Across the Plain of Shining Books

Michelle Miles: One Knight Only

2012-02-23T00:01:00.005-05:00

Michelle Miles found her love of writing buried in the fantasy books of Patricia A. McKillip and the beautiful romances of Victoria Holt. It wasn’t until her high school years she decided to take up the pen and try her hand at writing. She created faraway lands, space adventures, and even princesses who just wanted to be saved. Never learning to plot, she always believed that jumping in feet first was the way to go and has since become a self-proclaimed Pantser, writing sexy contemporaries, and sizzling paranormals, and sweeping fantasies.

A Native Texan, she loves hockey, football, baseball, drinking coffee, cross-stitching, and shopping for shoes and Coach handbags. You can read her daily antics at her blog, Ye Olde Inkwell. Michelle is also a regular contributor to Pop Culture Divas and Plotting Princesses.

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Welcome to Across the Plain of Shining Books, Michelle. So you’re a native Texan. Where are you from?

Born in Dallas, Texas. Raised in Mesquite. And now living in Fort Worth. I love my state.

What sparked your interest in writing?

When I was young, I remember reading two books that made me want to write: Patricia A. McKillip’s The Forgotten Beasts of Eld and Victoria Holt’s Paradise Island. Those two books really struck something in me and stayed with me forever. I remember thinking, "I want to write like that." I wanted to write stories that were unforgettable. I think I wrote my first novel when I was 15 on notebook paper. After that, my best friend and I would write and illustrate our own comic books, plus I wrote a lot of fan fiction. I stopped for a while but then picked it back up again seriously about 11 years ago.

What components, in your opinion, makes a great story?

Unforgettable characters and a story that sweeps you away.

What inspired you to write One Knight Only?

I’ve always been fascinated with medieval things, especially jousting tournaments. I decided one day I wanted to write a story set during a jousting tournament and set out to do that. I originally started writing this book in 2005 as a straight historical. But it never felt quite right to me and I stopped writing. I picked it back up again, rewrote the beginning and finally realized my heroine was actually from the future, the hero was really Scottish and Faeries were involved. I finally got the story underway and knew where I wanted to take it.

Faeries, Scotland, and jousting. A good mix. Was there much research involved?

I read up a lot on jousting tournaments to get all the details just right. I researched banquet, what they ate and drank, the dancing, everything. Aside from jousting itself, I did a lot of research on games in the Middle Ages. Specifically card games and dice games. Hazard is the predecessor of Craps. Playing cards were actually introduced to the Western Anglo world in the mid-1300s. The suit system we know today was adapted by the French in the fifteenth century and referred to as a French deck. Other regions had their own suits (e.g. Germany, Italy, Spain). Some of the earlier suits had cups, swords, coins, and batons; others had animals, flowers, etc.

When your first started writing, did anything about the writing process surprise you?

How hard it is. I mean, everyone things I can write a book but it takes a certain type of person to actually sit down, do it and finish it. It’s not as easy as you may think it is but totally worth it in the long run.

Do you have a set writing routine?

I work full time so finding time to write is a definite challenge. I usually pack my lunch and write on my lunch hour. My goal is 1000 in an hour and I can usually meet or exceed that. On days I don’t write during my lunch, I try to do it in the evening, but it’s hard. Especially after a long day at work, dinner to cook, homework to oversee, etc.

Do you listen to music when you write?

Sometimes. If I need to block out the TV. :) I have several soundtracks I like plus a few other instrumental things. I can’t listen to anything with words because it makes me want to sing along.

Name a few titles I’d find if I browsed through your personal home library.

All of Karen Marie Moning’s books, George R.R. Martin, Nora Roberts, and Tolkien. I like a variety of things from YA to fantasy to romance. I have books double stacked on the shelves and no more room. My TBR pile is huge.

What’s next for you? Can we look forward to a new story in the near future?

I am currently working on the sequel to One Knight Only, featuring the two Fae characters, Elyne and Derron. In the Otherworld (their world) the Unseelie Dark King is ready to invade the Seelie Court and he’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants, even murdering Elyne and her mother (the queen). This book is more on the fantasy side, chockfull of Faeries, Elves, dragons, and Fae Treasures. Maggie and Finn from the first book will also make an appearance.

My latest release, Phoenix Fire, is now available at Amazon and All Romance eBooks and is the story of a gladiatrix and her assassin lover. I have completed a new futuristic that needs to be polished for submission. It will be a new three-book series and is on the darker side. I also have a novella, Take Me I'm Yours, previously published that I’m polishing and getting ready to self-pub, so look for that soon.

Who supports your writing activities most?

My husband. He is, hands down, my biggest support and fan. He’s also my accountability partner. Whenever I finish a writing session, I always send him a text or an email or shout from the other room what my word count was. Keeps me honest.

What advice would you give an aspiring author?

Even if you think you can’t do it, if it’s something you love never stop writing. Never stop hoping, trying, striving to be better than your last book. Perseverance is key and anything is possible in this new age of publishing.

Name a few of your favorite non-writing activities.

Aside from reading, I enjoy cross-stitching. I usually have at least one project going. I also enjoy watching movies, either at home or at the theater.

Blurb for One Knight Only:

A snarky Faery princess, a Scottish knight with a gambling problem, and a murderous earl all add up to one thing: Trouble. Maggie’s medieval education never prepared her for life in the Middle Ages!

Do-gooder Maggie Chase throws her thesis out the window when she wakes up in the arms of a hot Scottish knight. When she realizes she’s somehow ended up back in time, she embraces the persona of Lady Margaret. But she may be in over her head when she realizes she has to keep the sexy knight alive during a jousting tournament in order to get back to her own time.

Sir Finian "Finn" McCullough is a gambling man and owes a very large debt to an evil earl who is after his family estate. When the beautiful and outgoing Maggie arrives in his bed, he can’t remember tupping her the night before and thinks she’s a spy for one of his neighboring clans. He intends to find her kinsman and return her safely but he can’t resist her charms, her smart mouth or her sex appeal. Instead he keeps her close, taking her with him to an important jousting tournament—one he has to win or lose his castle forever.

Excerpt:

"This is a dream," she said aloud.

It had to be, right? It wasn’t real. Because it was the only explanation her tired mind would accept. Maggie slid to the edge of the bed, her bare feet hitting the cold floor and sending a shiver up her spine. Glancing down, she wore the underwear she had changed into last night—her lacy black bra and matching panties. But where were the rest of her clothes? Her suitcase? How in the hell did she get in this bed?

Staring into the fire, she mentally retraced her steps. The car breaking down, walking in the rain, getting soaked to the bone. And then the castle on the hilltop that was there and then wasn’t there. Yes, the castle. She glanced around. Was she still in that castle now? This one was fully furnished, it seemed. Whereas the one she ended up at last night was empty. And cold. And dark.

Maybe someone found her sleeping on the floor? She’d been so tired she didn’t notice when that someone had lifted her and brought her back to a warm bed. And any minute now that someone would bring her a steaming mug of coffee.

A groan behind her made her spin around, grabbing the linen and holding it to her bosom. On the bed, a dark-haired man she had never seen before rolled onto his back. He was shirtless, showing off every ripple of muscle and fantastic pectorals, the likes of which she had never seen in her life. Smooth, hairless skin with tremendous biceps and a narrow waist disappearing into the bedding that made her imagination run away with hot fantasies.

"Ooohhhh," she breathed.

Who was this man? More importantly, where the bloody hell was she?

A soft snore escaped him and Maggie couldn’t stop staring at that beautiful chest rising and falling with every breath. His long dark hair spilled around him. And his face…

"Wow."

The word slipped out before she could stop it. His chiseled face hosted a strong square chin with a tiny indention in the center covered with a day’s growth of beard, a perfect nose, pronounced cheekbones, dark eyebrows. She propped a knee on the mattress, scooting closer to lean over him for a better look, amazed at how powerful his face appeared. Fierce. A man not to be trifled with. A man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to get it.

Maggie cocked her head to the side, enjoying her view, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. For a moment, she had forgotten the fact she was in a strange place. Her long, auburn locks cascaded over her shoulder and brushed against him. The baby-fine strands must have tickled his skin, for his eyes popped open and stared back at her.

Gorgeous silvery eyes met hers and she blinked and pulled back.

But he was faster than she. He grasped her by her upper arms and dragged her to him, placing her on his lap as his large, powerful hands gripped her hips. Maggie was completely aware of all of him now. A hot fantasy splashed through her mind as she shifted on top of him. What was under the linen was apparent between her legs. Every last inch of him. Her hands landed on his chest, her senses delighting in the warm, soft skin beneath her palms.

His gaze lingered on her face a moment before gliding down, pausing on her lace-covered breasts and then continuing his downward jaunt. He fingered the waistband of her panties, running the pad of his forefinger over first one hipbone then her abdomen and back again.

The small movement sent white-hot heat shooting through her, awaking parts of her that weren’t used to being on alert so early in the morning. Especially without a cup of coffee.

His hands moved up her sides then, desire evident in those depthless silver eyes…and the appendage on which she happened to be sitting.

"Now, lass, you best be telling me who you are and why you’re in my bed. Not that I mind, but I canna recall tupping you last eve and I always remember bonnie lasses I tup."

His deep-timbre brogue purred the words and sent a delicious rumble right through her. She resisted the urge to shudder. She loved sex-with-stranger dreams and this one was starting off with a bang.

The only thing she did know was that she was in a strange place with a very sexy man beneath her hands, straddling his lap with nothing but a breath of linen and cotton between them. It wouldn’t take much for her to remove that material and get exactly what she was feeling.

But she wasn’t the kind of girl to have sex with a stranger, was she?

I could be.

Besides, this was just a dream. She would wake up any minute in the cold, deserted castle all alone. And then she would be faced with the problem of how to get herself back to civilization. In the meantime, she could do anything she wanted in her dream. Couldn’t she?

"I certainly don’t mind being in your bed," she told him. He really was quite delicious. She ran her hands along the smooth skin of his chest and leaned toward him.

He grasped her wrists in iron fists and pushed her back. "You are the one trespassing."

How in the world could he have the nerve to look angry at her? Maggie wrenched her wrists free and sat up, crossing her arms over her chest. She could play that game too. She was good at it. Sitting on his lap, she thought, gave her a position of being in control. She glared down at him, though even she had to admit it was hard to glare at a man that looked as good as he did.

"Maybe you should tell me who you are, then?" she demanded.

The burly man gripped her hips and flipped her onto her back in one swift movement. Suddenly her position of control and power was removed as he hovered over her, pinning her against the mattress. His brawny weight pressed into her. With one hand on his shoulder, Maggie tried to push him away but he quickly captured her wrist in his big hand and held her arm above her head, thereby removing any chance she could wiggle free.

"You best not play games with me, lassie."

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One Knight Only - Available in E-book or Print from:

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Michelle’s Facebook Fan Page

Miriam Newman: The King's Daughter

2012-02-16T15:14:00.000-05:00

A Shining welcome to friend and author Miriam Newman, who is celebrating the release of the book of her heart, The King's Daughter, Part 1 of the Chronicles of Alcinia. I've read this fabulous story (among other gems written by Miriam) and can't wait to get my hands on the sequel, Heart of the Earth. The King's Daughter, currently available in e-format, will be out in print on February 27th. Hooray!

Fantasy poetry driven by myths and legends has been Miriam’s passion for as long as she can remember. She was published in poetry before catching the romance writing bug. She brings that background to her writing along with a lifelong addiction to horses, an 18-year career in various areas of psychiatric social services, and many trips to Ireland, where she nurtures her muse. Her published works range from contemporary fantasy romance to fantasy historical, futuristic, science fiction and historical romance. Currently she lives in rural Pennsylvania with a "motley crew" of rescue animals.

The Book Blurb:
Born to a dying queen and an ambitious king, Tia should inherit the throne of her island nation. Instead, her country is invaded, her parents are murdered and she is sent in chains to the land of an enemy. Consecrated to her Goddess, sworn to the service of her country, still Tia finds love in the arms of the enemy. In a time of war, what will she surrender in the name of love?

Excerpt:
There was only one direction I could look and that was down the road where we had just come. Now someone else was coming straight up the middle so that people scattered like chickens. A young, unhelmeted Omani trooper was riding down that road on a fine long-legged gray horse, bawling in a voice which did not doubt its own authority. Though I couldn’t hear the words, I knew what he was saying—troops were coming and he wanted the way cleared NOW.

I couldn’t clear the road. I was chained in it and knew my peril. There was a curve in that road and by the time they saw me, it would be too late. My only hope was that Frado would unfasten the manacles and push me off the road and for a fraction of a second I actually thought he might do it, if only to avoid trouble with the Army. He got free of a woman who had been throwing melons at his head when she ran for her life and came back beside me, but he was still in a fury and it was only to punch me in the face.

I heard the gray horse score the cobblestones, launching into a full charge. Sparks flew where his metal shoes beat on the stones as he came like evil incarnate, ears pinned and teeth bared, head snaking as he went straight for Frado. Fat as he was, Frado could by no means get over the wall on my side of the street and started to trundle to the other side and, with that, the horse was on him. He was obviously a well-trained cavalry mount and I thought the rider meant to let him savage his target. But at the last moment the trooper swung his horse just enough to clear Frado, jerked his foot from the stirrup and kicked the slaver squarely in the back at a speed just under that of a battle charge. The force was so great that it picked up that mountain of a man like a doll and deposited him face down near the opposite side of the street.

My vision had taken on the preternatural sharpness that precedes seeing nothing and I saw in heart-stopping detail the first of what seemed like a hundred horses coming around the curve at a fast canter. If I had been in better condition, I would have wondered why a number like that was coming at such speed through a country at peace, but just then I was in no condition to care. I lay there like something thrown on the midden heap.

That point man didn’t have the job, though, because he was slow or stupid. I heard the noise of his horse coming back and saw a boy no older than myself with a shining mane of chestnut hair already dropping from his trotting mount and running towards me with the horse close behind. With no time to spare, he clucked his horse over me in the position a war horse takes to shield a fallen rider, dropped the reins and threw himself on top of me. He was protecting me with his body, arms curled over my head, pulling my face into his chest, so I saw little of what followed, but I heard it: the tremendous din of all those horseshoes, riders cursing, horses snorting in surprise, and the squealing and kicking of the horse over top of us. That boy was holding me like a lover and I could feel from his involuntary shudders that he was inches from death, but he never moved and neither did his horse. The troopers didn’t want to kill their own man and horses listen to each other better than they do to us, so between the efforts of riders and the violence of the gray horse trying to save his rider the line shifted and passed and I was still alive.

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The King's Daughter - The Chronicles of Alcinia - Part 1

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Kathryn Fitzmaurice: A Diamond in the Desert

2012-02-15T00:01:00.002-05:00

A warm welcome to children’s author Kathryn Fitzmaurice, whose middle grade book, A Diamond in the Desert, debuts this week. Set in Arizona during World War II, A Diamond in the Desert tells the tale of a boy who played baseball while confined to a Japanese internment camp. Kathryn will be giving an autographed hardcover copy to a lucky commenter, so please be sure to leave your contact info!

Kathryn was born in New York City, but grew up in Scottsdale, Arizona. She holds a Master’s Degree in Curriculum and Instruction from Chapman University. Her favorite thing to do is walk her dog, Holly, who, she says is so smart, she can practically empty the dishwasher. She also likes organizing absolutely anything, including messy garages, closets, and even cluttered junk drawers. If she could, she would eat the same thing for lunch everyday, which would be a ham, Swiss cheese, and tomato Panini, a green apple, and a chocolate soufflé.

What sparked your interest in writing, Kathryn?

I have taken many wonderful writing classes, but my grandmother has been the greatest influence and mentor on me becoming a writer. The summer I turned 13, my mother sent me to New York City to visit my grandmother, who was a science fiction author. This was in the 70’s, when science fiction was becoming very popular. My grandmother led a very eclectic lifestyle. I remember we never did anything until late afternoon, and then we stayed up until 2 or 3am. Sometimes, we went to dinner as late as 11pm. Then when we returned, she’d sit down to write until very early in the morning. She told me she did this because the middle of the night was when people said and did things they normally wouldn’t. She had a collection of porcelain owls, because they were creatures of the night. She studied paranormal events. She discussed things like inner motivations and secret desires. She helped me to write my very first story that summer, and stayed up all night typing it so I could have a real story like she had. At thirteen, it was one of the best times I’d ever had.

She worked very hard that summer revising a novel entitled Chrysalis of Death. After listening to her discuss how she could make her characters into whomever she wanted, I decided that someday, I’d like to be a writer, too. So after I announced my decision, my grandmother proceeded to send me books about writing techniques, books by classic authors, and literary essays for every birthday and Christmas holiday after. One of my favorite books she sent me when I was deep into a teenage poetry stage was a volume of poetry written by Emily Dickinson. Inside the front cover, she wrote: "Emily Dickinson is a revered poet. Perhaps the same can be said of K.H. someday. Love, Grandma Eleanor."

When she passed away, she left me a big box with all of her unfinished manuscripts in it. The box of manuscripts has been a huge inspiration to me. One of her short stories that I found inside the box is entitled, The Lake and is about a group of zombies that take over remote area of a forest next to this lake.

So because of all of the encouragement she gave me and to honor her, I decided that when I sat down to write my own novel many years later, that I would name my main character after her and give her a grandmother very much like my own. I gave the grandmother in my story the same characteristics and even had her give a box of manuscripts to her granddaughter. In fact, because I remember her revising Chrysalis of Death the summer I visited, I decided to include it in The Year the Swallows Came Early. So on page 148, my main character and her best friend find this manuscript and talk about it, along with a few of her others stories. I included her book, Chrysalis of Death inside my book.

She never got to read even the first draft of my novel. But I did send it to her agent a few years ago, who is still alive and working in NYC. After reading my book, my grandmother’s agent made the comment that she liked how I included my grandmother’s books in my own books, and she thought my grandmother would have been very proud.

Quite a legacy. I suspect your grandmother would be incredibly proud of what you’ve accomplished with your writing. What inspired you to write A Diamond in the Desert?

I had been to a National History Day competition at my oldest son’s middle school. One of the students there had built a model of the Zenimura baseball field as it stood outside of Gila River. I asked her if I could interview her grandfather, who had played on the team while interned at Gila River. After I spoke with him, I was fascinated by the story and called the other two gentlemen on the team who also lived in California. The pitcher, who is named Tetsuo Furukawa, allowed me to interview him over the course of two years while I wrote the book. I also went to the Laguna Niguel National Archives building and ordered nine rolls of microfiche from Washington DC so I could read through all three and a half year of the Gila News Courier, which was the newspaper that was printed by Japanese Americans while they lived in Gila River. This took quite a long time, but it was necessary. After each draft of the manuscript, I would send it to Mr. Furukawa so he could read through it for accuracy. He was a tremendous help. We had many very long conversations on the telephone and then when I completed the story, I drove up to meet him. He is now in his eighties, but he remembers every thing about Gila River.

How wonderful to have such great support! What was the hardest part of the story to write?

I think the hardest part about writing this story was making sure I wrote it as accurately as possible, and from Mr. Furukawa’s point of view. I made three timelines, one of the events that occurred at Gila River, one of the major events in WWII, and one of the things that were happening in baseball in the 1940’s. Then I combined these three timelines and taped the entire thing to the wall of my home office, along with a map of Gila River and several photos of the actual players on the team. This, essentially, became my outline. Each day as I sat down to write, I would pick up where I left off. I remember when I finally completed the story, I left everything taped up for quite a while. It was sort of sad to take everything down, after spending two years with them. I wish I would’ve taken a photograph of the wall!

What was the easiest part of the story to write?

The easiest part was writing about the setting. I grew up outside of Phoenix, so I knew what the sunsets looked like. I knew what it felt like to be stung by a scorpion or find a snake in my yard, or get a clump of chollas stuck in my clothing.

Ouch! Do you have a set writing routine?

I usually try to write in the morning, most days of the week.

Do you listen to music when you write?

Sometimes. It depends on the day and what kind of mood I’m in. Right now, for example, I do not have the music on. Yesterday I did.

What do you like least about writing?

When I get to a point where I don’t know what to write next!! I hate that! So then I try to get out of the house and do something fun.

Name a few titles I’d find if I browsed through your personal home library.

I have two teenage boys, one in high school, one a freshman in college, so there are a lot of assigned classics lying around, the usual like, 1984, The Catcher in the Rye, A Separate Peace, but then there are my middle grade books stuffed into shelves, too. My favorite middle grade authors are Kate Dicamillo, Deborah Wiles, Gary D. Schmidt, and Lauren Child, though that list is constantly growing. Right now I’m reading the Newbery winner, which is fabulous.

What’s next for you? Can we look forward to a new story in the near future?

I just finished another contemporary middle grade novel entitled, Destiny, Rewritten, about an eleven year old girl named after Emily Dickinson, who is expected to become a poet, though she doesn’t like poetry at all. It’s very similar to my first novel, The Year the Swallows Came Early. This book will be published by HarperCollins and will be out in winter, 2013. Currently I am working on another contemporary middle grade book. I haven’t yet completed a first draft.

Who supports your writing activities most?

My critique group.

What advice would you give an aspiring author?

When I first started writing, I attended as many writing conferences as I could. I gave my work to my critique group and really listened to what they said. I revised and revised, until I thought the story was ready to be sent out into the world. I think anyone can get their book published if they’re committed to working on their story and telling what they know to be true.

Name a few of your favorite non-writing activities.

Walking my dog, Holly. Watching my son’s water polo games, collecting white seashells, and organizing anything that needs to be organized. I’m kind of freak about being organized. When I go to my mother’s house, I sometimes go through her kitchen cabinets and rearrange them. I also love to organize closets and garages. When I was seven years old, I used to dust the house…for fun!

Blurb for A Diamond in the Desert:

When Tetsu's family is forced to leave their home after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, the only thing he takes with him that he cares about is his baseball glove. In just one month, his world is torn apart. His father is taken away, his dog, Lefty, is given away, and he's sent with his sister, mother, and thousands of other Japanese Americans to an internment camp in the middle of the Arizona desert, The camp isn't technically a prison, but it feels like one., There's nowhere to go, and nothing to do. Until a man starts a boy's baseball team and builds a field outside the camp. Tetsu can't wait to start living and breathing his sport again. But then his sister gets dangerously sick, and Tetsu is forced to choose between his family and his love of the game.

A Diamond in the Desert is Available From:

IndieBound

Barnes & Noble

Amazon

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Lora Richards: Dee Days Mysteries for Tweens

2012-01-30T07:20:00.008-05:00

A Shining welcome to Lora Richards, author of the Tween Mystery Series, Dee Days Mysteries.

Lora lives in Southern Ontario with her two teen daughters and a Diva Dog named Chachi. She loves to spin a good mystery and hopes you enjoy her Series as much as she enjoys writing it.

Lora is offering a couple of bonuses today. Read on for the details!

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Thank you Pat for having me here today on your lovely blog.

My pleasure, Lora. Thanks for visiting. Tell us a little about yourself. Where are you from?

I am a proud Canadian living in Southern Ontario.

How would you generally categorize the books/stories you write?

I’ve been told no matter the genre, I am an emotional writer and like to evoke some type of feelings from my readers—a good laugh, a few tears, or a shiver up your spine.

Do you set your books/stories in your home town, or do you prefer more exotic locations?

With Dee Days Mysteries I use my hometown as reference. I like to be able to actually see where my story is going. So, quite often a scene in the book will be staged from a memory in my childhood.

Is there a message in your story you want readers to grasp?

Deedee is taller than all her friends, as am I. She has a hard time with kids making fun of her. There are more reasons she was picked on, but you’ll have to read the book to find out *wink*. I hope my readers will realize that clothes and differences in appearance are simply the packaging. It is inside where the treasure lies.

A good message indeed. Do you celebrate when you finish a story, and if so, how?

I allow myself the time to actually read a book from start to finish before moving on. It is great incentive for me since I was an avid reader for many years before putting pen to paper.

Do you listen to music when you write?

It depends on what I’m writing. With Dee Days I did listen to artists like Selina Gomez & Taylor Swift. It helps to put me in a younger frame of mind.

That's not a bad thing! What do you like least about writing?

Marketing. I love to interact with my readers, but having to put so much time away from my writing to market my book is not my idea of fun.

What’s next for you? Can we look forward to a new story in the near future?

I am working on Book Three of Dee Days Mysteries.

Exciting news. Who supports your writing activities most?

I’m a single mom with two of my four kids at home with me. We’re an all girl household right now and love it that way. My girls are my biggest cheerleaders!

They sound like a great support team. How can readers reach you, Lora?

Like I’ve already mentioned, I love to hear from my readers. On my website is a page titled, Where’s Lora? There you will find a comment box to contact me. I also have a weekly meme on my blog, The Weekender, where I will answer one question each week from my readers. I’d love to hear from you!

Tell us about Dee Days, Book One in your mystery series.

Twelve-year-old Deedee is much taller than her peers. This alone sets her apart, never mind the fact she is unable to participate in the latest fashion trends due to the rules set by her overly strict father. Her world is turned upside down when she meets a mysterious old lady named Isabelle in an abandoned skating arena, who enlists Deedee’s help to find her missing daughter Shawna. A series of incidents on her search have Deedee wondering if there really is such a thing as ghosts.

***Bonus*** Book Two – Dee Nights

Summer camp is so much more fun than Deedee imagined. She finally feels as if she fits in with her new group of friends, except she doesn’t know what to think of her reunion with a boy from the old neighbourhood. Odd encounters and a case of a missing purple bikini stir up all too familiar feels of not being alone.

Could it be? Was it really happening again?

Read an excerpt from both books on my blog.

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Lora's Web Site

Lora's Blog

Lora on Facebook

Lora on Twitter

Dee Days - E-book Available from MuseItUp Publishing

Purchase a copy of Dee Days from MuseItUp Publishing
from now until February 29th
and you will be automatically entered to
WIN
one of 3 Dragonfly Necklace’s just like Deedee’s

With the purchase of Dee Days you get
a complimentary copy of the 2nd book - Dee Nights

Marva Dasef: Midnight Oil and a Giveaway!

2012-01-26T00:05:00.007-05:00

A warm welcome to Marva Dasef, a writer living in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and a fat white cat. Retired from thirty-five years in the software industry, she has now turned her energies to writing fiction and finds it a much more satisfying occupation.

Marva has published more than forty stories in a number of on-line and print magazines, with several included in Best of anthologies. She has several already published books and the Witches of Galdorheim Series from her super duper publisher, MuseItUp. Her latest release is Book 2 in the series, a Tween Fantasy called Midnight Oil.

Marva is generously offering a free ebook to a lucky commenter who'll be chosen at random. Winner will be contacted no later than Sunday.

Tell us a little about yourself, Marva. Where are you from?

Well, when a mommy and daddy love each other, they kiss, then do some other things so a … oh, you didn’t mean it that way, did you?

I was born and raised in Eugene, Oregon. I spent several years in both California and Washington, but ended up back home again.

What sparked your interest in writing?

I’ve always been a writer. We used to have a set of these really great books with fairy tales, nursery rhymes, mythology, and legends. On the front inside of the cover, I wrote something that looked a bit like hieroglyphics. Clearly, I was writing something. I have no idea what since I didn’t know how to write, but I sure was eager to learn. I’d also say those volumes set the course for the genres I love to both read and write: fantasy.

How would you generally categorize the books/stories you write?

I’ve written just about every genre, but I tend to always return to fantasy. Specifically, I like humor with my fantasy, not some deadly serious chosen one/quest epic. I also target middle-grade and young adult on the lower end of the age scale.
Exotic, as one can tell from the book I’m releasing during this blog tour. I haven’t written any stories specifically set in my home town, but there are stories that could have been. While I like fantasy, I also present it within the real world. I use an Atlas to track where my characters are on earth, then I add magic to make it interesting.

How much of your writing is based on people or events familiar to you?

Few events except in my book of related short stories. They’re based on stuff my father mentioned about his boyhood in West Texas during the Depression.

As for people, I’ve included some friends as characters in my books. The main character’s mother in Witches of Galdorheim is named Ardyth for my friend and fellow writer Ardyth DeBruyn. A mystery set in eastern Oregon’s high desert has three characters based on another buddy and her grandparents. They got a kick out of seeing themselves in print.

What inspired you to write The Witches of Galdorheim series?

The first book in the series, Bad Spelling, started with the title. I had to figure out what went with it. It was an instance of waking up with the title in my mind. I immediately thought of a witch who couldn’t spell right, and it all went from there.

The second book, Midnight Oil, was another that just showed up in my head one day. I thought it should continue Kat’s story. I had set up a continuation point, Kat’s semi-dead father buried in an ice cave.

With the third book, Scotch Broom, I had the story first and had to come up with the title afterwards. This is how things usually work for writers. Story first, title later.

What was the hardest part of the series to write?

Coordinating three sets of characters to converge at the end. This required keeping three plots going, but not spending so much time with any one that the others are forgotten.

A good juggling act. What was the easiest?

Everything else. Having Bad Spelling under my belt, I knew my characters pretty well: How they act and react, how they talk.

Was there much research involved?

A lot, since I send my characters into the real world as well as magical parts of it. Within the magic, I like to use (or abuse) mythology, legends, fairy tales, and a lot of current cultural references. More than once, my research created a new aspect of the story.

Do you have a set writing routine?

Not a routine for actual writing, but I spend most of every day doing something publishing related. Matter of fact, I haven’t done much new writing at all since my first book was released from MuseItUp. Marketing takes up lots of my energy and time. I have difficulty writing if I’m searching for promotion opportunities. It’s not that I don’t have any time for writing, but I’m just distracted.

I did write a short story which is a prequel to the Witches of Galdorheim books. A lot of readers adore Kat’s brother, Rune. I started outlining Rune’s own book, but got an idea that wouldn’t fit in a book that follows the events in the other books, so I wrote the short. I handed it over to MuseItUp to give away as a bonus when people buy Bad Spelling from the MuseItUp store. I’m not sure whether it will be a giveaway with Midnight Oil. Either way, I’ll probably give away a PDF of the story as part of the blog tour.

What do you like least about writing?

Marketing.

I have to agree with that one. Name a few titles I’d find if I browsed through your personal home library.

My home library goes where I go. I’m a big fan of ebooks, so I have a ton (if they were weighed as paperbacks) on my Kindle. Some books I keep, if they’re Golden Age science fiction: Asimov, Clark, Heinlein. I’m a huge fan of Neal Stephenson’s books. I have several of his, including the entire Baroque Cycle in hardback (2400 pages of reading goodness).

I also have quite a few YA fantasy books, which I keep in the guest room. I should go see what I’ve got.

If you could go back in time, what author would you most like to invite to share a chat and a bottle of wine?

Mark Twain. No contest. I love his concise, wry style. He was a very funny guy. I’d have to ask him not to smoke his perpetual cigar, though.

I love his sayings. My favorite is, "Writing is easy. All you have to do is cross out the wrong words." Have any new authors caught your interest?

My fellow authors at MuseItUp have certainly done that. I’ve read or am in the midst of reading many of the MuseItUp books. I don’t want to list only a few, so I’ll just say look at the Author List at MuseItUp.

A couple of authors who are not Musers have impressed me. Melissa Conway and Lindsay Buroker both make me want to read whatever they write.

What advice would you give an aspiring author?

Be sure to have as clean a manuscript as you possibly can. You won’t win my favor if your book is littered with typos and incorrect word usage. That’s my thirty-five years as a technical documentation writer and manager talking. I’m an addicted proofreader. Even if your editor gives your manuscript a clean bill of health, look it over again. Did you say ‘poured over a book’ when you should have said ‘pored’? Did you spell lightning as lightening? I think words that are correctly spelled homonyms are the hardest errors to pick up.

Wise words. So, how about an excerpt from Midnight Oil?

MIDNIGHT OIL - Book 2 of the Witches of Galdorheim

Shipwrecked on a legendary island, how can a witch rescue her boyfriend if she can’t even phone home?

Kat is a nervous wreck waiting for her boyfriend's first visit to her Arctic island home. He doesn't show up, so she's sure he’s given her the brushoff.

When she learns he’s disappeared, she sets out on a mission to find him. Things go wrong from the start. Kat is thrown overboard during a violent storm, while her brother and his girlfriend are captured by a mutant island tribe. The mutants hold the girlfriend hostage, demanding the teens recover the only thing that can make the mutants human again–the magical Midnight Oil.

Mustering every bit of her Wiccan magic, Kat rises to the challenge. She invokes her magical skills, learns to fly an ultralight, meets a legendary sea serpent, rescues her boyfriend, and helps a friendly air spirit win the battle against her spiteful sibling. On top of it all, she’s able to recover the Midnight Oil and help the hapless mutants in the nick of time.

Excerpt: When Kat and Rune accompany Ivansi on the trip to Siberia to lay her father to rest, a strange storm catches them unaware.

The wind picked up until it whistled and moaned around the sturdy little craft. The waves climbed higher and rougher. The boat would rise on a wave and slam down into the next one, sending sheets of icy water cascading off each side of the bow. Kat tried to see what was ahead, but spray rattling against the windshield blurred her view. As fast as it drained off, a new wave splashed over it again. She hoped Ivansi knew what he was doing. She noticed he didn’t even bother looking at his instruments, and then she saw why—the compass spun crazily, giving no clue to their direction. Ivansi’s knuckles were white on the wheel spokes as he struggled to keep the boat headed into the wind. He kept his eyes glued to the one small area of the windshield kept clear by the wiper. Kat looked around for something to hang on to.

"Big wind," Ivansi said.

"When will it stop?" Kat yelled over the roaring wind and sea.

Nadia spoke to Ivansi, and he replied in Sami. The girl translated. "He not know. Storm not, not…" She glanced at Rune, and he supplied the word she wanted. "Natural."

Kat looked around at the whirling water. "Magic?" Kat shouted above the howl of the wind and the sound of the waves smashing against the little boat.

"I think so," Rune yelled back. "Don’t you feel it?"

"All I feel is seasick," Kat replied, her stomach lurching up and down in time with the waves.

Kat looked toward the stern and her father’s ice casket. To her horror, she saw how it lay at an angle instead of straight across the boat. One of the cleats tying down the block started to pull out of the top rail. She waved at Rune and pointed. "The ice is slipping!"

Rune and Nadia both looked back. Rune let go of the handhold. Kat knew he was going to try a spell to set it right. Another wave crashed against the boat. Rune lurched away from the bulkhead, banging his head and fell to the deck, pulling Nadia with him. He struggled to stand and grabbed the handhold again. He winced and held his hand to the side of his head, too stunned to continue his spell.

The boat slammed into another wave trough, and the block slipped a few more inches. Kat feared it would slide off the boat at any moment. She edged out of the wheelhouse and dropped to her hands and knees to avoid the worst of the wind.

Ivansi glanced in her direction. "No! Stay!" he shouted. She ignored him and continued to creep to the stern, water and wind lashing at her, holding the sides of the boat or anything else she could get a grip on.

"Don’t, Kat! You can’t do anything about it," Rune yelled. With both hands occupied keeping himself and Nadia upright, he was unable to stop her.

She looked back at her brother and saw the desperation in his eyes. "Got to try," she whispered, knowing the howling wind would whip away any words she spoke.

* * * * *

Marva’s Web Site

Marva’s Blog

Midnight Oil at MuseItUp Publishing

Midnight Oil at Amazon Kindle

Midnight Oil Book Trailer

Marva on Facebook

Marva on Google+

Twitter Handle: @Gurina

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Anne E. Johnson: Kidlit and Self-Respect

2012-01-24T09:19:00.004-05:00

This week marks the launch of a new YA anthology, called Resilience. Its purpose is use stories, poems, and essays to encourage LGBT teens to respect themselves, to help them overcome bullying and discrimination, and to be proud of their own identity. We authors, and the editor, Eric Nguyen, volunteered our time so that all proceeds could be donated to the Make It Safer Project.

You can purchase Resilience here.

The release of this anthology, and the sadly constant necessity to bolster self-confidence and self-respect in kids (not just LGBT kids), has made me think a lot about the role literature can play. There are many wonderful, moving examples of kids’ books where characters learn their own strength, and come to love how special they are.

Particularly poignant are stories about kids with troubled home lives, who overcome daily struggles to find happiness. I think the most powerful examples are those flooded the with humor and joy, making the character’s pain bittersweet rather than depressing. Linda Urban’s A Crooked Kind of Perfect and Leslie Connor’s Waiting for Normal are two tremendous examples of this approach.

And then there is the cartoonish, or fantastical, or metaphorical lesson in self-esteem. A classic is George Selden’s A Cricket in Times Square. Lost little cricket, tiny and alone at the Crossroads of the World, manages to make friends and even be a hero. Or how about Jeff Brown and Macky Pamintuan’s Flat Stanley series? Stanley gets flattened to half an inch thick. Does he give up? No! He saves the day in his special, flat way.

Some of the most affecting lessons in self-love come in the form of picture books. An extraordinary recent example of this is Claudine Gueh Yanting’s beautiful My Clearest Me, which is shows a very shy child taking flight and freeing himself through poetic imagery and richly colored paintings. And then there’s Shel Silverstein, who contributed so many illustrated poems on the topic of finding strength in what the world perceives to be our weaknesses.

I’m sure that one of the major reasons many of us write for kids is to have an impact on their lives. The impact can be huge, and it can be very positive, and need not be preachy. It can even be fun! Stories have magical potential.

* * * * *

Anne E. Johnson's novels:

Middle-grade paranormal mystery, EBENEZER'S LOCKER, MuseItUp Publishing (June, 2012)

Spacepulp sci-fi, GREEN LIGHT DELIVERY, Candlemark & Gleam (June, 2012)

Middle-grade historical, TROUBLE AT THE SCRIPTORIUM, Royal Fireworks Press (July, 2012)

Anne's Website

Anne's Writer's Blog

Sue Perkins: An Interview With a Garden Gnome

2012-01-22T00:05:00.002-05:00

A warm welcome to fantasy, romance, and young adult author Sue Perkins. Sue is treating us today not only with an excerpt from her latest release, Reva's Quest, but also with a delightful character interview.

Sue lives in the wonderful country of New Zealand and has written several adult fantasy books. Reva's Quest is her second Middle Grade readers book. The first, Spirit Stealer, is also available from MuseItUp Publishing.

Reva is taken to Fey through a portal in her garden pond. She learns the land is threatened by evil and the blame is laid at her door. All the magical people in Fey look to her for a solution.

Today Gareth has agreed to talk to us about the quest he went on with Reva. Gareth is a garden gnome in the land of Fey, and when the portal in the garden is open, he comes to life.Gareth: You want me to what? Talk about the quest I went on with Reva? Why?

(Gareth straightens his short jacket and makes sure his red pointed hat is straight. He looks secretly pleased to be asked to do this interview)

Q: We've had Reva's side of the story, I thought it might be nice if you gave your thoughts on the matter.

Gareth: So what's to tell. Reva stuffed up so she had to put things right.

Q: What did she do wrong?

Gareth: She let evil into Fey, that's what she did. Wrote a story about Fey with all wishy washy fairies and wizards. It's not really like that you know, but Reva found that out when we went to sort out Malice.

Q: Who's Malice?

Gareth: We couldn't keep talking about "the evil" could we, so we gave it a name - Malice. The Narun - she's sort of Queen of the Elves - sent me and Reva, Jarin and Maura the elves and Kai. Kai's a griffin and he came with us as guardian. We needed one as Reva couldn't keep out of trouble. Considering she wrote the book about Fey, she didn't seem to know much about it.

Q: I heard you had a knight in shining armor with you too.

Gareth: Oh him. I guess he was okay, he came in about half way through. He was a bit stuffy though. Maura didn't like him, but then she didn't like Reva. They had quite a few arguments but to be honest Reva did do some stupid things. Silly girl forgot about Malice taking over everything and took things at face value. She learned though, picked things up pretty quickly really.

Q: You sound as if you're a bit impatient with Reva.

Gareth: Oh she's all right. When the previous owners moved out I got left behind. The pond got overgrown, in fact it was disgusting. My lovely clothes became filthy. I was in danger of being choked by all the weeds. When Reva found me she cleaned me up and promised to clear out the pond. Now she knows not to meddle with things she doesn't understand I guess I like her better.

Q: Is there anything you'd like to say to the readers?

Gareth: Of course. Read the book. Hey, this wasn't that bad after all. I might even let you have a little excerpt. Here we go.

Excerpt

Gareth led the way along a pleasant path. The trees overhead filtered the sunlight down to the forest floor where the light danced in patterns across the leaf-strewn ground. Reva shivered.

I’m sure someone’s watching us.

She looked quickly from side to side and behind but couldn’t see anyone. Her head turned round so often, Reva failed to notice Gareth stop and nearly fell over him. He stood in front of her, hands on hips and head tilted to one side.

“Are you trying to twist your head off?” he asked sarcastically. “You'll succeed if you carry on like that.”

Reva ignored his remarks. “Where are we going?”

“You'll see.” He turned and stomped off down the pathway.

Despite his short stature, he moved so fast she found it hard to keep up with him. A short while later they arrived in an area where the trees were further apart. Huts nestled in their branches. Reva looked around the small settlement with interest. The gnome led the way down the broadest of the pathways winding between the trunks until they reached a small clearing.

“Wait here.”

I’m going to have words with that gnome. Who does he think he is, ordering me around? On second thoughts, maybe I should keep my mouth shut. I’ve no way of getting home without his help.

Gareth stomped to the far side of the clearing and stopped in front of the biggest tree. His shoulders were on a level with a platform jutting out from the base of the trunk.

Leaves rustled, and Reva spun round in time to see a dog emerge from the undergrowth. It came closer, and the similarity to a dog disappeared. An eagle shaped head with cruel beak proudly topped the leonine body. Elegant wings folded back along its flanks, and a long, tufted tail twitched behind it. Rich brown fur and feathers covered the whole body.

It’s a griffin. Delight flooded through her. A second rustle came from the other direction, and another griffin emerged from the trees. They must have made the noises I heard earlier.

The griffins moved majestically across the clearing and leapt onto the platform. Their talons dug into the timber as they landed. Approaching the front edge, they sat down, ignoring the gnome who stood immediately in front of them. Fascinated, Reva watched while they settled their wings in a more comfortable position before returning to their statue-like pose.

“I've brought her.” Gareth spoke loud enough for her to hear him.

Movement in the shadows of the hut at the rear of the platform caught Reva’s attention. The figure who emerged walked with a slow halting step. The elderly head had a hint of red hair amongst the grey which topped the dry and wrinkled skin of the face. A crown of leaves sat on the sparse hair, and the wearer seemed to find it difficult to keep her head up. A full length gown of a flimsy light green material covered the skinny, aged body. The female murmured something to the gnome, and he turned and beckoned Reva to join them.

“This human is the cause of all your troubles, Narun.” Gareth turned to Reva. “This is Piora, Narun of the forest elves. The Narun is the elf leader.”

* * * * *

Reva's Quest - Available from MuseItUp Publishing
Spirit Stealer - Available from MuseItUp Publishing
Visit Sue's Web Site
Visit Sue's Blog

A Ghostly Visit: Paranormal Author Dianne Hartsock

2012-01-11T12:59:00.007-05:00

Am I seeing things? No! It’s Dianne Hartsock, here to tell us about the ghostly influences on her writing and to share some chilling excerpts.

Dianne lives in the beautiful Willamette Valley of Oregon with her incredibly patient husband, who puts up with the endless hours she spends hunched over the keyboard letting her characters play. Currently, she works as a floral designer in a locally-owned gift shop. Which she says is the perfect job for her. When not writing, she can express herself through the rich colors and textures of flowers and foliage

Stories of Ghosts and Psychic Ability

Thank you so much, Pat, for having me on your lovely site. Hello! I was looking through my TBR list the other day and was struck by how many books involving the paranormal I have added. Why do I enjoy them so much? What do I find so fascinating in the paranormal?

At least half the stories deal with ghosts and poltergeist and things that go bump in the night. I can’t honestly say I believe in ghosts, never having seen one for myself, but just the possibility that they might be real has me intrigued. I mean, it’s gone so far that I and my sister are planning to go on a ghost hunt later this year.

And the poltergeist phenomenon blows me away. It’s widely believed that poltergeist activity is caused by the troubled mind of a child or young adult. Amazing! It’s incredible how powerful a person’s mind could be to be able to cause objects to fly through the air, open and close doors, and sometimes even create apparitions for others to see.

In my story The Trials of a Lonely Specter I deal with the kinder side of hauntings. I wanted to write a ghost story entirely from the spirit’s point of view. How did he feel about being dead? Why does he haunt? I came up with an entertaining story line I think you’ll enjoy.

The Trials of a Lonely Specter
Available from MuseItUp Publishing
and from Amazon

Blurb:
There’s been an accident. Quinn believes he’s dead, though Liam insists otherwise. But if that is the case, why does Quinn see the two of them as ghosts? And why does Liam play along? Exposed to mediums and apparitions, Quinn has to make a decision: either accept his fate or risk everything to trust Liam one more time.

Excerpt:
"Where’re we going?"

"To find Betterford’s body reposing in the highest room of the tallest tower."

Quinn gave him a wry look. "Wasn’t that for the ‘Sleeping Beauty’?"

"So I’ve heard," Liam purred, looking like he was about to eat the canary.

Quinn didn’t like the eager way he swept through the kitchen to the servants’ staircase.

He tramped up the dark stairs in the apparition’s wake. Liam’s aura had shrunk to a mere flicker around his hand, casting eerie shadows on the close walls. Quinn was huffing by the time they reached the third flight, and Liam stopped to let him catch his breath.

"Quinn?"

He looked up at the fond tone. Liam stood several steps above, curiously watching him. "You’re a ghost, my beloved. You ought to be gliding up these stairs."

Quinn’s mouth fell open. "I forgot," he confessed. His eyes dropped, waiting for Liam’s mocking laughter. It never came. Instead, the man descended the stairs until he stood level with him. Quinn held his breath as the luminescent hand touched his cheek lightly.

"You give me hope," Liam said surprisingly. "Here, let me help you." He slipped his arm through Quinn’s.

They fairly flew up the steps after that. Quinn laughed with the exhilaration that raced through him. He’d never felt so free. He wanted to burst through the roof and fly straight into the night. Liam beamed, sharing his joy in the sensation of weightlessness and speed.

All too soon they burst into the hallway far above. Their laughter died abruptly at the grimness of the shadowy corridor. Quinn winced when Liam suddenly grabbed his hand. The spirit’s eyes glowed with anticipation.

He leaned close. "Trust me, Quinn." His voice was shaking and the man cleared his throat. "Whatever you think of me after this, please remember that I want the best for you. For us."

"I don’t understand."

Liam shook his head, clearly disappointed by his answer. Tugging on his hand, he led him to a door in the middle of the corridor.

* * * * *

Ghost stories are eerie and scary and make me wonder if it wasn’t really a specter I just saw out of the corner of my eye. But it is the paranormal phenomenon of psychic ability that really intrigues me. I absolutely believe in ‘mind over matter’. The idea that somewhere in the world there are people who can read minds or see visions or hear voices is incredible to me. Again, I’ve never met a psychic in my life, but I can’t help but believe in them. The mind is such a powerful tool. Why couldn’t a person learn to tap into that power and channel it in the direction they want it to go?

And why does psychic ability have to be a scary thing? I like to think that a person would use their gifts to help his friends or nation or the world. What if their gift ran to healing? What if a person could create beauty with their power? What if they could stop a criminal?

In my paranormal thriller novel ALEX, I wanted to take a different approach than the usual psychic/serial killer story. This is a story of a young man able to experience other people’s emotions and sometimes see their thoughts. The story is told from Alex’s unique perspective, revealing how he deals with his ‘gift’ in a doubting world. I wanted to show the vulnerability and insecurities of the typical twenty year old, plus the added stress and confusion caused by his abilities. This is the story I came up with.

ALEX
Available from Solstice Publishing
and from Amazon

Blurb:
Alex is twenty and confused. He always is. He hears the cries of children, the screaming women. He sees the brutal images of the tortured victims. Severely abused as a child, he is left with horrible scars on his body and even worse scars within his mind. Even though it puts him in danger, he’s compelled to help those who call to him. He’s driven, motivated by his visions to rescue them and uncover the killer. When he can, he helps the police; yet some detectives suspect he’s the cause of the problem, not the solution. Often, Alex finds himself alone and afraid in a world he doesn’t always comprehend.

Excerpt:
Her skin was soft under his fingertips. Her bare shoulders, the curve of muscle in her arms, her slim fingers; all so soft. Her breath caressed his cheek as he stared at her lips. He wanted to kiss her. It was a risk, he knew, but he ached for someone to break the loneliness. He bent his head and ran his tongue tentatively over the sweet fullness of her mouth. Her tongue met his but he was unprepared for the fire that tore through him. She pressed against him to deepen the kiss and a wild madness surged through his blood.

Something was wrong. She cried out as she struggled in his arms. Her nails raked across his neck. He let her go and watched in bewilderment as she scrambled away, her breath coming in sharp gasps. He reached out a tentative hand, wanting to explain—apologize, but she stepped hastily away from him.

"Freak!" she spat and quickly fled.

He jerked as the word struck him, his arm dropping to his side. The pain of her rejection flooded him. He touched his mouth and wondered desperately what she’d seen as he’d kissed her.

She stopped at the end of the bridge and looked over her shoulder. He couldn’t make out her expression, but he hoped to God it wasn’t pity. He took a hesitant step toward her but she tore her eyes away and rushed off.

He watched her follow the road back to town, hurrying as the sun sank. The far side of the road was already lost in darkness. His shoulders slumped in defeat when she disappeared into the gloom.

Dejected, he sat on the edge of the bridge and dangled his feet over the swift current. The sound of the rushing water echoed under him, filling his ears. It dulled the edge of his pain, making him forget his humiliation as he listened. He could almost make out a voice in the resonance.

* * * * *

Thank you so much for coming by. Feel free to contact me any time.

Dianne Hartsock

Roseanne Dowell: Secrets, Lies and Love

2012-01-02T00:01:00.001-05:00

A Shining welcome to multi-published author, Roseanne Dowell, former school secretary and writing instructor. Roseanne is an avid reader and writes various types of romance – paranormal, contemporary and mystery. Living in Northeast Ohio, she’s married with six grown children, fourteen grandchildren and one great grandchild. She spends her time between writing, quilting and embroidering. She’s been published since 2006 with five releases this year and seven new releases coming in 2011. She also enjoys blogging, tweeting, facebooking and posting on various writers groups.

Roseanne’s latest romantic mystery, Secrets, Lies and Love, is being released January 4th from Books We Love

Here’s the Blurb:

When Meghan Shelby inherits the family home, she returns to her hometown after a ten year absence. Not only does she find the house is in a rundown, dilapidated condition, there’s a dead body in it. She also discovers secrets and deceit from years ago.

Excerpt:

Meghan loved this time of year, though a little too hot to start school in her opinion. Why they felt the need to go back in August was beyond her. She remembered her mother complaining about it years ago. "What was wrong with starting after Labor Day like they did in my day?" Her mother used to rant and rave for weeks before school started. Even got on the School Board. Not that it changed anything. School still started the last week in August. Meghan smiled at the memory.

Now that she thought about it, it was silly. Like they took the last week of vacation away from the kids. Bet the teachers didn’t like it either.

Meghan pulled into the school parking lot. Not much had changed here either. New landscaping, new windows, but that was about it. The old building looked pretty much the same.

Her footsteps echoed in the empty hall. She’d never been in the school when it was empty before. The strong odor of wax and other cleaning products prickled her nostrils. The clean smell lingered through the first few days of school.

It had been a long time since she’d been to the principal’s office and she stopped outside, took a deep breath and held it. Here goes nothing. Mr. Duncan said look for Mr. Mac. He must be new in town. It wasn’t a name she remembered. So what was the worse he could say? Letting out her breath, she hurried inside, before her nerve left her. A man stood with his back to her, unpacking a box of books.

"Excuse me. I’m looking for Mr. Mac."

"I’m Mr. Mac." He turned toward her.

Meghan’s breath caught in her throat. "Patrick!" The word slipped out of her mouth, before she could stop it. The love of her life stood in front of her, even better looking and sexier than she remembered. Her heart skipped a beat, her legs turned to jelly, and she grabbed the edge of the desk to steady herself.

Patrick smiled at her. That easy smile she remembered from long ago. The smile she used to love. It lit up his eyes.

"Little Meghan Shelby. Not so little anymore I see."

Heat burned her cheeks as Patrick looked her up and down, apparently taking in every inch of her. He remembered her. After all this time he knew who she was. Would wonders never cease?

"Uh, um..." Oh crap. Now wasn’t the time to get tongue tied. "You’re the principal here?" Lord, could she work for him. See him every day?

"Yes, I am. I heard you were back in town. Are you staying then? Do you want to register your child?"

"Huh?" Her child, was he nuts? "Uh no I’m here about the secretarial position. Mr. Duncan was supposed to call you."

"Really? You want the job?"

"Yes, didn’t Mr. Duncan call? He told me to come right over."

"If he did I didn’t hear the phone. I’ve been in and out of the office." He nodded toward the stack of books. "Too busy around here this time of year." Patrick grinned and motioned her into his office. "So tell me about yourself. What qualifies you for the job?"

Qualifications? Think damn it. What was the matter with her? She’d lost all train of thought.

"Well, I’m computer proficient. I’m good with math. And I love children." What more could he want?

"I see. So why do you want the position? Tell me about your education."

His deep voice sent shivers down her spine. Meghan couldn’t take her gaze from him. All sense of reason flew out the window. She had the most God awful urge to reach up and push his dark hair out of his eyes. "I’m a former Math major, have two years of college. I’m a quick learner." Finally, she looked away.

* * * * *

Secrets, Lies and Love - Coming January 4th from Books We Love 　

You can find more of Roseanne’s books at Amazon

Check out her website at www.roseannedowell.com

Having My Say - Author Wendy Laharnar

2011-12-20T05:47:00.000-05:00

I'm delighted to turn The Plain over to fellow MuseItUp author Wendy Laharnar, visiting today all the way from Australia. Wendy is the author of both The Unhewn Stone, a YA fantasy set in medieval Switzerland, and a short sci-fi story, Happiness Guaranteed. She also turns out Calamity's Corner, a monthly E-Zine chock-full of entertaining and inspiring articles.

Welcome, Wendy!

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Hi Pat, it’s so good to be here on your lovely new blog. Thank you for the invitation.

I love talking about writing as much as I love writing. Sitting down with a group of like-minded people discussing what we enjoy is the best form of face-to-face entertainment for me. It helps in our struggles to find the right motivation, goals and resolutions…for our characters as well as ourselves. Talking a story through or, better still, being bombarded with questions about a character or scene helps to iron out the creases, which often we don’t realize are there.

I like ‘talking’ online with writing friends and critique groups and I like to share information I have learned or discovered over time. Writers need their writing communities. Our peers understand how easily a writer loses touch with reality, while living in their make believe world. It’s great to share little victories with writing friends, too, especially when we overcome a stumbling block or find a character has developed a challenging trait.

Writing fantasy (historical and mythical) makes me happy. I’m keen to return to my Edge of Darkness, and pounce on the majestic dragon queen whose metallic scales ripple in nervous excitement – she is a character I love to hate. She just stole a human baby and plans to pass the child off as an immortal elf in a diabolical self-serving plan. It’s the first part of the fantasy trilogy I have in 1st draft. The dark forests of my make believe world, Pravlica, are calling, but this is such a long journey and the trails are treacherous and damp, no place for the baby Adora raised to become The Elfin Bride (Part Three of the trilogy). This is the story where I question whether characters are redeemable or not and if there really is a separation between Reality and Fairytale. I want to share with those who have ears to hear, what I learn during the writing process.

That’s how I felt when writing The Unhewn Stone, my YA historical fantasy recently published by MuseItUp Publishing.

While my hero, Stefan, thinks he must change the course of the Wilhelm Tell legend (14th C. Switzerland), to restore honour to his family name, I sought answers to questions that bothered me. For instance, is there really is any difference between freedom fighters and tyrants, and which side would I follow. In The Unhewn Stone, Stefan belongs to the wrong side. His ancestor is the tyrant governor, not the hero Wilhelm Tell, so my dilemma wasn’t as cut and dried as you might think.

During his medieval adventure, modern-day Stefan’s encounters challenge his concept of friendship, love, mercy, honour, faith, courage, pride and humility. At the same time, I researched the deeper philosophic layers of the story, trying to decide what I believe, too. Is there really any difference between alchemy, religion, science, myth and magic? The more Stefan discovered about himself and his identity, the more I learnt about me, and I came to the conclusion that Stefan and I now think very much alike.

As a writer I talk about writing, write about writing and write. I also love to read what I’ve written. My Christmas wish to writers out there, wherever you are, May your days be merry and bright, and bring joy from everything you write.

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Wendy’s short sci-fi, Happiness Guaranteed, has just been release by MuseItUp in time for Christmas. The beautiful Supremo, Bianca, has a flaw which, if discovered, will mean her elimination.

Wendy and her husband raised beef cattle in the Southern Highlands of New South Wales. They loved the land and their animals and lived an idyllic life in spite of the bitter winters and often scorching summers. Now they live on Australia’s east coast with their mini Schnauzer. They enjoy long walks on the beach and visits from their two children and grandchildren.

Wendy's web page

Wendy's blog

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Author Interview: John Bubar

2011-12-12T22:12:00.000-05:00

I can’t think of a better way to launch Across the Plain of Shining Books than by introducing author John Bubar, a good friend and fine writer. After thirty-six years as a pilot in both military and civilian aviation, John found his way back to school and is currently a candidate for an MFA in Writing at the University of New Hampshire. His short story, Ambush, is part of the lineup in a new anthology, Best New England Crime Stories 2012: Dead Calm, recently released by Level Best Books.

Welcome to Across the Plain of Shining Books, John. Tell us a little about yourself. Where are you from?

The middle of Maine—very rural—a small town of 700 people nestled on the banks of the Carrabassett River.

Ambush is a gripping story. I enjoyed the complexities of the characters and the intricacies of the plot. What inspired you to write it?

An assignment in my MFA program to mimic one of the short stories we’d read, but to put our own twist into it. My first draft was only six pages, written in the second person, and was inspired by Xmas, Jamaica Plain by Melanie Rae Thon, where the two main characters want to break into a house but are afraid someone might be in there with a gun. I wondered what it would be like to put myself into the head of the person in the house with the gun.

At the same time there was a presidential election going on and John Edwards was telling everyone: "200,000 Vietnam veterans go to sleep under bridges and over grates every night." And I thought about those other veterans who, like functional alcoholics, make it through life, more or less, but in doing so, have in some ways become more invisible than the homeless. What would they do to get their fifteen minutes of fame back? To become visible again, if only for a moment?

From all of this, my character, Speck Gagnon, was born.

How did you come up with the title?

There is a literal ambush in the story, but it’s also a story about a guy who has been ambushed by life.

Is there a message in your story you’d like readers to grasp?

Yes. There might well be more to that tired looking old guy in the hand-me-down clothes than you think. Give him a little respect.

What sparked your interest in writing?

Curiosity—I’ve always been a voracious reader and I wondered what it would be like to try to write.

What do you feel is your biggest strength as a writer?

I’m a reader.

Good answer. Which authors do you feel have influenced your writing most?

Rick Bass, Annie Proulx, James Lee Burke, Martin Cruz Smith, Kenneth Roberts.

Name a few titles I’d find if I browsed through your personal home library.

The Lives of Rocks, Accordion Crimes, Cadillac Jukebox, Red Square, Arundel, and Northwest Passage.

So many authors, so little time. Since you enjoy reading so much, you must discover lots of writers previously unknown to you. Can you list a few "new" favorites?

Arnaldur Indridason who writes murder mysteries set in Iceland and solved by his troubled Detective Erlendeur, and Fred Vargas who writes murder mysteries set in France. I describe her detective, Commissaire Adamsburg, as the anti-Holmes. And Thomas King, whose essays in his The Truth About Stories speaks to the power of stories to change who we are.

If you could go back in time, what author would you most like to invite to share a chat and a bottle of wine?

Colette.

You’re marooned on a desert island. What’s the one book you’d want with you, and why?

The New Oxford American Dictionary. How far into perusing a dictionary are you able to go without a word or words sparking your imagination, reminding you of a story or a time or an event? For me, maybe three words and their definitions, and I’m off into an imaginary world.

Do you celebrate when you finish writing a story, and if so, how?

I find myself exhaling.

Who supports your writing activities most?

My writing group.

I agree with that response. I’d be lost without my writing group. What does your family think of your writing?

That I should write more.

So can we look forward to a new story soon, John? What’s next for you?

Finishing my MFA program. I’m putting my thesis together now and looking at a half-dozen stories with an eye toward submission.

And we'll be watching for those stories. Thank you, John. Best of luck with your writing!

Best New England Crime Stories 2012: Dead Calm is available from Level Best Books, from Amazon, and from Amazon Kindle.