Scene from The Mars Strain - Happy Halloween!

 This week we’re promoting our scariest book or scene…and, well. I’m a wuss when it comes to scary. I don’t write horror, though some creepy does sneak into my writing. 

So here’s a snippet from The Mars Strain to help you get your Halloween creep on! Enjoy!

Setup:

 Juliet’s in isolation due to a supposed contact 

with the first strain victim—and she’s been watching the clock.

The Mars Strain - Chapter 18

                                                                                                    

My palms and fingertips touch the cold glass and rings of foggy moisture surrounds each contact point. 

There isn’t anyone in the room between mine and the pod with the girl who’s writhing on the bed. She tosses and turns. Her silky black hair sticks to her face and her sheet covered arms and legs strike out again and again. 

Hazmat suits surround her and block her from view. The staff frantically press sensors to her skin, trying to get a vitascan, and two nurses administer injections. 

The man in the pod on the other side of her room has mirrored my stance. My gaze darts between hazmat helmets to him. His eyes bulge and he takes a step back. He holds up a hand to ward off the sight of what’s happening to the other patient and crosses himself. 

The girl lurches up off the bed, breaking through the hazmat suits.

A scream sticks in my throat.

The nurses grab her arms to keep her from landing on the floor. The girl’s knees buckle, her feet are solid purple, like they’ve been bruised. She holds up her petite hands, her fingers are shaking, and they’re bruised just like her feet. The purple of her fingers fades to a dark blue that has crept up her hands and I can see the lines of her veins on her forearms because they’re a dark, angry red. 

Not even her face has been spared. The tip of her nose is dark, and red thorny branches cover her cheeks.

 

She screams. 

Not a scream I can hear through the walls, but a scream I can see and feel. Her neck strains, her mouth is open wide and horror fills her eyes. Every part of her is screaming. My hair stands on end and a prickle chills the skin between my shoulder blades. 

I stumble away from the wall and wipe my hands on my pants. I can’t look away. I can’t look at anything else. All I can look at is the girl who’s stopped screaming, the girl who’s stopped moving, the girl who’s now a lifeless pile on the floor. 

Time of death: 02:59 AM. 

A Glimpse of Dark Wizard

This week at the SFF Seven, we're sharing our scariest book or scene. No, mine isn't from DARK WIZARD, although I love how creeptastic that image is. The thing is, I can't yet share what I think is the scariest thing I've ever written.

See, I never think of myself as writing all that scary. James is the horror writer. KAK delves into the twisted psyche. Usually I see my books as being occasionally dark, but not all that creepy. Readers may disagree. But in general I'm kind of a fragile flower. I don't like being scared. I don't watch or read horror. I'm the one who leaves the room during the scary scenes in a movie, or - far worse! - the gory ones. You guys know me - I'll write all the sex scenes and I advocate for closed-door violence.

Why can't that be a thing?

But this New Thing I've written, the Sekrit Project, is pretty scary. It's tense and twisted and... I already told you I can't share it yet!

Yeah, I hate violence, but I love a tease. 

So, though it's not all that scary, and because I couldn't resist using this creepy image with DARK WIZARD, I'll share an unsettling scene from that book. Enjoy!

***

Having to deal with the inn, the askance stares at his appearance, the averted gazes when they took in his wizard-black eyes, the shocked ones at his white hair—all of it broke him out of his circular thoughts. He tipped the stable girl well to walk Vale cool, rub the gelding down thoroughly, and give him an extra portion of feed. And he tipped the boy in the pub well to bring himself an extra portion of feed, also. Gabriel sat alone in a shadowy corner, using a simple moon spell to reflect curiosity away from himself.

He was more tired than he’d realized, feeling sleepier by the moment as warm food settled into his stomach. He wasn’t used to winter’s bite. And he’d pushed hard to reach House Elal, thinking he’d have days of rest after the wedding. Sopping up the last of the rich mushroom gravy with the excellent fresh bread, Gabriel settled back to savor the rest of his wine—an excellent, robust Elal red, though not as good as Veronica’s special reserve—and watch the room.

Thus, he was in the perfect position to see the hunters arrive.

He knew them for inhuman even before they fully entered the busy tavern. The air seemed to bend before their passage, adjusting to the presence of that which should not exist in this world. There were six of them, slinking into the room like an amalgam of a jackal and a weasel in vaguely human shape, arching like hounds to sniff the surfaces they passed. Nobody else seemed aware of them, so Gabriel made sure to look past the hunters also, focusing on the minstrel blithely singing a song nearby, exhorting the crowd for coins.

He needn’t have bothered, for one of the hunters lifted its snout in the air as if scenting something interesting and fastened one eye on Gabriel. It slunk in his direction, pausing to steal a handful of coin from the oblivious minstrel’s tip basket. It tossed one on the table before Gabriel, an insolent sneer on its distorted face.

“Wissard,” it hissed, revealing inhumanly sharp teeth—several rows of them.

“Hunter,” Gabriel returned. He readied himself, though his water and moon magic seemed unequal to dealing with a creature like this. The books in the House Phel library, at least the legible ones, were short on spells for martial application. Under the table, he loosened his sword in its scabbard, a far more reliable defense.

“You know what I am. Good. I ssseek a familiar, on behalf of the Convocation. Have you ssscented one?” It pushed the coin toward him with a sharp, curving claw.

“This place reeks of sweat and ale,” Gabriel replied. “I’m sure any good familiar would turn tail and hide in their room.”

The hunter sniffed the air all the while Gabriel spoke, barely listening. “You have no familiar.”

“Unfortunately, no. I am but a minor wizard.” Gabriel drew more moon reflections around himself, just in case any of his power leaked through. On the advantage side of being a moon-based water wizard, it was a quiet magic, and often overlooked.

The hunter fixed one ochre eye on him—the length of its snout making looking forward with both eyes at once impossible—and made an unpleasant choking sound. Laughter? “Why are you here, wissard?”

Gabriel gestured at his cleaned plate. “Best mushroom gravy in all of Elal.”

The hunter eyed him for another excruciatingly long few moments. Without another word, it slunk out again, its cohorts streaming to join it, pouring out the door again like smoke. Gabriel blew out a breath, quaffed his wine, and went to his room for the night—dropping the coin, plus a few more, back in the minstrel’s basket.

 

Burned: The Scary Scene

Our scariest book or scariest scene...Weeeeeeeell, I'm not a horror writer so I reckon I have to go with the scariest thing to me, which is reclaiming your sense of self and your soul's strength after enduring an emotionally abusive relationship. To that end, I'd have to say the first book in my Immortal Spy urban fantasy series, The Burned Spy is probably the scariest...emotionally.

In the clip below, we have a classic moment of power disparity being abused between Jörmungand (yep, the Norse World Serpent in humanoid form) and Bix the Gatekeeper. She's broken free of his thrall, but not the god himself. They're in a nightclub. She has no idea he's there until... 

From THE BURNED SPY, Immortal Spy Book 1

Bix headed for the railing overlooking the raucous floor show.

“You reek of Greek,” hissed a too familiar and unwelcome voice.

Her stomach lodged in her throat. “Go away, Jör.”

“You’re under contract with my pantheon.” He trailed a finger up and down her arm. “I want to know why there’s an archangel in our embassy.”

“First, my contract is with your sister. You’re just a witness.” She slanted away from him and drew her shoulder up to her ear. “Second, it’s a condo, not an embassy. Third, fuck off.”

He spread his arms to either side of her, pinning her against the railing. “Hel wants an update on your progress.”

The darkness rippled along her spine. This time, she didn’t fight it as it tore out the back of her dress.

Jör’s eyes widened. He tipped her over the railing until her feet no longer touched the ground, one hand heavy on her nape, the other firm on her hip. She bucked against his grip, but he held her fast.

Fear, thick and heavy weighed her down as every eye in the bar fixed on her. Shame stilled her thrashing and burned her cheeks.

The darkness retracted.

“Finally,” Jör whispered.

Light sizzled and burst.

Jör skidded across the floor in a trail of smoke. A friendly hand grabbed Bix’s feet and pulled her back to the surety of solid ground. Her date wrapped his arm firmly around her waist and hauled her up against his side. An orb of raw electricity crackled in his palm.

She tried to stop quaking. Couldn’t.

Jör regained his feet and smirked. His tongue lashed out and extinguished the smoldering of his chest pocket. He causally doffed his nonexistent hat to Ashtad, even as his gaze shifted to her. His lips moved. She didn’t need to hear his voice to know his words.

“Tick, tock.”

What an asshole, right?  Don't worry, part of Bix's character growth in the book is about no longer being a victim. For more about the Immortal Spy Urban Fantasy Series, click here!

Everyone loves a clown,,,

So the subject for this week is What's the scariest thing you've ever written.

Well, first and foremost, I'm a horror writer. It's what I do. I drink coffee and I write scary things. Just off the top of my head there's  the BLOOD RED series of vampire novels, CHERRY HILL (Haunted asylum), HARVEST MOON (witches and curses), The SERENITY FALLS trilogy (small towns, curses and worse) THE HAUNTED FOREST TOUR with Jeff Strand (Jurassic Park with monsters), The GRIFFIN & PRICE BOOKS (Small town crime and monsters), any number of short stories that could qualify,  BOOMTOWN (Weird Western Horror), UNDER THE OVERTREE (Puberty and monsters), the CHRIS CORIN Chronicles (Lovecraftian horror) and DEEPER (sea monsters and ghosts). There's a plethora of books. and tat doesn't include my work for Roleplaying Games or comic books. 

So. yeah kind of my forte. 

I'm going to set all of those aside, however, because the one that seems to disturb people the most is my novel SMILE NO MORE, and the main character of the tale, Rufo the Clown.

Now, Rufo has been around for a while. he first showed up in Grease painted Smile, a tale written specifically for a friend of mine who invited me to a Halloween party where the price of admission was a scary story. Said friend confessed to me at one point that he suffers from coulrophobia, a deep and abiding fear of clowns. I mean, how could I not write a story just for him? 

I have to say, I still like the opening paragraph of the tale: I remember the long lashes, the startling blue eyes, the thick, dark hair, and the red, red lips drawn back in a wide, friendly smile. but mostly I remember the bloodstained teeth.

He liked it so much that he bought it for his online magazine the Stillwaters Journal. The tale is a first-person story of a man who has multiple encounters with Rufo the clown throughout his life. It doesn't end well for him.

after that, when I needed another clown in the SERENITY FALLS trilogy, I used Rufo again, with an entire carnival of dead clowns and hauntings. And te response? Well, several people suggested I employ Rufo in his own tale. So I did.

Know what's funny to me? There are a lot of people with a fear of clowns. I mean, I had NO IDEA. I have never been afraid of clowns. Not even for a few seconds. 

So I had to come up with enough of a tale to make a full novel about an undead, insane clown with a penchant for extreme violence who happens to have a very twisted sense of morality and justice.   

The back cover text: There's nothing quite like a circus. The Carnivale de Fantastique is an acrobatic and musical phenomenon, a show based on the legends of a circus that vanished mysteriously half a century ago. Every season the numbers grow, the merchandising expands and the ticket sales explode. This year things are a little different. This year the star of the show was murdered and shipped to the next city in a cardboard box. This year the acts are running into all sorts of troubles, and even the police and the F.B.I. are trying to figure out what's causing all the troubles. Once upon a time there was a kid named Cecil. He ran away, joined the circus and then got murdered for his troubles. Fifty years later, he clawed his way out of Hell, found the people who killed him and his circus and had his bloody revenge. Since then he's been trying to find something to do with his time and now he's heard about the Carnivale de Fantastique, a show based on the disappearance of the circus he traveled with. Of course it's not a traditional circus. This one has acrobats and dancers and actors and a story. It's only missing one thing and it's just not funny. When in doubt, send in the clowns.

I tend to think it's an interesting take. I also tend to think it's one of the most violent stories I've ever told, and I am pleased with the number of people who apparently developed a serious problem with clowns while reading the story and simultaneously I am delighted by the number of people who found themselves rooting for the clown and were then disgusted with themselves.

Listen, anytime as an artist, you manage to elicit an emotion of any kind, you've done your job. I'm good with fear, but the guilty reaction? That's an extra tip of the hat. 

Rufe has also been popular enough to have his own fan following, which is about as flattering as it gets.

Not So Scary

 

This week's topic is our scariest book or book with the scariest scene. I don't feel like I write anything super scary. Intense, perhaps, and slightly evil, but not scary. At least it isn't to me. I may be a poor judge since it's my own work, but I'm definitely no horror writer. 

For me, the scariest thing to write was in The Witch Collector. I can't say what that scene is without spoiling things, but the imagery certainly gave me eerie vibes. It takes place in an enchanted frozen forest and involves an unexpected occurrence that endangers the main characters. While the book has a romantic subplot, the main plot takes a few turns into darker territory.

If you're curious, you can snag The Witch Collector now. There's even a hardback available for pre-order and there's a Goodreads giveaway going on through 10/31.

Here's the blurb:

Every harvest moon, the Witch Collector rides into our valley and leads one of us to the home of the immortal Frost King, to remain forever.

Today is that day—Collecting Day.

But he will not come for me. I, Raina Bloodgood, have lived in this village for twenty-four years, and for all that time he has passed me by.

His mistake.

Raina Bloodgood has one desire: kill the Frost King and the Witch Collector who stole her sister. On Collecting Day, she means to exact murderous revenge, but a more sinister threat sets fire to her world. Rising from the ashes is the Collector, Alexus Thibault, the man she vowed to slay and the only person who can help save her sister.

Thrust into an age-old story of ice, fire, and ancient gods, Raina must abandon vengeance and aid the Witch Collector or let their empire—and her sister—fall into enemy hands. But the lines between good and evil blur, and Raina has more to lose than she imagined. What is she to do when the Witch Collector is no longer the villain who stole her sister, but the hero who’s stealing her heart?

The Witch Collector is book one in a thrilling romantic fantasy trilogy, perfect for fans of Naomi Novik, Sarah J. Maas, and Jennifer L. Armentrout.

***

"If you like your fantasy with complex magic, an intriguing protagonist, a powerful romance, and a great cast of supporting characters, I highly recommend The Witch Collector. Charissa Weaks's high-stakes storytelling will leave you waiting eagerly for the next installment." — Juliet Marillier, award-winning author of the Warrior Bards series

A romantic, fraught and fantastic journey through war-torn lands and a deliciously malevolent enchanted forest. I loved the voiceless heroine who wields magical sign language and the tormented hero determined to keep her alive and save an empire. Welcome to a compelling new fantasy world and a truly epic tale!

~ Jeffe Kennedy, award-winning author of The Forgotten Empires and Dark Wizard

"The Witch Collector is a magical, enchanting, fantasy romance whose pages are filled with threads of love, loss, and healing. Highly, highly recommended for anyone who loves fantasy romance, fantasy with strong female leads, unique magic systems, and beautiful writing." — Alexia Chantel/AC Anderson, Author of The Mars Strain

I hope you have a blessed All Hallows Eve and a great week leading up to it!

Banned Book Week: Censorship

Nobody likes the notion of censorship. Artists of all kinds knee jerk when we hear the word. Yet we'd all probably agree there are bridges too far. Lies too egregious. Charissa and KAK mulled over the difference between censorship and quashing disinformation. Jeffe considered how we as writers censor ourselves. Alexia looked at how characters censor their worlds. 

I'm here to challenge you to consider the potential career benefits to being censored. Or, at least, having someone *attempt* to censor your book(s). I'm willing to bet you can rattle off a list of books that have been banned at one time or another. 

* To Kill a Mockingbird
* 1984
* Harry Potter (all of them)
* Animal Farm
* Fahrenheit 451 (our dose of irony)

I'm also willing to bet you've read several of these books and can name the authors for most of them. Why? I attribute it to spite. What happens when someone attempts to ban a book? Usually, it's some well-meaning, if ill-advised parent trying to protect a kid. This parent (or many of them) aren't just okay with opting their child out of reading the book. Instead, they decide no child should read the book and try to erase it from libraries, schools, and stores. 

You know what happens next. Maybe no kid was excited about the school reading list, but now. NOW. You've just told them they *can't* read something. That book flies off the shelves. The media gets involved. The author's name and book title are bandied about on national TV and discussed on major radio shows. And here's the kicker. It doesn't matter whether the conversation is critical or complimentary. It's free marketing. 

Is it possible that a book deserves to be banned? Most of us remember what it was like when Amazon finally went after the people writing pedophile porn. Not many of us would defend those books. I guarantee none of them show up in Banned Book Week. Banned book week is an awareness campaign undertaken by the American Library Association and Amnesty International. Bookstores across the US participate in the event, featuring recently and historically banned books. High schools and colleges across the land hold challenges for reading banned books that week. 

Moral of my rant: Censorship = bad. Until censorship = not so bad when it puts a dent in active, demonstrable harm or criminal activity. But even if the worst happened and your book was banned? You'd very likely be crying all the way to the bank.

How do our characters censor their world?

 I’m with Charissa on this topic…hmmm, f*ck. Instead, let’s all sit and watch Geralt together, shall we? 

That would be far more entertaining than discussing censorship. It’s both good and bad…which is also a bit like Geralt. Censoring is a benefit and hinderance in our society because it all depends on the personal opinions of who holds the power. And like the rulers The Witcher comes across, benevolence never seems to be the driving force behind what’s censored. 

To an extent, anyone with power/responsibilities censors what is revealed or passed down the chain. So, how do our characters censor what’s around them? 

Choosing an action based on personal goals is human. Choosing an action based on the good of others is heroic. And that’s why we write our characters with a mix of human and heroic traits. 

Who wants to read about a Captain America who never errs? He’s the good guy who will censor the bad guys to protect the innocent…until Cap’s intentions cross the line and his censoring ends up hurting people. 

We want to read about the ones who save the day, but we don’t want them to be perfect because then we can’t see ourselves in them. And as a writer you want your reader to connect with your MCs and be able to imagine themselves in their shoes. 

No, this isn’t anything new. But bring bits and pieces of the real world into your writing and give your characters flaws. Let those characters with power censor away, and give your MCs the power to deflect or protect.

And now, let’s all go watch Geralt!

Seriously, if you haven’t read this series and are into high fantasy…HERE!!

What Would You Write If You Weren't Afraid?

 

 I'm working away on my novella for the FIRE OF THE FROST midwinter holiday fantasy romance anthology! The story takes place in the Bonds of Magic world more or less at the same time as the events in DARK WIZARD. You can preorder now for the December 2 release!

    

Also, this is really cool! THE ORCHID THRONE is on this amazing Book Riot list: 20 OF THE BEST ENEMIES-TO-LOVERS FANTASY BOOKS. Fair warning! This list might have you click-buying. It sure did for me. 

At the SFF Seven this week we're talking censorship. Charissa and KAK already provided excellent discussions of the difference between censorship and blocking disinformation and hate. So, I'm going to take the topic in a slightly different direction, which is looking at the ways we censor ourselves. 

A perennial problem for writers - perhaps for all creatives - is getting rid of the other voices in our heads. Something new authors often seem to ask is how to write about topics their families consider off limits for one reason or another. They can be concerned about dealing with sexual topics or gender-related ones, politics, family secrets, etc. It's not easy to free ourselves to write when there's that persistent worry that someone we love will read it and be angry. And so we censor ourselves, sometimes consciously, sometimes unconsciously. 

On a larger scale, we live in an era of loud voices. In an attention economy, where businesses thrive or fail based on clicks, the loudest, most persistent voices can be the most lucrative. This kind of environment isn't conducive to the silence creatives need in order to coax new art into being. Those loud voices can drown out the quiet whispers of something fragile and newly born to the world. The voices can also leak into our thoughts and dictate what we should and shouldn't write. Thus we censor ourselves, killing those new sprouts before we even have time to discover what they are.

What's the solution? There are no easy answers. I can offer that I have a poster hanging over my desk, one I made myself. It says:

What would you write if you weren't afraid?

I look at it often when I hesitate, when voices leak into my head, when I start worrying about the final story and how it will be received. It keeps me going. 

Write through the fear. You can always edit later.