Time to Celebrate!


Welcome to week 15 of the MFRW blog hop.

This week’s prompt: How I celebrate completing my manuscript.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How appropriate since I just completed Break Line!

I have different levels of celebration for completion. For instance,  I finished Faere Warrior: Passion’s Price and celebrated by doing an online giveaway party, going out to lunch with author friends, and of course the happy dance at home. Faere Warrior was accepted by a small house publisher along with Faere Guardian, Faere Mage, and Realm Wars with the stipulation that I do a prequal. I’m still working on the prequal –Rift, but the series has developed a lot more since that manuscript and I’ve learned a great deal since then.  I didn’t meet the deadline for submitting Rift, so the offer was withdrawn. My own fault there.

Releasing Book One for Realm Wars series, Rift is written in my planner –  in ink! I’m hoping to finish revisions on Faere Warrior by the end of the year as well.

I completed Break Line and am going today to celebrate with a luncheon with a fellow author,  the instigator of the anthology as a matter of fact! AND, to celebrate:

With Red Wine & Roses,  I didn’t celebrate until I received my box of books from Createspace. I made a steak dinner and Red Wine Chocolate Cake for dessert.

After completing Roxy Sings the Blues, I rewarded myself with a mani-pedi, and a fresh haircut to tame the short growth into a manageable coif! This one was a huge accomplishment for me after going through cancer treatment. I needed the pampering!

I will have Valkyrie’s Curse: The Awakening completed in May. What do you think I should do to celebrate? I’m trying to get away from food as a reward, although . . . I cook at home most of the time and we rarely go out to restaurants. Maybe something in addition to a night out?

 

Go check out what others are sharing on this topic: MFRW BLOG HOP. Be sure to leave comments!

Write on my friends, write on!

Win, Lose, or Draw


Welcome to week 12 of the MFRW blog hop.

This week’s prompt: My contest experience: Win Lose or draw!

 

How far back do you want to go? Hmmm . . .

In Junior High, there were essay contests.  I won 2nd place in our 8th-grade competition out of 120 students. I think I won a gift certificate to Spinning Wheels for a season pass. Disco Skating was all the rage and the roller rink was where the in-crowd hung out.  It was an essay about exploring, modern-day Tom Sawyer girl scout entrepreneurial adventure! I reread that about a year ago as I was clearing out some of the junk, and tossed it.  It would make you shudder to see the poor grammar. In a way, it brought a smile to my face as I was obviously very naive, had an idealistic view of the world, with childish expectations. Remind me again, why were we in such a hurry to grow up???

In my high school days, I took the obligatory English Composition but then took 2 creative writing classes. I loved those classes. The teacher,  a 5-foot tall lady named Mrs. White, who was married to the girls’ basketball coach – obviously Mr. White who was 6′ 6″. They were quite a pair! Anyway, Mrs. White encouraged me to submit a couple of my short essays to competitions in the region.  I got an honorable mention in a competition hosted at Lindenwood College.  It was a humorous piece, but I don’t have a copy of it anymore.

My passion for writing continued to a degree, I wrote several more short essays between 1000 and 5000 words. Most of which didn’t even get honorable mentions. During my college years,  who has time to write for fun??? I wrote term papers, assigned reports, and other miscellaneous papers that were required for my classes.  I usually got A’s on my term papers.

One mention here,  I wrote a report on the Battle of Antietam for a US History class.  I got an A on the paper,  but the instructor wrote a note on the side that it wasn’t necessary to be quite so graphically descriptive in my report, that it nearly made him sick reading my descriptives.  The Battle of Antietam was the bloodiest battle of the Civil War. It isn’t my fault that he assigned that one to me. I wasn’t about to copy verbatim the research I read before writing my version.  It isn’t my fault that the weaponry of the day didn’t kill a man with one shot.  At least it wasn’t a medieval battle with broadswords and hatchets. The fact that he could connect to the horrors of battle as described in my paper means that I nailed that scene,  right?

Then the years went by while working for the defense department,  working in the corporate world,  raising my children and there wasn’t any time for writing or pursuing my writing dreams. Once my kids were in school,  I had a little more time that I could put my thoughts down and started entering contests again.   I sent in a few submissions to Writer’s Digest contests and other contests. I had a few responses but few wins.  Then I entered a competition for the opinion column and won. It was a rotating position with 3 others and mine got a LOT of feedback. That was really the turning point when I started putting more efforts into my writing whether it’s fiction or humor.

It’s been a long bumpy road for me from those early efforts to now. If I had it to do over I may make some changes but since I don’t,  these are life lessons along my highway. Live, Learn, do better!

 

 

Go check out what others are sharing on this topic: MFRW BLOG HOP. Be sure to leave comments!

Write on my friends, write on!

If Only!


Welcome to week 11 of the MFRW blog hop. This week’s prompt is: If Only I Never Had to Do This One Task again . . .

 

When I sell enough books on a regular basis to hire a personal assistant,  I will.  Then, I will never have to . . . . Oh wait,  I still would probably have to do those things. Top on my list would be writing the cover blurb. UGH!

I find it ironic that I can write a blurb for a friend or tweak their starting efforts enough that it’s back cover worthy.  When I start to write my own blurb, however . . . *crickets*.

Why is that? Is it because I am too familiar with the story?  I know too much and tend to want to give out details? I know two amazing authors who are fantastic with blurbs.  I can send them a starting point and they will send me back something I can use! This is one of the reasons I have done pro bono work for those friends.

*Will trade editing for blurbs and elevator pitch!*

Blurbs would definitely be at the top of my list,  but then there is also mailing the packages – I have carried packages around in my car for days before actually stopping at the post office.

* hangs head in shame*

On a more personal note,  if I never had to wash another dish in my life, I would be all too happy.  Same goes for rinsing/loading/unloading the dishwasher. There are days when I consider investing in the paper plate industry and buying an industrial-sized case at Costco. That’s right,  I hate doing dishes! If it weren’t for my eco-friendly daughter that has us consistently recycling, nope,  I just can’t see the point of adding to the landfills because I don’t like doing dishes. If it’s just my lunch, I’ve been known to just use a paper towel for a sandwich. Eliminate the need to wash more!

You were probably expecting something deep and earth-shattering, but nope –  just the dishes. I don’t think I could get away with serving a can of peaches in the can, or persuading the hubs to just use a napkin instead of a plate. . .  never going to happen.

Maybe when I have the resources to hire a personal assistant,  then I can hire a maid as well!

Everyone has their dreams,  mine in this area are pretty simple.

Go check out what others are sharing on this topic at: MFRW BLOG HOP. Be sure to leave comments!

Write on my friends, write on!

Memoires from the Quarry Girl


Welome to week 10 of the MFRW blog hop. Yeah, yeah, yeah,  I’ve missed a few but I’ve had mostly good reasons. We’ll get to that in a bit. This week’s prompt is: Things Only my Family would understand.

OH, now y’all are getting personal. You know, there are some things about my personal life that I’d rather not share. I’ve got issues.  My issues have issues. those issues have itty bitty baby issues of their own.

I have to ask myself,  what does this have to do with writing?  What does this matter to anyone besides embarrassing the life out of me????? Whatever, let me grab a cup of joe and we’ll jump in with the top 5 Things Only My Family Would Understand. You might want to take this opportunity to run to the bathroom,  just in case you find these funny and have a laughing fit.

Alright, here we go –

Top 5 Things Only My Family Would Understand

  1. Don’t Move My Table We have a small eat-in kitchen. When my daughters were teens,  they developed this habit of pushing themselves away from the table. As they were nearly adult sized,  they pushed the table about three inches, and suddenly the plate my husband and I were eating from is three inches to the right.We’ve gone round and round about this. It’s a major pet peeve of mine. Sometimes I come in from doing whatever and my table has been moved on purpose, or one end of the table is angled closer to the wall. I’ve been known to bellow from the kitchen down the hall “Who moved my table?” in a not so pleasant voice. They usually just snicker which then ticks me off more.
  2. Radioactive Turkey Everytime Thanksgiving comes around, or Dad is cooking,  I hear the pathetic cries of  “You’re not going to make us eat radioactive turkey again are you?” Long story – when my girls were in 4th and 2nd grades, I went away for a ladies retreat weekend – actually it was like five days of bliss, with a spa day,  and luxury massages, dinner out for the duration that I didn’t have to ook or clean up –  it was heaven!  Yeah, I was glad to get back to my family,  but oh those days of being pampered. . . anyway, I digress.  So, while I was away, the hubs was in charge of feeding our children. They had such luxury foods such as beenie weenies, frozen pizza, burnt scrambled eggs,  ravioli from a can, you get the idea. I do 99% of the cooking in our household. So, on Saturday afternoon, after a busy morning of cooking cleaning and laundry, time got away from him and they were like “We’re hungry” around 2 o’clock. He checked my menu – because I made sure they had three meals and snacks for the time I was away.  Come on, I’m not a horrible mom. So he read the menu – chicken broccoli with rice. He opens the fridge, and there are not Chinese takeout boxes of Chicken broccoli. Hmmm, so he calls and asks –  the chicken breasts are in the freezer,  the veggies –  carrots celery, bok choy, and broccoli are in the vegetable drawer –  just in case they wanted stir fry and not just the broccoli. Then I told him since you didn’t thaw the chicken out this morning,  you’ll have to switch the dinner for lunch and have that later. Too much work,  so he took out this frozen family dinner thing that we had gotten from a monthly food box plan for a while.  I have no idea how long it had been up there because honestly,  it sounded disgusting. Turkey and dressing, frozen in a cardboard box.  When he peeled the top off,  the “Gravy”  was a chartreuse radioactive color. Of course, when I arrived home Sunday afternoon,  the girls clung to my leg. “Dad tried to feed us radioactive turkey!”
  3. Crow sandwiches – I think I’ve shared this tale before,  but here goes again. Back in 2009 when my mother passed away, she left the house to my siblings and myself.  Five of us to have to agree on everything. The chances of the planetary alignment happening again in this century has better odds. I got into a heated discussion with my second sister. They are both older,  but she’s the younger of the two.  Anyway,   after a few hours,  I knew I had to make amends.  I was standing at the kitchen counter, slicing chicken breasts to make filets for sandwiches. My husband called to say he would be a little late, and I told him that I was going to have to eat some crow. My youngest was sitting at the kitchen table coloring. When I served the pan fried chicken breast filets on kaiser rolls,  she cried.  “I don’t want to eat crow.”  I didn’t understand what she was talking about, then through sobs, she told me:  “This morning you told dad he was going to have to go shoot those crows because they kept eating Ginger’s food. Then I heard you tell dad we were going to have to eat crow.” Now keep in mind that my husband was laid off for 18 months and things were unbelievably tight. So since then when I fix chicken filets,  they are crow sandwiches.
  4. Bleeding Out Your Eyeballs When my kids were school aged, specifically junior high and high school they started the wanting to skip shool thing.  “I’m sick.” “I don’t feel good.”  Hey, I knew all the tricks.  back when I was in school,   my parents left the hosue before our bus came. I have to admit,  there were a few days that I took advantage of it.  But,  I had things I really enjoyed at school. For one,  if you missed school the week of a track meet, you couldn’t participate.  You still had to go, but you were benched.  I hated being benched.  Anyway,  so the kids are pleading with me,  their stomach hurts,  they have cramps they feel feverish (always I mean always have the thermometer ready!) So after the assessment,  my standard answer was. take some Pepto, aspirin, Tylenol, eat a piece of toast,  go poop – followed by “You’re not bleeding out your eyeballs so you’re going to school!”  They hated it then and still hate it now.
  5. Quarry Girl This is my husband’s favorite nickname to tease me with. I grew up in a small town smaller than the one I live in now. My parent’s home was in a valley just below a quarry. every Tuesday morning and Friday morning,  they would blast dynamite and the whole house would rattle,  sometimes pictures fell off the wall. The walls were plaster,  so my father was reluctant to even put things on the walls. The quarry was a dangerous place so of course as kids,  we snuck under the gates as often as we could. The mounds of sand and gravel were ideal for sledding, or in the summertime we would run up the ramp that the trucks would dump their loads down and jump as far as we could. Other times we climbed on the rocks or scaled the cliffs.  I can’t laugh at the stupid things kids do today because we did stupid things too. One particularly hot summer,  we were jumping down the face of the sand pile –  you would sink up to your hips at times – and just after my friends and I finished that round of jumps, a big cavity caved in, and snakes and tarantulas poured from this “air pocket”.  I have to say,  it was the last time we did those jumps. I got bit by a copperhead climbing on the rocks in that quarry. I sprained my ankles more than a few times.  We were chased off of the premises more than a few times and were lucky to not have charges pressed against us. But, my husband thought it was hysterical as he grew up on a farm. He teases me about being a redneck quarry girl. *Shrugs* I guess I am.  Not everyone can claim the title, or get it.

So there it is,  a whole lot more about me than you ever wanted to know!  Hope that it offered a few laughs. So, back to the reason I have been AWOL, . . . I shared the other day about the anthology that I have been asked to be a part of,  and I’ve been plotting, drafting and rewriting my short story for this anthology.

I am pleased to say that a few days ago, I typed THE END!!! It’s gone to a couple beta readers and is now in the hands of my wonderful editor. WHEW!  Can’t wait to share the cover reveal – soon!

Go check out what others are sharing on this topic at: MFRW BLOG HOP. Be sure to leave comments!

Write on my friends, write on!

Interview with Nikki Jefford


While I was at Penned Con 2016,  I got the opportunity to talk with and  interview a few authors live, one on one..  OK,  so I fangirled a lot as well. What can I say?

Nikki Jefford is one of those authors. I took a big breath, exhaled loudly,  then quickly approached her to do an interview.  She was such an amazing sport, and I know I cut into her set up time.

Sorry Nikki! I had only read the first  of her books but was already in love with this character and series. I was so nervous however,  that I forgot to get her to autograph a print copy for me. Next time Nikki, don’t let me forget!

You can tell I was nervous,  I was tongue tied, which is rare for me.

I first saw a post on Facebook in the Penned Con group from Nikki back in April I think. She posted a release for her latest book, True North (Aurora Sky, Vampire Hunter book 6) and I had never heard of it before that time. It piqued  my curiosity so I went over to Amazon and immediately got book 1,  because I can’t jump into a series on book 6 that’s just crazy. I’m currently on book 3.

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I talk way too much when I am nervous and Nikki was great about it. *facepalm*

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Nikki Jefford is the author of the Aurora Sky: Vampire Hunter series and Spellbound Trilogy. She is a third-generation Alaskan now living in the Pacific Northwest with her French husband and their Westie, Cosmo. When she’s not reading or writing she enjoys taking long walks and motorcycling. Lifelong nature and animal lover with a fondness for hot chocolate, tea, wine, and baked goods.

Find out more at Nikki’s website at: http://www.nikkijefford.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authornikkijefford/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/NikkiJefford

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/nikkijefford/

Go check  out her latest book. Better yet,  get the series!

Write on my friends, write on!

Ellie

Interview with Amy Hale


While I was at Penned Con 2016,  I got the opportunity to talk with and actually interview a few authors.  OK,  so I fangirled a lot as well. What can I say?

(You may have to turn the volume up,  I haven’t figured everything out yet.)

Letters From Jayson by Amy Hale

Jayson wants a quiet place to finish his current project. With one missed deadline behind him, he doesn’t have time for distractions and interruptions.

When Lindsey temporarily moves into a beach house owned by her best friend’s fiancé, she finds that it’s already occupied… by Jayson. To him, she’s a nuisance and a distraction from his work. To her, he’s a conceited and bossy obstacle. Both annoyed at this unavoidable situation, they agree to make the most of their predicament and try to co-exist in peace until their work is done. But Lindsey and Jayson quickly learn there is a fine line between love and hate. Is it really possible to love someone that makes you so crazy? Blurb:

Lindsey is ready for a change.

Shallow relationships and a dead end job have left her longing for more, so when a rare, but difficult opportunity presents itself for a promotion and temporary change of scenery, she jumps at the chance to try something new.

Letters From Jayson is a heartfelt comedy about finding love and forgiveness in the midst of chaos.

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Links:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Letters-Jayson-Amy-Hale-ebook/dp/B01J2EPZR2/

B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/letters-from-jayson-amy-hale/1123885820

iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/letters-from-jayson/id1120781774

Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/letters-from-jayson

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/640719

Excerpt:

An hour later, Lindsey retied her sarong around her waist and slowly made her way back to the house. She smiled as she walked, taking note of every detail she passed. The sand, the rocks, plant life—everything felt perfect. And the solitude was amazing. Not a sound outside of nature could be heard. The waves crashing softly were the perfect background music to start her new adventure. She pulled open the French doors and stepped inside the cottage. Then she froze in place. She heard humming. Masculine humming. It was coming from the vicinity of the kitchen.

At that moment, a man walked through the doorway with a knife in one hand. His piercing blue eyes met hers, and he stopped in his tracks. She let out a scream and grabbed the nearest thing she could find, which turned out to be a small potted plant. Lifting it over her head, she flung it at the intruder. He ducked just as it smashed against the wall next to him.

  “Get out,” she screamed. “Get out. Get out. Get out.

Lady. Hold up a minute,” the stranger yelled back. He quickly glanced at the remnants of the plant, disapproval on his face.

“I’m going to call the cops. I’ll have you put away for life. Get out of this house, you sicko.” She ran for the bed-room that she’d left her bags in, hoping she could shut him out and get to her cell phone.

He got there first and blocked the door. “Calm down.”

Calm down?” she screeched as her eyes jumped from his to the knife still in his hand. She backed up as she blindly searched for something else to throw at him, and her hand landed on a small glass paperweight. She lobbed it at him, and his reflexes weren’t quite quick enough. It nailed him in the chest.

“Argh … Dammit! Stop throwing things at me.” He rubbed the spot where she’d hit him.

“If you think you can just waltz in here and … and … assault me, I’ll have you know that I will not go down without a fight.” Her tone was full of determination, but she was sure he could see the fear in her eyes.

“What are you talking about?” He held up his hands and only then seemed to realize he was holding a large kitchen knife. He looked back at her. “I’m gonna put the knife down and we will talk like rational adults, okay?”

She backed away from him several more steps before swallowing and giving him a reluctant nod.

He placed the knife on the table to his left, keeping his eyes on her the whole time. “Now, why are you yelling at me like a deranged banshee?”

“Why am I …” His description set her teeth on edge and her anger flared. “Listen, Bucko, I’m not an easy target, so don’t think you can smooth talk me or trick me into letting my guard down. And insulting me sure as hell won’t get you anywhere.”

He put his hands on his hips and raised one perfect eyebrow. “You listen, sweet cheeks, your virtue is safe. I don’t have to resort to forcing a woman if I’m in need of intimate company.” He took a moment to admire her red bikini and see-through sarong. “I mean, you’re hot and all, but don’t flatter yourself.”

She opened her mouth for a witty retort, but all that escaped was air. For a moment, she was actually speech-less, and that didn’t happen often. That moment quickly passed. “Why did you have a knife?”

He looked at her like she was an idiot. “To cut my sandwich.” He pointed to the coffee table in the middle of the room. A blue plate sat on one edge of the table—a large sandwich and a handful of chips covered most of the surface. An open beer bottle was nearby.

“A sandwich?” She was really confused. Why would a guy break in and make a sandwich? She looked him over then, really taking notice of him. She amended that thought—Why would a guy break in and make a sandwich, wearing nothing but lounge pants? He wasn’t just any guy, either, he might have easily been the most attractive man she’d ever set eyes on. He looked to be a few inches taller than her and was muscular everywhere. Not bodybuilder, vein-popping huge, but more like lean cut and definition that spoke of a man who took good care of himself. His face was classically handsome, with an angled jawline and rugged features, yet there was also something about him that made her think of that adorable boy she’d had a crush on in fourth grade. Maybe it was the bright-blue eyes, or the spiky but messy hair. Or it could have been that impish grin that told her he knew just what she was thinking. Damn, he caught me checking him out.

She shook off those thoughts and glared at him. Typical. Handsome and full of himself. Before she could fire off her next set of questions, he pinned her with a hard look.

“Now that we’ve established that the only thing I planned to murder is a hoagie, maybe you can explain to me what you are doing?”

She pulled herself to her full height and looked him in the eye. “I don’t owe you an explanation for anything.”

“Since you are in my house, uninvited, I might add, I’d say you do.”

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Author Bio:

Amy Hale is an author, mother, and wife living in Illinois. She started her writing career in 2003 with non-fiction and educational pieces, but decided to take the leap to fiction in 2014. She’s always plotting new projects and writing down crazy ideas. She’s a hopeless romantic and adores all the various ways a love story can be told. Amy also loves mystery, humor, suspense, and other action-filled stories, so her goal is to blend the action with romance and keep you on your toes.
Her husband and kids are the center of her universe, although her cat believes otherwise. She also loves reading, music, and photography. When she’s not writing or reading, Amy can be found watching MST3K movies with her kids, or enjoying the scenery fly by from the back of her husband’s motorcycle.

 

Social Media:

Website: http://www.authoramyhale.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authoramyhale

Twitter: https://twitter.com/authoramyhale

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/authoramyhale/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authoramyhale/

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UChcgDFwggfO6NziPrGtLzHg

Go check  out her latest book, and maybe take a gander at  her others!

Write on my freinds, write on!

Ellie

Summer Lit Blitz – Zanzibar


As promised yesterday, my Summer Lit Blitz guest author! My apologies for the nonsensical post. Hey, your brain would be mush after a four-hour meeting too! Don’t judge!

Anyway, My guest is none other than the fabulous Zanzibar Schwarznegger.

  1. Tell me a little about yourself. 

I’m a Figment. This means I’m a character someone created, but I don’t have a book, so no one knows about me. I’m also in the Character Witness Protection Program, so I can’t tell you where I’m from, but I’m currently running around the Pacific Northwest because The Conductor isn’t very fond of rain.

  1. What is (are) your goal(s) for June? July? August? (whichever month you are being interviewed for)
    Goals would be good. Mostly I just write.
    Okay, very untrue. After a little time off for relocation (see Character Witness Protection deal), I am behind on my schedule, so I’m juggling three books in various stages and about to start outlining a fourth. Life is more fun with juggling. Circuses teach us that. Also, magic.

 

  1. What is your best time management tip?
    Don’t stop writing. Ever.
    Barring that, set goals, set deadlines, and use Pomodoro technique (xx minutes of intense, focused activity followed by a break).

 

  1. What is your best writing tip for newbies?
    Finish something. Really, finish anything. I think it’s always better if you can start with short stories because those have the quickest turnaround and give the fastest opportunities for learning, but some writers are afraid of short stories. Even if you’re writing a novel, write the whole thing,then whine about it.

 

  1. Do you have a book coming out this summer?
    I’ve had three books out so far this year (one under a pseudonym because it wasn’t at all funny), so I don’t have anything else coming out until October. A Figment needs to sleep. Okay, I don’t, but I like to pretend I’m real.

 

  1. What genre do you write?
    Humor, first and foremost. Then you can shunt my stuff into fantasy, YA, romance, and mystery, depending on the book. Why do one genre when they’re all so much fun?

 

  1. Are you attending any author events over the summer?
    I was supposed to, but I had to cancel. Protective custody isn’t very protective if everyone knows where to find you.

  2. Do you have a vacation planned for the summer? If so where? If not, when?
    My life is always a vacation, but I am leaving the vicinity of the Pacific Northwest for a while and heading to… wait. Is this a trick question? Do you know The Conductor?

  3. What are your favorite summer foods? Activities?
    I love to camp and hike. S’mores are a must, although I’m not greedy, so s’less works, too. Iced coffees and teas, chilled watermelon, and a nice slab o’ dead creature on the grill works, too. Could you excuse me? I’m hungry now….

 

  1. What quality do you most admire in a woman/man?
    A sense of humor.
  2. What do you most value in a friend?
    I can forgive almost anything outside of walking away from a friendship. That’s getting a little too serious for me.

  3. What is your favorite journey?
    One I didn’t plan, even though I’m a planner. Total plotser with a hint of panting.

  4. Which book have you read the most in your lifetime?
    That’s a tough call. I have multiples that I have read more than five times, so I’m not sure. There’s certain books that are like having a talk with a friend you haven’t seen in years. No matter how many times you come back, the conversation is always fresh and you leave feeling refreshed.

  5. If you could choose to be a character in a book, who would it be?
    I am a Character, I just haven’t found my book yet. Why be someone else when I’m so very awesomesauce on my own?

  6. Will you share a picture of your writing space?
    I’m really starting to think you have something going with The Conductor. No, I cannot share anything that might give away my location.

  7. Who is your favorite hero of fiction?
    A parent shouldn’t have a favorite child and a reader shouldn’t have a favorite hero. That’s just mean to the other kids.

  8. What genre do you read most often?
    I can honestly say that I read everything but erotica and horror (although I’ll dip my toes into horror until they get chopped off). Oh, and westerns.  If I really want a description of a horse’s butt, I’ll go for a ride.

18.  Who are your favorite authors?
The ones I’m currently reading. Outside that, I love humor, so Jasper Fforde, Terry Pratchett (RIP), Douglas Adams. Currently on a Jim Butcher kick because he reminds me of R.R. Virdi, who I also enjoy.

   19.  Do you use real people as your characters or do you completely make them up? Describe your process.

Absolutely no real people. I do not have an evil queen based on the asker of these questions. That would be absurd.
Process: find a real person and force them to give me permission to warp them into something they don’t recognize. So far, it’s gotten good results.

(Permission was granted for the characterization of evil queen and THIS asker totally approves. Well, until she thought I could be easily replaced by a successor. Excuse me while I exterminate the pretenders!)

     20.  Is there one book that you wish that you had written? (Not for the profits – but for the quality of the writing.)

I wish I had written The Eyre Affair because it’s brilliant, but I could do it with less language. I don’t really need curse words to be funny, so I generally skip them. Also, I wish I had created Anne McCaffrey’s Pern. I could play there forever. Dragons rule.

 This has been great conversation, but  our time is nearly over.  Thank you for stopping in and sharing.  Do you have a bit you could share from your books? 

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Veneri Verbum

Fantasy humor

Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/dp/1312856076/


 

  

Writing a book may be the perfect solution to all of Christopher Cullum’s problems. He’s currently living at home (at age twenty-five), but his mom fears she’ll be doing his laundry forever. If he doesn’t accomplish something notable soon, she may invoke some tough love. He might even have to clean his room.

 

  

   “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like my crown back. In exchange, I’ll give you a free pass to your destination.”

     “If you’re evil, why would you do that?” Elsa asked archly.

     “Boredom, my dear.” [The evil queen] fingered the necklace around her pale white throat. “Besides, I like being the most evil being here. If he stays, who knows what kind of evil would show up?”

     Eric looked at the crown in his hands, then at Elsa and Christopher. He sighed. “Just when I get something nice.” Dragging every step, he walked up to the throne and returned the crown.

     “That’s better.” Ellie seated the crown on her head. Her elaborate hairdo immediately styled itself around the crown. “Time to die.”

     “But you said…”.

     “I’m sorry. Did you miss the part about being evil?” The queen clicked her tongue. “Honestly, I cannot understand why anyone trusts me. It’s like you’ve never read a book before.”

     Christopher blushed. “I read books. Sometimes. I have to read for classes.”

     The queen waved one hand airily. “Not my concern. Time to die. If you could scream a bit, I do like that part.”

 Zanzibar 7. Schwarznegger is a fictional Figment-Writer who escaped through a plot hole into the real world. He resides somewhere on the west coast of the United States and moves frequently under the Character Witness Relocation Program. He has spawned a number of plot bunnies, tribbles and squirrels. His hobbies include oxymoron acrostics, weekend adverbial warfare, and braving the terrors of parody flux on a dare. He occasionally remembers to update his website at www.zanzibar7.com.

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/zanzibar7Schwarznegger

Twitter: @Zanzibar7Writer

Email: zanzibar7schwarznegger@gmail.com

Website: http://www.zanzibar7.com/

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Beta Beware

Fantasy humor

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1944707042/

DJ needs beta readers. She finds another writer, Christopher, who needs readers as well and offers a trade. What’s the worst that can happen? His book is boring or he doesn’t finish hers. Except there are worse things than boring books in the world of Figments. DJ is sucked into Christopher’s book, playing a game with very real consequences and no do-overs. Bring on the coffee!

 

 

“I bet she talks to me first.”

“I bet she’s already talked to me before.”

“I bet she wants to talk to me first, but feels sorry for you.”

“I bet she feels sorrier for you, but still likes me better, so she talks to me first.”

DJ couldn’t figure out which one was talking when and was starting to feel like the net in a tennis match. “How do you tell yourselves apart? Are you twins?”

Again they scowled at each other. “We used to be different people.”

“I was me. He was him.”

“We were separate. It was better.”

“Then the merge.”

“Bit of a death accident.”

“Or train.”

“I’ve forgotten exactly.”

DJ interrupted. “A train? You mean The Conductor got you, too?”

Again they looked at each other, this time without glaring. “We got her.” They smiled simultaneously and fist-bumped.

“Technically.”

“But there was dying.”

“Then the train jumped out of the plot hole.”

“Then… merge.”

“Now we’re a little of each other.”

“Less intimate than it sounds,” the dark-haired one assured her. “We don’t share anything.”

“Untrue,” the one on her left said. “We share things. We just don’t do it intentionally.”

“Mostly the same thing and less creepy than saying it the other way.” The one on the right checked his pocket watch. “Isn’t there supposed to be a case today?”

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 The Annals of Bobian

YA humor

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1944707018/

The Bobian is twelve and has one goal in life: get ice cream. Unfortunately, life seems to be conspiring against him. Birthday parties gone awry. School bullies teaching him a (temporary) lesson in humility. Bratty little sisters and next door neighbor kids stealing his rightful reward. What’s a kid to do? There’s only one solution: The Bobian will defeat them all… even the time-changing aliens who are determined to keep him from summer.

 

Today was a special test. Today had started with a turkey craft, as if The Queen Mother didn’t have enough copies of his hand as an ugly bird stashed around the house. He tried to throw them away, but she always asked about them. A few of them had bonus trash stains or extra wrinkles.

After crafts, they practiced music, which meant the girls screeched loudly while the boys tried to pretend to sing without really singing. It was a stupid song anyway. Even kindergartners didn’t think turkeys were friends right before they ate them.

Recess would have been better, except that it was raining and the teachers always thought rain would make them melt. Other than the one girl who was allergic to everything and a teacher he was pretty sure was related to the witch who got melted by Dorothy, The Bobian didn’t think water could really hurt you. Soap and water… that was a different story. Plain old rain was no reason to cancel recess. That was just mean.

The day continued to be bad after recess. It was the day for that talk. The girls went away, which was good, but the teacher who came in to give that talk was older than the fossil The Bobian had in his rock collection.

“Alright. Class.” He stopped and looked around, obviously trying to figure out where he was. “Class. Right. We’re here to talk about…”. He frowned, which was like all his wrinkles made more wrinkles for the other wrinkles to talk about. “Oh. Yes. We’re here to talk about bodies. Male bodies.” He pushed his glasses further up his nose and looked around the room. “There aren’t any girls in here, are there?”

He smelled like dust. Not dirt, which would have been kind of cool, but dust. That was just weird.

 

If you are in the mood for a few laughs or a lot of laughs,  check out these books for your summer reads!

Write one my friends, write on!

Ellie

Two Guys Walk into . . . Wait, what do you mean there are no Twinkies?


This post has nothing to do with NANOWRIMO.  Except for the fact that V.L.Locey stays in the habit of writing during NANOWRIMO.  She is one of my writing buddies throughout the year and I have learned a great deal from this awesome woman!  If it’s not hockey it’s zombies!  The things she dreams up – oye! 

Welcome my guest, friend, and fellow writer – V.L.Locey sharing a bit from her newest release -Two Guys Walk into an Apocalypse 3, a Zom- rom com! 

Before I start chatting about zombies I`d like to thank Ellie for having me back again, she must be getting tired of seeing me here. I`m like a bad penny, or that creepy third cousin that shows up at family affairs, or a zombie virus outbreak. Nice segue huh?

Smooth – very smooth!  I thank you for not bringing the guys this time .  Not that they aren’t welcomed,  just . . . . well I had to  toss the  sofa and  wingback chair after their previous visit.  Couldn’t seem to get that decaying zombie flesh off the sofa,  and  a piece  on the arm of the chair was still twitching –  it rather freaked me out.  Glad to have you back!

I know that many people just cannot think about romance and zombies being in the same book. I mean that is just squicky, and nasty, right? Well, not necessarily. If you stop and think about it, when would love ever be more important? The world is falling apart, the dead are rising up, and the Twinkies are all gone. Having someone to love and cuddle during such a horrendous time would certainly make survival that much easier. Just think of Daryl and Carol. Go on. I’ll give you a minute.

*Takes moment to enjoy recollections of Norman Reedus looking all sexy and whatnot*

 Yeah, recalling their reunion made me tear up too. See, love and romance and spicy things are needed when one is facing an apocalypse. With that in mind, may I present my newest novella in the Two Guys zom-rom-com series?

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Blurb:

Paul and Gordon aren’t your typical zombie hunters. They’re a loving couple of educators who might be infected by the virus that is turning the world’s population into mindless, undead eating machines. So why haven`t they turned?  Well, Gordon has a theory about that. He suspects that those who march under the rainbow flag just might be carrying the cure for the plague in their bloodstream. Zendra, the massive pharmaceutical company where the mutated virus was made, certainly seems to be in a hurry to round-up all the gay survivors they can grab.

To avoid the clutches of Zendra, Paul, his partner Gordon, and a ragtag band of survivors head into the Great White North – the land of maple syrup, hockey, lumberjacks, and thick bacon. Here they plan to spend the winter, hopefully safe from roaming bands of undead, militaristic companies with far too much power, seedy groups of other survivors, and the always dreaded moose. Can two guys in love lead a motley crew to safety?

Two Guys Walk Into An Apocalypse 3: He`s a Lumberjack and He’s Undead is available at the Torquere Press Store, as well as all major eBook retailers.

 

Excerpts:

PG:

My sigh and a steady but thin stream of urine pattering on the pine needles and last fall’s dead leaves were the only noises until something stepped on a branch directly behind me. The dead bough cracked like a pistol. My urine stopped flowing as my heart dropped into my gut. A hot breath blew over the back of my neck causing every fine hair to stand up on end. The exhalation stank of rotten teeth and pond scum. With one hand, I tucked the shriveled beast back into its BVD cage. If a phobie was going to rip me into strips I was not dying with my *#*#  out. That’s just a thing I have. Death can claim me but my genitals will be covered if I can manage it.

With a very unhurried demeanor and a sudden weakness in my legs and knees, I simultaneously reached behind my back for the gun while I swiveled my head around. The largest brown eyes I have ever seen gazed down at me. The creature shook its massive head and blew snot from its nostrils. My fingertips skimmed the gun as a scream of sheer horror escaped me. The moose promptly freaked out. It bulled forward (I know, it’s funny isn’t it? Bull plus moose. Ha. Ha. God, I hate moose) as if someone had rammed a hot poker up its bunghole.

I pulled the gun free and fired. The moose got over being scared and got royally pissed off, which was rather a bit of irony since I now was fearful of losing control of my bladder. Where I hit the monstrous beast from hell I do not know but I think we can rest assured that it was not a killing shot. Bullwinkle threw his head to the left and right. I turned to run, was hit in the shoulder by a moose brow and was thrown to the side like some insignificant gay Raggedy Andy. My face met a tree, my gun flew from my hand, and Sir Moose attacked the nearest bush thinking — in its brilliant moose way — that the bush was the man who had screamed in its face and then shot beside its ear. I watched all this from the ground where I was balled up in a fetal position, whimpering about the sap on my lower lip.

My shot must have roused the camp, for within a moment (although between you and me it felt much more like several hours) the sound of people crashing through the woods broke through the snorting, thrashing, and pawing the long-headed cousin of Bambi was doing. A brilliant light swept the area. I screamed. The moose spun from his bush battle. Rider and Gordon skidded into the scene, the beams from their flashlights hitting the moose right in his ugly, flubbery face. Gordon raised a shotgun into the air but never got the chance to shoot. The moose plunged between the men, sending both diving to opposite sides. Bouncing shafts of light accompanied the departure of the moose as he crashed away into the land of nightmares.

“Sweet Jeezus,” I heard Rider pant somewhere in the darkness. “Damned shame I didn’t have my deer rifle, we could have eaten on that bitch for a month.”

“Paul, are you okay?” my partner called as he struggled to get to his feet and locate his flashlight.

A mousey sound tumbled from me. I coughed and tried several times to find my voice. When I located it down by my spleen, I had a question for my saviors. “Did– Did he mean ‘bitch’ like that animal was a female, or like some sort of rural Southern expression like ‘Damn son, we could have eaten on that bitch for a week!’ when in actuality the beast was a male?”

Torque Press: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=78_85&products_id=4288

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Two-Guys-Walk-Into-Apocalypse-ebook/dp/B00P00RC0G/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&qid=1414616464&sr=8-5&keywords=v.l.+locey

Thank you  for sharing that little bit.  I can’t wait to delve into this!   I have to confess I haven’t read it yet,  I am behind on my reading since I’ve been required to read  numerous other dry  materials for the day job. 

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Author Bio:

             V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, belly laughs, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a steer named after a famous N.H.L. goalie, and a flock of assorted domestic fowl.

When not writing lusty tales, she can be found enjoying her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania, fresh cup of java in hand.

I love to meet new friends and fans! You can find me at-

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/pages/VL-Locey/124405447678452

Twitter https://twitter.com/vllocey

Pinterest-http://www.pinterest.com/vllocey/

Goodreads- http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5807700.V_L_Locey

My blog http://thoughtsfromayodelinggoatherder.blogspot.com/

 

More V.L. Locey Torquere Press books:

 Two Guys Walk Into An Apocalypse (Part of the He Loves Me For My Brainssss anthology), Two Guys Walk Into An Apocalypse 2:It Came From Birmingham, Love of the Hunter, Goaltender`s Penalty, All I Want for Christmas, Every Sunday at One (Part of the 2013 Charity Sip Anthology), Night of the Jackal.

 And coming soon exclusively from Torquere Press . . . An Erie Operetta and Early To Rise – A Toms & Tabbies Tale.