My A to Z challenge theme is writing terms. I was working on this post when I received a phone call with a bad report from the doctor’s office. Please excuse me for being derailed from posting. Sometimes life gets in the way. Sometimes you get news that you find so upsetting you can’t think straight. I’m hoping that it will turn out to be nothing, but forcing my mind to stay off the worst case scenario, researching on WebMD, and consulting other WEB medical sites has required my full attention.
Monday’s letter was H.
Haiku: A three-line, seventeen syllable poem, usually about nature. I’ve tried my hand at Haiku a couple of times and only managed a few meager poems. Some of these are beautiful. Some of the haikus, not my haikus. Mine were more like misguided limericks.
Hardcover: Book bound with hard cardboard cover, then covered with a paper dust jacket. There are very few books that I will spend the money on for a hardcover book anymore. However, having said that I will throw down some jack for a select few first edition hardcovers!
HEA: The Happily Ever After ending. This used to be standard fare for romance novels. It used to be standard fare for several genres in fact. Louis Lamour’s westerns typically had the HEA with the hero riding off into the sunset at the end after beating the bad guy, getting the girl, saving the current town from ruin, and getting Timmy out of the well! The fictional world of HEA is a far better place than the current trend of noir, harsh reality within fiction. Seriously, who wants to read the same terrible tragedies that we lie?
HEMINGWAY CODE: Hemingway’s protagonists are usually “Hemingway Code Heroes,” i.e., figures who try to follow a hyper-masculine moral code and make sense of the world through those beliefs. Hemingway himself defined the Code Hero as “a man who lives correctly, following the ideals of honor, courage, and endurance in a world that is sometimes chaotic, often stressful, and always painful.” This code typically involves several traits for the Code Hero:
(1) Measuring himself against the difficulties life throws in his way, realizing that we will all lose ultimately because we are mortals, but playing the game honestly and passionately in spite of that knowledge
(2) Facing death with dignity, enduring physical and emotional pain in silence
(3) Never showing emotions
(4) Maintaining free-will and individualism, never weakly allowing commitment to a single woman or social convention to prevent adventure, travel, and acts of bravery
(5) Being completely honest, keeping one’s word or promise
(6) Being courageous and brave, daring to travel and have “beautiful adventures,” as Hemingway would phrase it
(7) Admitting the truth of Nada (Spanish, “nothing”), i.e., that no external source outside of oneself can provide meaning or purpose. This existential awareness also involves facing death without hope of an afterlife, which the Hemingway Code Hero considers more brave than “cowering” behind false religious hopes.
The Hemingway Code Hero typically has some sort of physical or psychological wound symbolizing his tragic flaw or the weaknesses of his character, which must be overcome before he can prove his manhood (or re-prove it, since the struggle to be honest and brave is a continual one). Also, many Hemingway Code Heroes suffer from a fear of the dark, which represents the transience or meaninglessness of life in the face of eventual and permanent death.
Hook: A narrative trick in the lead paragraph of a work that grabs the attention of the readers and keeps them reading.
HOMILY: A sermon, or a short, exhortatory work to be read before a group of listeners in order to instruct them spiritually or morally. Examples include Saint Augustine’s sermons during the patristic period of literature. Chaucer himself took two Latin tracts on penitence, translated them, and turned them into a single sermon by placing the text in the mouth of the Parson in “The Parson’s Tale” in The Canterbury Tales. In the Renaissance, the content of English sermons was governed by law after King Henry VIII, becoming an avenue for monarchist propaganda. I find this term is often misused by many authors. I don’t know what they are referring to when they use it but it isn’t this.
Homonyms: Words that are spelled and pronounced alike but have different meanings. For example – pool (of water) and pool (the game).
Tuesday’s (Today) letter is I.
(See, I knew you’d get the HI eventually!)
ICEBERG – THEORY: Hemingway’s idea that good writing should consist of simple, direct sentences and plain description on the surface, but beneath that simplicity should be hints of psychological tension or symbolic depth suggested by what is visible above. He told an interviewer, ” I always try to write on the principle of the iceberg. There is seven-eights of it under water for every part that shows.” What remains unspoken or unwritten may be as important as what appears in the text.
Imprint: Division within a publishing house that deals with a specific category of books.For example, Harlequin has several imprints. Mira, Silhouette Desire, Nocturne, Historical Undone, Romance Suspense, Harlequin Teen, Steeple Hill are just some of the imprints from Harlequin.
Irony: When a person, situation, statement, or circumstance is not what it seems to be, but the exact opposite.
IDEAL READER: The imaginary audience who would, ideally, understand every phrase, word, and allusion in a literary work, and who would completely understand the literary experience an author presents and then responds emotionally as the writer wished. Something my social media coach taught me, make a wanted poster for my target audience – the group of ideal readers.
IMPLIED AUDIENCE: The “you” a writer or poet refers to or implies when creating a dramatic monolog. This implied audience might be (but is not necessarily) the reader of the poem, or it might be the vague outline or suggestion of an extra character who is not described or detailed explicitly in the text itself. Instead, the reader gradually learns who the speaker addresses by garnering clues from the words of the speaker.
INFIXATION: Also called epenthesis, infixation is placing an infix (a new syllable, a word, or similar phonetic addition) in the middle of a larger word. Some languages regularly use infixation as a part of their standard grammar. In English, infixation is often used in colloquialisms or for poetic effect. Shakespeare might write, “A visitating spirit came last night” to highlight the unnatural status of the visit. More prosaically, Ned Flanders from The Simpsons might say, “Gosh-diddly-darn-it, Homer.”
INTERNAL AUDIENCE: An imaginary listener(s) or audience to whom a character speaks in a poem or story. For example, the duke speaking in Browning’s “My Last Duchess” appears to be addressing the reader as if the reader were an individual walking with him through his estate admiring a piece of art. There are suggestions that this listener, whom the duke addresses, might be an ambassador or diplomat sent to arrange a marriage between the widower duke and a young girl of noble birth. This term is often used interchangeably with implied audience.
Boy oh boy, let me tell you if that didn’t play havoc with spell check!
I am not guaranteeing that I am going to do this every Wednesday, but a few authors have agreed to participate.
I have some of my past guests as well as new ones. I’ve sent each one their interview questions and hopefully they will get back quickly. Last year I tried to do something like this, but then I got a contract with Eclectic Bard Books and worked fast and furious on my own manuscript.
I think that you’ll like the variety of reading choices. It will give options to choose from for your summer reading pleasure! I’m making a point to read the books of my guest so that I can leave a review and of course so that I can read enjoyable books. I’ve gotten way behind on my reading. Maybe if I fit chapters of that nonfiction Boundaries book in between theses books . . . . hmmm. I might actually get to mark that off of my list!
For me, it’s always interesting to talk shop with other authors and see how they do it. I just finished rereading a book that I had purchased the e-book version a while back and recently purchased the signed print copy from the author. This book and the sequel which I am currently reading are special to me. The author used me as her inspiration for her evil queen. I am thrilled! Even more thrilled after reading the entire story. Evil queen Ellie – who falls for a shrimp – an actual prawn, not a short guy – before burning him to death.
If you’re looking for a quick read that is lighthearted humor, you should check outVeneri Verebum by Zanzibar Schwarznegger.
One of my favorite lines from this book is in the first chapter:
“Your writing is several layers of crap, topped with a drizzle of pretentiousness.” – Veneri Veribum by Zanzibar.
Totally made my day. I’d forgotten how gloriously sarcastic her humor is!
Come on, you know you need a good laugh. Don’t take life so seriously.
I’ve been struggling with a concept for some time now. Thanks to my friend Misty, I think I’m beginning to see the fog clearing.
There has been much talk in the writer community about branding, creating a distinct logo to identify yourself from others. I see my peers with fancy designs, symbols, something they identify as setting themselves apart from the crowd. Meanwhile, I am standing back here scratching my head, I don’t get it.
One author has a Celtic symbol with a phoenix, another has a Celtic knot, one has ruby-red lips dripping blood, one has a dragonfly, another a fairy. . . I don’t identify with just one symbol.
If I had to pick just one image, I don’t think readers would “get” one of those twisted trees standing on the edge of a cliff weather-beaten but still standing.
A geode comes to mind because inside a plain-looking rock are fascinating treasures. But again, this seems rather singular. I’m not a one or two-dimensional person. There are numerous facets to who I am. I don’t just write in one genre, but many. I don’t think a single symbol defines the multiplicity of aspects that go into my craft.
I look at authors I read – George R.R. Martin; Stephen King; Diana Gabaldon, Nora Roberts, Hemingway – shouldn’t your writing set you apart from others?
Do you think that C.S. Lewis or J.R.R. Tolkien discussed logos amidst the elf discussion?
“Why don’t you just use a blasted elf for your logo? Everything you write has elves in it.”
“I suppose you’d use that stupid Lion. Like that hasn’t been done a thousand times. I suppose you could use your lamp-post. OH but wait, that’s been used as well.”
“Stop mocking my lamp-post. Why wouldn’t I use Aslan? He is a symbol within himself. The allegorical king of all kings.”
“For heaven’s sakes man, move on. Can we just get back to the writing? I want to delve into the beginnings of my wizards.”
“Ugh! If it’s not elves it’s wizards. Fine. But first, let’s have a spot of tea.”
However funny it might be, I honestly don’t think they discussed logos.
But then again, I seem to be an antiquated element within my profession. I’ve worked for years on my craft. I’ve written more words than many of the published authors out there. I believe in quality first. Yes, so much to the point of perfectionism and setting my work aside because I see every flaw, every spot where I could do better.
One thing that was very difficult for me in the publishing process with Eclectic Bard Books was the cutting of the umbilical cord. I had a deadline. I spent grueling days going over my prose — fine tuning, changing, and rewriting — It came down to crunch time and I knew I had to jump. One of my fears was confirmed with one reviewer calling me on the “rushed” chapters. I wanted another week to rewrite them, add to them and have them fully baked. I knew they lacked some oomph, but that deadline was fast approaching.
It did teach me however, that at some point, you have to take a deep breath and jump. Let it go. Release it to the world to enjoy, tear apart, or ignore. This fueled my passion in a way that I had been lacking. I’ve since taken a few of my previous works from their dusty storage bins to assess how much work they will need before being released.
I’ve worked on being a better writer. I’ve worked on crafting a good story. I’ve learned about the elements that make a good story, how to string my sentences together, and how to do so using good grammar. Maybe not always great grammar, but most often it has to do with my poor typing. Yes, there are mistakes in my work as there are in most author’s works. Yes, There is always room for improvement.
I am a storyteller, a creator of fictional worlds, a teller of tall and short tales. Basically, I make up lies.
How is it that we have moved past appreciating quality works such as Lord of the Rings, The Illiad, Wuthering Heights to indulging in trashy novels such as Twilight saga and it’s Satan spawn, 50 Shades? In what society do some of the descriptions and phrases of these texts sound sexy?
“Desire pools dark and deadly in my groin.” – Dark and deadly? Does it emit some toxic secretion? No thanks.
“My inner goddess. . .” – this phrase is used so many times it isn’t even funny. My inner goddess says be original or go home.
“How could he mean so much to me in such a short time? He’s got right under my skin… literally.” – yeah, kind of like a festering splinter.
OK, enough about those. Back to my point.
Quality work should be the first step in branding yourself. Why have a platform that declares – I WRITE CRAP! What sets you apart from other writers?
Hopefully a unique voice.
Hopefully, a unique style.
Hopefully, a standard of excellence.
Be a BADASS writer that breaks the rules, pushes the boundaries, explores new horizons, dares to be themselves in a world of copycats. Work hard, do your best, and be yourself! I’m a one of a kind original masterpiece! A masterpiece that has many colors, nuances, voices, and some deep caverns that have yet to be explored.
SIGH.
I am indeed a dying dinosaur amidst a hoard of lemmings. The push is to get something out there, anything. Make a logo that people can associate with your name and build your platform!
FINE
You want a logo?
You want some symbolic image that people can associate with my author name?
Here you go!
Now Excuse me while I get back to writing. I have some changes to make on Valkyrie’s Curse: The Awakeningfrom my beta reader’s comments.
Now I have to go look up a term, one that a fellow writer posted in a thread in a writing group. I didn’t know the term for what I had used these for, but I’ll go find out and share that tomorrow.
I’m not sure if there is a format for tagging people for this post, but I am going to challenge a few of my friends to share from THEIR book, or their favorite book.
VL Locey
Karen Docter
Aya Walksfar
Aedan Byrnes
Joshua Cejka
Short, simple and to the point. That shouldn’t be too hard right guys? Guys? Why are they running away?
Tune in tomorrow for your daily dose of literary gold. Write on my friends, write on.
We have spent 30 days of literary abandon, or 30 days of writing in some form. Whether you hit the magic mark or fell short, if you have more words than you began the month win, then you are still a winner!
So what now? What do you do with “the book”?
There are some that dive right in but I suggest a different approach. Let it sit a while. In cooking, whether it’s a roast or a turkey it’s best to let it sit and rest for a bit before carving it up. The same holds true for your novel.
But I’ve built up this momentum in writing, shouldn’t I jump right in and keep writing?
Momentum is good. In the case of my novel, it’s not complete so I will continue to write. I estimate the final word count to be between 75 and 85K, so I have a way to go still. When that is complete however I will set that one aside fora couple of weeks and write on something else. Whether it’s blog posts (you may have noticed while I was head down writing there weren’t very many posts) or tackling the next book in the series, or revisions to a previous work you can bet I’ll still be writing.
My efforts will be divided between blogging and revising Valkyrie’s Curse: The Awakening; which was my nano novel from last year. The finished first draft of that one ended at 89,954 words. In October I began revisions on it and will get back to that one now.
Courtesy of Stokpic
Here are 5 suggestions that you can do in December to maintain the momentum while letting your baby rest. Just a note here, the reason you want to let it rest is so your eyes are fresh when you begin your revisions.
Plan your next novel: brainstorm for a new idea.
Keep the momentum by doing story prompts, fan fiction, flash fiction, journaling or blogging. Whatever it takes to keep you in the habit of writing.
Work on revisions of a previous novel. I will be going back to the book that I was editing/revising before November 1st.
Do a series of short stories, keeping your daily word count up.
Writing Lessons: take an online course that gives you writing assignments daily. I’ve taken courses through Udemy that stretched me past what I am comfortable with. For some, it was writing the sex scene. For me, it was writing those tender moments, you know the dialog where they express their true feelings and emotions.
After you get your words in, relax. Spend some time enjoying the holiday season. Make out your Christmas cards, wrap presents, decorate your house, have some cocoa!! Breathe!
I’ve been waiting for this for some time! Absolutely a must read! The continuation of the Vengelys story. If you haven’t read Aedan’s first book, Through the Oracle’s Mist, I suggest you do!
Aedan is a masterful bard, weaving a tale that has you on the edge of your seat waiting for what happens next. There are places where I let out an audible sigh making the people in the room question what I was reading.
Here’s a teaser:
The idea that my brother had not only killed her, but had damaged her before that fateful day had me twitching with rage over and over again. Until the time came that we all remembered and laid our truths on the table, I could not explain it. That Mastema and I had an uneasy relationship to begin with only furthered the injury and rage. I did stop my fuming long enough to thank Rigor for his intercession. If Dom is going to bear the brunt of my wrath, he at least has the right to know why. I believe, knowing my brothers, that any of us would do the same and would expect the same from each other where our match-mates are concerned. It is another troubling thought altogether that has me questioning if Mastema somehow thinks Georgie is or was his. That scenario is likely to become a dual to the death between us.
Beast and Fae are reunited once more.
Returned to their world through different doors.
Sanctions become future as the lots are cast.
A hunter becomes hunted to correct the past.
To return once again they must first breach the gate.
It’s the price they must pay to claim their true mates.
~The Pythian Scrolls
●Foreword●●
They jumped.
If I would have blinked I would have missed it. It was that fast. For every breath of every moment of my life one or more of them were there and yet in the span of time between breaths every one of them had disappeared.
Playing it back in my head, it was just too fast. I didn’t see it coming until the moment it happened, and then I couldn’t believe it happened.
“What have you learned Vengelys?”
“We have learned we are at war.”
“What else have you learned? You should have known we were at war.”
“We have learned that our adversary is wily and cunning and we have been, but should not underappreciate his tenacity in the war he is waging.”
“Do you infer that the strength of the enemy has been misrepresented to you Vengelys?”
“No.”
“Do you believe then that the complexities of the war we wage are beyond our abilities?”
“No.”
Tynan reached up to tap him out and take over. Rigor would never allow that I’m sure, but Tynan had tried anyway. I’m not the only one who noticed. Amaranos seemed to launch at the action as Rigor refocused fully on the God.
“Do you act in union or from a divided front? Perhaps it is not the war that was the problem with your ability to deal with the situation you discovered.”
“We stand as one, Amaranos.”
“Do you? It would seem that your kin believes they have the ability to stand before me with a calmer presence. Perhaps you should let them try.”
“We stand as one, and I speak for us all. My brother was reminding me to remember my place. It is his job to protect me as it would be mine to protect any of the others of us here before you.”
“Do you need reminding of where you stand? Is my presence before you not reminder enough?”
“No, I do not need reminding, though I appreciate his reminder just the same.”
I had never seen my father sit so still. His eyes were the only things that changed. They grew larger and larger as the comments flew between Rigor and Amaranos. My mother’s hands were red from wringing them and shaking in her lap. As I watched, Asmodai started to twitch and shake in the line behind Rigor. Tynan and Mastema traded worried eye glances. They were all showing the nervousness and fear I was feeling and I wasn’t standing there so I imagine it was multiplied for them. Kyrna’s forehead wept a large shiny sweat tear. I watched it splat on the stone floor before I looked back to Rigor again as Amaranos continued his verbal siege of my brothers.
“Do you supposition then that the task you were charged with was beyond you and your brother’s abilities? Is that why you flinch and fidget before me?”
“No my liege. I believe, as we all do, that we will become better with more training and that we completed the charge given to the best of our abilities.”
“So you instead infer that you were sent out ill-equipped for the battle you were asked to take on. To read between the lines of your answer, you are yet unskilled and need training to become that which Amarine believed you had already evolved to. Perhaps my other face had seen something that I myself cannot, as I see a group of brothers with far to go.”
Rigor shook. He looked like he was going to explode apart he was shaking so hard.
“Stand. Down. Vengelys. I will not say it again.”
Rigor stood, but barely. My father grabbed the arms of the chair, but his whitened knuckles betrayed the energy he was fighting to stay put. My mother dropped her head to look down and I could hear her muttering something to herself. All I caught of it was ‘Please…’ I could only look on in disbelief.
These were my brothers. These were the heroes of my waking and dreaming times. The sight of them fidgeting and failing in front of the God and the people was breaking my heart. Rigor turned to the line behind him and turned back on a rough growl at Dom who had lifted a foot toward him. What that was about I had no idea, but Rigor was having none of it. When he turned back to face us, he was different. His face was a mask of rage and his eyes had a fire in them I had never seen before. I loved every one of my brothers, but the idea of facing any of them as Rigor appeared right then had me torn between tears and screams.
“No Amaranos I would not stand down, and I am evolved. We took on a charge from Amarine and completed it. We have brought forward four Eupion, three males and a female found on this side of the portals and demonstrated by the items they had with them that they were here establishing an operation on our lands. We did this because we believed Amarine wished us to do so. It was not simple. It was not without confusion, and it was not without knowledge that we could have been better prepared, but in an effort to honor the charge, we did as we were told. Could we have done better? Perhaps. Could other warriors of longer tenure done better? Perhaps. Will we know one way or another for certain? No, because we did as we were tasked without stopping to question if we should or should not. We sealed into purpose for the throne and the throne bid us proceed.”
The collective gasp was so loud it hurt my ears, or maybe that was just me. Amaranos was visibly angry…red. faced. angry. The air in the room changed and any in the gallery who had been whispering, went silent.
“What did you say to me?”
“With respect, I said…”
With a gesture of his hand Amaranos silenced Rigor, freezing him in place.
“No Vengelys, as you have not respected, you will not proceed. Let all who are herein know that this impudence and blatant disrespect is not tolerated in the high house of Amaranth.” A flash of light sparked between Rigor and my brothers in line behind him. As we watched it grew fatter and deeper between them. Rigor had no idea. I wanted to shout, knowing that would lump me in with them, but I could not find my voice. The six of them in line behind Rigor looked at each other, but that was the only movement before I watched them slide together. As the gaping hole got closer to Rigor, though he couldn’t see it, he must have known. His frozen form did not change, but his eyes grew larger and the fire in them blazed. He seemed to get bigger before my eyes too, but I think it was me feeling smaller and smaller as I knew I couldn’t help him.
It was all over but the jump and I nearly missed that. As Rigor began to tip over backwards, the rest of them grabbed on and they were gone. Replaying it in my mind changes nothing. I still cannot believe it.
I cannot breathe. I cannot cry. I cannot fathom the implications of this. I want to rub my eyes and see them there, that their disappearance through the now perfect floor was just an illusion. It isn’t.
I’ve never seen my father weep until this moment. My mother is caught in a vortex of rage, grief and denial that mimics the emotions I cannot summon to the surface.
They’re gone.
Before I know or notice, everyone else is gone too. The gallery, full to bursting earlier, is now empty. The court high seat, where Amaranos waved them off to no one knows where, is also void. All that remain are my parents and I; all numb, all shocked, all stilled in our disbelief.
Amaranos had raged all through the high light rise to peak and pitch before my brother’s arrival. For the neutral between the faces of the God, he was ruthless in his rule of the people. News of raids, open portals, and reports of missing emgur, durab and mataur from near the boundary had soured the day before the seven men I loved best after my father had walked in to stand at court center.
I imagine they were blind-sided. Given the notoriety they had gained in the war, I think everyone in the room was. I had expected their strides against the Eupion advancements to have been met with praise, not disdain. How wrong we had all been.
“They’re gone.”
Saying it out loud, even as a whisper does nothing to make the obvious more real. The echo of those two little words around the now empty court chamber only serves to lance the wound in my chest to a deeper cavern of empty. It can’t be, but I know it is.
They’re gone.
~Jondre
This fantasy/fantasy-paranormal romance is definitely a page turner! I’d give this one 5 stars!!
About Aedan Byrnes
There is no simple description for Aedan Byrnes. Obsessive, dreamer, reclusive, compulsive, outdoorsman and wordsmith would be among the list if one were started. The displaced Gael lives in the upper Midwest with family between jaunts wherever the road goes. A frequent traveler, Aedan is as likely to be found rock climbing, spelunking, sitting fireside dreaming or aimlessly floating away as hiding with pen and paper working on the next tale.
A lifelong lover of words and writing, Aedan claims a diverse reading appetite and the writing reflects the myriad influences. A self-proclaimed ‘reader’s writer’, the emotional and sensory results of word combinations outweigh the visceral comprehension of phrases for the stories and drives the prose. The original ‘Eclectic Bard’ enjoys the special magick of storytelling, those who embrace the challenge of writing, and the dreamers who get whisked away by the words making the journey worth taking.
My good friend and writing pal V.L. Locey has done it again! She shoots she scores!
I have the privelege of being in a morning sprint group with this lovely lady. She is inspiring, encouraging and down to earth real and not afraid to tell it like it is. I have the utmost respect for her! Plus, she kicks my butt frequently!
Today marks the release for her latest addition, Reality Check (Book 4 of the To Love a Wildcat Series) by V.L. Locey
BLURB:
The team owner/head coach relationship can be a tenuous one at times. Isabelle Lancourt can testify to just how stressful it can be. Ever since her husband passed away, leaving her his beloved Wildcats, she and Philip Moore have been at loggerheads. When the opportunity to sign a Russian hotshot presents itself, Isabelle leaps at the chance to prove herself as more than just a pretty face. Dealing with hot flashes, salary caps, and trade deadlines she can handle with ease. The aftermath of an ill-advised, but erotically superb, rendezvous in Siberia with the handsomely annoying Coach Moore? That was not in any Wildcats playbook. Can Isabelle and Philip handle the changes life is about to throw at them? Or will combining their personal and professional lives prove to be a misconduct penalty that the league simply cannot overlook?
“I hate to be termed over-reactionary or whiny bitch,” I opened with. The man crammed into a seat two sizes too small for him mumbled something unintelligible across the thin aisle. “And far be it for me to complain, but I think the left wing is about to fall off.”
Within a heartbeat Moore was out of his seat and leaning across me. My nose was burrowed into his shirt pocket. That brisk seafaring scent he wore wrapped its arms around my olfactory to hug my sense of smell tightly. I drew in a deep breath, held it, tasted the tang of cologne and man, then exhaled through my mouth. Philip shifted a bit.
“Sorry,” he murmured, his bulk sliding downward a bit, so that his stomach rested on the rickety arm of my mouse-chewed seat. “I think it’s just the bounce of the plane over the turbulence,” he announced after a long, and not unpleasant, moment of his abdomen brushing my breasts. When I made a weak sound of hope in reply, he glanced from the window to me, a small twist of a smile playing on his lips. The impact of our positions hit me like a cinderblock to the head. His mouth was mere inches from mine now. I could see him swallow roughly. His jaw and neck were dark with new whiskers. I wanted to feel the rasp of his stubble on my neck, breasts, and inside my thighs. I wanted. Oh, hell yes, I wanted.
The blue of his irises darkened as I studied my reflection in his eyes. Was it desire I saw, or something else profound and powerful? Love and hate share lots of secrets, being such close friends as they are. The plane hit a ball of violent air. My head coach nearly went to his knees in front of me. My fingers dug even deeper into the arms of my seat. Philip gathered himself quickly, wiggling from the space between my knees and the crummy seat in front of me.
“Sorry,” he coughed, hurrying back to his own seat. I nodded, neck tight, spine stiff, heart hammering, and thighs twitching. “You remind me of Christine,” he said out of the blue. I managed to make my head creak around to look at him. The man was in control once again. Wish I could be so quick to move from one frightening thing to another. Shit, I was still freaking out about the way my body responded to his. “She didn’t mind flying until we hit turbulence,” he explained, wistfully.
“Every time we would run into a rough patch, her eyes would grow bigger.” He paused to find me looking at him. “She had these wide eyes anyway, so she always looked surprised,” he clarified. I nodded, knowing how important talking about our lost ones is. “Anyway, when she would feel the slightest jounce up she would go, eyes as big as basketballs, and into the ladies’ room she would dash. Once, on a flight down to Florida to see our youngest son Drew when he was in college, Christine spent the entire flight in the bathroom.” He chuckled in amusement. The sound was incredibly pleasing. My anxiety lessened a bit. “I used to tease her about the well-known safety features of a ladies’ powder room during a plane crash. Sometimes our fears get the best of us, though. She knew she was just as screwed as everyone else on that plane, but something about that cramped little girls’ room made her feel less vulnerable, I suppose.”
“Colton used to say ‘There ain’t no point in fretting about dying. If the good Lord says it’s your time, then it’s your time, darling!” I tossed out in my best Texan accent. Philip laughed uneasily.
“That sounds like Colton,” he said, running his palms over his thighs briskly. I wanted to ask him how he had dealt with his wife’s death. I knew she had passed a few years back from cancer, leaving him and their two grown sons to carry on. “He was a good man. He’s sorely missed.”
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, a pig named after a famous President, and a flock of assorted domestic fowl.
When not writing spicy romances, she can be found enjoying her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand. She can also be found online on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and GoodReads.
I love to meet new friends and fans! You can find me at-
First let me apologize – I can’t access my spell-check. I’m not sure what the problem is. Please just bear with me. It won’t be the first time you find spelling errors and sadly it won’t be the last either.
Fiction writers take great liberties at times with bending the truth, creating truths, twisting the truths, or more often just making up stuff as we go along.
One of the more fascinating things to me is in science fiction where the start of the story, or premise is based on fact, then add on or play what if, or toss the known science out the door and put something else in its place. Actually it’s not just in science fiction. This method is used in romance, in westerns, in drama, in whodunnits, it’s even in classic literature.
Whether we start with the norms of proper society and delve into the life of miscreants and street urchins, or we ride along on Captain Nemo’s fabulous Nautilus, the magic of fiction is that it can transport our minds out of our circumstances into a magical dimension that we find stimulating, calming, exhilarating, or even terrifying.
There is a long-standing heritage as bards and storytellers of this. Each culture has their mythos, stories that are told about the aspects of our world that mortal man didn’t comprehend. Are they made up? Often, there is an element of truth in cultural mythology. This is why the different mythologies across the cultures have parallel stories, have numerous similarities, and why most have gone by the wayside.
Ancient cultures attributed everything to acts of the Gods. Modern Science has replaced a cultural heritage with factual data. I’m all for science, but don’t you find it rather dull at times? Instead of meteorological phenomenon, we would be running to the temple to make offering to Hera, Zuess, Horus, or Quetzalcoatl. Of course the sacrificial offerings might be a problem nowadays.
When studying mythos it’s easy to slip over into theory. Theory is defined as:
n. – A doctrine, or scheme of things, which terminates in speculation or contemplation, without a view to practice; hypothesis; speculation.
n. – An exposition of the general or abstract principles of any science; as, the theory of music.
n. – The science, as distinguished from the art; as, the theory and practice of medicine.
n. – The philosophical explanation of phenomena, either physical or moral; as, Lavoisier’s theory of combustion; Adam Smith’s theory of moral sentiments.
About now, you’re looking at the topics of my blog and wondering where the heck I’m going with this, aren’t you?
Mythos and theory are at the heart of my WIP. It’s about faeries. Not the wee winged creatures that Disney likes to portray like Tinkerbell. Not the wee folk that Darby O’Gill ran into. It’s about a legendary race, the Tuatha De Danaan. In Irish-Celtic mythology, the Tuatha Dé Danann (“People of the goddess Danu”) are the Irish race of gods, founded by the goddess Danu. These gods, who originally lived on ‘the islands in the west’, had perfected the use of magic. They traveled on a big cloud to the land that later would be called Ireland and settled there.
Shortly after their arrival they defeated the Firbolg at the first battle of Mag Tuireadh. In the second battle of Mag Tuireadh they fought and conquered the Fomorians, a race of giants who were the primordial inhabitants of Ireland. The Tuatha Dé dealt more subtly with the Fomorians than with the Firbolg, and gave them the province of Connacht. There was also some marrying between the two races.
The Tuatha Dé themselves were later driven to the underworld by the Milesians, the people of the fabulous spanish king Milesius. There they still live as invisible beings and are known as the Aes sidhe. In a just battle, they will fight beside mortals. When they fight, they go armed with lances of blue flame and shields of pure white.
The Epic of the Tuatha Dé Danann is the first Cycle of Irish storytelling.
Fascinating material for a history buff that has ancestral ties to Caldonia and Ireland, but Miracle Gro for a creative mind.
This is a jumping off place. A beginning spot to which I stripped down some things, added on other things, threw on new garbs, tore off that bit there, added a bit more over here and wha-la! My own personal bent on a legendary race of immortal beings. I tried not to clash too much with traditional theory but then again it is just theory after all? Isn’t it?
Wouldn’t you wonder why, such a superior race that defeated the Firbolg and the Fomorian giants would be content to be exiled to the underground while humans roamed free on the surface? Why would they fight alongside these same humans?
Like I said, a jumping off place. As I sat on a high observation point, looking down over a valley of green lush spring grass, the Irish landscape came to my mind and the ideas began exploding like an internal fireworks display. Wish you could have been there it was magnificent! Then again, if you ask my daughter it’s a scary experience.
Soon, I will be on the final draft of this work and be ready to share it with everyone! In the meantime, you might want to invest in a little wrought ironwork around your home. Or a few pieces of galena might make an attractive investment.
I’ve spent a lot of time editing for other writers over the past several months. I’ve reached a point where I have to limit my time editing so I can actually spend time on my own writing. Editing for others has a two prong effect: It encourages me to write my own material because good writing pulls on me to write as well, and bad writing taps my ego to say – I can do better than this. Just being honest people, writer’s have a good share of ego or else we wouldn’t think our stuff needs to be read by the masses.
So, having said that I’m going to air a few of my ‘Are you kidding me?’ thoughts as an editor.
* clears throat*
When you submit your manuscript — that baby you’ve coddled for however long, that special creation that you’ve birthed through pain and agony — do yourself a favor and present the best manuscript you can.
Here are a few tips that you, the author can tackle yourself. These are common things, so don’t feel like you’re a hack because you find these things in your manuscript.
If it shows up in Word underlined by red, green, or blue – address it. Misspelled words, unique spellings, proper names are all tagged as well as sentence fragments and extra spaces. If Word catches it you’ll be damn certain the editor will.
Make certain that your formatting issues are addressed; appropriate page breaks and spacing. Check the submission guidelines for each publisher s they may vary.
Correct grammatical use of common homophones: to, too, two; they’re their, there; etc.
Sentence structure matters people! Fragments, dependent clauses, infinitive phrases, participle phrases, run ons, the gerund phrase – it matters. If you are going to write – WRITE WELL OR FRIGGIN’ GO HOME!
Mechanics – basic grammatical skills. I’m not saying that everyone needs to be a grammar Nazi, but could we at least keep it to the same mechanical structure of the English language? ( As I edit in English I can’t speak for other languages, and slang and backwoods redneck speak do not qualify unless it is part of the dialog between characters. )
Do NOT rely solely upon spell check, it will count something correct because it is a word, but the sentence will not make any sense: “As they bled out on the slow covered alley, my heart sank in my chest. They were truly gone.” Slow is a word but the correct word should be snow. READ YOUR WORK! Better yet, read it aloud, you’ll catch more mistakes that way.
Punctuation: Can I buy a comma for $500 Alex! Punctuation is important. EXAMPLE: Let’s eat mother! Let’s eat, mother! It makes a difference!
Dangling bits: Nope I’m not talking about erotica, although it happens there as well. I’m talking about the dangling verbals, phrases, clauses, the dangling participle. Would I be way off base here in suggesting that anyone who is serious about writing should take at least the basic English composition class?
VERBS: plural versus singular, keeping things consistent.
TENSE: * facepalm* In the latest piece I was editing, I got so confused whether i was in the past, present, or future tense that I literally had to get up and walk away.
PRONOUNS: Oh good Lord what a mess! Ever read something where he met this guy and he handed his bag to her, her father giving glowering looks at their hands touching as she leaned in to kiss him? Which him???? The author listed four different hims – which one is she going to kiss? I’m assuming not her father, although giving daddy a kiss is the least offensive thing in this little scene.
Incorrect word usage: Know the definition of the word you are using because what you are saying isn’t necessarily what you think you are saying.
This is just a quick down and dirty list, trust me, more will follow. We all need to edit ourselves before we think our baby is ready for the big publishing world. I’m guilty of some of these myself, it’s why I am a firm believer in self editing. My first drafts are not fit for public viewing.
However, there also comes the point when the writer has to let their baby stand on it’s own and cut the umbilical cord. This post is not a vent about any particular writer. It’s an overall view from seeing many mistakes in various submissions and manuscripts.
Write on my friends – and do it to the best of your abilities!
This week on the MSHP blog tour, we are supposed to share our top ten favorite books of all time and on the flip side of that, our top ten most hated or disliked books. This is a hard assignment for me. First of all I have to narrow it down to only 10 I like. Do you have any idea how difficult that is?
Secondly, we’re suppose to express why they are our favorites. This one really made me think. I know you’re chomping at the bits so let’s get on with it.
1. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain. This was the first book I read willingly. When I was in grade school, I hated the assigned reading. When I checked this book out of the library, my adventures began. I imagined myself as Tom. I lived on the Mississippi – I could be an adventurer too. It kicked off a lifelong love of reading for me.
2. Nancy Drew books by Carolyn Keene Pick one , pick a dozen. I would challenge myself to solve the mysteries faster and faster. Granted, having gone back to read them in my adulthood they are a little corny. Never the less, Nancy got me through to High School where I found Hercule Poirot and Miss Jane Marple. I think my initial love of Nancy has led to my love of Richard Castle. Can I get a witness there? Anyone? I’ve read many mysteries and I always love a good mystery. If the author can surprise me at the end, he/she is a good writer! It’s like playing Clue, and I am determined to win. Although I don’t read the books anymore, I recently got a new Nancy Drew game for my PC; LOVE IT!
3. Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Well, wouldn’t you expect me to upgrade to Sherlock from Nancy? Somewhere in high school Agatha Christie lost her hold on my imagination and I discovered the world of Sherlock Holmes. I love his scientific mind, his deductive reasoning, and intriguing capers.
4. Lord of the Rings by J.R. R. Tolkien; yep nerd from way back. I read these in junior high, long before there was any blockbuster movies. Long before Orlando became Legolas, long before Viggo Mortensen player Aragorn, I was tucked away on the porch swing, or on the sofa, or in a bean bag chair, on the bus, wherever I found to read I lost myself in Middle Earth.
5. Le Morte d’ Arthur by Sir Thomas Mallory; I read this book my senior year of high school. I had already developed a love for mythology and legends and later that year the movie Excalibur, came out. It remains one of my favorite book and my favorite movies. There are many versions of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, but this remains by far my favorite. I find myself fault-finding with lesser versions. KIng Arthur shall forever live on in my mind.
6. Dragonriders of Pern by Anne McCaffrey. OK, you caught me I’ve cheated. I’m giving you series instead of books. Sometimes you just cant’ pick one out of a series, you have to go with the big picture. Anne McCaffrey painted a magical world for me, one with dragons that were beautiful, fierce, magnificent creatures. If I had to choose one, it would be The White Dragon, but that’s just not really fair. The world of Pern was vivid, the writing articulate, and the imagery was astounding.
7. Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen; I adore Jane Austen’s books. Of all of them this is my favorite. The foolish notions of a young girl that is trusting and naive, a scoundrel without morals, the intricate delicacies of proper etiquette in the English country side – her books have it all. “Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds. Or bends with the remover to remove. Oh no! It is an ever fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken. Willoughby. Willoughby. Willoughby.” Deeply pouring out her heart in the midst of the pouring rain, Marianne quotes Shakespeare to convey her despair at Willoughby’s betrayal.
8. The Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon; Jamie Frazier and Clair – wow what a tale of romance. This series sweeps readers into her mesmerizing world brimming with history, romance, and adventure. It involves time travel, the Scottish highlands, men in kilts, warfare, danger, betrayal, and let’s not forget the passion. Of all the books, Dragonfly In Amber is my favorite, but I love the whole series.
9. The Dark Highlander by Karen Marie Moning; OK, i have Dageus’ book showing, but in all honesty all of her highlander books are amazing. I’ve already told my readers I love the Fever series. Of all her Highlander books it’s a toss-up between Dageus, or Cian. Once you open the covers of a Moning book you won’t want to put them down.
10. The Georgie Nicholson series by Louise Rennison; this is the first book, there are ten books in this series and they are hysterically funny. Lousie Rennison had me laughing from the first chapter all the way through. I read this first one because my daughter brought it home from school and I was like ” what the heck?” Then I bribed her to bring me the rest from the school library until we could get to Barnes & Noble to buy the set. this is all about teen angst in hysterical stereophonic Dolby surround sound.
As it’s taken me nearly 3 hours to narrow my liked books down to ten, you’ll have to come back next time for my worst ten list. SORRY! Family life calls.
Until next time keep reading and write on my friends, write on!
ICEBERG – THEORY: Hemingway’s idea that good writing should consist of simple, direct sentences and plain description on the surface, but beneath that simplicity should be hints of psychological tension or symbolic depth suggested by what is visible above. He told an interviewer, ” I always try to write on the principle of the iceberg. There is seven-eights of it under water for every part that shows.” What remains unspoken or unwritten may be as important as what appears in the text.
quotidiandose 
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