CREATURE FEATURES by Juliet Waldron

Several years ago I decided to begin to write a story centered around a creature. By doing that, I knew I was entering a crowded, expert field that had been successfully creating vampires and werewolves, witches, and all the rest of the occult cousinage for many, many years.

Wiki Commons Source

 

Still, why not? I had had a notion to write a sequel to Red Magic. Unlike the other novels I’ve written which are full-on historical fiction, Red Magic  was cross-genre in at least four ways, because there are elements of fantasy, history and adventure as well as the old-fashioned romance at the core. Moreover, if you end a story with the birth of fraternal twins-- in this case, a girl and a boy--there is an obligation to write a follow-up around them. It’s an ancient story-teller's convention, probably well-established by the time the Greeks dreamed up Apollo and Diana.   

 

Okay, so all well and good, but almost immediately I was stuck again. The tall, dark hero and his red-headed sister I already knew something about—their loves, loyalties and a few of their day-to-day human problems. The question remained: into exactly what sort of creature would my hero morph?

Personally, vampires alarm me. It seems to me there are enough scary people in the real world who fit into this category without making up fictional ones who are going to (somehow) become the love interest. On the other hand, I’ve always had a soft spot for werewolves, but there sure are a lot of them howling at the moon already.

I decided to step back a pace. Why not try something less limiting? Going after the all-encompassing “shape-shifter” idea seemed a way to make an unusual hero who wasn’t boxed into a particular set of conventions, such as drinking blood or only being active after dark. If the hero/creature could become different animals, his metamorphosis could be different every time, which would definitely give my imagination a work-out. Like the boy Wart in The Sword in the Stone, my hero could sometimes be a carnivore and sometimes a herbivore, sometimes four-legged, sometimes winged, as the need and/or inclination arose.

I'm nearing the completion of Black Magic now. If I can just keep my "fanny in the chair," it should be done within the next month and ready for a stern edit. For me, it's been quite an experience, a crazy road trip out of my usual historical writer's comfort zone. 

More about all my books at:

 

http://www.julietwaldron.com

http://www.facebook.com/jwhistfic

http://www.bookswelove.net/julietwaldron

 

    

 

Connie Vines was wondering, "Do fictional characters Pick-up the Habits of the Writer?"

Do Fictional Characters Pick-up the Habits of the Writer?

Saturday,  June 28, 2014

Years agoI located an article about Margaret Mitchell, the author of Gone with the Wind.  Apparently, there was a great deal of press about how she hid sections of her novel beneath couch cushions, this was her very first novel etc. All of these statements may have a ring of truth but Margaret Mitchell was a journalist. 

Whether you agree or disagree with the premise of the Pulitzer Prize winning book or the screenplay or the resulting Academy Award Winning Picture, you cannot argue the fact she created exceptionally real characters.   It has been nearly 80 years since the book was published and nearly everyone in the U.S. (and who knows how many other countries) recall ‘something’ about Scarlett and Rhett.

Interviews tell us that MM would sit in front of a mirror and watch how her earrings (earbobs) moved to help in her descriptions.  She said she had every detail in her mind before she sat down at the typewriter. She also had relatives who lived during the era of the Civil War.

In MM’s case this may have been true. Her character may have been pieces of herself and her life.

However, in my case, I’m not so sure this is the case. 

Yes, my heroines and I may have many of the same interests.  Rachel Scott, my heroine in Lynx, Rodeo Romance Book 1, has many of my physical attributes at her age.   Amberlynn Maddox, my heroine in Brede, Rodeo Romance Book 2, is knowledgeable about Native American works of art. 

(These are WIP that I plan to pitch to my wonderful publisher: Books We Love.  Surprise!)

However, in one of my current WIP, Here Today, Zombie Tomorrow, I seem to be picking up Meredith, my heroine’s habits.  I am beginning to wear disposable latex gloves when I wash my hair (why, I don’t know).  I keep a food diary online and I carry on conversations with Siri (which is very difficult to do).  And, lastly (I hope), I keep purchasing hand lotion.  Do I need all this hand lotion?  No I have a place to store extra hand lotion (besides my desk at my day gig)? No.  Will I keep purchasing hand lotion?  I hope not.

Now on to my anthology, Gumbo Ya Ya—for women who like romance Cajun & Men HOT & SPICY.  Five stores in one book.  Doesn’t this mean 5 times the crazy habits for me?  It would seem so.  Beignets and café au lait, should I be having these type of dreams?  Perfume, I’m obsessed with perfume and I’m worried about gators.  Seriously?  I live in SoCal.  I really don’t think the L.A. river is going to become infested with gators in the next, say . . .million years or so. Then there’s the heroine who works in day time TV.  Well, I do have the beginnings of a three-act play on my hard drive.

Anything else?  Time Travel to the 16^th century and werewolves (contemporary)--so far, nothing to report on those two topics. Which is good news to me.

Now, Rand Rodeo Romance Book 3, oh, boy—do I have stories to tell!

Thank you for stopping by to read my guest post to the Books We Love Blog.

Happy Reading,

Connie Vines

(Go to: About.me/ConnieVines ornovelsbyconnievines.com for more info)

A taste of the Middle Ages, by Vijaya Schartz

People in the Middle Ages seemed much closer to nature than we are today. Surrounded by forests, they bathed in rivers, or communal baths in castles before dining, in order to allow the guests to clean the dust of the roads and meet each other before the banquet. Did I mention that the baths were for both genders at the same time. Of course, that was in France, before the Catholic Church slammed down on public nudity... which later led to the spread of diseases.

This kind of research is fascinating. I had to visit the castles of Forez and speak with the curators of each museum to find out about all these details of early medieval life. Hope you enjoy discovering them in my latest release.

Here is an excerpt of Chatelaine of Forez, set in France in the eleventh Century, from the Curse of the Lost Isle medieval fantasy romantic series. The heroine is bathing in a sacred spring. Enjoy!

CHATELAINE OF FOREZ:

http://amzn.com/B00I3T9VYG

Only $2.99 in kindle 

Chapter One

March 1028 AD - Forez (now in central France)

Melusine stopped singing and shuddered in the cool water. Someone was coming. Fast approaching hooves trampled the underbrush. She straightened and gripped the well worn sides of the rectangular stone basin. Birds and insects had ceased their chirping. Through the trees, a single horseman on a black stallion galloped up the forested path to the sacred spring where she bathed.

How had he crossed the magic barrier she'd erected down the hill? Could he be an immortal like her?

She glanced at her blue robes, left in the middle of the clearing, at the foot of the tall, standing stone hugging the statue of the Great Goddess. Too far away. No time to step out of the catch basin and retrieve them. With a flurry of the hand, she wove a quick invisibility spell and willed the water around her to still.

Her heart stumbled for a beat or two. This could be the blessed day the Great Goddess had promised her. The day she finally met her former beloved... Sigefroi. Although, in his new incarnation, he wore another name.

The horseman emerged from the curtain of trees, impossibly tall, dark, muscular, in black leather gear, a crossbow across his back. A sword slapped his thigh, and a hunting knife adorned his belt. Half a dozen bloody hares hung from the back of his saddle. Definitely not her beloved Sigefroi. What now?

The stranger glanced at her, raised a dark brow and nodded a salute from the saddle. A restrained smile touched his lips. How could he possibly see her through the invisibility spell? But he'd already crossed her privacy barrier. Fae blood definitely coursed through his veins.

Melusine shrunk into her chilly bath, dreading to face him naked.

It could be worse. It could be the first Wednesday of the month, when the curse made her a serpent from the waist down. In this increasingly Christian land, discovery in ondine form could cost her to burn at the stake.

Since the local Christians avoided Pagan shrines, however, the stranger must be of the old faith.

She took a deep breath and made her voice as formidable and intimidating as she could. "Who dares violate the sacred spring of the Great One?"

"Count Artaud of Forez." The deep baritone rang loud and clear.

Melusine's heartbeat faltered. Not an immortal, but worse. "Artaud of Forez?"

"I own this land, and methinks you are the one trespassing." He dismounted with surprising agility for his size, sliding off the saddle like an acrobat.

Melusine scrutinized the young man. According to the Goddess, Artaud had inherited the soul of her late Sigefroi, but how could it be, when they looked like opposites. Where Sigefroi had been wiry and fair, with gold reddish hair and a clear gaze, Artaud had broad shoulders, straight black hair, a hale face, and a dark, brooding gaze, as deep as a lake on a moonless night. Both looked fearsome, but in different ways.

Count Artaud led his prancing stallion closer to the large rectangular basin where she bathed.

Dear Goddess! Heat crept up Melusine's cheeks. She gathered her legs and encircled her knees with her arms for modesty. "How dare you!"

"My horse is thirsty." His voice held a subtle challenge.

The black stallion snorted as its master freed him. The beast drank noisily from the far end of the long basin.

Count Artaud cast her a sidelong glance, his swarthy, square face unreadable. "The Great One would want to quench an animal's thirst."

"Only a Pagan would know the Great One respects all creatures as equal." Melusine kept her voice even, but anger gripped her insides. How could this Artaud hold the soul of her beloved? He was a cold, dark stranger, not her fiery knight of old.

His brow shot up. "I fear you have me at a disadvantage, my lady. I have never seen you at court or on my estates. Who might you be?"

Although she'd known they would soon meet, Melusine had no ready answer. An ondine? A cursed immortal? The woman you are destined to marry? The love of your past life? The enchantress who might bring your doom? She couldn't find words he might accept, even less understand. While she remembered their lifetime together, he did not.

No sympathy softened the neutral face as his dark stare pierced her. He removed his black leather gloves and sat on a jutting stone next to the well worn edge of the old basin. "Devil got your tongue?"

Visions of hellish creatures flashed upon Melusine's mind at his mention of the devil. Christians believed in the devil... and Christians wanted her dead.

"Melusine..." She cleared her choking voice. "My name is Melusine."

She fancied her first name innocuous enough. Better than Melusine the Fae, immortal, cursed by the Great One, excommunicated First Lady of Luxembourg, the love and the bane of your past existence.

"Lady Melusine..." He rolled the words on his tongue. His dark, liquid eyes softened and unfocused slightly. "An unusual name for an unusual woman."

"‘Tis an ancient name, my lord." Tempted to prod his mind and find out what he thought of her, she stopped herself. If he could see through her spells, and Fae blood coursed through his veins, like Sigefroi, he would be impervious to her magic... but not to her charms.

Changing tactic, she smiled and relaxed against the hollowed stone basin, exposing her submersed nudity through the clear water. "I hear you have done well, Lord Artaud. Your lands of Lyon and Forez thrive, and your people consider you a fair and wise ruler."

He cast her a sidelong glance, then shifted his gaze to the statue of the Great One dominating the clearing. The quenched black stallion walked away a few paces and grazed the luscious grass of the hillock.

Awe widened his eyes as he faced her again. "What else have you heard about me?"

Although Melusine had kept her promise not to spy on Artaud, she knew a few things about him. "The river gold makes you richer than any king. So does the trade on the pilgrimage road to St Jacques of Compostella. Travelers speak highly of your hospitality."

Bird trills and the chirping of insects had resumed, and the sweet scent of wild flowers filled the air with vibrant life.

"What you hear is true." He faced her but kept his gaze at eye level. "I'm also a Pagan count ruling over Christian barons. That alone can get you killed these days."

"Then we have much in common, my lord." Melusine smiled seductively. "Only a devout Pagan would visit the sacred spring and the shrine of the Great One. Why else would you come here?"

He barely cracked a thin smile. "To water my horse."

His jest bothered her. So did his cool response to her charms. Hard as she tried, Melusine could not see in this man any remnant of her past love.

Had she waited these few decades for naught? Had the Great One tricked her? No. The Great One never lied. Still, even though Melusine did not intend to share this stranger's fate, she should warn him of the dangers threatening his rule.

She trailed her fingers on the water surface, blurring it. "This hill is not just a sacred shrine from time immemorial, Lord Artaud."

His dark gaze alighted upon her with a new spark of interest. "State your meaning."

"‘Tis the site of your future castle of Montarcher."

Suspicion narrowed his eyes. "How do you know of my future designs?"

Melusine's heart skipped a beat. "The Great One sees and knows all, my lord. You must build your castle in haste to face the coming dangers."

A muscle in his square jaw jumped. "What dangers?"

"Your enemies are gathering." Melusine didn't know the future, only that Artaud would need help. "Many envy your riches, my lord. Others resent your faith. But from here, you can fend them off."

"Why here?" His tone held curiosity.

Melusine straightened and gazed in the distance. She was destined to protect him, but she felt naught for this stranger. "This is a sacred site, my lord. From here, the statue of the Great One will bless and protect all your lands."

His brow rose and his eyes softened but still stared at her. "Truly?"

Melusine shrank under his scrutiny, wishing she wore clothes. "Truly, my lord."

"Thank you for the warning, my lady." He rose and whistled. His stallion trotted up to him. In one light vault, Artaud landed in the saddle.

Melusine's heart jumped. Had she done right, or had she spoiled everything? In any case, she must speak with the Great One. There must be a mistake. She could never love this dark, brooding man. He was not her long lost love.

HAPPY READING.

Vijaya Schartz

Blasters, Swords, Romance with a Kick

http://www.vijayaschartz.com

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/vijayaschartz 

FB: https://www.facebook.com/vijaya.schartz
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Vijayaschartz  

Tricia McGill’s Other Passion

I have two major awards sitting on a shelf in my home. One is the Romance Writers of Australia’s Romantic Book of The Year which I won in 2003 for Traces of Dreams; now republished at Books We Love as Remnants of Dreams. The other award is The Family & Community Support Award I received in 2008. It was given in recognition of my “valuable contribution” to my local community.

My husband died suddenly just months before our 40^th year together. He was my staunchest supporter of my writing but sadly didn’t live to see my first book published. Only those who have lost a dear partner or husband will know the feeling of absolute wretched loneliness that engulfs you once the initial grieving period eases. It was then I looked for some interest outside my circle of friends and family and came upon the wonderful organisation I have volunteered with now for over 14 years.

So it is that my spare time away from my writing is taken up with my community work. We provide computer equipment and subsidised wireless internet connection at a very reasonable fee to disabled or housebound people on low-incomes. We help a wide range of people from all ages who have a variety of disabilities and illnesses. No matter what, they are an amazing and inspirational lot.

Just as an example we have one lady who is 92. Her husband was disabled by a massive stroke, but could type using one finger. Bert was a writer and over the years had penned many short stories and a few poems by hand. He would then painstakingly type them up using his one usable finger and his wife would edit them (after a fashion). That’s where I came in. I edited these amazing stories which told the story of his life mainly. In due course I collated his stories along with others from the people in our program and edited then published them. We eventually ended up with three books of their stories, comments and poems. Unfortunately Bert passed away some years ago but his wife still uses her computer and emails me regularly. 

 

             Find Tricia McGill’s books at Books We Love here:              

http://bookswelove.net/mcgill.php

Remnants of Dreams is available here on Kindle: 

 http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00IA1XZ94

 

Remnants of Dreams moves from the horrors of the 1914-1918 war to the 1990s, and paints an unforgettable picture of a changing world and of working class people in North London whose only riches are love and the knowledge that they did their best.

Alicia's indomitable spirit sustains her and her large family through two wars, illness, death and loss. From her mother's example Sara finds the courage to escape an intolerable situation and forge a new life in a new country. 

 

Mystic Mountains (Settlers book 1) available here on Kindle:

 http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00EFE5UL6

In the early 1800s the penal colony of Botany Bay was an unforgiving and harsh place. Isabella O'Shea is transported to New South Wales for wounding a member of the British aristocracy who raped her, so it is understandable that she loathes members of the upper class and the system that punished her; sentenced her to seven years transportation. 

Tiger Carstairs is rich, ambitious and English-so is it any wonder she is determined to hate her new master. Tiger dreams of making a new life beyond the aptly named Blue Mountains, so called because of the perpetual haze of blue surrounding them. 

Mystic Mountains is a story of courage and persistence-traits that were essential for the settlers who carved out a new life in a raw land where suffering and heartbreak were commonplace. 

Isabella and Tiger face tragedy and many hardships in their quest for a new life in this untamed land.

Distant Mountains (Settlers book 2) coming soon at Books We Love.

It's a Dirty Job...

By Jenna Byrnes

Research can be so tedious. Long hours spent on the computer, checking and double checking facts.

But I digress... which I do easily, when I'm researching online. It doesn't take much at all for me to wind up looking at pictures when I'm supposed to be checking facts. Not just those pictures. Lighthouses, inns, prisons, small towns, names -- I love looking through lists of names!

I think back to the olden days when a person had to go to the public library to look something up. I used to digress there, too, wandering up and down the aisles looking for titles that piqued my interest. I stumbled upon Go Ask Alice at the library, and I must have read it a dozen times or more. What that has to do with this post, I have no idea. My mind associates it with the library, I guess. I continue to digress, and yes, I like that word.

Before we had the library, most of my research was done in the set of encyclopedias my parents bought--or should I say, started to buy. The version in my house ended when JFK was president, so I had to guess about anything that happened after 1962-ish. The books were better than nothing, and I remember thinking my family was lucky to even have them.

The internet has made 'research' more accessible to the masses. Of course, you have to know what to believe (If it's on Wiki, it must be true?) And you have to know where to look. Occasionally when I get a little too technical with my keywords, I open up a whole 'nother world of stuff I might never have known existed. Sometimes, I use that back button on the browser and scoot right out of there. But sometimes, like a train wreck, I just have to look. Before I know it, my writing time is over, and not a lot has been accomplished.

Bottom line, research is not my favorite pastime. I do what I have to do, but try not to get mired down in the muck.

*sigh* 

-------------------

Catch my spicy "Hot Under the Collar" m/m boxed set of erotic romance on sale now for only $1.99. Seven complete novellas and one short story, no cliffhangers!

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00IP1NL3E

~ Jenna Byrnes, Page Scorching Erotic Romance

www.jennabyrnes.com

http://bookswelove.net/jennabyrnes.php