearly translucent, but the way the light broke around its form was a clear indication that someone, or something, was standing a few feet behind her.

The shape of the body was lanky and tall, and her mind reeled over the reasons for its presence in her home. Assassin? Or am I actually seeing a ghost?

The latter seemed much more unlikely than the former, and without turning from the mirror, she asked, “I’m guessing you’re not here to collect the rent.”

Eerily, the being shook its head in the negative—then reached for her.

Only two things occurred to Edith in response. First, this was definitely an assassin, and second, she needed to get the hell out of there.

Yet the monster never laid a hand on her. Instead, the lights suddenly went out in the moderately sized bathroom, an event that altered her assailant’s being altogether. As soon as the room was sufficiently dimmed, it became tangible.

Where the creature was once hard to see, now there was a solid, featureless shadow, or it was just too dark for her eyes to make out its face. Either way, it stopped reaching as if surprised by the diminished illumination, and likewise, Edith didn’t expect anyone to attack the monster from behind.

But that was exactly what happened.

In the space of a single moment, two thick arms wrapped around the creature and, with what looked like little effort, hauled it out of her bathroom completely. A crash then sounded in the bedroom beyond the door, and Edith hurried forward to watch as the shadowy monster was pinned down by an unknown man.

Whoever he was, he had a strong build with what looked like dark, wavy hair in the dim light, wearing a black shirt, jeans, and boots. But the way he was growling told Edith he definitely wasn’t human.

Even still, the moment he glimpsed her standing near the doorway from the corner of his eyes, he mentioned casually, “Oh hey, I’ll introduce myself in a minute. Just don’t turn the lights back on until this fucker’s dead.”

Edith blinked at the remark, which only sounded strange because of his nonchalant tone. But his directions to keep the lights off informed her that they were dealing with a shadow fiend—creatures who were only tangible and could only be killed if it was dark.

As soon as she realized it, the monster suddenly rolled and knocked the man away hard enough to send him flying into a nightstand, breaking her jewelry box and a decorative vase. Following the movement, it quickly stood with a low, garbled cry, and lunged toward a window in attempt to escape.

“Oh no you don’t.” Using a little magic, Edith sealed the room tight, the doors to the bathroom and bedroom both slamming shut just as the fiend jumped—but the window didn’t break.

Instead, it merely crashed into the glass, and the strange man was right back on top of it in an instant.

Nothing about their fight could’ve been described as gentle. Even more furniture was knocked over and items demolished—mostly because her so-called savior decided to use them as weapons, such as breaking a bed post to hammer into his enemy’s skull.

Topping it off, their movements were loud enough that Edith feared a neighbor might call the police.

Still, it was evident that the stranger was just fucking with the fiend when she heard him laughing and taunting as he got the upper hand. Grasping each of the monster’s wrists, he quickly spun himself beneath its arms with a growl of effort, flipping the monster over onto the floor, its legs slamming into her dresser hard enough to break away the covers of the drawers.

While holding the fiend’s arms in place, the stranger lifted a leg and slammed his boot down into it’s head with an inhuman snarl, crushing it’s skull which exploded in a puff of smoke.

Still, the fiend continued struggling—not that the stranger was finished.

With a show of strength, he placed his boot on the monster’s chest and ruthlessly ripped one arm off, then the other. With each dismemberment, the appendages would go up in smoke, until finally, the torso disappeared after losing its legs.

The moment things grew silent again, Edith took a deep breath and looked around her bedroom. It hadn’t been entirely decimated by the fight, but there were plenty of things broken, irreplaceable things—or they would’ve been if she wasn’t on her way to becoming an enchantress.

So instead of yelling goddamn it as her first instinct directed, she opted to chastise the stranger.

“I hope you’re done, because—,” Edith stopped when his gaze turned on her, revealing the most vivid amber eyes she’d ever seen, like two flames glowing through the darkness. What’s more, they’d pinned her with a look of interest so intense that her heart skipped as she involuntarily took a step back.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he spoke, his tone deep—and reverent.

“What?”

Just as she asked the question, the stranger was upon her. She gasped at his sudden teleportation, throwing herself against the wall as he slowly leaned in, bracing his hands by her shoulders.

For all intents and purposes, he looked as if he wanted to kiss her absolutely senseless.

Strangely, she wasn’t sure she’d mind …

• • •

The Final Calling is coming in Spring 2016!

Check Me Out!

Books • The Final Calling • Box Set • About the Author

Animated Book Covers Part II

So, I’d made a post the other day discussing animated book covers, and decided to go ahead and apply some “moving parts” to my other covers. Hope you guys enjoy them! Cheers! :D

Check Me Out!

Books • The Final Calling • Box Set • About the Author

Self Publishing Matures Just a Bit

So, I just saw a post over on facebook linking to an article on enovelauthorsatwork.com stating that Amazon is about to tighten the reigns on all authors. From Tradi-pubbed to Indie, we’re about to see warnings if our ebooks aren’t up to snuff. Check their article here, and this one at goodereader.com.

Basically, books that are badly edited, formatted, or just plain old unreadable (plot holes, inconsistencies in storytelling, etc.) will have a warning issued to all customers about the problems. Sadly for me, I’m a one woman show, and I’m not at all certain I’ve been able to rid my manuscripts of typos completely, so I may just be seeing a few warnings myself. Still, this introduces a level of quality control that the self publishing industry really does need.

On the other hand, Amazon’s KDP isn’t precisely an editing group, so how well will they be able to pick out what’s an actual grammar problem, and what’s, for example, character specific dialogue that’s written exactly as it’s meant to be? For example, my character, Petelugu (Pete for short) is an Ogre who’s a prodigy in comparison to others of his kind, but to us? Yeah, he’s a bit on the slow side, and doesn’t always speak eloquently;

After staring for only a moment, the ogre asked incredulously, “Maddox?”

“You remembered!” she grinned proudly.

Without pause, the door opened and Pete stepped out. His height dwarfed Stephan’s, as did his build—brawny arms, a rounded belly, and two tusks jutting up from his bottom lip that offered an intimidating air to an already imposing creature.

Grinning, he grabbed Maddox, lifting her from the ground in a tight hug and exclaimed, “We thought you dead!”

“Don’t squeeze me, Pete, don’t … you’re squeezing,” she muttered.

“Sorry,” he apologized, placing her safely down again, then turned a set of wary blue eyes on Stephan. “Who’s he?”

“He’s … actually, I think he has some ogre in him, Pete.”

Taking her suggestion seriously, the ogre sniffed the air to get Stephan’s scent, then scoffed. “No he don’t.”

(Excerpt from Fallen Hearts, Chapter 15)

I’ve been over this with a fine tooth comb, and nothing written is a mistake. So as you can see, someone might take the “No he don’t” as bad grammar, when it’s just the way Pete talks. Point being, while I’m glad to hear about quality control, I still have misgivings over who’s enforcing those controls. But I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see how everything pans out.

If anyone has any thoughts or comments on this, please feel free to add them!

Cheers! :)

Check Me Out!

Books • The Final Calling • Box Set • About the Author