Looking Back at 2016 Goals

In a post dated 1/6/16 I noted my writing goals.

My 2016 goals are: 

1.) Finish Persephone #7.

2.) Hopefully spend some time doing the 'author/editor back and forth dance' on an unrelated fantasy novel that *should* come out fall of 2016.

3.) Finish and find a home for unrelated modern fantasy A or unrelated modern fantasy B. Or both. A has a good start, but short. B is 60% done...but the ending wasn't coming together...until, while watching a speculative TV show, something they said sparked a wild idea that over the course of an hour blossomed into the ending I'd been searching for.

Results:

1.) I did not finish Seph #7 but I have completed the plotting and did get it up to about 50k. I told people it would be out late 2016 or eaerly 2017, as my plan then was to self-publish. But other things have come into play with another publisher and until that is decided, no Seph. /sorry, I want it too!!!/

2.) I have done the dance. Publisher went through some internal changes to spring from just ebook to include print and distribution, so their pub dates were pushed back. I will do a cover reveal in the weeks to come for the book to be released in May 2017. -SQUEE-

3.) I have worked on both A and B and garnered some interest in both but, alas, I have no specific news to report on either.

While 2016 was not a rousing career related success, it was a spectacular success on the personal front.

At the onset of 2016, my goals seemed like a study of character internal and external motivations.

I was a single mom with a slightly-better-than-minimum-wage job with no hope of income growth. Although my workplace was a positive place to be, I was actively looking for something with better pay and benefits. I was also the only employed person in the house with two boys, a live-in mother and my nephew.

Something had to give and, honestly, it was me. It was always me. The octogenarian mother wasn't going to work. That was a no-brainer. The children weren't going to work. That only left me and a lot of weight on my shoulders. Looking back, I completely understand the inability to sleep and the depression.

My personal goals were:

Internal  I wanted love in my life. Someone to hold on to and be held by, someone to share everything: the good the bad, the laughter and the tears, the joy and the burdens.

External   I just wanted the time and focus to write well and the chance to continue building the career I wanted, the career I had for a time and seemed to have lost.

Neither seemed possible. Right after Christmas, with the taxes and the homeowners insurance bills looming, a leaking hole in the roof forced me to take some kind of action. After consideration, I had two options...and I pursued both. 1.) I worked two jobs in February and March. It felt like I would never get to write again...but people were fed and the house payment made, the leak fixed, and the heat was still on. That was most important, right? And 2.) I did something I didn't ever want to do: I hired a lawyer and sought child support for the first time. I had to assume that it would ruin the 'hospitable' relationship with the ex. With my boys "in the middle" that was not a decision I made lightly.

For the vast majority of creative people, this is the very thing that restrains: life and the the day-to-day responsibilities. Stress eats creativity like a ravenous animal with a delicacy -- no savoring, no consideration, just a one-gulp devouring of that stuff of dreams.

But I am stubborn. A writer is who and what I am. I cannot not write. But having touched the profession and being unable to maintaint my grip in that world left me feeling inadequate, fraudulent, and a failure. But, let me say it again, I am stubborn. I want what I want. And there are some things my spirit has not the capacity to give up.

That persistence served me well. Things began to turn around.

Concerning the external frontier, Ragnarok bought one of my older novels. It's been reworked a bit and will be released in May 2017. It is a story I am quite proud of.  The other books will be getting attention soon -- a lot of attention. I am once again in a position to write during a majority of my time. Now settled into the house and the new{old} routine, its all coming back to me.

Why? How? That al stems from the internal...

Concerning the internal frontier, a man I loved twenty years ago re-emerged into my life. This time, everything fell into place and fit like puzzle pieces. We got married and bought a house. It has been a whirlwind year, and I couldn't be happier (ok, well a NYT bestseller could make me happier, but yanno).

I love and am loved. I have met goals and made new ones. I know joy and I try like mad to spread it around. I wish this for you all, right now.

May you have the Merriest, Happiest, and Most Joyful Holiday with the people you love most around you, laughing, hugging, and making memories you will cherish.

My 2016 Recommendations

Linda's 2016 Recommendations

The Red Queen  (link here) by Victoria Aveyard

A well reviewed debut novel that got my attention. In this world people have red blood or silver, and the silver-blooded are royalty and have power. Mare, the main character, is a red blood who ends up in front of the Silver court and there discovers she has power ofher own, which, of course, the king wants to hide from other red bloods.






The Silent Army (link here) by James A. Moore

I love this series and Moore is a great guy.

I recommend this one on audio book. There are many odd words/names/places which I adore in fantasy, but if you have any qualms about such, then the audio book smooths that right over. Also, the narrator for this has his narrator voice and gruffer voices for character dialogue which suits this telling well. Check the link above and click the listen button under the cover image.

A Curse on the Land (link here) by Faith Hunter

First in a new series set in Faith's Jane Yellowrock world.

I also recommend this one on audio book. Check the link above and click the listen button under the cover image because the reader has a southern tonality that really sells this story/character.

Cthulhu's Holiday Hits

We are supposed to be writing a flash fiction piece based on our favorite holiday song...but I'm feeling sassy so I've instead changed the words of a few holiday classics. Consider yourself warned.

O Holy Night

O Holy night, Cthulhu now is rising 

It is the night of The Great Old One's re-birth
Long lay the world bereft of his despising
Til he appeared and the soul felt it's dearth
The daemon-sultan Azathoth rejoices
As the world breaks and people everywhere mourn

Fall on your knees!

O hear the shoggoth voices
O night malign!
When comes the shoggoth horde!
O night malign!
O night, o night malign!

And at his sight, all sanity shall cease
Sweet dirge of death in mournful chorus raise we

Dagon! The Mother of Pus! Yog-Sothoth!
Shavalyoth!
Their names forever praise we

R’lyeh, R’lyeh
O night, o night malign
R’lyeh, R’lyeh
O night, o night malign
R’lyeh, R’lyeh
O night, o night malign

Cthulhu's Plunderland 

Slay bells ring, are you listening?
In the lane, entrails are glistening
Horrifying sight, we're dying tonight

Crawling in Cthuhlu’s plunderland

Gone away is the succored
Here to stay are the interred
He sings to Dagon, as we’re quartered and drawn,
Crawling in Cthuhlu’s plunderland

In the darkness we can summon D’endrrah
Then discover she is really foul
She'll say: Are you buried? We'll say: No ma’am
But you can do the job when you're in town

Later on, when things are dire
And we roast upon the fire
He’ll burst and abrade the blisters we've made
Crawling in Cthuhlu’s plunderland

In the light we can summon Tru-nembra
and dance until we have a nervous breakdown
We'll have lots of fun with him and Yog-Sapha
until they decide it’s better to let us drown

Though the snow don't stop his killing
He prefers those who are unwilling
He'll frolic and flay
the R’leyh way
Crawling in Cthuhlu’s plunderland

Crawling in Cthuhlu’s plunderland
Crawling in Cthuhlu’s plunderland

Here Comes Cxaxukluth

Here comes Cxaxukluth, here comes Cxaxukluth,
Right down Cxaxukluth lane
Ghroth and Daoloth and all the outer gods
Plannin’ a new reign
Worlds are breaking, children quaking
All are cursed with a blight
When he’s a-stalking better say your prayers
'Cause Cxaxukluth comes tonight!

Here comes Cxaxukluth, here comes Cxaxukluth,
Right down Cxaxukluth lane
He's got a chains and complete disdain
For boys and girls again
Hear those slay bells, wrangle entangle,
Oh what an amorphous sight
Blood so red you’re better off dead
'Cause Cxaxukluth comes tonight!

Here comes Cxaxukluth, here comes Cxaxukluth,
Right down Cxaxukluth lane
He doesn't care if you're rich or poor
He wants to cause you pain
Cxaxukluth knows we're Cthulhu’s minions
That makes everything right
So fill your hearts with R’leyh cheer
'Cause Cxaxukluth comes tonight!

Here comes Cxaxukluth, here comes Cxaxukluth,
Right down Cxaxukluth lane
He'll come around when the shoggoths cry out
That it's his arcane domain 
Peace on earth we’ll never know
If we just follow the alt-right
So beware beware the new regime
Cause Cxaxukluth comes tonight!

O Tentacles

O Tentacles, O Tentacles!
You move just like a serpent!
O Tentacles, O Tentacles,
You move just like a serpent!

Hanging from Cthulhu’s face,
Slither-squirming with an air of grace.
O Tentacles, O Tentacles,
You move just like a serpent!

O Tentacles, O Tentacles,
Your sucker cups are toothy!
O Tentacles, O Tentacles,
Your sucker cups are toothy!

Each arm doth hold many bites
Surprising me when you hold me tight.
O Tentacles, O Tentacles,
Your sucker cups are toothy!

O Tentacles, O Tentacles,
How tightly you do squeeze me!
O Tentacles, O Tentacles,
How tightly you do squeeze me!

For every breath I cannot breathe,
Brings to you so much joy and glee.
O Tentacles, O Tentacles,
How tightly you do squeeze me!

Freaking Out

Talk about timing...

The topic is the moment where, as an author, you freak out.

Today. Today is the moment where I freak out. To explain better, let me share my most recent facebook post:

CROMMMMMMM!!!!
That moment where you realize in your manuscript you named these beings X and later made reference to them as if for the first time and called them Y.
*headdesk**headdesk**headdesk*
This is like having a bunch of necklaces tangled and knotted together and you have to do so many little adjustments from this strand then that one and back again....*headdesk* *headdesk* *headdesk* *headdesk* *headdesk*
--goes to get another cup of coffee, and maybe some ice for the head and wonders if chocolate could fix this, or if choclate created this...--

Yes. I freak out when I realize WELL AFTER I SHOULD HAVE that I made a major goof within a manuscript. I should KNOW better. I should BE better.

Going for that coffee now...

Early Influences

The obvious answer to this weeks question is: my first editor. But, because I have previously posted about what I learned during that time, allow me to step back even further, to a time before writing was a career and lingered still in that space where hopeful peeople stash their dreams.

My senior year of high school I returned to public school after six years in a private religious school. It was at this time that I met Mr. Grandy, my creative writing teacher. It was a great class; instead of the standard English class with increased difficulty offered at the private school, I finally had a class where what mattered was applying what I had learned bby diagramming all those horrid sentences.

It lasted only the last semester of the year, but it was the best part of school. We wrote and made a movie, we followed class prompts for assignments, and we got to work with fiction. The teacher took note of my work which tended to be much longer than the assigment dictated, and after we talked some he asked if he could take a look at what I had written. Delighted, of course, that someone wanted to take a peek at my words, I said yes.

This was the first time someone other than family or friends had read my work, and since he was a creative writing teacher I figured he knew what he was talking about, so when he came back with nothing but encouragement, I was happy, stunned, and motivated.

That stayed with me for years.

Before my first book was released, the publisher sent me two advance copies. I jumped through some hoops but found and contacted Mr. Grandy. It had been 17 years since I'd last seen him, but he remembered me and he agreed to meet me at the local Barnes & Noble. He brought his wife. I brought my mom. I gave him one of my two copies, signed on the thank you page where his name was first. We had a fantastic time that evening, talking, catching up. It meant the world to me to share one of my advance copies with him because he was the first person who made me feel like I really could do this.

I will always be grateful that he went the extra step and took my work home to read over the weekend. He didn't have to do that, but because he did and because he encouraged me, I held on to that.

I hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving with your nearest and dearest, and I hope that you remember those who encouraged you and that you take it upon yourself to offer genuine encouragement to others.

Blessed Be.

Inner Drive

Last evening, my family went to the movie theater to watch the filmed version of the National Theater's production of Hamlet, starring Benedict Cumberbatch. (Amazing. Go see it if you have the chance.)

It was not a live feed, but it lost none of the live theater vigor and momentum that a film simply cannot reproduce. Film is distanced by editing and changes of scene and setting, but in theater they do all that right before your eyes, right now. The actors and crew work magic and transport you from your seat to another time and place. They sing, dance. They deliver lines as if they've just revealed their deepest heart and you weep with them. I've worked around theater. I've been to some big productions. I used to play in a rock band. Live performance can transmit an enormous amount of energy between performers and audience and back again.

My son, who was a good kid drifting through his youth as many kids do, decided a few years back that he wanted to try acting. I encouraged it. He landed a decent role in the smaller of the local theather's next production. He was amazing...line delivery, at ease on stage. And that kid blossomed. Grades went up, confidence increased, and he stopped drifting. He had realized he had a motor and could decide exactly where he went and how fast. He learned he was in control of his life.

Much has occurred since and now he's about to embark on a role in a web-series. He is beyond excited. So am I.

I knew seeing this stage play (even tho filmed) would be good for him. At intermission we talked and it became clear that he had just realized the bar could be set much higher than he had previously thought. Do you have any idea how awesome it is to see a kid's eyes sparkle because he's humbly admitted to you that he knows he has a lot of work to do--and is eager to get started?

That kid works out regularly. He eats right. This has influenced me; I've lost fifteen pounds so far.

I recognize his inner drive. It brings joy to my heart. All I have to do is encourage and support him, scope out the next steps, shine the light on them and get out of his way. He wants to do it. He is willing to work. He is willing to learn. He makes every effort to be prepared for the next opportunity as he climbs.

I was like that once. I'd drifted.... Good at art. Good at writing. Really good at playing music. I decided to focus on the band. As a seventeen year old girl who had been playing guitar for a year and could rock on-par with local fellas of twenty-one to twenty-five who'd been playing for six or seven years, a chick who could play the solos but tended toward more melodic emotive notes than the blazing jibberish so many did...I had something. I had talent and drive inside me. I played for hours and hours every day because I wanted to.

But I didn't have parents who understood how good I was or who had a clue how to help me be what I wanted to be, even if they had wanted that life for me -- which they didn't. They permitted me to be in a band and rehearse and play in the bars, but they set up road blocks as well. Eventually, my fire for that turned to embers. I allowed it, influenced by family ties and a near-deadly experience with electricity. Besides, too many people (read as too many attitidues + too many decision-makers + not enough of my interests) needed to be involved and it wasn't sustainable without total support.

But words...I didn't need three other people to be on board with the story to write it. I didn't need to use the car to go write. If I was up late writing, my folks didn't have to wait up for me.

I allowed their path for me to become mine. It failed. After I'd tried it their way, twice, I did what I had originally wanted to do. I went to college, but I did it as a mother of four and still managed to graduate summa cum laude. I've had six novels published by a major NY house.

I'm not done yet.

My drive is still on. My motor is churning hard and there's fuel a-plenty to burn.

Recognize that thing you do that gives you some joy. You know, that thing you do for you, the thing you're passionate about, the thing you've worked hard to nurture your talent around. That thing you willingly give your 'free' time to, it's your thing. Like the energy transferring from actor to audience and back, when you do your thing, you feed your fire and that fire feeds you. Be willing to work and learn. Be willing to fail and try again. Make every effort to be prepared for the next opportunity that comes. Never give up. The pursuit gives you not only joy, but personal character. 

Success

Success, to me, is a layered thing. Let me tell you how I view some of those layers.

1.) Knowing the "who, what, when and how's" in order to make a solid and feasible attempt at getting your writing published. 

Seems obvious, right? But don't scoff. Let me tell you a small aside here:

     At a local library signing thing a few years ago and I saw a woman I recognized from somewhere. (You know how that is.) She visited my table and after I mentioned that she looked familiar, she said the same. We figured out that she had been a former supervisor when I was eighteen and employed at a mall anchor store. She was at the signing to sell her books as well and she mentioned how impressed she was with the look of my mass-market paperbacks.
     "How much did they cost you?" she asked.
     I was honestly dumbfounded. I said, "Simon and Schuster's imprint Pocket Books published them."
     "Right, but what did it cost you?"
     "Nothing. They paid me."
     "They paid you?" She seemed shocked.
     "Yeah. They bought the rights to publish them."
     It was her turn to be dumbfounded. "How'd you get them to do that?"
     I'm certain I looked as confused as I felt. "Well, with fiction, you can either submit to a literary agent who may or may not take you on and may or may not sell the book for you, or you can submit to publishers on your own and hope you make it out of the slush pile." I wasn't being snide or condescending at all but she seemed irked.
     "I'll have to try that next time." She walked away.

Knowing that I won't just 'get' published is part of success. Sure, there are some authors who could let their cat type a hundred pages of jibberish and with one call to their agent would 'get' a book deal for that stuff... but that isn't how I define success. Knowing that I need to go to conventions and join groups and still do research on the industry and publishers --especially since I write genre fiction-- to know who publishes that type of novel, knowing that I have to do some work that isn't writing at all and knowing that if I don't or if I do it wrong the chances of getting published are nil, is essential to finding success in this business.


2.) Being published. 

I've never had trouble writing novel length stories, but it took a long time to learn how to write good, publish-worthy novels. That learning should never stop. (Again with the 'knowing' stuff.) No matter who you are, you can always learn more about the craft of writing and hone your skills to be sharper than yesterday. My library of how-to books continues to grow. The constant challenge is what I love about writing, and loving what you are doing is key to success.


3.) Staying published. 

The 'staying' part means maintaining creativity so I have new, fresh tales to tell.

The 'published' part of this is easier nowadays with legitimate self-publishing options available to everyone. The problem with that is, in a world of traditionally published books, small press books, and self-publishing, there are so many stories available for the readers out there that the author's hardest job may not be the actual writing of the novel, but navigating the choppy waters of advertising, media, and generally spreading the word in a positive, worth-while return on investment, attention-getting manner.

a.) I have a new novel coming in May 2017, unrelated to the Seph series. Will announce formally and do a cover reveal (unless you've been to a convention and picked up my sampler and seen it already...) early next year.  

b.) I am working on #7 in the Persephone Alcmedi series and hope to have it out next year. Have had some setbacks and am talking to a small press publisher about it. Details to come as I have them. 

c.) I am also working on two other novels (as time permits, which it often doesn't as a and b get the most of my time, well, and sleep.)

4.) Peers as Friends

The authors of those books I loved, the ones I stood in line and waited for them to autograph my copy, I had the good fortune to be on a panel with them. I've had the good fortune to be on panels with people whose books I read afterward and they have become friends who I can call and text and message, who will give me cover blurbs, who get cover blurbs from me, who brainstorm with me, who have drinks and hang out with me at conventions. Being welcomed into the family at whatever convention, signing or event I attend, those hugs between friends I haven't seen since last year, and that absolute sense of belonging right there among them...that is so awesome.

Writing is perhaps the most solitary art form. Because of that, social inclusion by my peers is incredibly special to me. For me to jump the mental hurdle and allow myself to feel as though I belong there (despite years of imposter syndrome keeping me at the edges) this has become a huge part of how I feel successful in this tough-and-getting-tougher business. 

Linda Robertson is the author of the Persephone Alcmedi series, several short stories and has a new novel Jovienne coming in May 2017. *details to come


WEBSITE: www.authorlindarobertson.com

FACEBOOK:
facebook.com/authorlindarobertson  - personal
facebook.com/lindarobertsonbooks  - fan page

TWITTER: @authorlinda

Linda's World Fantasy Convention Post-Con Report

First- Congrats to Marshall and Jeffe who have releases this week!!! (See KAK's post from yesterday.)

I have no idea what to write this week. My favorite cautionary tale for authors? Blank.

But I had a great time at World Fantasy Convention this past weekend. It was not heavily attended, and there seemed to be reports of panel kerfluffles pre-con, but the panel I was on was a-FRICKIN-mazing. Fantasy and Music was the title and each panelist brought something interesting and fun to the discussion, of course with Misty Lackey on the panel, it has to be good, yes? (She sat beside me! Fangirl moment!)

Outside the one panel I was on, and aside from Bartender Tony who tolerated my bad jokes like a trooper, the convention proper was a HUGE success for me. Maybe it had some to do with the fact that I am disproportionately familiar with that venue (Columbus Convention Center) as I've been to a dozen+ conventions there, but whereas I normally need some down-time from all the people, I was 100% on this year.

I didn't want to be in the room. I didn't want to crack open the computer and do a bit of work. Good god, no.

There were people over there--people I hadn't met yet who were there for WFC like me and I can't just meet and chat with like-minded folks anytime. I can write anytime at home. So I met people. People who introduced me to other people there, like writers, editors, convention chairs, etc. I put my handshake on 'em, traded business cards and did the whole networking thing.

I had such a good time.

So if I'm going to find a cautionary tale in that, it's this: get off your ass and meet your peers, your betters, and the newbies hoping to be as good as you someday. Find the editors, the agents, the publishers, the voice talent, cover artists, freelancers and the convention organizers. Meet these people and make a good impression. Find opportunities. That is what the convention is for.

In the Beginning...

Today I want to talk about pre-production of the writing process.

First comes coffee. Period.

 It must be Millstone Chocolate Velvet coffee. It must be properly adjusted with cream and flavoring, and it must be served in a.) the Star Trek mug above, or b.) the Maleficient mug below. Without the adjustment or if served not in the proper mug, the coffee cannot be drunk. If served improperly, whipped cream and purple sugar sprinkles must be added to the top as a measure of penance. Oh, who am I kidding. I add the topping for the Hell of it.

For me, after the required coffee provisions are met, if there's a new seed and new work at hand, then before I get into the bulk of the writing the whiteboards and planning come into play, followed by reading.

It starts in my head with that seed of an idea. When it starts to root, it goes to the whiteboard. Here that nifty scheme gets explored and refined. In the case of Seph books, I'll research what has come before that is primarily relevant to this story and make notes, draw lines, use colors and make it interesting to look at because, hey, yeah, the artsy shit in my head doesn't turn off.

Once the appropriate connections seem made, I start plotting. Might be a few beats like the points on a W plot frame. You know, two triggers leading two turning points before the resolution. Easy, right.


Whew, we needed that laugh, you and I, didn't we? Yeah. Writing a book is never easy. But starting a plot can be as simple as five sentences.

Examples:

Point 1.) Due to feisty droids, Luke meets Ben.
Neo's at work one day, gets a weird package, and a weirder call.
Harry finds out he's a wizard, is sent to Hogwarts.

Point 2.) Due to his Aunt and Uncle's deaths, he leaves with Ben and meets Han and Chewie, and shortly are captured.
He learns about this reality, doesn't believe it when Morpheus says he's special. 
Harry makes friends, meets his teachers, learns about the school and his parent's. 

Point 3.) The group hides on the Falcon, come out later, rescue the princess and get away with the important plans.
Neo trains, meets with Oracle. He still doesn't believe. 
The potions teacher seems to be up to no good, which Harry investigates

Point 4.) Regrouping with the Rebellion, they plan how to defend against the attack that is inevitable.
Baddies attack, take Morpheus, and Neo and Co come up with a plan. 
Harry and his friends face various trials and 3 headed dog

Point 5.) Luke hits the mark and destroys the Death Star.
Neo accepts his fate and faces the baddies and wins. 
Harry faces and defeats the true bad-guy, another teacher than suspected.

Okay, okay, I over simplified it, but you get the point, yes?

Knowing a few beats allows me the freedom to explore the story and characters as I learn more about them through research and through the writing itself, so the whole process is discovery in large or small ways.

Those few sentences (or less) might be all a panster needs to write a whole novel. But I like a little more. Not a full forty-page outline, but the main points, certain details about characters (fill out character sheets, etc), items, places, and the expected emotional journey of the characters. I say 'expected' because the characters sometimes change their minds mid-story.

Then comes the reading.

Yes the reading. Those details on the chart turn into sparks that make me want to read up on items or places (view pictures, read personal accounts of being there) or psychology (quirks/patterns/etc). This is not just to reinforce my plot points. There's inspiration in those readings, if you want to find it.

I might write a scene or two here and there, but I generally have a well-rendered picture in my head before I really delve into the story.

Now, I'm bound for World Fantasy Convention in Columbus Ohio. Hope to see you there!

Where I Do My Best Writing

Where do I write best? The short answer is…Ohio!

Seriously, though, I am not one to work from the local coffee shop or bookstore. I’m no good at write-in’s at friend’s houses. I like a comfy chair or couch with a laptop, and I have done some work in hotels at conventions, but the most work - and best work - is done in the solitude of my own office space when everyone else is off at school or work. I put my music on (movie scores, mostly), fire up incense or candles to infuse the air with some nice aroma, and I’m ready to make word count.

That said, I’m the kind of person who will rearrange the living room without warning and for no reason at all…but once my office is set, it needs to stay. The stability of the environment, as well as the routine, is necessary and conducive to my overall performance. 

In the last ten years I have moved three times.

House #1:

For five years, I had a desk in a living room near sliding doors to a covered deck. I wrote Seph books 1-4 either at the desk or at the table on the deck. I think it is worth noting that I spent a very minimal amount of time working outside the home during these years. Able to focus on the writing, I produced very solid work.  

  

House #2  

For the next five years, I had a desk in my bedroom, then a small office all by itself. I wrote Seph books 5-6 in these spots. I was working full-time, being a single parent, and spent a significant amount of time ‘adulting’ i.e. yardwork, housework, errands/shopping, etc. though my boys helped a lot. My productivity tanked. There was simply no time. 

I do not think books 5 & 6 reflect my best work because of this.

now for the good stuff...

House #3

yes, 3 screens...1 desktop, 2 laptops. new mac book

I’ve been in the new house with my new husband for only a few months now. I started with a desk in a small bedroom, but for the last two weeks I’ve been moving into the medium sized bedroom, which now has a lovely new laminant floor that looks like lovely aged barn-siding, fresh gray paint, new white cabinets and all my geekery on display… 

Yup. I have a shit-load of Star Trek and Star Wars stuff. The kids are giving me back all the cool toys as they find/unpack them, but there are some yet to find a spot. Like the landspeeder, the TIE fighter will need hung, etc. My NCC-1701-D is missing the nacells, and I hope they show up, but the NCC-1701 is my favorite, of which I haven't been able to find one big enough to be worthy of display? I mean, the one-man X-Wing can't be bigger than the Enterprise, yanno? It's bad enough the Millennium Falcon is small...

whiteboards are awesome but not revealing my secrets...

—sigh—

I want to say I’m never leaving this office…but you know what they say about saying never. The bottom line is, I’m writing full time again, delighted to be finding my rhythm amid the routine again. 

my favorite view...needs phasers and a bat'leth, yes?

And who wouldn’t be inspired here? 

Be a Character

If I could be anybody else's character who would it be and why...

I've said for years that I was inspired by Jennifer Roberson's character Del in The Sword Dancer series because I wanted to be Del. I still stand by that. Why? Because she's unafraid to set a lofty goal and then she achieves it. It doesn't hurt that she can use a sword as well as the men around her who are taller and stronger and more experienced.

But, if that's the criteria...then a host of other ladies fit the criteria, such as Wonder Woman, Princess Leia, and Hermione Granger.

And hell, I'd be happy to be Han Solo or James Bond or Conan the Barbarian. Just sayin'.

I'm a sucker for the idea of an adventure.

The Dark Road: a #HoldOnToTheLight post

Over the past few years, I’ve read the accounts of many of my writing peers as they confessed their mental health struggles on social media. Each time, I felt glad that they were brave enough to be open about it…and wished I could be as bold and confident because I have also walked the dark road holding hands with that specter.

Twice, I've sought medical treatment and been diagnosed with depression. The first time was 2007. The second time was more recent, February 2015, and it was coupled with anxiety and insomnia.

Allow me to set the stage. -gulp- I’ve never been this open in a public forum. Here I go.

A (now-estranged) family member had moved in “temporarily,” refused to get a job, and began bullying me to the point that I did not feel safe in my own home. Early in 2013, this person returned to find the entirety of their belongings on the porch and the locks changed. I wish I could say that ordeal had ended there. 

In 2013, I began seeing a counselor because I was starting to question my sanity; she helped me see that I wasn’t crazy. I ended a relationship with a man who was abusive in a way that she never formally identified but -thanks to book research afterward- I can call it gaslighting. It hit me hard when I realized he’d had nearly all of the classic traits. Months later, I had to file bankruptcy and I lost my car. (I’d never missed a payment on it but the bank took it anyway because they could.) So I walked to work for a while and bummed rides when I could. 

The day before my birthday in January of 2014 a father-figure passed away and suddenly it felt like I hadn’t grieved my own father who had died in 2008. This was the proverbial “straw that broke the camel’s back.” I had my first real anxiety attack when I was supposed to leave work and go to this friend’s funeral. I made it as far as the front entrance of my workplace, then I found myself back in my office, door shut and sobbing because I COULD NOT GET IN THE CAR AND GO.

I knew it was irrational. I knew something was wrong. And I lied to myself about it just as I had been lying to myself about a host of other things.

Looking back, having all this on top of regular stress and responsibilities, I can see how that specter was holding my hand, whispering to me long after a decent bedtime had passed, night after night after night.

**You do not have to have such troubles or upheavals to suffer with mental illness, but I believe that in my case, these things were definitive factors.**

At this time in my life a good, true friend would have been invaluable to me, but (perhaps due to the burns received from the ‘friendships’ of my youth) I never learned the skills to be ‘good at’ friendships, to hold on to them and nurture them. Instead, I became skilled at crawling inside myself and being satisfied with the solitary act of putting words on the page or making music rumble from my guitar’s amplifier. Though I’m ‘good at’ being alone and staying busy, solitude in excess isn’t healthy. At least not for me.

When I wanted to pick up the phone, the specter would say:

Who will you call? They might be busy. Besides, you didn’t call when you were happy. No one will want to hear you whining.

When I thought to stop by to see a friend, the specter would say:

People don’t do that anymore. It’s an imposition. It’s rude. Besides, you didn’t stop by when you were happy. No one wants to listen to you talk about how much you hurt inside.

When I considered going out to where my friends might be, the specter would say:

You can’t possibly go out alone. A woman walking into a bar alone sends a bad sign, worse if she’s not meeting friends quickly inside. You can’t have a drink. You aren’t safe out there. Stay home. Alone. You’re safe there.

It cut me off every time I tried to reason my way out.

My own family didn’t recognize how I hurt. They thought I was in my own space writing and being creative. But the creativity was meager at best. The part of me I adored most was slipping away and that hurt most of all. The self-doubt from that is the most pervasive and yet-lingering part.

I would drive myself up to the Mt. Jeez overlook when the house was too constricting {read as I needed some place new to cry}. I often checked-in from there on Facebook, silently hoping someone I knew would recognize the truth and come talk to me. Isn’t that a horrifyingly pitiful, selfish, and stupid bit of behavior? I see that clearly now. I feel ashamed to admit that I thought that way, and equally so to admit that I had no idea how to reach out to others without also feeling immeasurable shame for simply thinking about reaching out.

That shame is the specter's punishment, one I wanted so much to avoid. Via hindsight I can say that I now see the choice I could not see then. It was: Avoid the shame and stay in the dark alone and stagnating, or face and accept the shame and take the chance of reaching out and growing.

PLEASE, DON’T WAIT FOR SOMEONE ELSE TO FIX IT.

I made an appointment to see my doctor in late February 2015. He prescribed something to help me sleep and another something for depression. We had a bit of trial an error but by summer I was feeling much better, if lonely. The sleep was so good. The loneliness was there, but it didn’t hurt. Because it didn’t hurt, I was able to move slowly back into the light where the loneliness finally began to fade.

After about six months, I quit taking the medicines. I had discussed the exit strategy with my doctor at the beginning and it was important for me to know if I needed a kick to straighten out, or if I needed medicine as a daily part of my life. Maybe it will come to that someday but for now I haven’t been on the medicine for over a year. I feel good. I sleep 97% of the time good and naturally.

Every day of life is a learning opportunity. Good days and bad days alike.

I learned to know me better and recognize my warning signs. The shadows remain, and probably always will, but I have learned that there is truly no shame in seeking treatment. If I find I’m not kicking the occasional lows, or if the anxiety is unmanageable, or if the sleep stops again, I will not wait or argue with myself about going back to my doctor because I know that specter is out there, and I know what it does: It tricks you into the lonely dark and into stagnation where confidence dwindles and self-doubt grows to monstrous proportions.  

I don't want that. Not again.

Telling all of you this private stuff about me, I believe, is part of helping myself keep the specter at bay. 

I've told it because the #HoldOnToTheLight initiative brings awareness, the kind that not only helps people with mental health issues, but will help other people recognize mental health issues in their loved ones. If someone in my family hadn't been ignorant of the signs, perhaps they could have/would have done something and I might have gotten help so much sooner.  

I’ve told it because I remember seeing my peers and being encouraged by their admissions. 

I’ve told it because if you’re reading this and you’re struggling, I want you to know without a doubt that YOU ARE NOT ALONE. 

Do not listen to that specter’s lies; things are not hopeless and you do not deserve this. 

Do not let it convince you that it is shameful to  ask for help. 

Do not stagnate, you must keep growing and learning and doing and being. 

Don’t wait. Take the initiative, please. It IS worth it. Reach out, let people help you.

Neither you nor I have to walk the dark road holding hands with that specter.

-Linda

About the campaign:

#HoldOnToTheLight is a blog campaign encompassing blog posts by fantasy and science fiction authors around the world in an effort to raise awareness around treatment for depression, suicide prevention, domestic violence intervention, PTSD initiatives, bullying prevention and other mental health-related issues. We believe fandom should be supportive, welcoming and inclusive, in the long tradition of fandom taking care of its own. We encourage readers and fans to seek the help they or their loved ones need without shame or embarrassment.

Please consider donating to or volunteering for organizations dedicated to treatment and prevention such as: American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, Home for the Warriors (PTSD), National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), Canadian Mental Health Association, MIND (UK), SANE (UK), BeyondBlue (Australia), To Write Love On Her Arms and the National Suicide Prevention Hotline.

To find out more about #HoldOnToTheLight, find a list of participating authors, or reach a media contact, go to https://www.facebook.com/groups/276745236033627/

The Ties that Bind...for a While

Ending Professional Relationships: When, Why and How to do it without Burning Bridges

Sometimes, a burning bridge is a gift. Ending a personal relationship with someone who’s been Gaslighting you until you’re questioning your sanity…bring on the gasoline and light that fucker up.

But when the relationship is professional, and because of the ‘there’s-always-two-sides’ rule and the fact that people talk, you should definitely leave the gasoline at home. Granted, there may be a situation where a little smoke on the bridge can be helpful to put things in perspective. If you’re willing to take that risk, be sure you have an extinguisher as a back-up.

There could be a time when you show up and find the other person brought a flamethrower to the negotiation party. What you have to understand is: that’s their fire. You are under no obligation to fan the flame.

When dealing with parting ways with folks who are capable of impacting your reputation, tread carefully. I offer two stories:

First:

I was asked to co-author a story, as suggested by the spouse of someone who had been a friend/peer. The spouse be-friended me and several of my friends and hanging out exclusive of the writer/peer was fun…for a while. Eventually the spouse starting becoming a pest to my other friends. All involved parties asked me for advice and though I just didn’t see the behaviors others saw, I tried to balance and mediate and ended up in the middle – where I did NOT want to be. Too soon, the spouse’s behavior that had left my friends exasperated began to manifest directed toward me. I could no longer maintain a friendship with the spouse, and tried to quietly separate myself from the personal/friend part of that couple. As I feared, it cost me the writer/peer part as well, and the year’s worth of work that went into that really good novel idea is a casualty neither of us can heal or work with. Ever.

I tried so hard to save that bridge, but the gasoline kept fueling it and in the end...it wasn't my fire. If someone else wants the bridge destroyed, all you can do is walk away and let them roast their marshmallows. 

Had I kept that professional relationship completely professional with both the other writer and their spouse, y’all would have that great novel instead of my contribution to it gathering cobwebs in a mental junk drawer.

Second:

I used to have an agent. Said agent became sluggish about returning emails (as in months at a time) and things I was told would be done just weren’t done. Staff at agent’s agency made some blunders, which I politely brought to agent’s attention and asked for a change to be made. Months later, I had received neither an apology nor a confirmation that the correction had been made. (Honestly, either would have sufficed; both would have been monumental.) I felt that this was the time for a separation to occur. I wrote a polite letter and made extra sure to keep the tone friendly. Sure, I felt unimportant and ignored. Sure, it stung. Sure, it made me feel like maybe me getting published had been a wild dream I never deserved. (That may be BS left over from the gaslighting I endured.) But the truth was, I didn't have to sprinkle drama all over that shit. It's business. I do what's right for me, aware that they sure as Hell are going to do what's right for them. Nothing personal on either end of the equation.

The letter was emailed and sent via certified mail. And I keep moving forward as best I can.

THE POINT: The Business of Writing and Publishing is a business.

It isn’t personal. i.e. He/She doesn’t like me.

It’s a business. i.e. He/She can’t do/isn’t doing the job. I’ll focus on finding someone who can/is doing the job.  

You do need a thick skin to be in this business.

That said, there are innumerable authors, agents, editors and publishers. Doubtless, there are ones that you or I won’t like, and equally doubtless there are many more that you and I will like. You have to get out there and meet them to find out! And if you’re not hitting it off with this one or that one, don’t give up. Meet more. Odds are you’ll find kindred spirits if you keep trying. And, as someone who has found many friends among the kindred spirits, I can say that learning the lessons of the few who haven’t remained friends only makes me stronger, my skin thicker, and those friends I have found closer.

OFF TO DRAGON CON!

I'm off to Dragon Con (SQUEE!!!) this week so my post is short.

Classics I never read and why...

First, why....

TIME! THERE'S ONLY SO MUCH TIME....

Last, classics...

There is such a variety when considering 'classics.' I read what I read because I wanted to, it was recommended, or it simply interested me via the cover, the back copy, or the author's name. I was never compelled to read anything because of expectations of others. I read for pleasure, or for work.

Check in next week for my annual recap and "THE TOP TEN of  THINGS I OVERHEARD AT DRAGON CON" post.

Birth of a Book Cover

Recently, I got to preview the cover for my book coming in May 2017…it is GORGEOUS!!! But I can’t reveal it yet…so I’ll talk about another cover. (Tease, I know...)

In my experience, Editors generally ask an author what they anticipate the cover would look like. It is largely, I suspect, a courtesy. I also suspect that many authors site a certain scene from the story, and comment on the hero/ine’s ethnicity, hair color, age, etc. and any ‘props’ the character should have in the image.

I also suspect that a minority of authors have actually worked as graphic artists or in other directly creative positions. 

Because I am one of those few, when my editor asked me specifically about ARCANE CIRCLE, I went to the internet and searched for people with awesome ink. ARCANE CIRCLE was largely about ‘unlocking’ the power bound in Johnny’s many tattoos, so I wanted to represent that on the cover. I found a photo of a woman whose back had a fabulous dragon and foo-dog image and I copied it to my computer. Then I searched for images of a woman with one arm raised. Scored another win in a picture of some young lady with her arm up, elbow bent, and forearm lazily draped across the top of her head. After saving it also, I opened up Photoshop.

I added a wand in the female’s hand, made the tip glowy and ‘magical.’ Then to I took the tattoo image, erased everything but the actual dragon and foo-dog, then adjusted the opacity until I could see through them just enough. This all took me less than an hour to search, find and complete my ‘mock up.’ It was rough, to say the least, but let me reiterate…it was a ”MOCK UP.” I proudly sent it off to the editor.

Her response was something along the lines of, “Do you seriously expect me to show this to the senior editor, coordinators, and/or sales staff?”

As this was the fourth book in the series and I was pretty confident that I’d have the same artist (Don Sipley) for this as I had for the previous ones, my reply was basically: “No, I expect you tell them whatever they need to hear…then send this image on the sly to the cover artist. He’ll know what to do.”

Indeed he did. WHATS MORE, the building in the background has the same overhang feature as a prominent building in the story, so the artist either got super lucky, or (more likely) he did a little research. (Respect!!!) And in turn, I modified one of the scenes to reflect Persephone's outfit as he portrayed it. This one of my favorite covers...the colors, the moonlight... What do you think?

Re-release

This week my blog-compatriots have nailed everything I could have hoped to say about the topic of networking. So rather than reiterate their valid points, allow me to squee about the re-release of mine…

Many of you have messaged me to tell me that the short story prequel to my Persephone Alcmedi series Marlboros and Magic was unavailable on Amazon. I discovered that they had kept it from purchase because “Marlboro” is a trademarked name and it is against their policy to allow. (Though it had been allowed to sell for over a year…) So, I’ve finally got a modified cover, re-edited the text for a few minor rough spots, and re-uploaded it for Kindle. It’s the story of how Nana got evicted from Woodhaven Retirement Community. Here’s the link:

http://tinyurl.com/smokes-magic

And here’s a snippet:

SMOKES & MAGIC

**formerly published as MARLBOROS & MAGIC

Persephone Alcmedi leaned against the brick wall of the covered entry to Woodhaven Retirement Community. “You know why I’m here.”

            “Yep.” Demeter Alcmedi, or rather ‘Nana,’ leaned against the opposite side tapping the toe of her untied tennis shoe—untied because her feet were swollen. She dug the cigarette case from the pocket of her white Capri pants, opened it and put a cigarette to her lips. As she flicked the lighter the stern expression on her wrinkled face dared her granddaughter to admonish her.

            Seph crossed her arms and fixed Nana with a hard stare. Those little tubes of tobacco were the whole reason Seph was visiting on this late-September afternoon.

She looked Nana up and down. A silver bee-hive hairdo crowned her. As she mimicked Seph’s pose, her shoulders sank lower creating secondary rounded shape. Her hips swelled in a generous third curve, producing an undeniable snowman shape. The plus-size tunic with big red cabbage roses couldn’t hope to hide it.

            Nana’s icy practicality and arctic wit combined with her resourcefulness made her a fierce polar bear of an old woman. Therefore, it stood to reason that the heat from the chain-smoked cigarettes was the only thing preventing her from freezing solid.

But the rules were the rules.

            “Do you need me to buy you some of those smoking cessation patches?” Seph asked.

            “No.”

            “Nicotine gum?”

            “No,” Nana repeated belligerently.

            “Should I hire a hypnotist?”

            Nana’s arms dropped to her sides in exasperation. “Now shit, Persephone.”

            “What?”

            “‘What’ yourself.”

            “You could stop any time you want.” Seph made a decidedly magical hand gesture. “Cast a spell.”

            With a defiant lift of her chin, Nana looked away.

            Seph knew what button to push. “The addiction tougher than you are?”

            Nana stamped her foot. “I. Want. To. Smoke.” She took another hit, blew the gray results into the air. “I like it. I like what it does. And since I’m paying mightily for the privilege of living in this dressed-up nursing home—”

            “It’s not a nursing home!” They’d had this discussion a dozen times four months ago when Nana moved into Woodhaven.

            Nana harumpfed. “Polish a turd, it’s still…a…turd.” She punctuated the last few words by pointing her cigarette for each. “I should be allowed to smoke whenever and wherever I want.”

            “You knew the rules when you moved in here. You agreed. You signed a paper.”

            Nana smirked. “That’s exactly what Mr. Loudcrier said to me yesterday.” She mimicked a puppet talking with her free hand. “Blah blah blah.”

            Persephone recognized the name of Woodhaven’s CEO. She hadn’t been impressed by the self-aggrandizing ass, but he was in charge and it was his job to enforce the rules. “They have the right to evict you if you don’t stop, and trust me, he will. Then where are you going to go?”

Nana gaped at her.

Feeling like she’d won by implying that Nana wasn’t going to live with her, Seph pushed away from the wall. “You better think about that before you light up again.” She left Nana with that thought and walked to her car without looking back.

The Long and Short of StoryTelling

First, a breakdown of what I have written and if published, by who:

SHORT STORIES:
Two went into publications of the Mansfield OSU Campus, one of which won me the 2006 OSU Florence B. Allen Creative Writing Award.

My first professionally published short was a Seph prequel featuring Nana, was first published in a witch-themed anthology (available HERE ) and was then available via KDP. (It will be again in a day or so; they made me rename it because the Marlboro part of the Marlboros & Magic title isn't allowed though the original publication had no issue, and despite the fact that I found a few other titles using the name which were still available. ??? It has been re-uploaded and re-covered as Smokes & Magic. I'll publicize when it is confirmed as available.)








My second, Comeuppance, was published in Blackguards: Blacklist. (available HERE )



Another short story is going in an anthology my writing group is soon releasing. A half dozen others wait patiently in my 'submit these when they fit' file. I have notes for about a dozen more I want to write...eventually.




NOVELS:

Persephone Alcmedi series #1

Currently, I have six novels published by Simon & Schuster's imprint Pocket Books ( available HERE ), plus one coming in May 2017 from Ragnarok Publications, and another (Seph #7) late this year or early next. I also have four others written and yet unpublished, plus notes for about a ten more to write, plus 2 more Seph novels.









NOVELLAS:
While I have not written any novellas, I have plans for 6-10 tie-ins (see KAK's post yesterday; she mentions such tie-ins) with the Seph universe because I can't see wrapping up all my threads in the novels because the novels need to be about the novel, not wrapping up loose ends...but there are those of you out there who ask about those threads and I cannot leave you hanging. Plus, I'm kicking around a few prequel things because, yanno. They are good stories. Perhaps I shall release a Seph anthology...

When it comes to stories...I love novels. Short stories don't often make it off the TBR pile. Alas, this is an admitted failure of mine and I should not allow this to happen anymore, but then I should read more in general.

What I noticed in writing this post is that I have files/notes for projects that I intend for a certain length. This made me ask myself, HOW DO I KNOW? That's a good question considering that three of the novels I have started out as shorter works. One was intended as a novella and stuff just kept happening to expand the story. Two were short stories (One of which is the novel I have coming out next May) and I needed to know more about the characters.

For me, the answer is, if I'm honest, I DON'T KNOW. But the placement of the file/notes seems to be based on a mix of 1.) what I anticipate it will take to portray the standard three acts, and 2.) my intention/commitment to the piece. Yet once the process commences, all bets are off and I become the messenger (read as: slave) to the story/character.

Writing Routines

I was most successful when I was most productive. But, as we all know, 'things' change. I overestimated the load I could actually carry.

Once upon a time, I had a lifestyle that allowed me to prioritize writing. As with many things, repetitive function made it better and easier. Then things changed and my creative 'me' time shrank exponentially.

As a creative spirit, losing that time to access the creativity meant the task grew harder. Think of it like an internal pipeline through which creativity flows because your brain is actively pumping the creative juices. But then the mind has to do other non-creative things for a large majority of time. Instead of creativity flowing unhindered, theres this OTHER INFORMATION showing up in the mental real estate, and it JUST KEEPS SHOWING UP. It has to go somewhere, so it gets stuck in this conduit or that pipeline in an attempt to keep something still flowing...and before you know it,  the creative juices are dammed up because other things are taking priority.

That's the creative person's Hell.

Now, I feel like the mental real estate is clearing and the creativity is starting to flow again. It feels natural, not forced.

Goddamn, I've missed this.

Nuptial Non-Post

I'm getting married in a few days and I didn't manage to get blogs written ahead, so you're getting a short but thought out post sans images or any attempt at style in the telling.

I learned to write by living. Craving to purge the stories inside me I did so by turns between school, a rock band, and a boyfriend or two. There was encouragement and support from a high school creative writing teacher. There was guidance in the form of the novels I devoured until all hours of the night. There were (and still are) lessons learned and scenes sparked by the young men I've been privileged to have given birth to and raise...and they also provided incentive to escape into the words and pages.

Writing is a means of having more experiences via characters, of studying the possibilities of situations through the safe lens of fiction, of dissecting life one scene at a time and finding, when it is ended, that through that dissection I understand something new about the craft or people or life.

No matter what this world had in store for me, there were always words ready to lift me up, bolster me, or ground me -- whatever I needed. My words, or other author's words. Reading and writing and choosing to plug in to that creativity and imagination is a magic I eagerly indulge because it gives so much more in return.

Minor Character Favorites

This week we are talking about our favorite minor characters. I'm going to divide this up into two sections: TV & Film, and my books.

TV & Film:

3.) Ernest Borgnine as Cabbie in Escape from New York

He provided lightened a dark plot, created a sense of levity in the dangerous good guy on the inside, and generally classed-up the flick.

2.) Kristian Nairn as Hodor in Game of Thrones

Hodor proves a character does not need words if his actions have great impact.

1.) Pauly Perrette as Abby in NCIS

Abby is fun and wacky in a 'can't guess what she'll do or say next' way that provides a highly interesting side-point to the episodes.

My Books:

3.) Eris Alcmedi 

Excerpt, Arcane Circle, page 331

Eris crouched over her artist and smacked Lance’s cheek with increasing force. Lance looked like he’d barely graduated high school. “Shake it off, bitch boy.” His eyelids fluttered. “There you go, show me those baby blues.” He moaned, then blinked and focused on her. “How many fingers am I holding up?” she asked as she flipped him off.






2.) Xerxadrea Veilleux

Excerpt, Hallowed Circle, page 186

She stamped her staff on the dais floor; it cracked like thunder and the orb atop it began to glow with a white light. “Why have you come?”

“It is my right to attend.” Menessos stopped perhaps ten feet from our contestant line. “Do you yet begrudge me the past, Eldrenne? Will your bitterness never cease?”

They had history between them. Curious.

“You give me no cause for anything but bitterness, Menessos.” She spat his name.

“What benefit could I seek in aggravating the wounds of decades past, Eldrenne?”

“Your motives are ever your own. To guess at them is to relinquish myself to thoughts just as depraved and selfish. I will not sully myself to venture there.”

“Your words sting me, Xerxadrea.”

The other Elders gasped in unison; he’d addressed her by name. WEC had only a handful of Eldrennes and once they became Eldrenne, that was their name in public.

“Good,” she replied. “It may not be the stabbing vehement agony you deserve, but a sting implies pain and if I have hurt you even a little, then I will relish it.”

Menessos took three steps forward, hand out, palms open in a show of nonaggression. “If my pain pleases you, Xerxadrea, if you delight in hearing of it, then come down from your dais, witch. Come down and make me bleed of your own hand, that you may be happy once more.”

Before I could even turn back to her, the Eldrenne glided past me to accept his offer. 



1.) Demeter Alcmedi  / Nana

Excerpt, Shattered Circle, page 305

Demeter stood before him with all the ferocity of a lioness in her eyes. “My granddaughter has been nearly killed how many times since she got involved with you and that vampire?”

Johnny’s chin dropped shamefully.

“Right now she’s stuck in a meditation downstairs. You”—she poked him in the chest—“were here. I bet she saw Menessos tonight, too. He resides an hour away.”

She shuffled a step forward. Johnny eased a step back.

“He is accustomed to the night, and more than normal stress.” She gained another few inches on him, and Johnny retreated again. “He can use magic. He could probably have fixed this . . . but you called me. I had to get my ass out of bed in the middle of the night and come home to fix this.”

Johnny could say nothing. She was right.

Demeter put her hands on her hips. “Hate him if you have to, Johnny. Hate him because he wants her and you feel threatened by that. But trust him, damn it. You three have to trust each other if any of you hope to survive this.”