Helen B. Henderson's Blog, page 70

Worst Book Ever #mfrwauthor

Welcome to week 14. The topic is a sensitive one--Bad Reviews. Or more specifically "What I Learned From My Worst Review." To have a worst review means you have to have bad reviews, something no author ever wants to have.

In the case of reviews, I'm thinking of a one-star. The star wasn't earned because of bad writing or poor production but solely as a means to denigrate another author. In this case the consensus of those contacted one-star and negative comments were a means to promote a friend who was in direct competition. One thing I've learned after decades as a writer is that trolls don't just exist in fairy tales.

The second worst review was not on a published piece but a draft--and the comments were from a member of a critique group. The vicious tirade started in the second paragraph and ended at the bottom of the first page with "Rewrite everything" and ended with "I can't read anymore."


Now as to what was learned?

Look at the person behind the words.
Are they a reader or a writer?In your genre or another? If a writer, are they experienced or someone full of themselves as they await their first release? Think the old addage of "Hire a teenager while they still know it all."Any obvious prejudices? Has the reviewer trashed other books in your genre?Other examples of prejudice is that women can't be leaders. Or, there can't be any romantic element in a fantasy. You get the idea. 

There is one train of thought to avoid reading reviews and another is to read every one. If you read them and the criticism makes sense, consider incorporating it into either that work or future ones if it will enhance the piece.

I'll end the post with the note I include with my critiques.

Don't worry about the amount of blue or number of comments. It often takes longer to ask a question or explain a thought than the few words you might decide to delete or add. I realize the suggestions I made might be in my voice. They are just food for thought. Use or toss as you will. There is no need to defend or justify anything. Ultimately the piece is your vision.

Thanks for stopping by. It's a hop so be sure to visit the other authors in the challenge. ~till next time, Helen

Hooked on Windmaster, A Treacherous Trail, #mfrwhooks

The original snippit for this week book hook picked up where last week's left off. However, I received news that changed things--a sale. In honor of April showers, which besides bringing May flowers, also brings a 99 cent sale for Windmaster (more later in this post). So in sympathy with the northeast for yet another nor'easter this winter, a snippit from Ellspeth and Dal on a rainy trail. The scene takes place after the excerpt, Leave or Die, where Dal and Ellspeth leave his clanhold.

Excerpt from Windmaster:

Ellspeth’s world reduced to the shifting gray shadow that was Tairneach. Her eyes hurt from straining to see through the curtain of snow and rain that almost obscured the stallion. She rode with one foot scraping the rocks on the side of the narrow trail while her other hung over a thousand-foot precipice. One misstep and both rider and mount would plummet to the valley floor. The driving rain stung every spot of unprotected skin like a thousand cuts. Icy rivulets ran off her wide-brimmed hat. They sneaked beneath the collar of the lake seal cloak and ran down her neck. Waterlogged, her clothes sucked every ounce of heat from her body. Only where her legs lay against Cadno’s coat did she have vague feeling. Hours of riding in the howling maelstrom of cold and wet had dulled her mind to anything beyond the need to stay in the saddle.

Dal’s bellow penetrated Ellspeth’s consciousness. “This storm isn’t going to stop. Taer can’t take much more of this, and neither can we. There’s shelter not far up the trail.”

Chattering teeth made a reply impossible, so she just nodded. Even that slight movement threw her numbed body off balance. Fighting not to fall into the abyss, Ellspeth dropped the reins onto Cadno’s neck and wrapped nerveless fingers around the saddle horn to let the colt pick his way across a stream of water rushing over the rock-strewn path. The crunch of ice beneath his hooves reminded Ellspeth of the snap of the Sea Falcon’s canvas in a stiff wind. If I can stand on the Falcon’s deck, I can stay in this saddle. She clenched the leather horn tighter with a renewed sense of determination.

~ * ~
LIMITED TIME ONLY - Windmaster, only 99cents at Smashwords.


Windmaster isn't the only book that Spring brings at a great price. Visit http://bwlpublishing.ca/, scroll down to the coupon specials banner, and click on a cover to go directly to its sale page. I hope you'll visit and check out the rest of the sale.

And to all my friends and family in the northeast, hunker down. Spring's a'coming. Eventually.

Don't Use It All #mfrwauthor

It's Friday! time again for a challenge post. This week's topic had me spinning the decision wheel again. What have I learned from research?

First off, research for what book? Do I want to discuss insights derived from the creation of the local history books I wrote? They represented decades of research and the information and images covered millennia. Of course, the stories, whether published or to be written, that were set in the old west might be appropriate to use as the focus because they required so much research.

However, since the challenge is from Marketing For Romance Authors, I will focus on what I learned researching my fantasy books: The Windmaster Novels, The Dragshi Chronicles, and Imprisoned In Stone. I could wax for hours on the gorgeous landscapes of the British Isles and Hawaii that were used as settings. But I won't.

I could write about the re-enactments I attended to immerse myself in a specific time period. Visits to museums or walking archaeological sites, practicing with replicas of ancient weapons, or lying on the floor studying maps of the civilizations long past are all types of research I've done. You might even take lessons to get a feel for a skill or to experience a once commonplace event such as horseback riding.

As you can tell, research can take many forms.

Each project, each book, each author requires different research. It might be street names for a contemporary, period clothing and customs for a historical romance, or projections of what a future world would be like for a science fiction novel. However, there are commonalities that transcend genres that I stress whenever I talk on research.


In her post "The Devil's In The Details," C. S. Lakin tells authors they are the manager of their books. That "you hold the power to guide your readers, managing their attention and memory. By stressing a certain detail or event, you are managing readers by sending the message: 'Pay attention to this. Remember this.'" While the story may mirror real life, your readers will not know which details matter to the story and which are incidental. If you overload readers with stimuli, they won’t know what to pay attention to and what to ignore.

Every editor at some time has held a manuscript that contained excessive, detail. the author had obviously done their due diligence into the historical period and loved it so much they put every single detail into their work.

Description is about drawing the reader in and making them live the story with you. Too much detail strips the reader of bringing their own experience to the story. Having to stop for a history lesson, even one featuring intriguing characters, can pull readers straight out of the fiction.

Sprinkle your details as you would a spice. Not too much, not too little, and blended throughout for a perfect balance.


More on what I learned during research is at Stop, Too Much Detail if you care to check out the post.

~till next time, happy researching Helen

Hooked on Windmaster Legacy, Escape Thwarted #MFRWauthor

Chose between magic, revenge... or the life of a loved one.
This weeks #MFRWHooks Wednesday snippet is from Windmaster Legacy. To set the stage, Lady Ellspeth has escaped the dungeon of the rogue mage--and has taken the mage's innocent apprentice, Nobyn, with her. More than troops pursue her, for the mage has created werehounds that once exposed to someone's blood can track them to the ends of the world. And they are on Ellspeth's scent.

~ * ~
Water rose to her knees as Ellspeth waded in. Her clothes clung to her legs. Watching for hidden obstacles or loose rocks that could turn an ankle, she led the way into deeper water. Nobyn grunted as he slogged through the waist-high river.

Halfway across, his gasp sent a spear of fear through her. She turned to pick him up, but the youth had not fallen. Then Ellspeth saw what panicked him. Third strode out of the trees a hundred paces upstream where the river circled in a lazy swirl. An estimated mass of a hundred men followed in a stiff silence. No retreat was possible in that direction. She and Nobyn had to finish crossing the river. “Hurry, Nobyn. Hurry,” she pressed.

Just before they reached the safety of the far bank, Ellspeth halted. Sealgair and his sailors blocked her path. The last remnants of a cloaking spell still shimmered around them. Ellspeth traced the riverbank upstream and her gaze settled on a large outcropping. It must have sheltered Sealgair and his sailors from view. But who cast the spell?

Sealgair’s men fanned out. Not in a flanking maneuver, but one reminiscent of an honor guard. Ellspeth knew who the men escorted even before she heard the harsh call. “Here, my little wizardling.”

A chill unrelated to the water flowing around her legs crept up Ellspeth’s chest. Striding out of the woods, wearing his blood-stained soutane like a royal robe, was the one man she dreaded—Bashim.

“Mistress, give the word,” Nobyn declared, barely hiding the tremor in his voice. “I will fight by your side.” The naked blade in his hand showed the youth’s determination, even as fear haunted his eyes.




Windmaster Legacy Available At:
Ebook and Paperback: Amazon Amazon.uk
One-click link to major Ebook sellers

Click here for another excerpt and a free read of the first chapter. And if you missed Windmaster, an excerpt for the first book in the series can be found here.

We're all hooked on books. Click on a link to hop to the next blog.

Crickets #mfrwauthor

When I saw the topic list for 2018, I knew from the start that I wouldn't complete all 52 posts. There were just some that were either too personal or not relevant. At first I thought this week would be one. The temptation to rant would be too much. However, I decided to write a few words. If you've followed me on this challenge and the one in 2017, you'll note that I tend towards darker thoughts.

First, I'd like to say I'm not a contest person. Maybe it's my Scotch blood but I never had an interest in gambling. Spending hundreds (or thousands) of dollars on contest entries to me was just throwing money away. Now you could say that you are paying for exposure, or the possibility of having an award sticker on your website. That idea never held much water for me, just as I wouldn't give away novel after novel for the privilege of exposure.


I admit that I experimented with contests as a method of promotion. It didn't matter if it was a cover war, a reader's contest, consideration for a publication contract, or for actual money. The result was the same.

It didn't matter if I was with a publisher where the authors swore to assist each or the entry was as an independent author struggling against the tide. 

It didn't matter how hard I promoted or begged for votes. The results were the same -- the sound of crickets. 



Now I choose to believe that the non-existent votes were not the result of poor design or poor writing. More than one author has expressed the feeling that many contests are popularity contests. A point to note, never in my life was I the popular girl. Never the lead cheerleader standing in front of the crowds, I was the one who did the grunt work to make the event happen.

Will I ever enter another contest? Maybe. Will I ever expect to win? That answer is for me to know and you to guess.

~till next time, be sure to visit the other authors in the challenge.

Hooked on Windmaster, An Enemy Engaged #MFRWHooks

Windmaster
(Book 1 of the Windmaster Novels

Prophecy decreed Ellspeth marry the Archmage. However, despite the attraction to him, Ellspeth’s heart fought the announced destiny. For to be with Lord Dal meant she had to take all that came with him, including magic. Love meant the loss of her ship and crew because to a mage the sea meant death.

Excerpt:
 
The air tingled with Bashim’s presence three heartbeats before his raspy voice reached her. The warning was so subtle, if her senses had not been in battle mode, she would have missed the advance notice. “Greetings, Ellspeth, my little wizardling.”
 
Her pulse froze. Bashim knew her name.
 
The air thickened into the specter of a man. His dark hair curled tight around his head, and his cloak blew in the breeze. Except for the gaunt look around his eyes, he appeared little different from the sketch Dal showed her on the Sea Falcon.
 
“You should not have killed my brother,” Bashim chastised. “However, I forgive you. You will be a much better companion than him. You already know the price if you refuse me."


~ * ~

Windmaster - published by BWL Publishing
 
One click link to ebook sellers
Ebook and paperback Available At: Amazon / Amazon UK


We're all hooked on books. Click on a link to hop to the next blog.

Never Say Never #mfrwauthor

Pixabay Image
Week 11, that means the third month is almost done. Nine more to go. If you're a James Bond fan you might remember  "Never Say Never Again." No matter how much we swear not to do something, life is not always under our control. I was going to write about several moments in my life that I would not want to repeat: planning the funeral of a family member, watching the towers fall, and from my professional life reliving the destruction of two projects each of which represented decades worth of work. One project ended because another author published a similar book and his collection of artifacts was more impressive. The other project died because the new leader of the organization denied history existed before him and since the anniversary wasn't about him, he unilaterally cancelled everything.

But the official topic was "If I Never Had To Do This One Task Again." So I will focus on the word "task." A task I will gladly say "never again will I" tell someone that a friend or loved one had died. It never gets easier.

In the vein of things that aren't fun to do, announce to the world that an anniversary celebration a year in the making will not be held.That memory is still too raw so I will go elsewhere

Pixabay Image Now for the record, I actually like to chop wood and shovel snow. However, I would not want to redo the snow clearance of the Blizzard of 2006. It wasn't the tasks of shoveling the driveway, nor the three hundred feet of sidewalk, or even the narrow path to the elderly neighbors front door that puts the task on the list. It was the tossing of the snow onto a pile that was several feet over my head. Then doing it again and again when the snowplow knocked five feet of the pile back into the driveway. And did it not once, or twice but several times until I finally stood in front of the driveway and refused to move. I never want to have to stand firm again.

In a postscript, every time we see on the news that another winter storm is hitting the area, we are glad that we moved. The town had taken out the one-stone wide slate sidewalk which practically cleared itself and replaced it with a 100-foot long and more than six-foot wide concrete sidewalk. Way too much to shovel within the 12-hour stopping of snow law.

That's my story. Hope you'll visit the other authors in the challenge. ~till next time, Helen

Hooked on Hatchlings Curse, Memory of a Cave, #mfrwauthor

The dragshi are more than just a man or woman, but two beings—one human, the other a dragon. The pair share one body in space and time and are able to change forms with the other at will. But be warned, a dragon form comes with more than just the freedom of the sky.

The Dragshi Chronicles-- action-filled, romance-laden fantasies.


Lord Branin is a dragshi, a human who can exchange bodies with a dragon. After millennia of waiting...and searching, Branin and his dragon counterpart, Llewlyn, have found their intended mates.
 
For the dragshi, the freedom of flight comes with a price. Now Branin has to find a cure for the childlessness of his kind. Cryptic references to mating flights add hope, but dark references about the deaths of suitors threatens not only his life, but the dreams of all dragon shifters.

Excerpt:

Worry shattered the dream beneath a different one--the darkness of a dark-filled cave. An evil chortle floated over a figure chained on the wet sand below the high tide line. A single moonbeam lit the pale face--Anastasia. Panic from the earlier attempt on her life resurfaced, setting Branin’s pulse racing.

Anastasia’s caresses pulled him away from the nightmarish image. Her fingertips traced the scar on his jaw line, then moved down his neck. Feather-light touches teased his senses pulling him deeper into maelstrom. As he surrendered to increasingly larger waves of passion, amplified by Llewlyn’s link with Jessian, another’s laughter remained--Broch’s.
 
* * *

Buy Links:   One Click Link to major ebook sellers.
Click here for another excerpt and a free read of the first chapter.

And if you missed Dragon Destiny, an excerpt for the first book in the series can be found here. 

They Understand? Nothing, #mfrwauthor

Welcome to Week 10. And one of those off-beat, impossible to answer questions. I thought... and I thought... and I thought. What would be something only my family would understand? 

It wouldn't be anything related to the writing craft. Nor computers. Scrolling down to read a digital newsletter is as far as their experience goes.

   

It wouldn't be my love of history. Everyone in the historical society can relate to that.

Nor would it be collecting art tiles. Every art pottery lover (or for that matter any collector) understands the urge and lure.

Personality? Television Programs? Books?

Finally I threw in the towel. There is nothing about me that only my family could understand. Familiarity doesn't necessarily grant exclusivity. My official reason for "Nothing" is that the no one understands me. With that cryptic answer, I'm off to visit the other posts in the challenge and hope you will too.


~till next time, Helen

Hooked on Windmaster, Leave or Die, #mfrwauthor #mfrwhooks

The post, You Can't Go Home, was greeted with so many requests to know what happened that Lord Dal and Lady Ellspeth gave me permission to answer at least part of the question by sharing the leave-taking. Returning home always seems to involve strong emotions, sometimes good sometimes not. You may have heard the saying that you can't go home. But there is a caveat. Sometimes it is worth the try.

To set the scene, Dal and Ellspeth arrive at his family clanhold to discover that his brother, Padraig, now rules the clan and that Padraig is in possession of the jewel Dal needs to save the future of magic. But that is not the end of Dal's troubles. Padraig announces Dal is under the sentence of death.

Against Padraig's wishes, Dal and Ellspeth are offered the hospitality of the clan by Dal's mother and a place to rest--at least temporarily. Between the arrival and this scene, Dal and Ellspeth rescue a young girl who had been kidnapped by the same group who wants Dal dead.

Excerpt from Windmaster:

Padraig stepped through the doorway, his hands held out from his sides. He cast an icy glance around the room that hardened at the sight of the sheathed weapons. “An armed troop of twenty men has been sighted only four hours fast march away. The scouts say although a cleric rides at their head, a mercenary actually commands them.”

At Padraig’s glare, Dal kept his face expressionless, even though the effort was a challenge as the crimson flush rose up Padraig’s neck. “The mercenary was overheard offering a reward if you were captured alive. Dal, he said he had a score to settle with you,” Padraig yelled. “He has a scar running the length of his cheek—a traitor’s brand.” Padraig put the full power of clan chief into his order. “Call your mounts.”

Despite himself Dal could not resist taunting his brother. “What of the sentence? Am I and the King’s envoy to be killed and handed over?”

“Kinsman, if you stay, the entire clan will be slaughtered. You must leave!”

Dal’s determination not to make things easy for his brother faded in the show of Padraig’s strong emotion. “I will not endanger the clan by staying.” Dal bit back a smile at the other’s obvious relief. He didn’t interfere when Padraig stepped to the door and dragged in the fur-covered bundle that had been left alongside the yurt’s wall.

“Warm clothes for the trail,” Padraig explained, “and pilgrim outfits to ease your travels. Captain Ellspeth, please accept these gifts from our clan in appreciation of Jenna’s safe return.”
 
...

Minutes later, saddles and packs in place, Dal knew he could no longer put off his final goodbye to his mother.

Her age showing, Eilidh leaned heavily on Padraig’s arm. Ellspeth stepped over and placed the double kiss of goodbye on the older woman’s cheek. “What will you do now? I would not want my presence here to cause retribution.”

Eilidh smiled. “Don’t worry. We will suffer no harm due to you or Dal. Before the Oracle’s men get here, Padraig and I will take the clan to the high-mountain hold. It may be cold, but there will be food enough. And once the snow closes the pass, we’ll be safe until spring.” Eilidh placed a blue-veined hand on Ellspeth’s arm. “Go with my blessing.” At the dismissal, Ellspeth went over to Kaleigh and accepted Dal’s hand up to the saddle.

Even as he turned to his mother, Dal saw the pain of separation in her face. And he knew she could see it in his. Despite her age, Eilidh’s stride was strong as she stepped forward. Her hands felt warm as she pulled his head down to place a kiss on his cheek. Dal could see the tears shimmering in her eyes as she returned to Padraig’s side.

“My son, go with my blessing and that of your clan. Bear your name with pride and honor.”

“Thank you, mother, for using the formal leave taking,” Dal whispered, then chose to use the traditional response to submerge the emotions his mother’s words generated. The sense of a magic blessing added to his turmoil. She’s not a mage. Yet her benison felt just like Semelen’s. Fighting to maintain control, he suppressed the questions he knew he could not answer and leaped onto Taer’s back.

“Brother.” Dal froze at Padraig’s voice. My brother wouldn’t dare contradict Eilidh and stop me from leaving? Would he? At the pleading in his brother’s tone, Dal turned back to see Padraig offer a small pouch. “Please, Dal, accept this gift as redress for past wrongs. Use it wisely.”

Dal leaned from and grasped the small velvet pouch offered by Padraig. Latent power pulsed in Dal’s hand. He knew without looking what the gift was—the amber charm. Hiding his surprise, he slipped the pouch into a vest pocket and offered his hand. “I accept this offering. Let the past be past, and no discord come between us.” Dal answered Padraig’s genuine smile with one of his own. “Safe journey, kinsman to you and all who walk in your shadow.” Then dropping the formality he added, “You’d better get a move on, Padraig. You know you always were a slow packer, and an even slower walker.”
~ * ~

Windmaster – choose between the sea, magic... or love.

Complete List of Ebook sellers
Paperback Available At: Amazon / Amazon UK

We're all hooked on books. Click on a link to hop to the next blog.