So I've complained all year that there seems to be less and less time to write. But this week, if all goes well, will be the first week in months that I will actually have 4 days out of 7 that I can devote to writing. Amazing! Since when did I go and get myself a social life? I mean, really!
Today, however, it isn't my social life that has me distracted from writing. It's a little guy named Leonidas who doesn't have nearly as many muscles as this Leonidas:
My Leonidas showed up in the neighborhood a couple weeks ago, nearly dead from starvation and dehydration, not because he'd been attacked by Persians -- or Persian cats, for that matter. And who's the biggest sucker in the neighborhood? Yep, me. Just as we were getting him fattened up again, he developed a terrible infection and I was sure he would have to be put down. But the vets were determined to save him, and save him they did. Now, Leonidas is running wild all over my house, and my other cats still aren't sure what to make of him.
This is Leonidas telling me that the old draft of Fury of the Falcon really stinks. But, he says, the paper tastes great.
This is Leonidas being caught in the act of trying to tell this story his way.
He wanted me to post that he was fighting off a thousand Persian cats in the alleyway and is the lone survivor who must tell the tale. And he says the white stripe over his right eye is really hiding the scar he earned from battling the ferocious wolf-chihuahua of Suburbia Pass. ... Why am I not sure I believe him?
So I blame my being distracted from writing this morning on Leo's escapades and using me for a jungle gym. And since it's been a while since I've updated my blog, I thought it appropriate to gave a hint about why I've been, well, distracted.
As soon as he falls asleep, I will sneak in a few paragraphs of a new chapter.
(Side note: the page of text in that middle picture is crap. Don't read it, at all cost. Your eyeballs might melt. Not one word is being kept and used in the new draft.)
(Side side note: I am not a kitty rescue service. Please don't send me any more cats. I have all I can handle.)
Thursday, June 26, 2014
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
National Poetry Month: The Everyday
Only a few days left to celebrate. On the 24th, our poetry moderator provided us with the following prompt:
* Write a poem about a mundane, everyday activity.
Well, I've been watching the history series Nazi Hunters recently, and so my psyche is filled with accounts of human carnage. Let that preface my little poem about gardening:
"Pulling Weeds"
Is it worth raw fingers,
bleeding scrapes,
mud caked under fingernails
to pluck up roots, overturn
cities of underground highways,
to iron out the ugliness, trim and mold and
beautify to my liking,
to change the world one blade at a time?
It takes a certain sense of false
supremacy to say
this beetle’s abode
is worthless.
Monday, April 14, 2014
Road Trips: Mountain Corridors
My husband had training this week in Denver, and it's times like this that it pays to be a writer. I get to pack up my laptop and my notes and travel with him. Writing in hotels, where there are no distractions, is one of my chief pleasures. Hiking in the mountains with friends is another. Once training was over, we kidnapped our friends and they took us to the South Platte Corridor. It's a gorgeous hike up a pine-clad mountain that overlooks the tumbling river. The voices of rushing water below and wind in the pines above sound almost identical.
We came up over a ridge and were faced with the devastating results of a forest fire. The sight of the barren landscape took my breath away. This particular fire had happened a decade or more ago, but the land still had not recovered. My inquisitive mind, however, was fascinated by the lay of the land, as it looks underneath all the trees. It felt like getting to glimpse a secret.
We came up over a ridge and were faced with the devastating results of a forest fire. The sight of the barren landscape took my breath away. This particular fire had happened a decade or more ago, but the land still had not recovered. My inquisitive mind, however, was fascinated by the lay of the land, as it looks underneath all the trees. It felt like getting to glimpse a secret.
This rocky peek that jutted up from the burned slopes inspired all kinds of fantastical stories in my head.
And bleached tangles of old roots always provide lovely specimens to admire.
We snacked and refueled at an abandoned mine, then hiked back down the mountain. On the 11-hour drive home, we raced a snowstorm. Made it just in time.
Looks like our next trip will be in August, when we'll head back up the mountain for the Leadville mountain bike race. Until then, I have ogres to slay.
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
National Poetry Month Returns!
I love April because National Poetry Month comes round again. Check out Poets.org for more info on what this celebration is all about, and even find a link to 30 ways to celebrate the art of poetry.
At LegendFire, the moderator of our poetry forum has put together another month's worth of poetry prompts and inspiration. It's a great time to practice.
I wasn't home yesterday, so I missed the grand opening of LF's activities, but I got to dive in this morning. One of the prompts she provides today is: "Write a poem about one or more elements/forces of the weather. For example, rain, sleet, hail, tornadoes, clouds, wind, etc."
Now, I dread the coming of spring. In tornado alley, spring is the season to be watchful. This year might be the year, I say. Our town, our house, might lie in the path this time. And since today we are having our first threat of severe weather I chose to write about tornadoes and my first experience of running to a neighbor's storm shelter, which I blogged about last June.
So here I am, inflicting some really bad poetry on the readers of my blog. But it's for a good cause, right?
Prompt: Tornado
Style: haiku series
black afternoon sky
eyes raised to watch boiling clouds
a wail of sirens
running rabbit-like
a burrow deep underground
hail knocking on doors
morning in the sun
a palace where dreams are stored
strewn trash by nightfall
May 31, 2013. From our iPhone. Copyright 2013 Court Ellyn |
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Jack Tales: The Art Lover
Last month, I introduced Jack, my new writing buddy, who also happens to be the orneriest cat on the block.
Yesterday evening, as I was rolling towels and socks from the laundry basket, Jack decided to make himself at home among the piles of clean laundry. Cats, he once told me, only like clean laundry. They refuse to lay among dirty laundry, because later, when they bathe, they will be licking human toe funk, which, believe it or not, doesn't taste as nice as tuna fish.
In a short while I looked over and saw him hiding under a towel. Luckily this towel is not used in my kitchen. So instead of scolding him, I asked him, "Jack, what in the world are you doing?"
He said, "Can't you tell? I'm reenacting La Primavera, and I'm quite good at it, thank you very much."
Jack as La Primavera
La Primavera, by Sandro Botticelli, 1481-82, detail.
Monday, March 17, 2014
"My Writing Process" Blog Tour
When I try to talk to friends and family about my
writing, a curious frown often develops on their faces and they ask, “How do
you do that? How do you come up with
your ideas? How can you sit still
that long?”
The Writing Process Blog Tour is where we get to answer
some of those questions. A huge thanks to YA Fantasy author Lisa M. Green for
inviting me to take part in this tour! Check out her response to the questions
on her gorgeous blog.
So it’s confession time. What exactly goes on behind
those closed doors to produce … *hand flourish* … magic?
What am I working on?
Currently, I’m trying to strategize a war and puzzle out
how to defeat an army of flesh-eating ogres. Book 3 of the Falcons Saga is
underway. Fury of the Falcon will
conclude the adventures of my Ilswythe twins. That’s not to say that Fury is the last readers will see of the
characters, however. Just that the focus will shift to someone else in upcoming
adventures. So, while “the ogres go munching two by two,” I’m also weaving in
details to set the stage for those later adventures.
How does my work
differ from others of its genre?
The characters, definitely. My fiction is hard-core character-driven, rather than quest-driven. Readers may discover epic battles and hunts for stolen children, but it's what happens inside the characters and in their relationships with each other that drive the story forward. In truth, when readers pick up copies of the Falcons
Saga, they will find many elements common in traditional fantasy, from the
races they will encounter to the magic system. However! My ultimate goal is to make my characters so real to
readers that they will feel a lingering void when they’ve been away from them for too long.
Why do I write
what I do?
*Shrug* That’s a matter of practicality, I suppose--if
writing fiction can be called ‘practical.’ I started out wanting to write
historical adventure. But at the time, the internet was in its infancy, and in
my house we did not have a computer or internet access. Libraries that featured
research material weren’t near at hand. So the short of it is that I felt
frustrated in acquiring the information I needed to write authentic historical
stories. So it just made sense to start making up my own worlds where I knew the
history, the laws, the culture, etc. Suddenly I felt confident in what I wrote,
so I stuck with fantasy.
How does my
writing process work?
Groaningly. That’s how. By 11:30 a.m, I had better be
sitting at my writing desk with a mugga joe in my hand, or I start to get a
little peevish. With my first cup of coffee comes the pleasant task of
re-reading what I wrote the day before, making changes, big or small. Then, with
the second cup of coffee starts the mental anguish of writing new material. I despise writing the first draft of most
everything. All the words want out at once, and most of them aren’t even the
right words. The brain becomes a bottleneck, and the fingers on the keyboard
start twiddling, saying “Ho-hum, is there anything
up there? We’re waiting.” So I pace my house,
or I say my mantra, “It’s a rough draft, just write it,” or I go pull some
weeds or chase a cat out of the house or sweep my floor. I’ve found that sweeping
is the best exercise for finding the next phrase. Why did I leave the broom
lingering in that doorway? Because that’s where the muse decided to show up and
cooperate.
Some days the words flow. Some days they don’t. Magic is
hard to come by.
So there’s a peek behind the glittery door of writerhood.
It might be best to back away slowly.
Next week, on Monday, March 24th, take a gander at the writing habits and quirks of these
writers. I’m honored to present to you:
Brian Fatah Steele is co-founder of Dark Red Press and horror author of Brutal Starlight, In Bleed Country, and many other gruesome and thrilling tales.
CL Stegall, co-founder of Dark Red Press, is the author of the Urban Fantasy novel The Blood of Others, as well as the YA adventure The Weight of Night.
CL Stegall, co-founder of Dark Red Press, is the author of the Urban Fantasy novel The Blood of Others, as well as the YA adventure The Weight of Night.
Sunday, March 9, 2014
Fury of the Falcon, Progress Report #2
It feels wonderful when I'm writing a chapter a week. I can tell it's still early in the game.
RECENT PROGRESS
Chapter: 4
Pages Revised: 5
Became: 9.5 pages
New Scenes: 0
Death count: 1, a tree
Good things that happen: Picking up the pieces...
Bad things that happen: Carah and Thorn butt heads. Again.
Next week, I'll be participating in the "Writing Process" Blog Tour. Stay tuned for a glimpse of what really happens behind this writer's closed door.
RECENT PROGRESS
Chapter: 4
Pages Revised: 5
Became: 9.5 pages
New Scenes: 0
Death count: 1, a tree
Good things that happen: Picking up the pieces...
Bad things that happen: Carah and Thorn butt heads. Again.
Next week, I'll be participating in the "Writing Process" Blog Tour. Stay tuned for a glimpse of what really happens behind this writer's closed door.
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Meet Jack, my new writing buddy!
Last July I posted about the death of my darling companion, Raphael, getting all sappy and stuff. Well, it's amazing how I still miss that little guy. My last statement in that blog post was that I wouldn't be replacing him any time soon. It's amazing how life makes a liar of you.
One day in mid-October we were minding our own business, enjoying breakfast and the cooler weather on the back patio when all of a sudden we heard the heart-wrenching yowling of a cat in panic. It was coming from the creek that divides our backyard into usable space and non-usable forest. In my head I envisioned this poor creature trapped under some fallen logs, on the verge of drowning. I put on my wellies and slogged out into the water.
As it turned out, this panicked cat was stuck on top of the logs, likely chased there by the evil tom that prowls the neighborhood. But as we also have other cats, this poor vagrant was likely scared to venture into our backyard as well, lest he lose an eye or two.
When I finally got a good look at him, I saw that he was orange and only half-grown. Thank God he's orange, I thought. I don't keep orange cats.
Right? Yeah...
So my husband and I rescued this terrified animal and set his paws on solid ground, and said, "Beat it!" But the cat promptly glued himself to our feet. We tried walking him through the neighborhood, hoping someone would recognize him. We discussed shelters and pounds and other methods of being rid of him. We decided, well, we won't feed him and we'll go inside and he'll wander off and go home.
Why do cats fall out of the blue and decide to adopt me? They detect a sucker, that's why.
Come late afternoon, we found that the cat was right back up on the logs from whence we "rescued" him, and he was yowling so loudly that we could hear him inside the house, 40 yards away. Okay, I say, I'll feed him, but I'm not naming him, and if he doesn't shut up, I'll deliver him to the nearest shelter. This cat was so desperate and scared, he kept meowing even while he ate. Non-stop noise. I said, this cat is crazy, there's no way we're keeping him.
And then I did something really stupid. I said, "His eyes look like pumpkins. If he were a girl we could call him Pumpkin, but since he's not, we'll call him Jack." That was fitting, right? It was almost Halloween and it was Jack o' lantern-carving time. My husband looked at me and said with a smirk, "You just named him." I ducked my head and said a swear word. How could I be so stupid? Oh, yeah. Sucker, right.
So Jack became a new member of the family, and all he wants to do is lay on my lap or curl up on my shoulder, even though he's getting way too big for that now. So, today Jack said, "You haven't blogged about me, snob." So here he is, in all his orange orneriness:
One day in mid-October we were minding our own business, enjoying breakfast and the cooler weather on the back patio when all of a sudden we heard the heart-wrenching yowling of a cat in panic. It was coming from the creek that divides our backyard into usable space and non-usable forest. In my head I envisioned this poor creature trapped under some fallen logs, on the verge of drowning. I put on my wellies and slogged out into the water.
As it turned out, this panicked cat was stuck on top of the logs, likely chased there by the evil tom that prowls the neighborhood. But as we also have other cats, this poor vagrant was likely scared to venture into our backyard as well, lest he lose an eye or two.
When I finally got a good look at him, I saw that he was orange and only half-grown. Thank God he's orange, I thought. I don't keep orange cats.
Right? Yeah...
So my husband and I rescued this terrified animal and set his paws on solid ground, and said, "Beat it!" But the cat promptly glued himself to our feet. We tried walking him through the neighborhood, hoping someone would recognize him. We discussed shelters and pounds and other methods of being rid of him. We decided, well, we won't feed him and we'll go inside and he'll wander off and go home.
Why do cats fall out of the blue and decide to adopt me? They detect a sucker, that's why.
Come late afternoon, we found that the cat was right back up on the logs from whence we "rescued" him, and he was yowling so loudly that we could hear him inside the house, 40 yards away. Okay, I say, I'll feed him, but I'm not naming him, and if he doesn't shut up, I'll deliver him to the nearest shelter. This cat was so desperate and scared, he kept meowing even while he ate. Non-stop noise. I said, this cat is crazy, there's no way we're keeping him.
And then I did something really stupid. I said, "His eyes look like pumpkins. If he were a girl we could call him Pumpkin, but since he's not, we'll call him Jack." That was fitting, right? It was almost Halloween and it was Jack o' lantern-carving time. My husband looked at me and said with a smirk, "You just named him." I ducked my head and said a swear word. How could I be so stupid? Oh, yeah. Sucker, right.
So Jack became a new member of the family, and all he wants to do is lay on my lap or curl up on my shoulder, even though he's getting way too big for that now. So, today Jack said, "You haven't blogged about me, snob." So here he is, in all his orange orneriness:
Jack said he doesn't want anyone to see how he picks his nose and don't publish that picture or he'll pee on my bed, but it's a parent's prerogative to embarrass their children, right?
This portrait, however, is Jack-approved.
Fury of the Falcon, Progress Report #1
Well, anyone who has visited my Facebook page has seen that rewrites on Fury of the Falcon have begun, but for some reason I neglected to update my blog about it. Getting back into the routine of writing has been difficult. Actually feels like learning a drive a new car. The peddles don't feel natural under my feet. Stop, start, lurch forward, hit the break. Eesh.
But as of yesterday, chapter 3 is underway, and things are a bloody mess. For the characters, I mean. Sons ended on dark, negative notes, as a middle book should, and now my twins are scrambling to pick up the pieces. But I refuse to give spoilers.
The most difficult part of starting this book, for me, is trying to decide how much back info to provide, as reminders of what happened in Sons. I shouldn't expect readers to remember the small details, but I don't want to insult their intelligence and hand-feed them stuff they are sure to remember. How do the pros handle this sort of thing? Of course, I picked up a book by my favorite author to compare methods. GRRM's A Feast For Crows picks up only moments after A Storm of Swords ends, or even backtracks a bit in the case of some characters. I started with the first Cersei chapter and read it critically, looking for those reminders, and looking for what George did not include. He didn't bother describing characters he'd described in Storm. Only the beaten gold of Cersei's hair and the color of cloaks. Of course the color of cloaks. That's vintage George. But there were other hints he had included that prompted me to go back into my opening chapters and add a few more tidbits. But all the while, the Cersei chapter pointed forward, as the characters begin a search for a murderer and as Cersei plots her next move against her rivals. Hopefully, I can learn something here and apply the method to my own chapters.
It's a fine balance, and I'm not sure I've achieved it yet, but we'll see. Thank God for revisions.
RECENT PROGRESS
Chapter(s): 1-3
Pages Revised: 3
Became: 7 pages
New Scenes: 1
Death count: 1
Good things that happen: A great cleansing begins
Bad things that happen: captives suffer the lash and a long journey into the unknown
But as of yesterday, chapter 3 is underway, and things are a bloody mess. For the characters, I mean. Sons ended on dark, negative notes, as a middle book should, and now my twins are scrambling to pick up the pieces. But I refuse to give spoilers.
The most difficult part of starting this book, for me, is trying to decide how much back info to provide, as reminders of what happened in Sons. I shouldn't expect readers to remember the small details, but I don't want to insult their intelligence and hand-feed them stuff they are sure to remember. How do the pros handle this sort of thing? Of course, I picked up a book by my favorite author to compare methods. GRRM's A Feast For Crows picks up only moments after A Storm of Swords ends, or even backtracks a bit in the case of some characters. I started with the first Cersei chapter and read it critically, looking for those reminders, and looking for what George did not include. He didn't bother describing characters he'd described in Storm. Only the beaten gold of Cersei's hair and the color of cloaks. Of course the color of cloaks. That's vintage George. But there were other hints he had included that prompted me to go back into my opening chapters and add a few more tidbits. But all the while, the Cersei chapter pointed forward, as the characters begin a search for a murderer and as Cersei plots her next move against her rivals. Hopefully, I can learn something here and apply the method to my own chapters.
It's a fine balance, and I'm not sure I've achieved it yet, but we'll see. Thank God for revisions.
RECENT PROGRESS
Chapter(s): 1-3
Pages Revised: 3
Became: 7 pages
New Scenes: 1
Death count: 1
Good things that happen: A great cleansing begins
Bad things that happen: captives suffer the lash and a long journey into the unknown
Friday, January 3, 2014
Giveaway! SPARKS by RS McCoy (A Bearded Scribe Blog Tour)
Blurb:
"Everyone in the world has a spark, a light inside that guides them, keeps them alive.”
Myxini School for Children specializes in training young men and women who have powerful sparks. Strikers are taught to manipulate fire. Trackers learn to find animals in the most formidable terrains. Handlers are instructed in communication with large predators. But forty years have passed since the last time they had a Reader—a student with the ability to read minds.
When Lark Davies enrolls at Myxini, he knows there aren’t many like him, but he doesn’t realize just how rare his abilities really are. He thinks nothing of being asked to keep his spark a secret; after all, he can barely control it. Thoughts and emotions flood unbidden into his mind until he can scarcely walk or hold a conversation. But just when he needs it most, his ability fails him.
Lark meets Khea, a small frightened girl who mysteriously insights his protective nature. He has no explanation for the curious strength of their relationship, and it doesn’t help that she is one of the few people in the world whose thoughts can’t be read. As he struggles to get to the root of their unique bond, Lark begins to unravel more power than even his mentor expected, but in the process makes himself a target to political leaders eager to take control.
Teaser:
Wearing only my loose brown pants, I crawled into the most comfortable bed I had ever known and sank into the soft down pillows. I had just started to drift off when I heard a knock at the door. I’m going to kill Avis.
“What do you—” I started until I realized it wasn’t Avis. It was a stunning blonde with blue eyes. Khea.
“I’m sorry to wake you. I just—I had to see you.” Her arms moved to wrap around my waist and hold me tight as I questioned if I was really sleeping or not.
“Uh, do you want to come in?” We both knew the rules about being in someone else’s
room after hours, so I pulled her in and sat down on the edge of the bed, still a little surprised she was there.
room after hours, so I pulled her in and sat down on the edge of the bed, still a little surprised she was there.
In the dim light her hair looked a little darker, but her face was still sweet and there was no denying that the last two years had done her well. Who would have thought such a beautiful young woman would come from that skinny little girl in Lagodon?
“How’d you know I was back?” I asked her, trying to appear less tired or shocked than I was.
“A friend told me.”
“I didn’t think you—” Cared? It wasn’t the right word, but I was beyond amazed that she was interested in my whereabouts. I hadn’t seen her since that night at the Moonwater and it had changed everything for me since then. But for her, I wasn’t aware that she had been affected in any way.
“Ride with me tomorrow?”
“Uh, yea, of course.” It was a struggle to cover how little I wanted to wait. I would have given anything to have her stay.
A wide smile erupted across her sweet lips as she said, “meet me at the lake at noon.” With a lingering kiss on my cheek, she walked back through the door and disappeared into the dark stone corridor.
What just happened?
I hadn’t seen her in person in years, and we were hardly close before that. And now she arrived in my room in the middle of the night and kissed me on the cheek. Was it a kiss like a friend would give another? Or more? I couldn’t make any sense of it, but there was only thing I was sure of. I would be at the lake at noon if it was the last thing I did.
I hadn’t seen her in person in years, and we were hardly close before that. And now she arrived in my room in the middle of the night and kissed me on the cheek. Was it a kiss like a friend would give another? Or more? I couldn’t make any sense of it, but there was only thing I was sure of. I would be at the lake at noon if it was the last thing I did.
"...spellbinding..."
"...fantastic characters..."
"...imaginative and creative..."
"...simply could not put it down..."
About the Author:
RS McCoy didn’t ever plan on being a writer. With a career teaching high school science, writing is the last thing she expected. But life never goes the way you think it will.
While battling cancer, she picked up her laptop and let the words flow out. One year later, her first published fantasy novel has been released on Amazon and her second novel is in the works.
She is a wife, mother of one with another on the way, a scientist, baker, gardener, and life-long science fiction and fantasy addict.
RS McCoy didn’t ever plan on being a writer. With a career teaching high school science, writing is the last thing she expected. But life never goes the way you think it will.
While battling cancer, she picked up her laptop and let the words flow out. One year later, her first published fantasy novel has been released on Amazon and her second novel is in the works.
She is a wife, mother of one with another on the way, a scientist, baker, gardener, and life-long science fiction and fantasy addict.
Connect with RS McCoy
Blog Tour Giveaway
Ends 01/14/14
Open only to those who can legally enter. Winning Entry will be verified prior to prize being awarded. No purchase necessary. You must be 18 or older to enter or have your parent enter for you. The winner will be chosen by rafflecopter and announced here as well as emailed and will have 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. This giveaway is in no way associated with Facebook, Twitter, Rafflecopter or any other entity unless otherwise specified. The number of eligible entries received determines the odds of winning. Giveaway was organized by "A Bearded Scribe Blog Tours," a division of The Bearded Scribe and sponsored by the author. VOID WHERE PROHIBITED BY LAW.
Monday, December 30, 2013
Review: The Book Thief by Markus Zusak
Includes minor spoilers (or almost-spoilers).
Blurb:
"It is 1939. Nazi Germany. The country is holding its breath. Death has never been busier, and will become busier still.
"Liesel Meminger is a foster girl living outside of Munich, who scratches out a meager existence for herself by stealing when she encounters something she can't resist--books. With the help of her accordion-playing foster father, she learns to read and shares her stolen books with her neighbors during bombing raids as well as with the Jewish man hidden in her basement."
Review:
An unforgettable experience. Unique in so many ways. It's been a while since I've read a book that I did not want to put down, that I set aside whole afternoons to devour.
*** Newsflash ***
This book will earn 5 of 5 magic wands.
No surprise there, given my preamble. At LegendFire, we writers discuss books. What else does one do at a writing forum? Over the past few years the title The Book Thief kept cropping up. I was like, yeah, but I've never heard of Markus Zusak, and because I'm one of those scaredy-cats who rarely ventures out of her comfort zone, I didn't bother looking for the book.
Until this autumn.
*** A Lesson Learned ***
Reach out, take a chance,
pull the book off the shelf,
experience something new
and extraordinary.
I finally told myself, "Self, you have got to expand your horizons. Go to the bookstore and pick out several books by authors you've never read before." Zusak was the first author I reached for. When I read the first couple of pages and discovered who our narrator was going to be for the long haul, I rolled my eyes. "How gimmicky," I said. Yes, I said it aloud. My fear was that the book was going to be cheesy, an author trying too hard to tell an old story in a new way, and I wondered if I would be able to stick with it.
*** A gimmick ***
Death himself is the narrator.
I'm always ecstatic when my fears are proved to be unfounded. It was Zusak's startling, poetic writing style (I learned new ways to use verbs, for one) and the glimpses of our young book thief that kept me reading for the next few pages. And soon even the narrator won me over. Death is troubled by humanity. How can humans be so beautiful and so horrendous, so good to one another and so cruel? How can they keep getting up when their wounds are so deep? He is tired of war; he is tired of plucking souls from bombed-out basements and battlefields. But every once in a while he crosses paths with a human who gives him hope. One such person is the book thief. Their paths cross too many times during the early years of World War II, and every time, the book thief is able to distract Death from his tiresome and disheartening duty.
Eventually, it becomes clear that Death's struggle to understand humanity, his desperate and jaded search for some redeeming qualities are as much a part of the story as the book thief's struggle to learn how to read, her discovery of the detrimental power of words, the saving power of words, and her friendship with the Jew hiding in her basement.
Conclusion:
I could go on and on about what makes this book memorable, but short and sweet is best these days. If you can stand a heartbreaking story, grab a copy, grab the box of tissues, and settle in for a remarkable journey.
Obviously, others thought the same. The movie version was released this year. I suppose I shall add it to my to-watch list. Geoffrey Rush and Emily Watson among the cast? Yep, I'm sold.
Rating:
5 of 5 magic wands, as was foreshadowed...
*** An apology ***
For stealing Death's narrative inserts for this review
and reviewing a book that is several years old.
Comfort zones cause one to miss out.
Next up, something new:
The Valley of Amazement
by Amy Tan. Stay tuned...
Monday, December 16, 2013
SPARKS by RS McCoy: A Book Release Blast
Blurb:
"Everyone in the world has a spark, a light inside that guides them, keeps them alive.”
Myxini School for Children specializes in training young men and women who have powerful sparks. Strikers are taught to manipulate fire. Trackers learn to find animals in the most formidable terrains. Handlers are instructed in communication with large predators. But forty years have passed since the last time they had a Reader—a student with the ability to read minds.
When Lark Davies enrolls at Myxini, he knows there aren’t many like him, but he doesn’t realize just how rare his abilities really are. He thinks nothing of being asked to keep his spark a secret; after all, he can barely control it. Thoughts and emotions flood unbidden into his mind until he can scarcely walk or hold a conversation. But just when he needs it most, his ability fails him.
Lark meets Khea, a small frightened girl who mysteriously insights his protective nature. He has no explanation for the curious strength of their relationship, and it doesn’t help that she is one of the few people in the world whose thoughts can’t be read. As he struggles to get to the root of their unique bond, Lark begins to unravel more power than even his mentor expected, but in the process makes himself a target to political leaders eager to take control.
Teaser:
Wearing only my loose brown pants, I crawled into the most comfortable bed I had ever known and sank into the soft down pillows. I had just started to drift off when I heard a knock at the door. I’m going to kill Avis.
“What do you—” I started until I realized it wasn’t Avis. It was a stunning blonde with blue eyes. Khea.
“I’m sorry to wake you. I just—I had to see you.” Her arms moved to wrap around my waist and hold me tight as I questioned if I was really sleeping or not.
“Uh, do you want to come in?” We both knew the rules about being in someone else’s
room after hours, so I pulled her in and sat down on the edge of the bed, still a little surprised she was there.
room after hours, so I pulled her in and sat down on the edge of the bed, still a little surprised she was there.
In the dim light her hair looked a little darker, but her face was still sweet and there was no denying that the last two years had done her well. Who would have thought such a beautiful young woman would come from that skinny little girl in Lagodon?
“How’d you know I was back?” I asked her, trying to appear less tired or shocked than I was.
“A friend told me.”
“I didn’t think you—” Cared? It wasn’t the right word, but I was beyond amazed that she was interested in my whereabouts. I hadn’t seen her since that night at the Moonwater and it had changed everything for me since then. But for her, I wasn’t aware that she had been affected in any way.
“Ride with me tomorrow?”
“Uh, yea, of course.” It was a struggle to cover how little I wanted to wait. I would have given anything to have her stay.
A wide smile erupted across her sweet lips as she said, “meet me at the lake at noon.” With a lingering kiss on my cheek, she walked back through the door and disappeared into the dark stone corridor.
What just happened?
I hadn’t seen her in person in years, and we were hardly close before that. And now she arrived in my room in the middle of the night and kissed me on the cheek. Was it a kiss like a friend would give another? Or more? I couldn’t make any sense of it, but there was only thing I was sure of. I would be at the lake at noon if it was the last thing I did.
I hadn’t seen her in person in years, and we were hardly close before that. And now she arrived in my room in the middle of the night and kissed me on the cheek. Was it a kiss like a friend would give another? Or more? I couldn’t make any sense of it, but there was only thing I was sure of. I would be at the lake at noon if it was the last thing I did.
"...spellbinding..."
"...fantastic characters..."
"...imaginative and creative..."
"...simply could not put it down..."
About the Author:
RS McCoy didn’t ever plan on being a writer. With a career teaching high school science, writing is the last thing she expected. But life never goes the way you think it will.
While battling cancer, she picked up her laptop and let the words flow out. One year later, her first published fantasy novel has been released on Amazon and her second novel is in the works.
She is a wife, mother of one with another on the way, a scientist, baker, gardener, and life-long science fiction and fantasy addict.
RS McCoy didn’t ever plan on being a writer. With a career teaching high school science, writing is the last thing she expected. But life never goes the way you think it will.
While battling cancer, she picked up her laptop and let the words flow out. One year later, her first published fantasy novel has been released on Amazon and her second novel is in the works.
She is a wife, mother of one with another on the way, a scientist, baker, gardener, and life-long science fiction and fantasy addict.
Connect with RS McCoy
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
SONS OF THE FALCON now available!
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Hallelujah! It's done. A year of writing and feeling like the novel would never be finished, yet here it is. Finished already. Sons of the Falcon, Book 2 of the Falcons Saga, has been uploaded, approved, and is now available at Amazon and CreateSpace.
It feels amazing, like releasing lead balloons and seeing them fly weightlessly into the sky. And now? Do I ever need a vacation. My brain is shot, so I plan to spend the holiday months reading, refueling the brain cells, and maybe writing a couple of short stories if the inspiration strikes me. Then in January, I hope, work on the last book will begin. Fury of the Falcon is going to be quite a beast, let me tell you. Probably the longest of all the volumes, and the old draft is full of issues that must be fixed, which means lots of changes. Can you tell I'm trying not to be intimidated? But for now, I shall bask in the feeling of accomplishment...
Currently, the print edition of Sons is only available at CreateSpace. It will take a few more business days for it to become available at Amazon. It's priced competitively at $14.99. And like both volumes of Book 1, Sons is only .99 cents for a digital download. This weekend (Friday through Sunday), however, it will be available for FREE! So be sure to keep an eye out and an e-reader on hand, so you can download yours.
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Hallelujah! It's done. A year of writing and feeling like the novel would never be finished, yet here it is. Finished already. Sons of the Falcon, Book 2 of the Falcons Saga, has been uploaded, approved, and is now available at Amazon and CreateSpace.
It feels amazing, like releasing lead balloons and seeing them fly weightlessly into the sky. And now? Do I ever need a vacation. My brain is shot, so I plan to spend the holiday months reading, refueling the brain cells, and maybe writing a couple of short stories if the inspiration strikes me. Then in January, I hope, work on the last book will begin. Fury of the Falcon is going to be quite a beast, let me tell you. Probably the longest of all the volumes, and the old draft is full of issues that must be fixed, which means lots of changes. Can you tell I'm trying not to be intimidated? But for now, I shall bask in the feeling of accomplishment...
Currently, the print edition of Sons is only available at CreateSpace. It will take a few more business days for it to become available at Amazon. It's priced competitively at $14.99. And like both volumes of Book 1, Sons is only .99 cents for a digital download. This weekend (Friday through Sunday), however, it will be available for FREE! So be sure to keep an eye out and an e-reader on hand, so you can download yours.
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Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Countdown for the Release of Sons of the Falcon
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This Thanksgiving, I will have something unexpected to be thankful for. The formatting, uploading, and reviewing process for Sons of the Falcon went much quicker than I expected. Instead of releasing the second book of my Falcons Saga at Christmas, I get to release it before Thanksgiving! I am thrilled, I tell you.
But what happens before then? I mean, when already?
Well, my mother unhappily reported that Blood of the Falcon had several typos, especially volume 2. So with her help, I have devoted the last couple of weeks to correcting those and other issues with the text. As of yesterday, the 2nd Editions for Blood of the Falcon are now available for Kindle (volume 1 is found HERE. Volume 2 is found HERE). Print editions will soon follow, as soon as I receive the proofs and approve them, which should happen in the next few days.
Then, this weekend, starting Thursday, both volumes of Blood of the Falcon are going to be available for FREE! Free is good, right? We like free stuff. So if you haven't downloaded your copies yet, you will have a chance between Thursday and Monday to do so.
Lastly, toward the end of the free promo weekend, I plan to upload the Kindle version of Sons of the Falcon. Hopefully that process will go smoothly. *crossing fingers* Once Amazon has approved it, it will be up for sell immediately. At that time, I will also click the button to approve the print version of Sons.
Good thing this time is that there's only one book. No more confusion about whether this book is book two or book three or is this the whole story? Sons is Book 2, and it's not the the whole story. There will be one more book after this, Fury of the Falcon, which will conclude the tale of my twins. Hopefully, Fury won't take me much more than a year to rewrite.
But this is about Sons. And it's a beauty, let me tell you. Another chunky epic with a beautiful cover. It feels great in my hands. Weighty and beefy and full of mystery, violence, forbidden love, monsters and magic. All the best stuff fiction has to offer. Mark me, I didn't say mine was the best fiction. I said my fiction was filled with the best kind of stuff. The stuff I enjoy most, anyway.
Point is, I'm currently shooting for November 20th as the official release of Sons of the Falcon. Hurray!
Is it ironic that one of the "sons" referred to in the title is actually a girl? I would like to say, "I hope you like Carah as much as I do," but honestly, I'm not sure I like her all the time, either.
Here's the final cover for your viewing pleasure:
.
This Thanksgiving, I will have something unexpected to be thankful for. The formatting, uploading, and reviewing process for Sons of the Falcon went much quicker than I expected. Instead of releasing the second book of my Falcons Saga at Christmas, I get to release it before Thanksgiving! I am thrilled, I tell you.
But what happens before then? I mean, when already?
Well, my mother unhappily reported that Blood of the Falcon had several typos, especially volume 2. So with her help, I have devoted the last couple of weeks to correcting those and other issues with the text. As of yesterday, the 2nd Editions for Blood of the Falcon are now available for Kindle (volume 1 is found HERE. Volume 2 is found HERE). Print editions will soon follow, as soon as I receive the proofs and approve them, which should happen in the next few days.
Then, this weekend, starting Thursday, both volumes of Blood of the Falcon are going to be available for FREE! Free is good, right? We like free stuff. So if you haven't downloaded your copies yet, you will have a chance between Thursday and Monday to do so.
Lastly, toward the end of the free promo weekend, I plan to upload the Kindle version of Sons of the Falcon. Hopefully that process will go smoothly. *crossing fingers* Once Amazon has approved it, it will be up for sell immediately. At that time, I will also click the button to approve the print version of Sons.
Good thing this time is that there's only one book. No more confusion about whether this book is book two or book three or is this the whole story? Sons is Book 2, and it's not the the whole story. There will be one more book after this, Fury of the Falcon, which will conclude the tale of my twins. Hopefully, Fury won't take me much more than a year to rewrite.
But this is about Sons. And it's a beauty, let me tell you. Another chunky epic with a beautiful cover. It feels great in my hands. Weighty and beefy and full of mystery, violence, forbidden love, monsters and magic. All the best stuff fiction has to offer. Mark me, I didn't say mine was the best fiction. I said my fiction was filled with the best kind of stuff. The stuff I enjoy most, anyway.
Point is, I'm currently shooting for November 20th as the official release of Sons of the Falcon. Hurray!
Is it ironic that one of the "sons" referred to in the title is actually a girl? I would like to say, "I hope you like Carah as much as I do," but honestly, I'm not sure I like her all the time, either.
Here's the final cover for your viewing pleasure:
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Thursday, November 7, 2013
Interview: Devon Winterson, author of The Perfect Player
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Recap of The Perfect Player:
“A forbidden tryst exposes a threat and sets a secret
plan in motion, and twenty-year-old Marisa of Mynae discovers her life is all a
lie. But even as a cryptic journal reveals her true purpose and a trail of
hoofprints leads her to a demon renegade, Marisa balks at fate's course until
evil devours her people and imperils her father's life. Only then does she
learn what it takes to play—and win—a deadly game of predator versus prey.” –
Imagination Ether Press
Meet the Author:
Two weeks ago, I posted a review of The Perfect Player, the upcoming dark
fantasy novel of Connecticut author Devon Winterson. Currently Devon has several
novels in the works, most of which take place in the world of Caendoria. Other
projects include co-writing a middle-grade novel with her son, editing for a
small publishing company, and moderating at Writer’s Beat, a growing online
community for writers, for which she contributes to the quarterly e-zine. She
also happens to have a passion for golden retrievers.
This week Devon graces us with a brief interview. While
reading The Perfect Player, two
questions kept springing to mind. Where did this come from, and where is it
going? I suppose I’m fascinated with the mysterious, vibrant labyrinths of other
writers’ minds. Read on for Devon’s crackerjack replies:
The Interview:
Court: The
whole time I was reading The Perfect
Player, I kept wondering what initially inspired this world and the story.
So can you tell us a little about how this world came to be and how these
characters sprang out of it?
Devon: Initially,
this all started with a short about a young woman who severely injures someone
after driving home drunk. She consequently dies in the crash, and is sent
straight to the underworld to “pay her dues,” where she meets a sympathetic
demon who hears her plight, reasons things out, and sends her back so she can set
things right.
The Perfect Player
and its subsequent stories kind of just morphed from there, I suppose, into
what it is now: Nothing like the original short story—at all. Except for the
demon and the young woman, who eventually turned into Locrian (the demon) and
Marisa of Mynae.
See, my muse led me down a totally different direction
with those two, and from there, everyone else took shape. I planned nothing at
the outset—neither the world, nor the people. I just sat down and wrote, and
story events simply started to materialize. So I wrote them all down as I saw
them pop into my imagination. Of course they were all jumbled and stupid at
first, with half the events completely illogical and my writing skills at
basically zero. But over the span of a decade I learned, listened, and
practiced, then honed the first story into what it currently is.
In fact, starting on November 9th, I’m hoping to post up
a successive trio of blog posts leading to the November 11th release of The Perfect Player, wherein I tell the
(not-so-true) story of how everything came about, muse included. It’s a
humorous take on it all, and it kind of shows my crazy side.
Court: *laughs*
I’m looking forward to reading those posts. Now, The Perfect Player ends with full resolution, yet it's open-ended
too. Without giving away any spoilers, can you tell us where you see the world
and these characters headed in the future?
Devon: Honestly,
I see them all going backwards. Throughout my entire series, I work with a
retrograde timeline where The Perfect
Player (first book) is actually the finale to an overarching set of events;
the middle trio of tales take place numerous years before the various
happenings in The Perfect Player and
all occur at the same time, told through different points of view (the reader
meets these characters in The Perfect Player);
and book five, the last tale, is what starts it all, sets everything into
motion, told through the viewpoint of the world’s creator, wherein various
scenes from the previous books are revisited with a fresh understanding and
interwoven through the creator’s own story. The last one I project will be one
huge, huge book, probably a handful of volumes, I suspect, if not more, and
very hard to construct as that particular main character is horribly cryptic
and difficult to figure out.
Conclusion:
.
Friday, November 1, 2013
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Review: The Perfect Player by Devon Winterson
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I give The Perfect Player 4 out of 5
magic wands:
Purchasing information: The Perfect Player will be available on Amazon, in print and for the Kindle, on November 11, 2013.
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Blurb:
"A forbidden tryst exposes a threat and sets a secret plan
in motion, and twenty-year-old Marisa of Mynae discovers her life is all a lie.
But even as a cryptic journal reveals her true purpose and a trail of
hoofprints leads her to a demon renegade, Marisa balks at fate’s course until
evil devours her people and imperils her father’s life. Only then does she
learn what it takes to play – and win – a deadly game of predator versus prey."
Review:
I had the privilege of reading a pre-release copy of
Devon Winterson’s debut novel, The Perfect Player, which is due out on November
11, 2013—or, as I’m sure Devon would say, “On the eleventh day of the
eleventh month at the eleventh hour.” Devon is a moderator at Writer’s Beat, an
online community for writers, and her often hilarious and witty anecdotes and
gracious interviews of indie authors can be found at her blog, The Ether of My Imagination.
As with all indie books I read, I started The Perfect Player as a skeptic, but
soon became a believer. Granted, the hook in this dark fantasy comes a bit
late. I didn’t feel fully engaged in the story until Marisa’s “crazy” mother
makes an appearance toward the end of Chapter 2. After that point, there were
times when the story was so intense that I could not put my Kindle down. While
I read, I’m sure my eyes were bulging out.
What I loved most about The Perfect Player were the layers of history and backstory woven
into the plot. I kept saying to myself, “Wow, this is really complex.” The life
Marisa thinks she is being prepared for is only a façade masking what really
happened in the lives of her parents, and even events as far back as the
creation of the world. These secret events provide a delectable puzzle to be
worked out, both by the reader and Marisa herself.
Now, I did find some of my pet peeves in the writing
style, and on occasion, the villains and the heroine speak lines that are just
short of original in flavor. But most of the time, Devon’s writing is poetic,
powerful, and rife with treats to the senses. She has painted a vivid world in
which Marisa walks through lavender grasses with bare feet and drinks scented,
opalescent elixir instead of water. Her characters soon spring off the page,
full of flaws, complexity, hidden motives, and deep unfulfilled desires.
One of the most rewarding elements is that none of these
characters are safe, not even the heroes we come to love. Unexpected twists and
sudden loss make The Perfect Player a
page-turner. Who will survive until The End? You’ll want to add this debut
novel to your to-read list and find out on the eleventh day of the eleventh
month at the eleventh hour.
Purchasing information: The Perfect Player will be available on Amazon, in print and for the Kindle, on November 11, 2013.
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Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Janis Accepted!
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Who doesn't love Janis Joplin, eh? I mean, really. The wailing, the rebellion, the angst, the soul in that whiskey voice. A year ago, I posted about the Janis story I was writing, and in the months since I have been trying to sell it. We finally got a bite. Voluted Tales, a lovely subscription-only ezine, has picked up the story and will publish it on October 25th.
Thanks goes to my critiquers at LegendFire. Undoubtedly, they helped me work out the kinks. The success is theirs, too.
Now it's time to raise a glass of Southern Comfort and celebrate. Cheers, all.
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Who doesn't love Janis Joplin, eh? I mean, really. The wailing, the rebellion, the angst, the soul in that whiskey voice. A year ago, I posted about the Janis story I was writing, and in the months since I have been trying to sell it. We finally got a bite. Voluted Tales, a lovely subscription-only ezine, has picked up the story and will publish it on October 25th.
Thanks goes to my critiquers at LegendFire. Undoubtedly, they helped me work out the kinks. The success is theirs, too.
Now it's time to raise a glass of Southern Comfort and celebrate. Cheers, all.
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