Sounds...

That inspire...or just plain annoy you!

I live near a steel mill. That in itself is no big deal. Except last night I heard the train horn. All night. That, and a flapping piece of siding on my house, kept me from sleeping. The siding I can fix--the sounds I can't stop. I grew up in a house about a half mile from where I live now. It was right across the Brandywine River, and smack dab across from the mill. Much closer then, but I don't remember that the sound of the horn disturbed me so much. The picture above is similar to what I saw everyday of my life growing up (although this is not the mill I live near.)

I sat up at about 3 o'clock in the morning and really listened. The horn had such a mournful tone. One that made me wonder where it was going. It's not a passenger rail line, it only chugs back and forth from building-to-building carrying metal or scrap. Maybe that's why it sounded so mournful--it's not really going anywhere! Back and forth.

 

At 5, the birds started tweeting. I'm up for good now. The mournful horn still blows, the siding flaps away. I'm tired. This morning there's no growl, only a purr. The beast slinks and stretchs, waiting to be released.

Ideas seap into my head, percolate right along with the fresh pot of coffee brewing in the kitchen. I peer out the window, watch leaves swirl around the yard.
 
Yup, trouble is coming...

 

It's in the form of a new story I can't shake. There was only one thing left to do--I sat down to write my blog.

Have a great weekend!

Making the 'Other' Easier to Digest

My critique partner makes fun of me because she says that one way or another someone in one of my books ends up being psychic. This is entirely true, I have a current release called Behind the Scenes with Eirelander Publishing, which is a modern contemporary erotica that has no paranormal elements at all. Also, my Sci Fi short story Yes, Captain is also psychic-free. But her point is taken none-the-less so today I’d like to talk about putting the ‘other’ into words.

Probably the reason why I write so much about psychic abilities, whether they be in a wolf pack or outside of it is because the subject has fascinated me since I was a child. I can vividly remember watching that silly scene in Ghost Busters where Bill Murray’s character is hitting on the blonde college student by making her think she is psychic when really she is not while he zaps the heck out of the male college student who is actually getting some of the psychic answers correct.

But it’s a challenge, as a writer, to write about things that go in people’s minds without ‘telling’ them about it. As writers we are particularly concerned with this concept of showing versus telling. For example, and this is a very mundane example, if I tell you “Rebecca felt embarrassed” that is me telling you how Rebecca is feeling. However, if I saw “Rebecca’s cheeks got red” then I’ve just shown you that Rebecca is embarrassed. How much showing versus how much telling is appropriate in a story is a topic for another day and I’m not going to get into it now because I will have fifty writers all saying different things fighting in the comment section here. Let’s just say that every writer has their opinion on this subject and what makes ‘good’ writing versus ‘bad.’ I really don’t want to open that can of worms.

It is hard to find the language, I have found, to write about that which is not ‘real’ to everyone. If, and let’s go back to our fictional character of ‘Rebecca’ again, Rebecca is psychic and she wants to find the man who kidnapped and killed another fictional character of Marc, I might write ‘Rebecca sent her senses searching, where was he? Feeling the shimmer of her other senses turning on, she could see him where he sat. The man was hungry, but it wasn’t for food. No, what he wanted was more death.’ To me, this would be fine. In fact, when I read books that describe things like this I really like it because it allows me, the reader, infer a lot of what the character of Rebecca is doing. However, I certainly did a lot of ‘telling’ and for some people they just can’t get into a character’s head unless they are ‘shown’ completely what the character is doing. So the rewrite would be ‘Rebecca’s hands tingled. She closed her eyes. Where was he? Sending her senses outward always caused the base of her neck to stiffen up. She knew she’d have a killer headache later but it would be worth it if she could find the bastard. Boom, like lightening striking a tree her senses found what they were looking for. He was there and he wanted to kill again. This time she could stop him. A smile formed on her lips. She loved this part.’

For me, as the writer, it is always a challenge to figure out exactly how much I have to show versus how much I have to tell without sacrificing my voice to the description.

How about all of you? How do you like to read your ‘other?’

The Art of Fang Shui...Remix?

Nope, just in print format now and since my week has been less than ideal, falling back on this news always makes me feel better :-)

Seeing a book in print was one of my goals for 2010 and I'm please to announce that my first full length humorous paranormal book has lived up to the challenge.

To celebrate, here's a never before seen excerpt:

She huffed her irritation. “Are we running to or from Andre Valkaret, because it seems to me we’re definitely running and by the way, who the hell is he?” The hot tea warmed her throat. She savored the faint spicy aroma and took another sip.

There was nothing in life that couldn’t be made better with a cup of tea.

“Unfortunately, we are running toward Andre. I believe he is the one behind the disturbances in the paranormal world, unless I find out Duncan has truly gone on a rampage.”

“Why? What’s the big deal about this Andre person?”

Edwin’s gaze wavered. “Do you truly want to know?”

“Do I?”

“You will sometime during this quest. Andre is a demon lord who has gotten a taste for the wealth and prestige power can bring.”

“Great. A paranormal dictator. Just perfect.” Hannah chewed the inside of her lip. “And do I even want to know who Duncan is? You keep throwing names at me, and I don’t know any of them from Adam. I need information, bounty hunter.”

He sighed. “Duncan is my friend, I have known him for years. I do not believe he would lose all reason and embark on a killing spree. I will not know for certain until we talk to Marilyn McAvis, the Witch of the North Forest.” He stared at her in the mirror over the dresser but his blue eyes betrayed no emotion. “We will use the daylight hours to rest, buy the supplies we need, and plan our strategy. We will resume travel at dusk.”

She lifted a brow. “Hmm, let’s see, sleep by day, travel by night. It seems you’re more of a vampire than you want to admit.”

After setting the mug of tea on the nightstand, Hannah padded to the mirror to examine her appearance. “Perfect.” She cringed to see her short-layered hair stood up in spiky disarray, the red wisps hopelessly out of whack. She leaned closer to the glass, horrified to discover a piece of pretzel embedded into her cheek. It was part of her late night snack from the vending machine. Hannah met Edwin’s gaze in the mirror. Mortification washed over her to see faint amusement lurk in the frozen blue depths. Was he trying to develop a sense of humor? “Just perfect.”

“Your flirtation with sarcasm will not get you very far in life.”

In annoyance, Hannah picked the offending snack from her cheek. She stuck her tongue out at him then belatedly realized it must look terrible after a full night’s sleep. “Yeah, well, that’s how I deal with abnormal situations, and this one takes the cake.” She turned to the mirror, determined to make sense of her situation.
The splash of freckles over her nose stood out in sharp relief, her green eyes appeared faded from lack of sleep. Why couldn’t I be one of those women who looked great when they woke up? “What you see is what you get.”

“Vanity is wasted emotion.” His lips twitched. “I am not a vampire. I only have a quarter of those genes. I have found when I am on the hunt of a criminal it is best to travel at night. The darkness is good for concealing movement, and the criminal element, whether they are human or not, do most of their illicit activity when the sun goes down.” He brushed at a speck of lint on his shirt. “Will there be any more questions?”

“I can’t think of any at the moment but give me time. I’m still attempting to absorb all of this.” After a brief rummage in her bag, Hannah procured a green toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste. “Good ole magic bag.” She glanced at him again. “Look, I’m sorry I teased you. This situation is so bizarre. I still don’t understand what I’m doing in the middle of it.”

“Hannah, if at any time you feel uncomfortable then you may leave. My mission will suffer, but I cannot bind you to me. I will not force you to do something you do not want to do.”

“I doubt that.” She gave an unladylike snort. “Powerful men like you have probably done your fair share of creative detainment.” The baby fine hairs at the back of her neck quivered at the thought of being “detained” by him. “In spite of the fact I feel death and destruction will show up at any time, I’m intrigued by your quest. Killing is wrong, no matter who does it.” She tapped her toothbrush against the palm of her hand. “Besides, it’s not like my life was at a pinnacle of success.” Tears unexpectedly filled her eyes as despair washed over her.

“Success is only how you measure yourself, Hannah.”

She swallowed past the tears then watched him slip a slim brown wallet into his back pocket. “Okay, so let’s get a couple things straight. You can’t be ordering me around all the time. You may ask me, but not order me. We are now a partnership. Equal responsibility, equal effort. And, you have to loosen up because you’re too anal for your own good.”

“Anal?” He sipped his coffee and lifted a glossy brow. “I am not familiar with that term. Please explain.”

“You’ll need to know some slang of this century. Anal means straight-laced or stiff.”

“As in my body? I will become rigid?”

Warmth heated Hannah’s cheeks at the images his words provoked. “Uh, no. As in, an unbending will. Or unable to compromise.”

“I see.” The corners of his mouth tipped up in a tentative smile. “Agreed.” He held out his hand. “Partner.”

“Partner.” As soon as Hannah took his hand to shake on their deal, emotions flashed through her mind. Pain, sadness, and anger echoed through the corners of her brain, and rocked her senses with bright flashes of white light. She yanked her hand from his grasp. Blinking rapidly, she stared at him in apprehension as her vision returned to normal. “Who are you?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “What are you not telling me?” Her fingers itched to touch him a second time just to see if she’d experience the same sort of reaction again.

Sadness clouded his eyes for a moment before he retreated behind the façade of calm indifference. “If I told you now, you would not believe me. I have held onto the secret for more than a century, one more night will not make a difference.”

She took a big gulp of now tepid tea, disheartened when her hand trembled. “Fine, I get it. It’s sort of a need-to-know basis, right? I’ll accept that. However, I have learned, over the years, to accept all sorts of things. Call me Alice if you want, but you’d be surprised what I would find normal.”

“Why would I call you Alice when that is not your name?” He shot her a pointed glance. “But I would caution you to remember normality is relative, Hannah.”

Wanna find out how these two got into this mess and what happens next? You'll have to buy the book!

You can buy The Art of Fang Shui here: http://www.eirelander-publishing.com/artoffangshui.htm

Happy reading!

Bad Boys in Fiction

Hi, my name is D.L. Jackson. I'm an author, daydreamer and worldbuilding fanatic. I'm thrilled to be here and I'm even more excited to talk about one of my favorite subjects.

The bad boys of fiction.

The bad boys of fiction come in all shapes and sizes. Some we love, some we love to hate, but all add that something extra to a story that keeps you turning the pages. Sometimes they’re the hero, sometimes an anti-hero or villain and when they're well developed, they can bring a novel to a whole different level.

Here are a few of my favorite bad boys from fiction.

We’ll start with Anakin Skywalker from Star Wars. Anakin was a slave who was freed, separated from his mother as a child and taken to another world to train to become a Jedi Knight. He later engages in a forbidden romance and secretly marries the love of his life. When he returns home, he learns his mother has been kidnapped by raiders and sets off to locate her. When he finds her, he’s too late to save her. Anakin destroys the village where she was being held hostage, killing every man, woman and child.

Even after he destroys them, he carries the guilt of his mother’s death instead of any regret for butchering the village and innocents caught in his path. He carries this guilt forward and it plays out later when he learns another he loves, Padme, will die in childbirth. He does everything he can to save her. He gives himself over to the dark powers of the force, turns his back on his friends, betrays the Jedi and murders young children in the Jedi temple. In the end, the power to save her costs him the one thing he couldn’t bear to lose, Padme Amidala. 

Young Hannibal Lecter in Hannibal rising is a classic socio-path the reader should have zero sympathy for. However, the way Thomas Harris writes Hannibal is brilliant and I found myself relating to Hannibal on a deeply emotional level. He’s a villain. He’s evil and yet you can’t help but sympathize with his plight.

Harris takes the reader through the metamorphosis of a young innocent to a monster. During the transition the reader can feel Hannibal's pain as he watches Nazi soldiers murder his mother and father and later murder and eat his baby sister. You see him as an orphan who is ostracized and as he grows into a troubled young man who moves in with his uncle and aunt. Later, when he finds those responsible for the deaths of his mother, father and sister, the reader understands the rage that drives him toward revenge.

Clyde Shelton. What can I say about Clyde? The recently released movie, Law Abiding Citizen, explores the dark side of a man who loses his family in a violent home invasion. Clyde is portrayed to be the victim, an innocent man caught up in a tragic situation, but that doesn't last for long.

When the law releases the man responsible for the deaths of Clyde Shelton’s wife and daughter by accepting a plea bargain, it triggers a chain of events that change our victim into an anti-hero. Clyde sets off on a mission not only to teach the men who killed his family a lesson, but to punish the legal system that failed him. We soon learn who Clyde is, how deep the darkness has seeped into his soul and how far a man will go for vengence. We see a once loving father and husband dismember a man while he’s alive, kill several people in car bombings and murder a judge with her own cell phone. We get a look inside the man who holds a city hostage with fear. Is he justified or wrong? Is any vigilante?

I could go on and on, but you get the picture. A well developed bad boy can make or break a story. They can be the hero, the villain or both. Regardless what role they play, they all have one thing in common. They have layers. So if you like bad-boys, hold on. I’ve got a bad boy for you.

Ian Saefa is an enforcer, a member of a corrupted legal system and a futuristic version of a bad cop. My goal when writing Slipping the Past, my urban fantasy erotic romance with Liquid Silver Books, was to give you a villain that was nearly as developed as the hero and heroine. Like the examples above, I wanted him to have layers. He doesn’t run around chuckling in a deep evil laugh, doing nefarious things just to do them. He has a method to his madness, a reason to be what he is.

That being said, I’ve included a few excerpts that feature Ian in his current incarnation and past lives. They peel back the layers and give you a deep glimpse into the mind of a serial killer and  a man that so desperately loved a woman, he would kill for her, again and again.

Here we meet Ian in a past-life as Justinus in ancient Rome. Below is a view through the heroine's eyes.

Justinus eyed her from across the room. Handsome, powerful and wealthy, everything she should desire. He’d been a friend from childhood. They used to sneak out and ride together, play in the fields and they even learned about sex together. He’d been her first and at one time she thought herself in love with him. But lately he’d taken on a serious air, watching her with hunger, always questioning where she went and with whom.


“Where were you this night, Jocasta? I came by earlier.”


She shrugged and twisted a beaded bracelet on her wrist, a trinket Augustus purchased for her earlier. “Taking in the celebration.”


“Did you attend with someone?”


She glanced up and caught the look in his eyes. Fire. Lust. Her stomach fluttered. “Alone.”


“You shouldn’t go out unescorted. A beautiful woman could find herself in trouble. I might lose you to another lover.”


Jocasta laughed. “You tease me, Justinus. You’re not my lover.”


“I tease not. I’ve asked your father for permission to marry you. He has agreed that the arrangement would be quite satisfactory.”


“Marriage?” Jocasta’s heart thumped in her chest. She could do worse. She cared deeply for him, but regardless she could never love him, not like the Centurion with the amber eyes.


He rose from where he’d reclined and walked toward her. “I’ve loved you all my life.”


She tipped her head back and stared into his face. “You’re my closest friend and I love you as such, but not as intimately as you profess.”


“I hope it will become so much more.” He knelt before her, pulled a bundle wrapped in bright fabric from the folds of his military tunic and held out a jeweled collar. “I’ve had this brought this all the way from Egypt for you. I’ve heard Cleopatra wore something very similar. Here, take it, a small token of my affections.”


Jocasta glanced down at the beaded bracelet she wore and back at the lapis and gold collar. “It’s lovely.”


He reached forward. “Lift your hair.”


Jocasta shook her head. “I can’t take that. I’ve fallen in love with another.”


Justinus’s glared and a tick pulsed in his jaw. His black eyes looked darker, full of rage. “Who?”


“Does it matter?”


“Who?”


“His name is Augustus. He’s a Centurion.”


“Augustus?” Justinus’s eyes fell, a frown creased his face. Pain burned across his countenance.


“Justinus?” There was more there than he was saying. “Do you know him?”


“He’s my brother. Anyone but him. I can’t kill him, but I can’t let you go either. I could never let you go.”

Ouch. Jilted for his brother, but is that a reason to carry a grudge for centuries? In Ian's mind--it is. This sets into motion a series of events that put Jocelyn Miller in danger of losing her soul.

Let’s move forward several lifetimes to Ian’s final incarnation and again we find ourselves in Jocelyn Miller’s head. She's now homeless and on the run for past-life crimes. If she's caught she won't lose her life, she'll lose her soul.

Yeah, the source. There was no way anyone would believe her over Enforcer Saefa. He was the best of the best, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t crazy and he wasn’t wrong.


She’d heard stories of the reading of her warrant and of Ian’s visit to the hospital nursery from her mother. Saefa had been fourteen at the time and was considered a prodigy. They claimed he was one hundred percent accurate when reading and not once had he been proven wrong.


He’d walked from basinet to basinet, studying each child, listening as they cried. A man followed behind him, recording everything he’d said. He’d stop every now and then to nod at a baby. Murderer, rapist, drug addict, he listed crime after crime in a cold tone, unconcerned those he accused were but days old and helpless to defend themselves.


Most he passed without mention, but when he’d reached her, he’d stopped, stood in place and stared down for over twenty minutes. When he began to speak he’d looked at her mother and smiled. “Murderess.”

You learn several things here. For one, the past hasn’t been kind to Ian and he’s got it in for Jocelyn. Not only that, he’s got power. Scary power. What you don't see in the excerpt--he’s a reader, a genetically enhanced psychic referred to as a reaper for his ability to take souls, but more than that, Ian has a special gift he might be using to frame Jocelyn. Did he fake the warrant or did she commit the crimes? Is it Karma?

One last scene, twenty six years later. Here we have Jocelyn caught out alone at night and who of all people do you think she bumps into on a dark street?

The barking dog began to howl, long and painful cries. Jocelyn stopped and tipped her head to listen. Animals were sensitive to energies. Even someone not attuned to the sound would know something wasn’t right. A charge raced across her skin and she turned to peer into the darkness. A streetlight overhead began to buzz and pop. The light flickered and shadows danced across the sidewalk at her feet.


“Hello?” Jocelyn let go of her jacket. Her gaze swept the empty street. The darkness appeared empty. Something told her it wasn’t. Psychic senses or not, someone watched. She shifted her weight to the balls of her feet and braced. Two ways to flee, both into the dark. She could make a run for the room, but something told her she wouldn’t make it. That something had the hair on the back of her neck standing on end and that hadn’t happened since she’d last blacked out.


Reaper.


“Who’s out there?” Either she was sensing energy, or she was spooked by the howling dog. Since it took a lot to scare her, Jocelyn bet on the other.


“Jocelyn Miller.” The voice. Deep, familiar and not Gabriel.


S*!#. That would be the other one. She took two steps back and a gust blasted her from behind, lifting her hair from her shoulders. She whipped around and stared into the dark. Ice pelted her face and stung her cheeks.


She couldn’t see their aura. When he took her energy, Gabriel rendered her vulnerable to the Enforcers. Gone was her ability to see and sense them coming, an ability she could really use right now.


“Identify yourself.”


Somebody tsked. “And I thought we had something going.”


“Who are you?”


“Don’t you recognize my aura?” A man slid out of the shadows and pulled a staff from behind his back. She knew the face and the brand that scarred the side of his cheek and neck. She didn’t need to see his aura. The wind caught his charcoal hair and whipped the loose strands around his face. He stood there smoking in his boots. Two words described him. Lethal and sex. He was far from ugly, but if a girl played with him, she’d end up dead.


Jocelyn instinctively took a step back. Cloaked head to toe in black, Ian represented evil to its fullest potential, and could make the devil rejoice. “Psycho reaper.”


“Hello, love.” Ian stepped closer and spun his staff. No sparks like before, but she knew they were there. Every time she’d ever seen him, he was awash in angry red. “You’ve been a bad, bad girl, Ms. Miller.”

Um, so he's not a toad. Ian is charming, attractive and dangerous. A lethal combination and a bad boy with lots of layers.

So there you have it, a glimpse at the villain and the bad-boy of Slipping the Past. For more Ian Saefa, Enforcers and reapers, check out my novel, Slipping the Past, available at Liquid Silver Books. http://liquidsilverbooks.com/

A big thanks goes out to the hosts of Paranormal Romantics for their hospitality and for letting me blog today with them. Thank you all and I hope I can blog again with you in the future.

Best,

D.L. Jackson

It's In Print!

Happy Manic Monday! I've got something to celebrate this week. BAIT is out in print and it has a new shiny cover. I am very pro-ebook and wouldn't expect all by stories in paper but this one is special to me so I haz a happy.

Sent on a mission to lure Budapest’s vampire Overlord into a trap, Connie Bence is instead caught red-handed by the dark Casanova. Her employer has concrete proof of the dubious leader’s misdeeds but she is surprised when this ruthless killer, Rurik, offers her protection and rescues her from his own kind. It plants seeds of doubt in her mind and she begins to question his guilt. Now she is thrown into his world where blackmail determines her every move and where she must betray those she cares about or let them die. The stakes are high. She either puts her trust in Rurik or leads him to his execution.

Love or life.

BUY NOW LINK

Excerpt:


Rurik maneuvered me deeper into the hall. We passed more guests too busy amusing themselves to pay us any heed. They lay in a pile of tangled bodies on a nest of cushion, feeding. I imagined it would be different. Hands stroked through hair, lips met, and fangs pierced smooth skin. No one fought or screamed, just quiet sensual touching. Almost erotic.


I didn't notice that I'd stopped to watch until Rurik whispered in my ear, "We can sit and enjoy the show if you'd like. I'm really in no hurry to return to that bitch." His warm breath brushed against my skin.



"No." My voice sounded hoarse. The eerie scene made me morbidly curious, like watching at a car wreck. They all seemed to enjoy themselves, but the blood and the bites appalled me. "You said Lizzy wouldn't kill the boy because she wasn't allowed. What about them?"

What about him? We hunted Rurik for just that crime.

"Killing attracts too much public attention to our kind." He pressed himself against my back as he quietly spoke into my hair. I watched this intimate moment between predator and prey while I felt his warm breath against the nape of my neck. It gave me a flutter of confusing emotions.

His firm body along mine aroused me. When he continued his explanation, I almost missed it. "Our governing body has worked very hard over the centuries to make mankind dismiss us." His hands wandered down my hips, gathered the hem of my dress, and touched my skin. The brush of his fingernails along my thighs caught my breath. "We need to protect our obscurity, even if it is against our nature."

"You agree with this?" If he did, maybe Colby had mistaken his target and I could seduce Rurik to keep me for himself instead of passing off as a present. Distract him long enough for my rescue to find me.

"I don't have to agree with it, just abide by it. We are predators, Connie. We need the hunt...” He leaned in closer from behind so his lips brushed the base of my neck, running his fangs along my skin. “And the chase." He continued tasting me until he came close to my ear once more. "We all have our weaknesses, our favorite types of prey. You caught his attention at the hot springs last night and fit his tastes. He won't be able to resist you.” Rurik took a deep shaky breath and stepped away from me. “It's why I brought you here."

I turned to face him and slid my hands along his chest to his shoulders. If I stood on tippy toe my lips almost touched his. "You could keep me.” It wouldn’t be all bad to let him have me, as long as I could get past the fangs and keep my dress with the tracking device close by.

His expression changed from a flirtatious playboy, to one of regret. "No, I can't.” He stared toward the back of the basement then back at me and scratched his chin. “I’ll make you a deal, though. If you do your best to please him, I'll help you survive the night."

My heart skipped a beat and I plunked back onto my heels. "How?"

"I’ll watch over you."


“You won’t dump me for Lizzy first chance you get?”

His cold stare told me his opinion of that action

I got the impression Rurik didn't mean a little flirting when he said ‘please him’. “What do I need to do?” How far would I go? I’d like to think I’d keep my dignity but knew I’d dance the can-can, naked in a pool of chocolate syrup, to save my ass.

“I need him to feed from you. It’s what he’ll want the most."


"You'll make sure he won't drink me dry?" I hated the insecurity in my voice, the sound of my plea.

Rurik stroked my cheek. "It's against our laws and we’re at a public event. He should behave himself. I'll make an effort to stay close to you and intervene if he starts to harm you."

That didn't comfort me. Fighting was suicidal, nowhere to run, and no one to care about my cries for help. It came down to placing myself on the menu while I waited for my rescue by Colby. Damn, I was screwed.


". . . one hot read. I found myself caught up in the scene, traveling through alleyways and screaming as if my own life were in danger.” Sin from Two Lips Review



“The Amazing Race has nothing on Connie Bence’s trek through the narrow cobblestone streets of Budapest. You can almost feel and hear the pounding of her pulse, as her blood screams through her body not only with terror but passion.”

Lototy from Coffee Times Romance

"I found myself thoroughly engrossed ... The dark and edginess in the setting was perfect ... The sparks that are ignited between Rurik and Connie had me anxiously waiting for the explosive sex I knew that was coming. Whew! am I glad I wasn't disappointed."  L.T. Blue from JERR






To celebrate I'm giving away a copy BAIT. Just post a comment on this blog. Don't forget to leave me an e-mail address to contact you. I'll announce the winner on the side bar tomorrow.

It was MAGICAL!

Liberty States Fiction Writers did Create Something Magical, and no, I didn’t take a single picture! Sorry, I just can’t ever remember. Plus I hate taking pictures—always have.

It was their inaugural conference and I don’t see how it could get any better. I met most of the members for the first time and guess what, now that I know some of them--they will find a way to make it better! Mark your calendar next year for an awesome conference experience, one you won’t want to miss. I’ve attended a few conferences and this one will stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the best. LSFW doesn’t only encompass romance writers, its members range from Horror, Young Adult, Suspense, Romance (including Erotica) and more—they were all there and the knowledge base of this group is fantastic.

The March winds roared away outside of the Renaissance Woodbridge in northern Jersey, but the atmosphere inside was one of camaraderie and warmth. Sirens blared and a pole or two toppled in the parking lot but the hotel did a great job at working around Mother Nature.

The sessions brimmed with information on every facet of crafting a good story, how to promote and market your book and yourself. Agents and editors were in attendance not only from New York, the E-Publishing community was very well covered. I don’t believe there was an empty slot for pitching!

F. Paul Wilson was the speaker at the luncheon and his humorous speech on an author’s life drew laughter from the group of over 100 attendees. He regaled us with the fairytale of what most people believe a writer's day consists of.  All to the point of saying “No, we don’t have it like that, and there are very, VERY few writers who make the mega dollars and grab that pot-of-gold contract." I had the opportunity to moderate and sit in on his session for Self Editing and found it very informative. I'll edit my stories with a brand new eye!

Networking and talking with other attendees had me wishing I could have cloned myself for one day so I would not have missed a thing. There was Plotting and Pacing (Caridad Pineiro is my new hero even if she did say I can't fly by the seat of my pants anymore!), She Said, She Said which was about communication skills. Sessions on how to use digital publishing as a promotional tool, a look at how to work with your editor, how to prepare the ultimate submission—everything—it was all there and the presenters couldn’t have been better.

The chocked full day ended with a ‘delicious’ reception that was followed by a book signing of many talented authors. (Thanks Cris Anson and Judi Fennell--you guys rock!)

I’ve been a member of this awesome group for less than a year and I’ve been nothing but impressed with the LSFW site which abounds with all kinds of information and learning materials for every genre. Every member has been nothing but generous and helpful. As an epubbed author—I’ve never felt more welcomed anywhere! My calendar is already marked for next year.

To find out more about Liberty States Fiction Writers, its members, and its goals, visit: http://www.libertystatesfictionwriters.com/

Kudos to everyone involved in the event--I wish I could name you all. One person stood out for me--Rayna Vause, you are AWESOME!

LSFW did CREATE SOMETHING MAGICAL!

Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out.-© J. Hali Steele

It's not my day but...

I saw that RK Charron didn't post today so I think I'll go ahead and jump right in. (I hope he's doing well. Maybe he's in the same situation I was in.)

We finally got our power turned back on today after five days without any. Let me tell you, living in the dark is really something. We were luckier than most. My parents have a generator. It's not the kind of generator that you can use forever. But it did run the heat and one or two lights at a time. Still, as we couldn't have the lights on wherever we wanted and I was mostly concerned with the children, during the day I spent most of my time in dark rooms, letting the kids use the light for their toys.

Also, it's really something to try to live in someone else's home, especially when they are not there. My parents, lucky dogs, are away right now. The first day we were there, my 2nd son (I have 3 if you are new to this blog) colored all over my mom's leather sofa with marker. After a huge effort on my husband's part to get it out, we gave up and I phoned my mother expecting an explosion. Instead, she was completely wonderful about the whole thing telling me the colorings would always remind her of my son. If it had been me as a child doing that, it would have been another thing all together but this is her grandson and apparently that is different. LOL

Then my dog peed on the bed. I got to call about that too.

At some point, we lost water and when it came back on we received a call from our local police station telling us it was contaminated and we couldn't use it unless we boiled it.

Why did all this happen? Because we had hurricane force winds on Saturday that came and sat over our area for most of the day.

Mother nature was ticked.

Lots and I mean lots of trees came down and telephone poles and transformers. They're still hanging all over the road. Some of our neighbors still don't have power. When the lights came back on last night, people came outside screaming and applauding the power people who were on the block.

It was amazing.

In any case, I think it's safe to say I got my priorities in order. I'm always just going to be grateful to live in the light.

best to all of you

Rebecca Royce

Shamrock Sprint

I thought today we’d do something a little different. Let’s play a game in honor of St. Paddy’s Day. There’s only one rule. You have to stay within a shamrock/leprechaun/magical/Irish theme.

Here’s what we’ll do. This will be a round robin sort of story. Each time you comment, make up two or three sentences that will “continue” the story. Let's see how long we can keep it going!

Ready? Let’s go!

Crowds clogged the streets. The deep thump of the base from a band echoed off the tall building and skyscrapers, reverberating in her chest. With so many people meshed together, the cooler temperatures of March in the Midwest didn’t feel so chilly.

Tia took a sip from her plastic cup of green-dyed beer, wondering for the third time that evening why local bars thought coloring the alcohol was so darned funny. Because, really, looking at it and thinking too hard about the liquid made her stomach turn.

With a sigh, she scanned the throng, looking for a guy wearing a green top hat. Or at least that’s what he said he’d be wearing when she chatted with him online the night before…

Do You Believe?

Reading fiction requires us to suspend belief in some matter, regardless of the genre or sub-genre we enjoy. What surprised me recently was discovering that accepting werewolves and vampires is easier for some than accepting the possibility of Happily Ever After.

I’m talking long-term relationship, till death do us part. The foundation romance novels of all sorts are built on. When I read a blog by a somewhat prominent reviewer who felt that serial monogamy and revolving doors are the new normal, I was shocked! What world does she live in?

She held the jaded view that men will always leave women for younger and prettier, and this reality drives us all to read romantic fiction. Wow, I don’t want to live in her world!

My first thought was, has she heard the term “cougar”? I thought older woman younger man was the new norm. Well, okay, one of many norms. In her world, women are waiting until their thirties to marry, putting business first, and basically aging themselves out of the market. In my world, enough young people are getting married to have their elders shaking their heads that they might be too young to understand the commitment.

Sound familiar? It’s an age-old saying when two people marry: It’ll never last. This is what the blogger is saying, too. There is no hope for eternal love.

Yet I have many friends celebrating 40th, 50th anniversaries and beyond.

One line shows up repeatedly in my books, paranormal or not, “Things exist whether we believe in them or not.” Just because you haven’t seen it, doesn’t mean it’s not out there. Think air. On a good day, you can’t see the air, but you can feel a breeze when it touches you. Love is like air; it’s always there, but only sometimes do we notice it.

Not believing in love will not make it go away. It’s always out there, waiting for you to breathe deeply and allow it to penetrate your being. Seep into your blood. Stir your brain cells.

I’m single at an advanced age but I still believe in love. I believe my daughters and their husbands will achieve their happily ever after. I believe monogamy will continue to flourish. And I believe we’ll continue to read romances because they enrich the love in or lives, not replace it.

Do you believe?

In Kyle’s Redemption, Lily confronts two aspects of herself where she lost her confidence. She has to believe she is a capable artist in spite of past events, and that she’s worth loving. Kyle must believe himself capable of putting others’ goals first, not the goal he sees for them. He has to believe he can offer Lily the love she deserves. Without believing in themselves, there’s no hope for a relationship.

Blurb:

Six years ago, Lily Astor looked forward to establishing herself in the Los Angeles art world. In one painfully public moment, those dreams were shattered. Now she has the chance to try again, but the invitation to exhibit comes from a gallery owned by Kyle Ventura. The man who should have cleared her name.

After a night of eyebrow-singeing sex, Kyle realizes who Lily is and his role in her downfall. Now, as his heart falls deeper for Lily, he needs to make amends. But Lily doesn’t want his help, just his body.

For the first time in his life, sex isn’t enough for Kyle. He wants to show Lily he’s not the man he was six years ago. But first, he has to prove it to himself.

Kyle’s Redemption is available now at Ellora’s Cave.

**Exciting news flash! Death by Sex is now available as an audio book! Check it out!**

Curves Are In

Between me, you, and the world wide web I’m fascinated with the fashion world. Growing up I wanted to become a fashion designer. I even remember making clothes for my Barbies!


Why am I so excited?

Because SKINNY IS NOT IN AT FASHION PARIS WEEK.

It’s about freaking time people. The average American woman is 5'4", weighs 140 lbs, and wears a size 14 dress. Not only did they use different sized models on the runway, they used older ones too. Elle MacPherson walked the runway at the 2010 Louis Vuitton Ready-to-Wear show during Paris Fashion Week at the ripe old age of 46.

The new curvy look comes after designer Karl Lagerfeld, in response to criticism over skinny models at European fashion weeks, told reporters: “Nobody wants to look at round women.”

HA! Tell that to my husband. (or any of my past boyfriends  ) There are definitely those men who appreciate curves. I guess you can tell what category I fit in. It’s not the fashion per se that I’m happy about but the message they are sending to world and more importantly to the young woman.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And Curves ARE In. Spread the word.
Now where's my chocolate?