What You Need to Know About Your Next Plenilunar Obsession

This is the post where I finally reveal which Plenilunar novel I'm working on! Ready?  Set?  First of all, you're going to need this -

Not because the book is boring (PFFT), but because it will be EXTREMELY PERTINENT and who doesn't like living their book out as they read it?  I ASK YOU.  

Rich clothing, expensive jewels, masquerades?  I mean, what kind of writer would I be without indulging in these things when I can?  AGAIN, I ASK YOU.

The killer might of the big cat.  I'm not sure if the answer is "Yes, please!" or "Oh no."  Look at this beauty: raw, majestic, carnivorous power.  My reader is this cat's next meal.

Were you worried?  Everyone's favourite crush makes a comeback in this next novel.  Yes, it's him, the one and only - DAMMERUNG.  THIS IS THE BEST NEWS YOU'RE GOING TO GET ALL DAY.
Hint #1: this story is a rewrite, because I am a super picky perfectionist who won't give you anything but her best.  Hint #2: nooope, this is not "Adamantine," because that novel isn't Plenilunar.  Okay.  Okay.  You ready?  It's

ethandune

BOOM.  The very large cat is out of the equally large bag.  I'm just getting into the rewrite - like, FROM SCRATCH rewrite, because I'm THAT picky and I want to completely overhaul this plot and make it awesome.  Stay tuned!  No doubt there will be snippets in the future.

missed my inspiration collages? check them out here because they are gorgeous.
VERY SMALL PERSONAL UPDATE.  I am dealing with some physical issues - debilitating headaches, exhaustion, poor sleep, acute + chronic depression, yuckiness type stuff - so my progress is slow, but I'm making strides to beat the monster (please let's pray God shows me a) how to work through this, or b) how to work with this), so that I can pursue this newest manuscript with all the grit I have.

thank you so much for reading!  are you excited? i am so. excited.

I ducked in, blushing profusely, and set the coffee tray down in place of the tea. As I made myself busy preparing their cups, they revolved on around my head, like the stacked circles of the ever-looping heavens whirling round, regardless of a sparrow on the ground. For a moment my hands worked blindly, for I was in confusion. They were always kind to me—too kind, as was their way; I found they were uncommonly beneficent to people whom they chose to like, and had more than once seen the surprise and discomfiture it had brought to other people as they struggled to find their footing. But never before had I felt the dizzy confusion myself. I was suddenly abashed, unaccountably shy, when before there had been nothing but a child’s patient ease to serve. Here I was on the brink of manhood, and they were beginning to see me as such, but I had not yet arrived, and the between-place had of a sudden turned a moment to sour which I thought should have been sweet.
“You seem to have your tongue hinged at the middle.”“Sooth?” mused Dammerung. He leaned down and handed his empty cup back to Fairfax. “You’re not the first to mention.”
When we left Marenové House the next morning, it was well before sunrise and the land was a shroud of deep blue mist and the ominous dark shapes of the woodland around us. Through the days we climbed, for the road northeast to Ethandune was of a gradually ascent, dipped once into a corner of Capys, and came out again into the Mares. A misshapen, sprawling Honour, the Mares. I came of gypsy background, and though I came into Dammerung’s service early in my life, I had then been old enough to recall some recollection of long, overshadowed tracks that smoked with dust and smelled of bees and hay and rockrose on the pasture walls. The summer-colour of my childhood was not unlike the days through which I rode in Dammerung’s little train, but it was touched with the early faint frost of manhood stealing over me, and the foreboding which haunted me and buried, sometimes, at the corner of the Overlord’s mouth when he had his thoughts to himself.
The sheriff bared his teeth to answer, but in the same moment, with his the first two fingers of his rein-hand, Dammerung put back the long flap of his riding jacket to bare the hilt of his sword. Not a great gesture—only a little thing. Not a beautiful sword—only a battered, serviceable piece. And yet the sight of it sent a visible jolt through the alpha-dog sheriff; under the high-trained sunlight of the coastal town, his face turned deathly white. “It is not every day that the Overlord asks a favour of you.” Dammerung’s voice had become gentle again, and yet not at all kind. His eyes flashed an upward, mocking laugh-light. “Best be gracious.”

{ethandune pinterest board}

all images via pinterest. yep. that disclaimer again.