Excerpt Monday!

Now in Excerpt Monday

An excerpt from Ilfayne’s Bane , read the first chapter for free here!

Hilde gave it a few minutes before she headed back. Regin almost knocked her over as he stalked past, his knuckles white around the sword’s hilt. Ilfayne hunched at the fire and hurled twigs into the flames. He stood up, kicked at the embers, and noticed her. With an impish grin, he was back to his good humour. “Time to attempt a little magic, make sure I’ve not forgotten how. What do you think?”

“Randil said no magic for a week.”

“Go on, just a little one, what shall I start with? A fireball? A dragon? No?” He sighed at her look of alarm. “Oh, all right.”
He pushed up his sleeves theatrically and muttered a few words. A glowing ball appeared in his outstretched palm, with all colours and none swirling in the depths. A loud crack made her jump. The air became warm, sultry, and full of the shadowy golden light of being under spreading trees on a summer afternoon. Thousands of blood red rose petals rained down on them and filled the air with their honeyed aroma.

Magic, she had just seen magic. It was not, could not be possible, but she had seen it. She picked up a handful of petals and laughed as they ran through her fingers.

“First spell I ever made, always a hit with the ladies.” Ilfayne winked lewdly, but his face was haggard. “Randil may have been right. I feel a little weak.” He sank into his damp blankets, instantly asleep.

Before it was dark Regin stomped back, but he just sat and glared at the sleeping Ilfayne. If only she could be back in her own warm, dry bed, lonely though she had been, instead of camped in a wet forest with a cold wind groaning through the trees, with two strange men, who just happened to be legends. She longed for some sort of normality, however miserable it had been, and knew with a doom-laden certainty that life was never going to be normal again. Shadows moved beside her and Ilfayne sat up.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I…” She found it difficult to put into words. No one had ever cared about her feelings before. “I miss everything I knew. I didn’t like it, but I knew where I was.”

“It’s hard,” he said softly. “Everything’s changed.”

“Aye.” Regin leaned forwards into the light. The tenseness had gone from his face and the skin around his eyes was saggy and sad.

Pangs of guilt stabbed at her, that she had allowed herself to wallow in self-pity. In their minds the battle with Mithotyn, the countless deaths, had been merely days ago. “I’m sorry…”

Ilfayne’s face came into the small circle of firelight next to her. “Is the inn still the Elephant and Turnip? We gave it that name, you know.”

“You did?”

“Aye,” Regin said. “We were drunk. Ilfayne insisted he could make our horses fly so we could reach the inn by nightfall, to carry on drinking.”

“Unfortunately, I slurred a bit,” Ilfayne said. “My horse turned into an elephant and ran off. Never had the heart to tell them they named their inn after a drunken spell. Never did get that horse back either.”

Ilfayne laughed with her. It surprised her how that one hint of friendship made her feel, an extra blanket against the chill. She lay down on her damp covers and dreams came to take her away.

Skand’s weight was on her, his breath rancid on her face, before the dream changed to an old one that had tormented her childhood. A voice said, “I burned them all,” and she saw a pair of hands, ruined and blistered. She woke with a start.

Regin was asleep and Ilfayne stood and muttered at the fire. The wind picked up and plucked at his hair, but there was no noise of rushing air, just a dead silence, as though all sound was sucked into the smoke that swirled around him. Ilfayne leaned back and the wind picked him up, though there was just the merest breeze on her face. A few small lightning bolts made her jump as they soundlessly earthed themselves. The air relaxed and deposited him, rather robustly, onto the ground. He staggered up and flicked his eyes at her, as though it was her he thought of. With a reassuring smile and a half-hearted wink, he headed to his bedroll, and it was her turn to watch.

Other excerpts to check out for free:
Mel Berthier, Urban Fantasy (PG 13)
and
Bria Quinlan, Rom Com (PG)

Joining us this week:

Kinsey W. Holley, Paranormal (PG)
Caitlynn Lowe, Epic Fantasy (PG)
Dara Sorensen, Paranormal (PG)

Babette James, Fantasy Romance (PG13)
Christina DeLorenzo, YA (PG 13)
Nika Dixon, Romantic Suspense (PG 13)
Bryn Donovan, Paranormal Romance (PG13)
Kaige, Historic Romance (PG-13)

Adelle Laudan, Contemporary Romance (PG 13)
Jeannie Lin, Historical Romance (PG13)
RF Long, Paranormal (PG13)
Rebecca Savage, romantic suspense (PG 13)
Crista McHugh, Paranormal Romance (PG 13)
Michelle Arroyo, Historical Romance (PG 13)

Jax Cassidy, Contemporary Romance (R)
Maya Doyle, Paranormal Romance (R)
Cate Hart, Paranormal (R)
Ali Katz, Historical Erotic Romance (R)
Inez Kelley, Romantic Comedy (R)
Aislinn Kerry, Paranormal Romance (R)
Elise Logan, Fantasy Romance (R)
Cherrie Lynn, Paranormal Romance (R)
Alina Morgan, Urban Fantasy (R)
Vivienne Westlake, Erotic Historical (R)

Stephanie Adkins, Erotic Romance (NC 17)
Evie Byrne, Medieval Paranormal Romance (NC 17)
Kim Knox, Erotic SF Romance (NC17)
Lauren Murphy, Erotic Romance (NC 17)
Kirsten Saell, Erotic Romance (NC 17)

The Importance of Titles

Because they are important, aren’t they? The Lord of the Rings just sounds so much more epic than Short Hairy Man Saves the World. The Sun Also Rises sounds intriguing. Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? makes me want to pick up the book to find out. Same with The Long Dark Teatime of the Soul. With a Game of Thrones you know what you’re going to get – the clue is in the title.

I’ve often bought books on the basis that the title intrigued me. And of course the title also has to appeal to the market you’re aiming at. Which is where I came unstuck. The WIP is done and into revisions ( which so far are fairly minor, luckily). But, and it’s a big but, it’s a fantasy romance. So the title has to appeal to romance readers. It has to sound romancy. And also fit the style of the book.

So it was called For I Am A Jealous God. In the style of old GRRM, this tells you what is going on in the book. It fits. So much it hurts. But it’s not a romance title is it? No. And therein was my problem.  So, as it’s the sequel to Ilfayne’s Bane I’ve got two choices. I go with a title that links the books together. Or I go with something that is romance-oriented and fits the book. And this is where I need a hand.

If I go for the title to link the series, I’ll go with either Hunter’s Bane ( which will make the third book Hilde’s Bane, possibly) or Hunter’s Oath (which will probably make the third Kyrion’s Gift) which still kinda links them together in the ‘Someone’s Something’ style of title.

But in my puddle of angst at trying to rename the book, I trawled through lots of poetry – Lovecraft, Byron, Shakespeare. And I found something that fits, I think. Shakespeare’s Sonnet 142:

Love is my sin and thy dear virtue hate,
Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving:
O, but with mine compare thou thine own state,
And thou shalt find it merits not reproving;
Or, if it do, not from those lips of thine,
That have profaned their scarlet ornaments
And seal’d false bonds of love as oft as mine,
Robb’d others’ beds’ revenues of their rents.
Be it lawful I love thee, as thou lovest those
Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune thee:
Root pity in thy heart, that when it grows
Thy pity may deserve to pitied be.
If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide,
By self-example mayst thou be denied!

Now this almost perfectly encapsulates Our Hero’s feelings for much of the book. And so the thought of calling it Love is my Sin came along.It fits. Oh yes.

And this is where I’d like your help.Which one do you think is better?

Eggcorns

Yes, you heard me right. Eggcorns. You know what those are don’t you? The nuts on oak trees. Yes, they are. Honest.

Or at least that is how one person always heard the word acorns. And eggcorns has come to mean those tricky words you’ve probably only ever heard and never seen written down. So your mind interprets the sounds as it sees fit.

So depending on your accent it might be social leopard or soaping wet.

There are more examples here

And then of course there is my own personal stumbling block. Words I’ve only ever seen written down and so pronounce as they they look like the should be pronounced. When I was 12 or so I had to read aloud in class. I’d only have seen ‘quay’ written down. And Qu = a Kw sound, right? Yes, so I said kway. Yes, it took a while to get over the giggles that caused.

And it was only a couple of months ago that I discovered that hyperbole is not pronounced hi-PER-bowl. When I heard Judi Dench say it in Quantum of Solace I wondered what on earth was that word? Maybe it was just her posh accent? A quick trip to the dictionary and a cry of ‘No WAY!!’ and now I know – I’ve been saying it my head wrong all this time. I should have been saying hye-PER-buh-lee to myself. And I still say wrong in my head now, because I can’t get out of the habit.

So, what words does your brain interpret in its own sweet way?

In other news, I’m doing a serious ( well a bit serious anyway) blog post tommorow about making characters 3D – check out the Naughty Girls Next Door

The youth of today…

I mean I could understand when none of the kiddiwinkies at work knew who Alice Cooper was. Before their time really. I boggled a bit that none of them knew who Odin and Thor were, but hey, not everyone’s into that.

But to be asked ‘Who’s Stephen Hawking?’

!!!

If they aren’t called Jordan, or been on Big Brother, or a footballer, they don’t have a clue who they are.

Mind you, it was a fun day when I walked in and said ‘I’m writing smut now. Pirate smut’ ( I blame that trip to the Royal Navy Museum myself ) The conversation regarding slang words for, er, various parts of the body, and which I couldn’t use for historical reasons, leading on to the discussion of the etymology ( after I’d told them what etymology means anyway) of the word flange…Well it quite made my week.

But yes, I’m writing smut. My husband is so proud.

And in other news, my book cover is in a competition! Vote now!

Drugs, man! Just say no.

So I haven’t posted for a while. Why? Because my doc has had me drugged to the eyeballs. In my last post I said that I definitely had bipolar. Oh yes, I got evaluated and I have it in spades. Oh goody. So my doc puts me on two lots of tablets at supposedly very low doses and says ‘You may feel a little woozy for the first few days’ and to double the dose after a week.

Little woozy? First few days? Try I couldn’t talk properly for over a week. I tried to say hello and it would often come out ‘Grrfzzgh?’ Walking was a challenge. I couldn’t even watch TV without this sort of conversation between my and the Old Man ( I have editted what I said so you can actually understand it. Bizarrely, the Old Man could decipher it):

*five minutes into cop drama*

Me: Who’s he?
OM: The suspect.
Me: Suspect for what?
OM: The murder
Me: What murder?
OM: The one two minutes ago.
Me: What are we watching again?

Worst of all, I couldn’t do the one thing that keeps me going when my bipolar plays up. I couldn’t write. Oh it burned!

After the first week I got hold of my doc and asked ( ok begged) not to have to double the dose. In fact I was desperate to stop them altogether. I managed to convince him to stop one lot, but he insisted I keep on the others. Another week later and I’m cracking up. I had never felt this bad, ever. Not even in my worst depressive phases. I’m having some really weird thoughts. And they are scaring the pants off me, because I was pretty sure I was going insane. Finally I stopped taking them against his advice. And when they had worn off and I could talk properly again, and I explained what they had done to me, it became clear that the drugs he had given me, the one that were supposed to help me, were actually making me worse. That they had been on the verge of making me psychotic. Thanks doc. Cue apologies from doctor.

So what does he do? Gives me more drugs! I agreed on the understanding that I would stop taking them if they made me feel worse. I checked the label when I got home. What has he given me? Yeah, legal amphetamines….That’ll really help with the manic phases. I took the first one and an hour later I couldn’t even dial my husband’s phone number. Needless to say, I am not enjoying this. But at least I can write now.

And that which does not kill us makes us stronger, right? Yeah. And I think I’m going to have to ‘Just say no’ to the drugs. I’ve been bipolar all my life, even if it was never diagnosed. I’ve managed not to go too far off the deep end so far, at least until I started the meds. I think I’ll cope better without. And at least I’ll still be me, not some whacked out druggie.

In better news, I’ve sent off For I am A Jealous God, the second book in my series to my editor and made a start on the third, tentatively titled Down Among the Dead Men. And I’m on Amazon!.

Ooh I feel like a proper author now, luvvie

Tis almost done…and it’s sent me bonkers

Yes, my sequel is almost done. Another week, a brush up of the synopsis and I’m ready to roll. Wohoo! And the first five thousand words of the third book just turned up in my head. Wohoo!

Or not so wohoo as it happens. It has, quite literally, sent me bonkers. My bipolar tendencies have let rip, and are now full blown bipolar disorder. Oh good. Probably rapid cycling bipolar. Double good. Apparently using all this creativity can actually make it worse. Treble good? And I have to be ‘evaluated’. Ink blot tests, the works. Cripes.

At least I can say I have an artistic temperament now. *lays back of hand across creative brow, in an artistic manner* Me and Stephen Fry, we’re like that *crosses fingers*

I wonder if they have internet in the loony bin?

Tada!

Well here it is at last. Tomorrow is The Day, when Ilfayne’s Bane comes out. *gibber* Half of me is excited. The other half wants to hide behind the sofa until it’s all over. And just don’t even ask where my brain has gone ( behind the sofa probably). more info and an excerpt here

Anyway to celebrate….A contest! Yes, you too can be the proud owner of Ilfayne’s Bane in e-book format. ( closing date 1pm GMT 22nd Jan)

Leave a comment here at the blog, and two winners will be picked at random.

Go on, you know you want to.

I’m writing, I’m writing already!

OK, so yes I am going to post again. It’s been busy mkay? November was a killer month – 52 thousand words on my Nano novel ( tentatively titled Queen of the Deathmatch). A departure for me because it’s a) first person and b) not fantasy. It’s a alternate dystopian future thriller noir with a dollop of romance, er, thing.

And now it’s almost Christmas. Ack! Where does the time go!

So as it’s almost year end, and it’s reflect back on the year time, I am reflecting on how my writing has changed, and why. Especially as I’ve only been taking this writing malarky seriously for just over a year. The why is easy – I found Absolute Write and learned a few harsh truths about the business, and my editor at Samhain ( Deborah, lovely lady) gave me a boat load of solid advice.

So, what have I learned?

I have learned:

That I can write passably well if I put my mind to it.

That some people like the way I write and some don’t. Which is OK. As long as some people do.

I have learned how to write a query. A real one, not a bloody mess.

I have learned / refined how to show not tell, about pacing and not head hopping and…well you get the idea. I have learned that some of the noob stuff I did won’t fly, and more importantly, why.

I have learned ( finally!) some grammar stuff. What passive writing actually is, gerund clauses etc.

I have learned that just because it’s fantasy doesn’t mean it has to be a doorstopper

I am on my way to overcoming my addiction to commas

I have learned that, short stories aside, I seem incapable of writing anything without at least some romantic elements.

I have learned not to gibber quite so much when getting a critique.

And what am I concentrating on for the coming year?

Plot and how to have one. Well alright, not quite, but I’m a by-the-seat-of-my-pantser, so structure is and probably always will be my bugbear. But I’m gonna learn that sucker if it kills me.

In other news, a drill without a drillbit makes for really good tittytwisters. As my work colleague found out to his dismay….Well I only showed him how I could do it. And now he flinches every time I get too close.

Voice

So here we are again, having some problems with the Work in Progress. And how better to sort it out than to write about it? And then I’m going to be smug. Don’t say you weren’t warned.

So I’m writing the sequel. It’s five years later, so my characters have changed a bit, of course. BUT and here it is, am I writing them with the same voices they had before? In particular my beloved Ilfayne, who is a snarky, sarcastic bugger. He’s even worse if he doesn’t like you. Only this time around he’s not getting much snark in. He hasn’t melted anyone’s eyeballs for agggges. He’s hardly even blown anyone up. He doesn’t sound like him. And he’s nowhere near as much fun to write. Now this was bad enough, but now I have what is actually a rather cool addition to the problem. This is where I’m going to be smug. Because I got my cover art through.

There he is, in all his glory. Tasty isn’t he? Oh yes, my copy is soggy round the edges where I’ve dribbled on it and I’m totally in love with my cover. Only now I can no longer see my picture of him when I write him, I see this (although there are benefits to seeing him in my head a lot. Just sayin’). The voice is different. ACK! So now I have to work out a few situations where he gets to be sarcastic. Just because it’s more fun that way. And I still have to figure out where the exploding turnips go.

Hopefully the little git should settle in a few days and let me know who he wants to upset.

Inappropriate Inspiration

So, us writerly people ( I tentatively include myself there) get inspiration from all kinds of places. Agatha Christie got the inspiration for a book by overhearing someone in a bus queue ( iirc) say ‘But why on earth didn’t they just ask Evans’. I wish I could do that. E L Doctrow got inspiration for Ragtime from writer’s block. No, really he did. He sat and stared at his walls till he could take it no more, then he started to write about the walls, then the room, then the house, then he wondered what the house and its neighbourhood looked like when it was built…and then the book just kind of wrote itself. Oh, how I wish I had a book that would do that.

So inspiration struck me today. I’ve been having a knotty little problem of how to ’sort of’ resolve a row between two lovers. Well, there’s the obvious way, isn’t there? The post row bonkathon. Only I’ve never written a sex scene before. There weren’t any in the first book and if I have someone who reads that and, gods forfend, want to read the second obviously I don’t want it to suddenly be erotica. So, how to go about it? How to insinuate it all without any ‘And then Tab A was inserted in Slot B, and everyone was sweaty, a little sticky but above all happy’

So to take my mind off it I go back to reading ‘American Gods,’ by Neil Gaimen. An excellent book btw, and I love his depiction of Odin. Shame about Thor, he’s my favourite god. So there I am, reading about a zombie blowing maggots out of her nose when BOOM, it hits me. Inspiration for a really quite sweet / tender / passionate making up after a blazing row though still pretty pissed at each other love scene with very little Tab A and Slot B action.

Zombies and their nasal maggots make me think of sex scenes?

I’m starting to think I may need medication.