Kim Iverson Headlee's Blog: Book Musings from the Maze of Twisty Passages, page 41
March 4, 2015
#EggcerptExchange spotlight on The Saxon Bride by Ashley York @AshleyYork1066 #Giveaway
Welcome to another #EggcerptExchange! Today I am pleased to feature medieval romp The Saxon Bride by Ashley York.
Synopsis: In war torn England the battle lines between Saxon and Norman are clearly drawn.
Rowena Godwinson, the sole remaining member of the defeated royal family, stands proudly against the Normans that would trample them underfoot. Her nobility and grace, however, make her an ideal pawn in King William’s play for power with the Saxon people. When he decrees she marry a powerful Norman knight, her subjugation appears to be complete. Can she hold firm to her Saxon heritage and refuse to give in to his advances?
John of Normandy is rewarded for his service and loyalty with land, titles and a Saxon beauty for a bride. John balks at the marriage, driven by the secret guilt of knowing Rowena's father died by his sword
As their people look to them for guidance and peace, can John and Rowena find a love that unites all of England?
Eggcerpt:
"As my wife, Rowena..."
Her eyes narrowed at use of the title.
"...you will not allow men into your bedchamber. Other than me, that is."
A little shiver passed through her at the idea of him coming to her in the middle of the night. She could again feel his fingers caressing her. Perhaps he had indeed returned to be her husband in truth. The possibility excited her.
Arthur had followed her and even taken her in his arms to comfort her. In the past she had welcomed the feel of his arms around her, seldom as that happened, but she was already different. His arms no longer felt right around her. She had tried to tell him he could not be in her chamber, it wasn't seemly. He had looked so hurt.
"Do you not understand me, wife?" John said.
The title bristled her. "Yes, husband, I understand you fine."
The use of titles did not make it any more true. Men always thought it did. They were wrong. Turning to him, she felt her cheeks grow hot as he caressed her ever so slowly with his eyes, finally resting on her face before her spoke again.
"Husband I will be soon enough."
His answer told her he didn't miss her meaning. He stood suddenly, and the fire silhouetting his large frame caused her breath to catch at his imposing size. From his powerful legs, slightly parted and ready for attack, to his solid torso, ready to receive the assault, to his burly arms more than willing to instigate the encounter. This was certainly no complacent lord of the manor; this was a well-honed fighting machine. Rowena was confused when she realized her own longing to touch him. His brown hair looked soft and the shadow of a beard around his chin caused her hand to itch for the touch of both.
"Know this, Rowena...:
Her breath quickened when he stepped toward her, his eyes piercing her own.
"...there will be no one but me."
He stopped just short of touching her but that now familiar heat reached out to her.
"You are mine and only mine."
Buy Links:
Facebook Amazon BarnesandNoble Apple KOBO
About the Author: Always an avid romance reader herself, Ashley York enjoys bringing history to life through vibrant and meaningful characters, writing historical romance novels full of passion and intrigue set in the 11th and 12th century British Isles. Her latest release, The Saxon Bride, is the first in The Norman Conquest series.
When she is not writing, talking about writing, or thinking about writing, Ashley relaxes with visits to the local pubs listening to live Celtic tunes. She lives in southern New England with her husband and 3 very spoiled animals.
***
Enter this great giveaway for e-books, note cards,
and an autographed print copy of Dawnflight!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
All this month, you are invited to...
— Follow Kim on Twitter
— Add Kim to Google+
— Subscribe to Kim's YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on this blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Dawnflight . Please enter often, and good luck!
Synopsis: In war torn England the battle lines between Saxon and Norman are clearly drawn. Rowena Godwinson, the sole remaining member of the defeated royal family, stands proudly against the Normans that would trample them underfoot. Her nobility and grace, however, make her an ideal pawn in King William’s play for power with the Saxon people. When he decrees she marry a powerful Norman knight, her subjugation appears to be complete. Can she hold firm to her Saxon heritage and refuse to give in to his advances?
John of Normandy is rewarded for his service and loyalty with land, titles and a Saxon beauty for a bride. John balks at the marriage, driven by the secret guilt of knowing Rowena's father died by his sword
As their people look to them for guidance and peace, can John and Rowena find a love that unites all of England?
Eggcerpt:
"As my wife, Rowena..."
Her eyes narrowed at use of the title.
"...you will not allow men into your bedchamber. Other than me, that is."
A little shiver passed through her at the idea of him coming to her in the middle of the night. She could again feel his fingers caressing her. Perhaps he had indeed returned to be her husband in truth. The possibility excited her.
Arthur had followed her and even taken her in his arms to comfort her. In the past she had welcomed the feel of his arms around her, seldom as that happened, but she was already different. His arms no longer felt right around her. She had tried to tell him he could not be in her chamber, it wasn't seemly. He had looked so hurt.
"Do you not understand me, wife?" John said.
The title bristled her. "Yes, husband, I understand you fine."
The use of titles did not make it any more true. Men always thought it did. They were wrong. Turning to him, she felt her cheeks grow hot as he caressed her ever so slowly with his eyes, finally resting on her face before her spoke again.
"Husband I will be soon enough."
His answer told her he didn't miss her meaning. He stood suddenly, and the fire silhouetting his large frame caused her breath to catch at his imposing size. From his powerful legs, slightly parted and ready for attack, to his solid torso, ready to receive the assault, to his burly arms more than willing to instigate the encounter. This was certainly no complacent lord of the manor; this was a well-honed fighting machine. Rowena was confused when she realized her own longing to touch him. His brown hair looked soft and the shadow of a beard around his chin caused her hand to itch for the touch of both.
"Know this, Rowena...:
Her breath quickened when he stepped toward her, his eyes piercing her own.
"...there will be no one but me."
He stopped just short of touching her but that now familiar heat reached out to her.
"You are mine and only mine."
Buy Links:
Facebook Amazon BarnesandNoble Apple KOBO
About the Author: Always an avid romance reader herself, Ashley York enjoys bringing history to life through vibrant and meaningful characters, writing historical romance novels full of passion and intrigue set in the 11th and 12th century British Isles. Her latest release, The Saxon Bride, is the first in The Norman Conquest series.
When she is not writing, talking about writing, or thinking about writing, Ashley relaxes with visits to the local pubs listening to live Celtic tunes. She lives in southern New England with her husband and 3 very spoiled animals.
***
Enter this great giveaway for e-books, note cards,
and an autographed print copy of Dawnflight!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
All this month, you are invited to...— Follow Kim on Twitter
— Add Kim to Google+
— Subscribe to Kim's YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on this blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Dawnflight . Please enter often, and good luck!
February 28, 2015
The Lady of the Lake arms someone besides Arthur in Raging Sea Ch 1/Sc 5 #Arthurverse #SundaySnippets
Disc-cross overlayCopyright by Kim HeadleeThe image of a sword rising from a misty pool clutched in a woman's fist is one of the most intriguing and enduring in all of the Arthurian Legends, a vast body of work that predominantly focuses on the exploits of men -- whether on the battlefield, in the council chamber, or in the bedchamber. And the image of the sword being returned to the Lady of the Lake as Arthur lies dying on the shore remains one of the most poignant scenes in any adaptation of the legends, be it in a book, on television, or on the silver screen.
Some scholars of Celtic history and lore believe these images hark to an ancient religious rite, and since there have been several old swords recovered from bodies of water throughout Europe, I tend to agree. The sword quickly became an important tool to the Celts and their allies and adversaries, not only for its intended use as a means of defense and acquisition, but ultimately as a symbol of worldly status and divine favor... to say nothing of the implied sexuality inherent in the male-female combination of the sheathed weapon.
Anyone already familiar with my work knows how much I love to play with the legends, mixing fact and fiction, history and fantasy, mythology and reality, scholarship and speculation to craft a tale that presents my vision for how the Arthurian Legends might have evolved into what they are today.
And this snippet is no exception.
In The Dragon's Dove Chronicles, my "Lady of the Lake" character is Niniane, prioress of a Christian women's religious enclave on the Isle of Maun (Man). She is introduced in Dawnflight -- though she didn't make it into that novel's first draft, back in 1989! (This is why I am now mainly a "plotter," as this article discusses. It's easier to make sure all the kids have made it to my playground that way. :D)
Previous #SundaySnippets of Raging Sea Chapter 1:Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3 | Scene 4 |
Raging Sea Chapter 1, Scene 5©2015 by Kim HeadleeAll rights reserved.
“PRIORESS, DUCK!”
Through Niniane’s fatigue-dimmed senses, Sister Willa’s warning sounded muffled and remote. A whirring noise intruded. She glanced up to see something streaking toward her in a bright, deadly arc. With a gasp, she flung herself from her donkey’s back, landed with a painful thud onto the sand, and rolled. Braying, her mount bolted. In which direction and how far, Niniane could only guess. She stretched facedown, arms over her head, grimacing as pain jolted her left shoulder. The object struck nearby with a resounding thwack.
A gentle hand came to rest upon her other shoulder. “Prioress, are you all right?” Willa’s voice trembled with concern.
Swatting sand from her face, chest, and arms, Niniane sat up. She massaged her sore shoulder. At least it hadn’t been dislocated. “I’m fine, Willa.” She studied the sword with her physician’s eye for detail. Its sweat-whitened leather grip, dried blood stains, and nicks along the blade’s edge proclaimed recent use. The sword had embedded point-down at the base of a rock, quivering as the waves baptized it in sea foam. “Where in heaven’s name did that come from?”
“From me, Prioress.”
Niniane whipped her head around to see Angusel finish sliding down the embankment. He regained his footing and began staggering toward her, grimacing.
“I’m very sorry, my lady,” he said between rasping breaths. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
Merciful God, his bandages were soaked with glistening blood, and he was worried about her? She scrambled to her feet. “No! I—”
Willa stepped forward, finger wagging. “And a good thing for you, lad. I ought to—” Groaning, Angusel collapsed onto the sand. “Oh! Prioress, he needs help!”
No lie. “I will assist him, Sister.” As Niniane drew abreast of her would-be protectress, she laid one hand on Willa’s arm and pointed with the other down the beach at the receding equine form. “Please see Heather home and tell the others I shall be along presently. I can ride Ironwort.” Niniane nodded toward their pack animal standing nearby, pulling wisps of salty sea grass from the embankment.
While Willa retrieved Ironwort’s pack frame and empty baskets and strode down the beach, Angusel tried to stand but only had strength enough to kneel. He swatted away Niniane’s attempts to examine his wounds, though she ascertained that they weren’t life threatening.
His spirits, however, would require more drastic therapy.
Niniane hitched up her skirts and waded through the chilly late-September surf to the sword. It took several twists and tugs to free it, as if the sand and water were too greedy to part with their treasure.
She approached him. He had managed to stand, and the rising tide was licking his booted feet. Holding the sword by the pommel, point down, she stretched her arm toward him. “Yours?”
“Not anymore.” An ocean of anguish resounded in those two whispered words.
Her arm aching from having spent too many hours, too recently, tending too many wounded soldiers, she lowered the sword’s point to the sand and leaned on the pommel, as old Sister Octavia would use her cane. She prayed for the right words, but none came except, “What will you do?”
“What I must.” He raised his head, clenched his fists, brushed past her, and strode into the water.
“Angusel, no—wait!”
With the surf breaking around his knees, he stopped and turned. “I am Aonar a Dubh Loch.” She must have looked as puzzled as she felt, for he added, “Alone from the Black Lake.”
“Black Lake?” The Isle of Maun had a Black River, called the Dhoo in the Manx variant of the Brytoni tongue, one of two rivers that gave Port Dhoo-Glass its name where together they fed the Hibernian Sea. But Maun had no natural lakes of any great size, black or otherwise. She followed the line of his gaze and felt her eyes widen. “Surely you don’t mean—”
He nodded once. “And now I must return to it.”
The force of his despair smote her.
“You are not alone, Angusel! I am with you.” She drew a breath. “So is God.”
“Faugh!” Twisting toward her, he made a chopping and sweeping motion. “Keep your god, Prioress, and I will keep mine.” He faced the sea, his shoulders shifting in a sigh. “For all the good they do me.”
“Killing yourself isn’t the answer.”
“Isn’t it?” A sneer marred his lips. “What do you, a dweller in the shadow of cloistered walls, know of answers?”
She thrust out her chin. “I know that wherever there is life, there should be hope. Where there is hope, courage. And where there is courage, strength.” She lifted the sword with both hands and leveled it at him. “What I hear from you, Angusel of Caledonia, is that you lack the strength to take this weapon and improve your life.” Shrugging, she lowered the sword. “Perhaps killing yourself will be better.” She turned to stalk toward the dunes. “For everyone.”
A noise somewhere between a gasp and a sob floated above the waves’ lull. The sounds of splashing told her he was following, but she didn’t stop. They won free of the water, and he dropped to his knees in the damp sand, head bowed, at her feet.
“I cannot deny your wisdom.” The golden-brown eyes that met hers glistened with unshed tears. “Please forgive me, my lady.”
“I will, Angusel, on two conditions.” His upraised eyebrow inquired them of her. “Stop calling yourself Aonar.”
“But I—”
“But you will never see that you’re not alone until you forgive yourself. That is my second condition.”
“Forgive myself?” Confusion warred with hope on his face. “How?”
How, indeed? No two people trudged the same road. Helping Chieftainess Gyanhumara to confront her grief over Loholt’s loss had proved to be Niniane’s key to forgiving herself for her ineffectual role in the tragedy, but she’d had to discover it for herself, as would Angusel.
Lord willing, she could guide him onto the right path.
But she sensed that, for the present, his path needed to divert him as far from Gyanhumara as possible. Ironwort, done with grazing for a while, wandered over to nuzzle Niniane’s arm. She grabbed his lead rope. “Return to the priory with me.”
“What?” Surprise forced Angusel to rise. “How will that help?”
She gave the warrior a frank appraisal. “First, those wounds need tending.”
“These?” He gazed at the bloody bandages bulging through the rends in his battle-tunic as if seeing them for the first time and shrugged. “These will mend.”
“Yes, with proper care. And you need rest,” she insisted. “Quiet contemplation too. It has wrought many a miracle.”
“I am a warrior, not a priest.” Angusel thumbed the unadorned iron dragon pinned to his short scarlet cloak. “Arthur’s warrior.”
“And Gyanhumara’s,” she reminded him. His eyelids twitched. “So you shall remain while your body and spirit heal in my care.” Tendering a smile, she arched an eyebrow. “Physician’s orders. I shall arrange it with them.”
“No!” He sighed. “I’m sorry, my lady. Please tell only the Pendragon.”
“As you wish. Consider it done.”
He looked at the sword she still held, then back at her face, bewilderment dominating his expression. “Your god is not mine. What shall I do at the priory?”
“Those who aspire to greatness must first learn servanthood.” She captured his gaze with hers. “No matter which god one follows, much good can result when one’s focus is turned toward serving others.”
A flock of curlews caught his attention, and his head seemed to track their movements across the beach as they scurried to and fro with each wave, poking the mud with their long, curved beaks. “I thought I knew the meaning of service,” he whispered. Something startled the birds, and they rose in a feathered cloud to skim away across the wave crests. He regarded her steadily. “If there is more you can teach me, I am willing to learn.”
She pressed the sword’s hilt into his palm. “One day, you shall forge your anger and guilt and pain into something far better.” This she had Seen often: Angusel as an older man in battle, felling foes like deadwood. She might be bereft of the Sight, but the only way to erase past visions was their collision with present reality. “Something,” she said with a confident smile, “the likes of which the world has never known.”
His fingers convulsed around the hilt, and he took the weapon from her. He regarded it for a long time before lifting it before his face in salute.
The set of his jaw and fierce glitter in his eyes promised that this prophecy would indeed come to fruition.
*** End of Chapter 1 ***
If you love this post and would like to view the next installment sooner,
I invite you to join my street team, Kim's All-Stars!
All this month, you are invited to...— Follow me on Twitter
— Add me to Google+
— Subscribe to my YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on my blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Dawnflight . Please enter often, and good luck!
February 26, 2015
Baby Goat Update and other news from The Dawnflier March 2015 #Arthurverse
Aurora (foreground) in front of her mom Idriel.Punx (head up) and Tawny in background.
(c) 02/17/2015 by Kim HeadleeI am pleased to report that in spite of having been born in the middle of the worst cold streak in recent memory, our baby goats are doing great!
My husband Chris handled the feedings and treatments while I attended Farpoint -- the drive back was a real lulu for me as I headed into what would become the storm system that caused the governor of Virginia to declare a statewide emergency, but I managed without incident -- and it was wonderful to see how much Aurora and her half sisters had grown in the three days I was away! We are still treating Idriel's e-coli mastitis, but she is now producing enough milk that Aurora has stopped taking supplemental feedings. But she still loves to cuddle and now will crawl up into our laps!
Idriel and her mom Luna make sure Aurora is safe with Chris.(c) 02/17/2015 by Kim Headlee
In book news...
I am appearing as a guest author at MystiCon 2015 in Roanoke, VA Friday, Feb. 27th until Sunday, March 1st; in fact, the programming committee graciously accepted my panel topic suggestion, "Sequels to 19th Century (and earlier) Fiction," which is scheduled for Sunday afternoon. I will be moderating this panel too!
Other panels I've been scheduled for include "Fire the Canon!" (Friday evening, 2/27 alongside Writer Guest of Honor Peter David, about whether or not to rely upon a series' canon when crafting sequels), "Exposition in SF and Fantasy" (noon Saturday), and "Women in Space" (Sunday morning). I will have author signings following "Fire the Canon!" and "Exposition in SF and Fantasy," and an author reading session following "Women in Space."
MystiCon has been sold out for several weeks now, but if you have purchased a membership and happen to see me at the con, mention this blog post and I'll give you a copy of one of my novels!
If you are planning to attend the Virginia Festival of the Book in Charlottesville, VA later in March, please do make time in your schedule to stop by my Book Fair booth at the Omni Hotel on 21 March. Same offer applies: mention of this blog post is good for a free copy of one of my novels.
My new weekly blog feature, #SundaySnippets, features serial excerpts from my work-in-progress, Raging Sea. It's up to Chapter 1, Scene 4, but no worries if you have missed reading earlier installments; each excerpt contains links to the previous ones.
March 2nd - April 4th, Dawnflight will be on tour. Stay tuned for an announcement of the tour schedule! Its sequel Morning's Journey goes on tour in April, and Liberty follows in May. I will post the Morning's Journey tour signup link as soon as I receive it, but if you're interested in signing up for the Liberty tour (and I'm most grateful if you do), that signup form is here.
If you're a blogger, you're connected on Triberr, and you blog about the Arthurian Legends, even if it's only occasionally, take a peek at my new Triberr tribe, the Arthurverse (#Arthurverse)! I've found that Triberr is a great way to boost blog post views, and I'm happy to welcome new members who share my love for the Arthurian legends.
And I'm always on the lookout for more members to join my Street Team! All missions (mainly of the online variety, at present) are optional, but team members earn points toward special prizes such as free e-books, autographed print books, audiobooks, artwork, exclusive sneak peeks, and special mention in my next book! I invite you to join the Facebook group "Kim's All-Stars" and thanks!
During the Dawnflight tour, you are invited to...— Follow me on Twitter
— Add me to Google+
— Subscribe to my YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on this blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Dawnflight . Please enter often, and good luck!
February 25, 2015
Finding the Muse and spotlight on Who Killed Blanche DuBois? by @C_E_Lawrence #cozymystery #BYNR
Today on The Maze, please join me in welcoming mystery author Carole Buggé, who shares her thoughts about muses!
In Carole's words:
Sheila English (don’t you love her name?) suggested to me that I write a blog about “finding my muse.” Good idea, I thought – so I did what I always do when I set out to write: I google. An internet search of the word “Muse” brought 41,400,000 results in 0.18 seconds. They included a rock band, a software company, a magazine, and a modeling agency (who knew?). The definition given by Wickipedia is “in Greek mythology, poetry, and literature . . . the goddesses, spirits, or real persons who inspire the creation of literature and the arts.”
Not to belabor the point, I was pleased to note that all three Muses (later on there were nine or even ten, depending on which version you ascribe to) are female. So a big shout out to the Greeks for giving women some credit – we got wisdom, beauty and poetry, and the men got war, drunkenness, and the underworld. Sorry, guys. To be fair, the muses were as capricious and cruel as any other Greek god – they blinded Thamyris for his hubris in challenging them to a contest. Ouch. Nice work, ladies.
Among other cool things, the muses were responsible for giving artists creative inspiration. The other common meaning of that word, of course, is breath. In ancient Greece people mostly wrote poetry and plays – but according to the Wickipedia article, “They have served as aids to an author of prose, too, sometimes represented as the true speaker, for whom an author is merely a mouthpiece.”
I like that. It takes some of the responsibility of creativity off my shoulders; after all, if I’m just a mouthpiece, then what the heck? That explanation also comes very close to describing the feeling every writer has experienced from time to time when “in the zone” – the odd, disembodied sense of writing down what seems to originate elsewhere. Now, I’m sure my ego is as big as any other author’s, so this isn’t fake humility. Writing a novel isn’t exactly a walk through the park – it’s a dirty, messy business, full of trips and traps and dark nights of despair. But on the good days – and sometimes even on the bad ones – there is something that happens, something I can’t fully explain. It’s spooky and weird and maybe even otherworldly, but I’ve learned to trust it. It is, exactly as the Wickipedia article describes it: a feeling of being simply the channel, or mouthpiece, for something much larger. It happens most often when I’m writing poetry (it’s true – I don’t just write about serial killers), but it also happens when I’m working on my thrillers.
It is as thought the ideas and stories are out there somewhere, and I’m just plucking them out of the air, as it were, to write them down. Maybe this is what Jung was talking about when he came up with his notion of archetypes, and it might be what my New Age friends means when they speak of “channeling” spirits or past lives, or whatever. Of course, I don’t buy into that stuff. I believe in the scientific method, so until someone can prove Seth exists, I’ll continue to regard Shirley McLaine as a brilliant actress, but a bit of a wacko. No offense, Shirley – you were amazing in Being There. Best masturbation scene ever – you totally rock.
So I am stuck in the uncomfortable position of trying to describe something I can’t fully explain and don’t completely understand. Well, there is the nature of the creative process right there, it seems to me. As writers we are trying to use the most unreliable, earthbound and limited of tools – words – to create the ineffable, immortal and timeless – stories.
Because stories are forever. The Greeks knew that, and so did the Romans, and so did every culture who came after. People seem to have a need to tell each other stories; it’s one of the things I love most about our species. So we dance our tales, or sing them, or, god forbid, write them. We’re forever in search of our Muse, but I have the feeling that she’s out there looking for us, too. After, she needs a mouthpiece. She may be eternal, ethereal, timeless, and all that good stuff, but we’re the ones stuck here on good old terra firma, so if she’s got something to say, she’d better look us up. She can find me in the East Village, listening to public radio, drinking coffee from Porto Rico Imports, and trying to think of devious new ways a serial killer might operate. So ladies, all nine or ten of you are welcome to drop on by anytime – I’ll keep the light on for you.
Thanks for sharing your musings about muses, Carole!
Carole is the author of, among many other works, Who Killed Blanche DuBois?, a cozy mystery that I'm pleased to spotlight on The Maze today.
Synopsis:
Editor Claire Rawlings is determined to learn who wrote her star author out of the Big Apple storyline--permanently, and she enlists the aid of her young friend Meredith in finding the culprit.
Buy the book: Kindle | Paperback
Author bio:
CAROLE BUGGÉ (C. E. LAWRENCE) has nine published novels, six novellas and a dozen or so short stories and poems. Many of her works appear in translation internationally. Winner of both the Euphoria Poetry Competition and the Eve of St. Agnes Poetry Award, she is a two time Pushcart Poetry Prize nominee and First Prize winner of the Maxim Mazumdar Playwriting Competition, the Chronogram Literary Fiction Prize, Jerry Jazz Musician Short Fiction Award, and the Jean Paiva Memorial Fiction Award. She was a finalist in the McClaren, MSU and Henrico Playwriting Competitions, and was nominated for a New York Innovative Theatre Award.
Her plays and musicals have been presented in New York City at The Players Club, Manhattan Punchline, Pulse Theatre, The Van Dam Street Playhouse, Love Creek, Playwrights Horizons, HERE, the Episcopal Actors’ Guild, the Jan Hus Theatre, Lakota Theatre, The Open Book, The 78th Street Theatre, Genesius Guild, the 14th Street Y, and Shotgun Productions, as well as internationally, including the Alleyway Theatre, the Fairfield Theatre, The Bay Street Theatre, Actors and Writers, and the Byrdcliffe Theatre. She was sponsored by The Paper Mill Playhouse for a TCG Playwriting Award two years in a row, and was a Playwriting Fellowship finalist at Manhattan Theatre Club.
Follow Carole Buggé/C.E. Lawrence:
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Google+ |
All this month, you are invited to...
— Follow Kim on Twitter
— Add Kim to Google+
— Subscribe to Kim's YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on this blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Dawnflight . Please enter often, and good luck!
In Carole's words:
Sheila English (don’t you love her name?) suggested to me that I write a blog about “finding my muse.” Good idea, I thought – so I did what I always do when I set out to write: I google. An internet search of the word “Muse” brought 41,400,000 results in 0.18 seconds. They included a rock band, a software company, a magazine, and a modeling agency (who knew?). The definition given by Wickipedia is “in Greek mythology, poetry, and literature . . . the goddesses, spirits, or real persons who inspire the creation of literature and the arts.”
Not to belabor the point, I was pleased to note that all three Muses (later on there were nine or even ten, depending on which version you ascribe to) are female. So a big shout out to the Greeks for giving women some credit – we got wisdom, beauty and poetry, and the men got war, drunkenness, and the underworld. Sorry, guys. To be fair, the muses were as capricious and cruel as any other Greek god – they blinded Thamyris for his hubris in challenging them to a contest. Ouch. Nice work, ladies.
Among other cool things, the muses were responsible for giving artists creative inspiration. The other common meaning of that word, of course, is breath. In ancient Greece people mostly wrote poetry and plays – but according to the Wickipedia article, “They have served as aids to an author of prose, too, sometimes represented as the true speaker, for whom an author is merely a mouthpiece.”
I like that. It takes some of the responsibility of creativity off my shoulders; after all, if I’m just a mouthpiece, then what the heck? That explanation also comes very close to describing the feeling every writer has experienced from time to time when “in the zone” – the odd, disembodied sense of writing down what seems to originate elsewhere. Now, I’m sure my ego is as big as any other author’s, so this isn’t fake humility. Writing a novel isn’t exactly a walk through the park – it’s a dirty, messy business, full of trips and traps and dark nights of despair. But on the good days – and sometimes even on the bad ones – there is something that happens, something I can’t fully explain. It’s spooky and weird and maybe even otherworldly, but I’ve learned to trust it. It is, exactly as the Wickipedia article describes it: a feeling of being simply the channel, or mouthpiece, for something much larger. It happens most often when I’m writing poetry (it’s true – I don’t just write about serial killers), but it also happens when I’m working on my thrillers.
It is as thought the ideas and stories are out there somewhere, and I’m just plucking them out of the air, as it were, to write them down. Maybe this is what Jung was talking about when he came up with his notion of archetypes, and it might be what my New Age friends means when they speak of “channeling” spirits or past lives, or whatever. Of course, I don’t buy into that stuff. I believe in the scientific method, so until someone can prove Seth exists, I’ll continue to regard Shirley McLaine as a brilliant actress, but a bit of a wacko. No offense, Shirley – you were amazing in Being There. Best masturbation scene ever – you totally rock.
So I am stuck in the uncomfortable position of trying to describe something I can’t fully explain and don’t completely understand. Well, there is the nature of the creative process right there, it seems to me. As writers we are trying to use the most unreliable, earthbound and limited of tools – words – to create the ineffable, immortal and timeless – stories.
Because stories are forever. The Greeks knew that, and so did the Romans, and so did every culture who came after. People seem to have a need to tell each other stories; it’s one of the things I love most about our species. So we dance our tales, or sing them, or, god forbid, write them. We’re forever in search of our Muse, but I have the feeling that she’s out there looking for us, too. After, she needs a mouthpiece. She may be eternal, ethereal, timeless, and all that good stuff, but we’re the ones stuck here on good old terra firma, so if she’s got something to say, she’d better look us up. She can find me in the East Village, listening to public radio, drinking coffee from Porto Rico Imports, and trying to think of devious new ways a serial killer might operate. So ladies, all nine or ten of you are welcome to drop on by anytime – I’ll keep the light on for you.
Thanks for sharing your musings about muses, Carole!
Carole is the author of, among many other works, Who Killed Blanche DuBois?, a cozy mystery that I'm pleased to spotlight on The Maze today.Synopsis:
Editor Claire Rawlings is determined to learn who wrote her star author out of the Big Apple storyline--permanently, and she enlists the aid of her young friend Meredith in finding the culprit.
Buy the book: Kindle | Paperback
Author bio:
CAROLE BUGGÉ (C. E. LAWRENCE) has nine published novels, six novellas and a dozen or so short stories and poems. Many of her works appear in translation internationally. Winner of both the Euphoria Poetry Competition and the Eve of St. Agnes Poetry Award, she is a two time Pushcart Poetry Prize nominee and First Prize winner of the Maxim Mazumdar Playwriting Competition, the Chronogram Literary Fiction Prize, Jerry Jazz Musician Short Fiction Award, and the Jean Paiva Memorial Fiction Award. She was a finalist in the McClaren, MSU and Henrico Playwriting Competitions, and was nominated for a New York Innovative Theatre Award.
Her plays and musicals have been presented in New York City at The Players Club, Manhattan Punchline, Pulse Theatre, The Van Dam Street Playhouse, Love Creek, Playwrights Horizons, HERE, the Episcopal Actors’ Guild, the Jan Hus Theatre, Lakota Theatre, The Open Book, The 78th Street Theatre, Genesius Guild, the 14th Street Y, and Shotgun Productions, as well as internationally, including the Alleyway Theatre, the Fairfield Theatre, The Bay Street Theatre, Actors and Writers, and the Byrdcliffe Theatre. She was sponsored by The Paper Mill Playhouse for a TCG Playwriting Award two years in a row, and was a Playwriting Fellowship finalist at Manhattan Theatre Club.
Follow Carole Buggé/C.E. Lawrence:
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Google+ |
All this month, you are invited to...— Follow Kim on Twitter
— Add Kim to Google+
— Subscribe to Kim's YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on this blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Dawnflight . Please enter often, and good luck!
February 21, 2015
The original opening of Raging Sea by Kim Headlee is now Ch 1/Sc 4 #SundaySnippets #Arthurverse
Background photo courtesy ofWikimedia Commons
Lion overlay graphic by Kim Headlee
Today's contribution to #SundaySnippets takes us to the scene in Raging Sea that was its original opening sequence when I first started writing it ... more than a decade ago.
The earliest version of its outline dates to June of 2002.
There are a number of reasons why I still haven't finished this terrific story, headed by the near-fatal car crash in April 2003 that left me with pins in my neck for the rest of my life. What matters now is my decision to press forward to The End.
Two items are important about this snippet: it begins to explain the book's title, and it ties Angusel more closely to the Lancelot legend by introducing the Scottish Gaelic version of "du Lac": Dubh Loch (pronounced doo lock). The meaning of the full phrase "a Dubh Loch" referenced in today's snippet--in case you don't feel like conducting an Internet search--will be revealed in scene 5 next week.
One further note about my language choices. In inventing "Pictish" (i.e., "Caledonaiche") words and phrases, sometimes I adapt them straight from Scottish Gaelic, sometimes I hack words together to invent entirely new ones, and sometimes I tweak them just a little bit to suggest an ancient variant, as in the case of "Sasunach" in this snippet, which in my series refers to Saxons. The present Scottish Gaelic word, which today means "Englishman" (and "of or belonging to the English(man)" depending on context) is spelled Sasunnach. I've done a lot of double-consonant dropping in my language adaptations!
Previous #SundaySnippets of Raging Sea Chapter 1:Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3 |
Raging Sea Chapter 1, Scene 4©2015 by Kim HeadleeAll rights reserved.
HE STOOD on the bluff, staring at the gray-green sea churning against the Manx beach a score of paces below. The Sasunach funeral pyre at his back enveloped him with its draconic heat and eye-stinging smoke and gut-wrenching stench. As dizziness washed over him, the sandy ground felt as insubstantial as the cloud-laced sky. Hand to sweating temple, he tossed off the surreal sensation with a shake.
Earth, sky, fire, water... as if he were a god imprisoned at the convergence of the elements.
He snorted.
He was no god.
No longer did anyone address him by his given name, which meant “raging sea.” Even on the official duty roster he was listed as Optio Aonar, a junior officer not of command rank. No matronymic, no clan, no country; physically, emotionally, spiritually alone.
With a dry chuckle, he gave himself a nickname: “a Dubh Loch,” a poetic description of the condition of his soul.
He drew his sword. The blade bore mute testimony in myriad notches and scratches to the Sasunaich he’d consigned to today’s pyre during last night’s battle, but it gave him no satisfaction. He had prevented the death of the most important person in his life, and in return she had displayed more care for that thrice-cursed battle trophy he had helped her capture.
If not for him, it would have been her head gracing a Sasunach spear, and yet she had rejected him. Again.
Rage swept through him, making his hands shake. Tightening his grip, he lowered the sword to heart height, as though she was standing captive before him, but he couldn’t enjoy that fantasy either. She had stripped him of his place, his kin, his clan, his country, his very identity, but he could no sooner harm her than cut off his hand. His oath forbade it.
But the gods alone knew how much longer it would restrain him.
The soldiers moved on to build a new pyre, leaving him, indeed, alone.
Aonar.
He studied his sword. No sense in taking it with him when a smith could hone it for someone else’s use. Too bad his life couldn’t be salvaged as easily.
As he considered dropping the sword where he stood, the thunder of the sea gave him an idea.
The warrior who had named himself Aonar a Dubh Loch cocked his sword arm and launched the weapon into the heavens. He tracked its progress toward an outcropping of boulders near the water’s edge... and swore.
“You, down there!” he shouted in Breatanaiche, hands cupped to his mouth. “Watch out!”
Cursing his ill luck, he summoned strength he didn’t realize he possessed and raced for the path leading down to the beach.
***
If you love this post and would like to view the next installment sooner,
I invite you to join my street team, Kim's All-Stars!
All this month, you are invited to...— Follow me on Twitter
— Add me to Google+
— Subscribe to my YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on my blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Liberty . Please enter often, and good luck!
The original opening of Raging Sea by Kim Headlee is now Ch 1/Sc 4 #amwriting #SundaySnippets
Background photo courtesy ofWikimedia Commons
Lion overlay graphic by Kim Headlee
Today's contribution to #SundaySnippets takes us to the scene in Raging Sea that was its original opening sequence when I first started writing it ... more than a decade ago.
The earliest version of its outline dates to June of 2002.
There are a number of reasons why I still haven't finished this terrific story, headed by the near-fatal car crash in April 2003 that left me with pins in my neck for the rest of my life. What matters now is my decision to press forward to The End.
Two items are important about this snippet: it begins to explain the book's title, and it ties Angusel more closely to the Lancelot legend by introducing the Scottish Gaelic version of "du Lac": Dubh Loch (pronounced doo lock). The meaning of the full phrase "a Dubh Loch" referenced in today's snippet--in case you don't feel like conducting an Internet search--will be revealed in scene 5 next week.
One further note about my language choices. In inventing "Pictish" (i.e., "Caledonaiche") words and phrases, sometimes I adapt them straight from Scottish Gaelic, sometimes I hack words together to invent entirely new ones, and sometimes I tweak them just a little bit to suggest an ancient variant, as in the case of "Sasunach" in this snippet, which in my series refers to Saxons. The present Scottish Gaelic word, which today means "Englishman" (and "of or belonging to the English(man)" depending on context) is spelled Sasunnach. I've done a lot of double-consonant dropping in my language adaptations!
Previous #SundaySnippets of Raging Sea Chapter 1:Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3 |
Raging Sea Chapter 1, Scene 4©2015 by Kim HeadleeAll rights reserved.
HE STOOD on the bluff, staring at the gray-green sea churning against the Manx beach a score of paces below. The Sasunach funeral pyre at his back enveloped him with its draconic heat and eye-stinging smoke and gut-wrenching stench. As dizziness washed over him, the sandy ground felt as insubstantial as the cloud-laced sky. Hand to sweating temple, he tossed off the surreal sensation with a shake.
Earth, sky, fire, water... as if he were a god imprisoned at the convergence of the elements.
He snorted.
He was no god.
No longer did anyone address him by his given name, which meant “raging sea.” Even on the official duty roster he was listed as Optio Aonar, a junior officer not of command rank. No matronymic, no clan, no country; physically, emotionally, spiritually alone.
With a dry chuckle, he gave himself a nickname: “a Dubh Loch,” a poetic description of the condition of his soul.
He drew his sword. The blade bore mute testimony in myriad notches and scratches to the Sasunaich he’d consigned to today’s pyre during last night’s battle, but it gave him no satisfaction. He had prevented the death of the most important person in his life, and in return she had displayed more care for that thrice-cursed battle trophy he had helped her capture.
If not for him, it would have been her head gracing a Sasunach spear, and yet she had rejected him. Again.
Rage swept through him, making his hands shake. Tightening his grip, he lowered the sword to heart height, as though she was standing captive before him, but he couldn’t enjoy that fantasy either. She had stripped him of his place, his kin, his clan, his country, his very identity, but he could no sooner harm her than cut off his hand. His oath forbade it.
But the gods alone knew how much longer it would restrain him.
The soldiers moved on to build a new pyre, leaving him, indeed, alone.
Aonar.
He studied his sword. No sense in taking it with him when a smith could hone it for someone else’s use. Too bad his life couldn’t be salvaged as easily.
As he considered dropping the sword where he stood, the thunder of the sea gave him an idea.
The warrior who had named himself Aonar a Dubh Loch cocked his sword arm and launched the weapon into the heavens. He tracked its progress toward an outcropping of boulders near the water’s edge... and swore.
“You, down there!” he shouted in Breatanaiche, hands cupped to his mouth. “Watch out!”
Cursing his ill luck, he summoned strength he didn’t realize he possessed and raced for the path leading down to the beach.
***
If you love this post and would like to view the next installment sooner,
I invite you to join my street team, Kim's All-Stars!
All this month, you are invited to...— Follow me on Twitter
— Add me to Google+
— Subscribe to my YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on my blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Liberty . Please enter often, and good luck!
February 18, 2015
#EggcerptExchange: The Jewels of Warwick by @DianaLRubino #Tudors historical romance #IARTG #BYNR
I am pleased to kick off this year's #EggcerptExchange with a spotlight on The Jewels of Warwick by Diana Rubino! Her road to its publication is an inspiring one for writers at all career stages.
Please tweet this:#Amethyst is Feb's #birthstone. Buy The Jewels of Warwick by @DianaLRubino for $0.99 in honor of heroine Amethyst!http://amzn.to/1zWxUKE
In Diana's own words:
Hi all published and aspiring authors. I’m Diana Rubino, author of 18 historical and paranormal novels. My publishers are The Wild Rose Press and Solstice Publishing.
My story will inspire you to push on, if nothing else will. It’s unique, because I'm probably the longest aspiring author to be published—18 years. I wrote my first novel in 1982, after a dose of reality in the brokerage business. In those days, executive-level women were virtually nonexistent in the finance industry. My first novel was largely autobiographical, as most first novels are. Although my third and fourth novels came close to getting published with Harlequin, they didn't quite make it.
Because I’m a huge history buff, I decided to write a historical, which became The Jewels of Warwick, set around Henry VIII and a fictional mistress. Jewels took 2 years to research and write, with no Internet. This was 1990. It came very close to publication with several romance houses, but missed the mark for containing too little romance. When I finished Jewels, I scoured the history books for another legendary figure to write about. While I browsed the Cambridge Library stacks, a book snagged my eye. Lying, not standing, on the wrong shelf was Crown of Roses by Valerie Anand. It drew me like a magnet. Richard III is a central character in the story, and the author thanks ‘the Richard III Society’ for helping her. Who’s this Richard III Society? I wondered.
Already hooked on Richard, his tragic death at 32 and his reputation as a usurper and a murderer of his little nephews, I joined this Richard III Society through snail mail, no internet.
As everyone else who has a story about how they ‘met’ Richard, he fascinated me. I’d found the subject of my next novel! And it tied in perfectly as a prequel to The Jewels of Warwick. Titled Thy Name is Love, it made the same rounds of publishers, remaining homeless after several rewrites and seven years.
But the miracle of the Internet came to all of us. My first online experience was CompuServe’s Romance Forum in 1993. This led to meeting many authors who shared leads and their own writing journeys. In 1999, Lisa Hamilton, an author I'd met on the CompuServe Romance Forum, sent me a list of E-publishers, since E-publishing was new and quickly catching on. One of those publishers was Domhan Books, a British publisher who also did print.
When I heard back from them, I figured it was just another rejection, but it was an offer to publish my historicals, since Siobhan McNally, the owner of Domhan Books, was a huge Richard sympathizer. They also published print books, so I lived the moment I’d dreamed about—seeing my first book in print. This was 18 years after that first novel went out into the world.
What surprised me most about the publishing business is that it's very hard to be recognized. You really have to work on promotion as well as writing. I've read many differing opinions on this, but I do believe you should promote as much as time allows, without taking away writing time. Giveaways seem to be a great way to market your books. I started out giving away bookmarks, pens, and the other usual trinkets, but one author said ‘your book is your best giveaway.’
I never felt I had enough information to convey at a workshop, but I can tell aspiring authors to make sure the opening is a grabber, make sure the reader will care about the characters, make sure the novel is structured well, so that it doesn't have a sagging middle or any pacing problems, make sure the stakes are high enough so they're in life or death situations that it seems they can't possibly get out of, make sure the secondary characters aren't mere cardboard, and humor always helps. One huge technical rule: show, don’t tell.
But the #1 rule I learned is that you must convey emotion. Make the reader FEEL what these characters are feeling.
I don’t have any one favorite author, but there are authors whose books I’ll buy if their name is on them. That includes Doug Preston & Lincoln Child (they write great thrillers together), Barbara Erskine (very eerie paranormals set in Essex, England), and Bertrice Small. She never disappoints. For conveying emotion, Lorraine Heath has a unique talent for this.
I’ve never had a deadline from a publisher, but I’d once sent an agent the first 3 chapters of my vampire romance. He said he’d like to see the entire ms., so I wrote 5,000 words a day till it was finished. He later rejected it. Oh, well. But at least I know I’m capable of turning out 5,000 words a day. My usual output is 2,500 words a day.
In my ‘other’ life, I own an engineering business with my husband, based in Cambridge.
I’d like to tell any aspiring authors who are frustrated that it’s taken them 3, 4, 5 or more years to get that first contract, remember, I wrote for 18 years before getting ‘the call’ so never give up! Keep believing, and keep the faith! And of course, keep writing, because you’ll only get better. And NEVER give up on your dream!
EXCERPT:
"But, my lord, I realize how I missed you!” Amethyst rushed up to King Henry till they stood within kissing distance. “I've made up my mind. I want to marry you! I accept your marriage proposal...I do not want to keep you waiting a moment longer. I do not care if you are not yet divorced. I accept and I shall wait as long as I need to."
He looked away and the orange citrines in his cap caught the fire's glow. "I have put the preliminary steps of my break with Rome into effect."
"Which means what?" He never got right to the point, one of his annoying traits.
"I shall be free to marry in a few months' time," he said.
"Oh, sire!” She went to grab his arms, but held back. “That's grand, sire. We shall be married by spring!"
He shook his head. His eyes darted everywhere. "We cannot be married at all, Amethyst."
Her heart crashed. She fought a rising sickness. "Why not?" she managed to choke out.
"I must marry Anne.” He spoke so low she could barely hear him. “She believes she is with child."
THE JEWELS OF WARWICK was just re-published with Solstice Publishing and is available in print, and for Kindle.
Please visit Diana's website at www.dianarubino.com, www.dianarubinoauthor.blogspot.com, www.Facebook.com/DianaRubinoAuthorand follow Diana on Twitter @DianaLRubino.
Thank you, Diana, for sharing with us.I hope you keep writing and never give up too!
All this month, you are invited to...
— Follow Kim on Twitter
— Add Kim to Google+
— Subscribe to Kim's YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on my blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Liberty . Please enter often, and good luck!
Please tweet this:
In Diana's own words:Hi all published and aspiring authors. I’m Diana Rubino, author of 18 historical and paranormal novels. My publishers are The Wild Rose Press and Solstice Publishing.
My story will inspire you to push on, if nothing else will. It’s unique, because I'm probably the longest aspiring author to be published—18 years. I wrote my first novel in 1982, after a dose of reality in the brokerage business. In those days, executive-level women were virtually nonexistent in the finance industry. My first novel was largely autobiographical, as most first novels are. Although my third and fourth novels came close to getting published with Harlequin, they didn't quite make it.
Because I’m a huge history buff, I decided to write a historical, which became The Jewels of Warwick, set around Henry VIII and a fictional mistress. Jewels took 2 years to research and write, with no Internet. This was 1990. It came very close to publication with several romance houses, but missed the mark for containing too little romance. When I finished Jewels, I scoured the history books for another legendary figure to write about. While I browsed the Cambridge Library stacks, a book snagged my eye. Lying, not standing, on the wrong shelf was Crown of Roses by Valerie Anand. It drew me like a magnet. Richard III is a central character in the story, and the author thanks ‘the Richard III Society’ for helping her. Who’s this Richard III Society? I wondered.
Already hooked on Richard, his tragic death at 32 and his reputation as a usurper and a murderer of his little nephews, I joined this Richard III Society through snail mail, no internet.
As everyone else who has a story about how they ‘met’ Richard, he fascinated me. I’d found the subject of my next novel! And it tied in perfectly as a prequel to The Jewels of Warwick. Titled Thy Name is Love, it made the same rounds of publishers, remaining homeless after several rewrites and seven years.
But the miracle of the Internet came to all of us. My first online experience was CompuServe’s Romance Forum in 1993. This led to meeting many authors who shared leads and their own writing journeys. In 1999, Lisa Hamilton, an author I'd met on the CompuServe Romance Forum, sent me a list of E-publishers, since E-publishing was new and quickly catching on. One of those publishers was Domhan Books, a British publisher who also did print.
When I heard back from them, I figured it was just another rejection, but it was an offer to publish my historicals, since Siobhan McNally, the owner of Domhan Books, was a huge Richard sympathizer. They also published print books, so I lived the moment I’d dreamed about—seeing my first book in print. This was 18 years after that first novel went out into the world.
What surprised me most about the publishing business is that it's very hard to be recognized. You really have to work on promotion as well as writing. I've read many differing opinions on this, but I do believe you should promote as much as time allows, without taking away writing time. Giveaways seem to be a great way to market your books. I started out giving away bookmarks, pens, and the other usual trinkets, but one author said ‘your book is your best giveaway.’
I never felt I had enough information to convey at a workshop, but I can tell aspiring authors to make sure the opening is a grabber, make sure the reader will care about the characters, make sure the novel is structured well, so that it doesn't have a sagging middle or any pacing problems, make sure the stakes are high enough so they're in life or death situations that it seems they can't possibly get out of, make sure the secondary characters aren't mere cardboard, and humor always helps. One huge technical rule: show, don’t tell.
But the #1 rule I learned is that you must convey emotion. Make the reader FEEL what these characters are feeling.
I don’t have any one favorite author, but there are authors whose books I’ll buy if their name is on them. That includes Doug Preston & Lincoln Child (they write great thrillers together), Barbara Erskine (very eerie paranormals set in Essex, England), and Bertrice Small. She never disappoints. For conveying emotion, Lorraine Heath has a unique talent for this.
I’ve never had a deadline from a publisher, but I’d once sent an agent the first 3 chapters of my vampire romance. He said he’d like to see the entire ms., so I wrote 5,000 words a day till it was finished. He later rejected it. Oh, well. But at least I know I’m capable of turning out 5,000 words a day. My usual output is 2,500 words a day.
In my ‘other’ life, I own an engineering business with my husband, based in Cambridge.
I’d like to tell any aspiring authors who are frustrated that it’s taken them 3, 4, 5 or more years to get that first contract, remember, I wrote for 18 years before getting ‘the call’ so never give up! Keep believing, and keep the faith! And of course, keep writing, because you’ll only get better. And NEVER give up on your dream!
EXCERPT:
"But, my lord, I realize how I missed you!” Amethyst rushed up to King Henry till they stood within kissing distance. “I've made up my mind. I want to marry you! I accept your marriage proposal...I do not want to keep you waiting a moment longer. I do not care if you are not yet divorced. I accept and I shall wait as long as I need to."
He looked away and the orange citrines in his cap caught the fire's glow. "I have put the preliminary steps of my break with Rome into effect."
"Which means what?" He never got right to the point, one of his annoying traits.
"I shall be free to marry in a few months' time," he said.
"Oh, sire!” She went to grab his arms, but held back. “That's grand, sire. We shall be married by spring!"
He shook his head. His eyes darted everywhere. "We cannot be married at all, Amethyst."
Her heart crashed. She fought a rising sickness. "Why not?" she managed to choke out.
"I must marry Anne.” He spoke so low she could barely hear him. “She believes she is with child."
THE JEWELS OF WARWICK was just re-published with Solstice Publishing and is available in print, and for Kindle.
Please visit Diana's website at www.dianarubino.com, www.dianarubinoauthor.blogspot.com, www.Facebook.com/DianaRubinoAuthorand follow Diana on Twitter @DianaLRubino.
Thank you, Diana, for sharing with us.I hope you keep writing and never give up too!
All this month, you are invited to...— Follow Kim on Twitter
— Add Kim to Google+
— Subscribe to Kim's YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on my blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Liberty . Please enter often, and good luck!
February 14, 2015
Pictish Stone Art and Ch 1/Sc 3 of RAGING SEA by Kim Headlee #SundaySnippets #amwriting #IARTG
Lion overlayCopyright by Kim HeadleeI am a visual writer. Prior to putting one jot on the page, I spend a great deal of time envisioning a scene -- not just who is doing what to whom, but what the set might look like if it were a movie shoot.
Readers tell me this leads to extremely vivid settings in my fiction, and I thank you all for that observation and compliment.
Not all of these imagined details make it into my work; I select an appropriate subset based on the story's needs.
And not all of these details leap onto the page fully formed, like Athena from the head of Zeus. I draw heavily upon visual inspiration, a taste of which is shown above.
The background image is a detail from a photograph taken in May 2011 at Cova do Vapor, Portugal. Today's lion overlay is my scaled-vector graphic (SVG) adaptation of a detail from the Pictish stone cataloged in the Meigle Museum of Perth, Scotland as "Meigle 26."
While some Pictish stones feature identifiable battle scenes and crosses, there remains a great deal of conjecture about the meanings of the hundreds of different symbols. Some of the same symbols, with minor variations probably owing to the local artist's skill and style, occur on stones scattered dozens of miles apart. My educated guess is that the most common designs represent deities' icons, and the unique carvings identify clan crests.
The lion on Meigle 26 is one such unique carving, and in The Dragon's Dove Chronicles (starting in Morning's Journey for this particular piece) I associate it with Angusel of Clan Alban of Caledon, since Clan Alban's totem creature is the lion -- a deliberate tie to both the ancient name of Scotland and one of the heraldic supporters of the country's crest.
Each of my viewpoint characters has his or her own glyph in my fiction, and the most important characters, such as Angusel, have two. These glyphs help me to focus upon the character as I forge his or her scenes, and I hope they help you readers navigate all the viewpoint switches!
In Raging Sea, the Meigle 26 lion most often appears at a scene break to introduce Angusel's viewpoint, since its orientation is horizontal.
Previous #SundaySnippets of Raging Sea Chapter 1:Scene 1 | Scene 2 |
Raging Sea Chapter 1, Scene 3©2015 by Kim HeadleeAll rights reserved.
THEY PAUSED at the ward’s outer door, and he looked up. One of the medics was proffering the iron dragon brooch and cloak that had betrayed his identity to Decurion Tavyn. Not that his identity mattered to him anymore; he was one of Arthur’s soldiers, no more and no less. His duty was to go where ordered.
If that meant crawling off somewhere else to die, then so be it.
The other medic helped him don his rent undertunic and battle-tunic and handed him his sheathed sword. He took the cloak from the man’s companion and pinned it in place. His helmet he’d lost in the battle, yanked off by some Sasun who didn’t live long enough to regret the mistake.
As the first medic opened the door, a gust bullied its way inside, unfurling his cloak, guttering the oil lamps, and stirring the rushes. It bore the clean scent of the outdoors, but that only heightened the stench of injury and death lingering within. The cold air braced him for what he had to do.
Across the compound, heading his way, the Argyll-patterned cloak a dark blue billow, strode . . . her.
He exited the Caledonach ward. As he turned to his right, he felt a hand grip his uninjured shoulder.
“The Brytoni ward is this way, Optio,” said the first medic, in Breatanaiche.
He shrugged off the man’s hand. “I have business elsewhere. Dismissed, both of you,” he said to cut off any protest or offer of assistance. He needed no help for what he had in mind.
They exchanged a glance, shrugged, saluted him, and went back into the ward. He headed toward the fort’s gates and away from her as fast as his pain and the ragged remains of his dignity would permit.
***
If you love this post and would like to view the next installment sooner,
I invite you to join my street team, Kim's All-Stars!
All this month, you are invited to...— Follow me on Twitter
— Add me to Google+
— Subscribe to my YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on my blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Liberty . Please enter often, and good luck!
February 12, 2015
Meet the sweet young reason I'll be alone this #ValentinesDay and at #FarpointCon2015
Her dark, languid eyes say, "I love you." Her soft brown hair with lovely black streaks shimmers in the sun. She has a tease in her step and a fetching voice. She loves to cuddle. Her name is Aurora.
And, oh yeah, Aurora is a baby goat. <3
Aurora at a few hours old
02/06/2015Aurora is one of three kids born on our farm since Groundhog Day. A sibling and two half siblings didn't make it. And life goes on.
Aurora's mom Idriel, who declined to pose for this picture, is recovering from a case of e-coli mastitis that almost killed her, so we are feeding Aurora formula supplements every few hours. Idriel is still on antibiotics, we have to "strip" (i.e., milk) out the infected fluid as often as she will let us, and we're applying salve to the lone affected teat at least once a day. Grand-goat Luna, Idriel's mom, is a riot as she tries to "help" us and acts as Aurora's main protector while Idriel rebuilds her strength.
The other twin kids, white-blond Groundhog Day babies Punx and Tawny, and their mom Phoebe are all doing great; no extra help required for them.
I handle Aurora's feedings solo while my husband Chris is at school. He's been coming home earlier than usual these days, though, because he enjoys the process as much as I do. But he will have to manage this and other chores while I'm appearing as a guest author at this year's Farpoint Convention in Hunt Valley, MD outside Baltimore.
Ever since our daughter started volunteering at the con several years ago, Chris & I have treated the weekend as a lovely little midwinter break, whether we actually attend the con or not. Most years I schedule a spa day! This is the first year that I've been invited as a guest, we had lined up the neighbors to feed the animals, including Aurora, and we were looking forward to another great weekend away together... until Mother Nature decided that she had other ideas.
With forecast temperatures in the single digits and 30-50 mph winds, there was no way Chris was going to leave Aurora, Punx, Tawny, their moms, and the rest of the herd to risk those fierce conditions without someone being around 24x7 to look after them and their Great Pyrenees guardian dogs. So he's still going to be taking his planned day off on Friday, but he'll be using it to stack hay bales as wind breaks outside the barn... and, of course, feed Aurora and hang out with her half sisters.
Weather, traffic, and other forces willing, I will arrive at the con in plenty of time to rest up for my first appearance, Friday night at 10:00 p.m. at the Farpoint Book Fair.
Here's a fun idea: if you've read this far and are attending the con, find me at the book fair, mention Aurora's name, and I'll give you a free copy of one of my books! That's at least a $15 value, in case you're wondering. In fact, I'll extend the offer to any of my appearances throughout the weekend, which are:
Friday 10:00 Farpoint Book Fair, Dulaney 1 & 2Saturday 9:00 Biblically-Inspired Paranormal Shows, Chesapeake 2Saturday 10:00 Fairy Tales Come to Life, Dulaney 2Saturday 11:00 Autographs, Dulaney 1 (with Peter David, Phil Giunta, and Richard White)Saturday 12:00 Author Readings, Dulaney 1 (with Joseph F. Berenato, TJ Perkins, and David Mack)I've blocked off Saturday afternoon as my spa day, and I plan to devote Sunday to working on my WIP Raging Sea, to keep ahead of my weekly #SundaySnippets here on The Maze, before heading home Monday -- just before Mother Nature is scheduled to dump several inches of snow on our farm.
Please wish me -- and Chris -- luck!
All this month, you are invited to...
— Follow me on Twitter
— Add me to Google+
— Subscribe to my YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on my blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Liberty . Please enter often, and good luck!
And, oh yeah, Aurora is a baby goat. <3
Aurora at a few hours old02/06/2015Aurora is one of three kids born on our farm since Groundhog Day. A sibling and two half siblings didn't make it. And life goes on.
Aurora's mom Idriel, who declined to pose for this picture, is recovering from a case of e-coli mastitis that almost killed her, so we are feeding Aurora formula supplements every few hours. Idriel is still on antibiotics, we have to "strip" (i.e., milk) out the infected fluid as often as she will let us, and we're applying salve to the lone affected teat at least once a day. Grand-goat Luna, Idriel's mom, is a riot as she tries to "help" us and acts as Aurora's main protector while Idriel rebuilds her strength.
The other twin kids, white-blond Groundhog Day babies Punx and Tawny, and their mom Phoebe are all doing great; no extra help required for them.
I handle Aurora's feedings solo while my husband Chris is at school. He's been coming home earlier than usual these days, though, because he enjoys the process as much as I do. But he will have to manage this and other chores while I'm appearing as a guest author at this year's Farpoint Convention in Hunt Valley, MD outside Baltimore.
Ever since our daughter started volunteering at the con several years ago, Chris & I have treated the weekend as a lovely little midwinter break, whether we actually attend the con or not. Most years I schedule a spa day! This is the first year that I've been invited as a guest, we had lined up the neighbors to feed the animals, including Aurora, and we were looking forward to another great weekend away together... until Mother Nature decided that she had other ideas.
With forecast temperatures in the single digits and 30-50 mph winds, there was no way Chris was going to leave Aurora, Punx, Tawny, their moms, and the rest of the herd to risk those fierce conditions without someone being around 24x7 to look after them and their Great Pyrenees guardian dogs. So he's still going to be taking his planned day off on Friday, but he'll be using it to stack hay bales as wind breaks outside the barn... and, of course, feed Aurora and hang out with her half sisters.
Weather, traffic, and other forces willing, I will arrive at the con in plenty of time to rest up for my first appearance, Friday night at 10:00 p.m. at the Farpoint Book Fair.
Here's a fun idea: if you've read this far and are attending the con, find me at the book fair, mention Aurora's name, and I'll give you a free copy of one of my books! That's at least a $15 value, in case you're wondering. In fact, I'll extend the offer to any of my appearances throughout the weekend, which are:
Friday 10:00 Farpoint Book Fair, Dulaney 1 & 2Saturday 9:00 Biblically-Inspired Paranormal Shows, Chesapeake 2Saturday 10:00 Fairy Tales Come to Life, Dulaney 2Saturday 11:00 Autographs, Dulaney 1 (with Peter David, Phil Giunta, and Richard White)Saturday 12:00 Author Readings, Dulaney 1 (with Joseph F. Berenato, TJ Perkins, and David Mack)I've blocked off Saturday afternoon as my spa day, and I plan to devote Sunday to working on my WIP Raging Sea, to keep ahead of my weekly #SundaySnippets here on The Maze, before heading home Monday -- just before Mother Nature is scheduled to dump several inches of snow on our farm.
Please wish me -- and Chris -- luck!
All this month, you are invited to...— Follow me on Twitter
— Add me to Google+
— Subscribe to my YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on my blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Liberty . Please enter often, and good luck!
February 10, 2015
Rediscovered review of LIBERTY by Gladiatrix author Russell Whitfield -- yes, it's that good. #MFRWOrg
You could file this post under the heading of "throwback," since it's a reblog of a review that was written almost ten years ago. I had forgotten just how fantastic this review was—and subsequent events have put an even more poignant spin on it for me.
The review's author, I found out recently, had been working on his own female-gladiator novel when he decided to read and review the HQN Books edition of Liberty in 2006. The content of his web site gladiatrix.info had led me to believe at the time that he held no more than an academic interest in the subject of women arena fighters in ancient Rome, and for good reason. The publication of his novel Gladiatrix was yet two years off; I rather suspect that he hadn't even received a contract offer for it yet, or else I'm sure that announcement would have been posted on the day I read his review.
Fast-forward an octet of years to the fall of 2014.
While preparing to publish the revised edition of Liberty, one of the first things I did was research covers for similar novels set in ancient Rome. My favorite cover of the lot is that of Gladiatrix by Russell Whitfield. (And, yes, it's on my TBR pile!)
It had been so long since I had read Whitfield's Liberty review, and it hadn't been cross-posted to sites like Amazon and Goodreads, that I didn't connect the two at first. I just loved the cover of Gladiatrix, and shared it with my cover designer as inspiration for the Liberty reboot.
In the course of creating Liberty advertising materials this week for distribution at upcoming appearances, my publicist pulled a quote from Whitfield's review, which sent me back to gladiatrix.info to read the full text.
There, for the first time, I saw the connection with his novel Gladiatrix.
The fact that Whitfield had written such a terrific review of a work that could be perceived as competition with his as-yet unpublished novel makes me all the more appreciative of his words about Liberty today.
I present them here, in their British-idiom entirety, for your consideration:
"Liberty" by Kimberly Iverson is published by HQN—"we are romance." I'll admit to being slightly sceptical about this, expecting nothing more than a Mills and Boon exercise with standard romance characters dressed in Roman cloth—more costume drama than historical adventure. Not that there's anything wrong with Romance Historicals, they're just not my cup of tea.
Or at least, they weren't until I read "Liberty." Iverson, I think, has transcended HQN's genre, producing a pacey, action-packed work of epic proportions (it weighs in at hefty 485 pages, and is worth every penny of the price tag). I love the premise—Iverson, inspired by the Dover Street Woman findings, decided that the gladiatrix deserved a back story, and provides it here in satisfying spades.
Anyone who knows their history will realise that "Liberty" is painstakingly researched; and anyone who doesn't won't need to—a testament of Iverson's skill as a writer. There's more than enough in there to keep visitors to this website happy—the action scenes don't hold back—they're bloody, brutal and realistic as they should be, but never gratuitous. Conversely, the love story between Rhyddes and Aquila is never cloying or overdone; it's a realistic take on love across the social divide.
One of "Liberty's" greatest strengths is the array of rich and fully-realised supporting characters; in many books it's easy to focus on the main protagonists and forget about the rest, but Iverson does not allow that. Indeed, the villain of her piece is a sympathetic character in the end. Certainly, his actions and his goals are totally understandable; you or I would do the same thing in his place, and this raises him far above the level of moustache-twirling bad-guy.
Additionally, I think that the cover-blurb does one of the characters (Messiena) a bit of disservice. She is far from a simpering Roman noble woman, and indeed, she was one of my favourite characters. The same can be said of Aquila's mother —understanding, yes—simpering, not in the least.
If I had one criticism of "Liberty," it would be the employment of archaic dialogue when the scenes are from Rhyddes' point of view. Certainly, I can see the literary device employed here, and this style does differentiate Celt from Roman. It's a personal choice, I guess—"mayhap" and "'twas" and other such expressions aren't necessary in what is such a great book—at least in my view. However, that said, its really minor point didn't detract from the enjoyment of the work.
Iverson's biographical notes say that "Liberty" is the first of what she hopes to be many offerings to the romance community. I suspect this tag has more to do with HQN than Iverson herself. "Liberty" is far more than a romance novel, and to brand it as one limits its appeal. It is a fine piece of fiction that manages to successfully cross over two genres in a satisfactory manner. A well-researched novel that deserves a place on any fan of the historical genre's shelf, I would advise anyone that visits this website to purchase a copy—you will not be disappointed!
*** End of review ***
For the record, I wasn't best pleased with the adjective "simpering" either, so for the new synopsis I substituted "adoring," which describes Messiena's feelings for Aquila a lot more accurately. For the full text of the new synopsis and other information about the second edition of Liberty, please click its tab at the top of my blog!
Whitfield's web site does not accommodate the posting of comments; I didn't have the opportunity back then to thank him publicly for such an in-depth and wonderful review, so I shall remedy this forthwith:
Thank you very much, Russell Whitfield, and I wish you every success for all of your works!
All this month, you are invited to...
— Follow me on Twitter
— Add me to Google+
— Subscribe to my YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on my blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Liberty . Please enter often, and good luck!
The review's author, I found out recently, had been working on his own female-gladiator novel when he decided to read and review the HQN Books edition of Liberty in 2006. The content of his web site gladiatrix.info had led me to believe at the time that he held no more than an academic interest in the subject of women arena fighters in ancient Rome, and for good reason. The publication of his novel Gladiatrix was yet two years off; I rather suspect that he hadn't even received a contract offer for it yet, or else I'm sure that announcement would have been posted on the day I read his review.
Fast-forward an octet of years to the fall of 2014.
While preparing to publish the revised edition of Liberty, one of the first things I did was research covers for similar novels set in ancient Rome. My favorite cover of the lot is that of Gladiatrix by Russell Whitfield. (And, yes, it's on my TBR pile!)
It had been so long since I had read Whitfield's Liberty review, and it hadn't been cross-posted to sites like Amazon and Goodreads, that I didn't connect the two at first. I just loved the cover of Gladiatrix, and shared it with my cover designer as inspiration for the Liberty reboot.In the course of creating Liberty advertising materials this week for distribution at upcoming appearances, my publicist pulled a quote from Whitfield's review, which sent me back to gladiatrix.info to read the full text.
There, for the first time, I saw the connection with his novel Gladiatrix.
The fact that Whitfield had written such a terrific review of a work that could be perceived as competition with his as-yet unpublished novel makes me all the more appreciative of his words about Liberty today.
I present them here, in their British-idiom entirety, for your consideration:
"Liberty" by Kimberly Iverson is published by HQN—"we are romance." I'll admit to being slightly sceptical about this, expecting nothing more than a Mills and Boon exercise with standard romance characters dressed in Roman cloth—more costume drama than historical adventure. Not that there's anything wrong with Romance Historicals, they're just not my cup of tea.
Or at least, they weren't until I read "Liberty." Iverson, I think, has transcended HQN's genre, producing a pacey, action-packed work of epic proportions (it weighs in at hefty 485 pages, and is worth every penny of the price tag). I love the premise—Iverson, inspired by the Dover Street Woman findings, decided that the gladiatrix deserved a back story, and provides it here in satisfying spades.
Anyone who knows their history will realise that "Liberty" is painstakingly researched; and anyone who doesn't won't need to—a testament of Iverson's skill as a writer. There's more than enough in there to keep visitors to this website happy—the action scenes don't hold back—they're bloody, brutal and realistic as they should be, but never gratuitous. Conversely, the love story between Rhyddes and Aquila is never cloying or overdone; it's a realistic take on love across the social divide.
One of "Liberty's" greatest strengths is the array of rich and fully-realised supporting characters; in many books it's easy to focus on the main protagonists and forget about the rest, but Iverson does not allow that. Indeed, the villain of her piece is a sympathetic character in the end. Certainly, his actions and his goals are totally understandable; you or I would do the same thing in his place, and this raises him far above the level of moustache-twirling bad-guy.
Additionally, I think that the cover-blurb does one of the characters (Messiena) a bit of disservice. She is far from a simpering Roman noble woman, and indeed, she was one of my favourite characters. The same can be said of Aquila's mother —understanding, yes—simpering, not in the least.
If I had one criticism of "Liberty," it would be the employment of archaic dialogue when the scenes are from Rhyddes' point of view. Certainly, I can see the literary device employed here, and this style does differentiate Celt from Roman. It's a personal choice, I guess—"mayhap" and "'twas" and other such expressions aren't necessary in what is such a great book—at least in my view. However, that said, its really minor point didn't detract from the enjoyment of the work.
Iverson's biographical notes say that "Liberty" is the first of what she hopes to be many offerings to the romance community. I suspect this tag has more to do with HQN than Iverson herself. "Liberty" is far more than a romance novel, and to brand it as one limits its appeal. It is a fine piece of fiction that manages to successfully cross over two genres in a satisfactory manner. A well-researched novel that deserves a place on any fan of the historical genre's shelf, I would advise anyone that visits this website to purchase a copy—you will not be disappointed!
*** End of review ***
For the record, I wasn't best pleased with the adjective "simpering" either, so for the new synopsis I substituted "adoring," which describes Messiena's feelings for Aquila a lot more accurately. For the full text of the new synopsis and other information about the second edition of Liberty, please click its tab at the top of my blog!
Whitfield's web site does not accommodate the posting of comments; I didn't have the opportunity back then to thank him publicly for such an in-depth and wonderful review, so I shall remedy this forthwith:
Thank you very much, Russell Whitfield, and I wish you every success for all of your works!
All this month, you are invited to...— Follow me on Twitter
— Add me to Google+
— Subscribe to my YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on my blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Liberty . Please enter often, and good luck!
Book Musings from the Maze of Twisty Passages
Welcome to my Maze of Twisty Passages, Goodreads edition! Here I share reviews of books old and new, information about my own critically acclaimed, award-winning books, and whatever else winds its way
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