Archive for the 'Novels' Category
Monday, July 8th, 2019
This Saturday, July 13, is Readers and Writers Seattle, 2019. I will be there along with many other writers, selling books and giving away swag, and chatting and hanging out.
If you can make it, do! I’d love to see you. Here’s a link to the Facebook Page.
In other news, I’m still alive. I know, I’ve been really quiet here lately. Life has been overtaking me. But we have my son registered for college in the fall, we’ve been working with Merlin to get him past biting, though the fireworks really upset him and he bites when he’s scared. And vomits. A lot. Ten times on the third. On the fourth we tried to drug him up with an anti-anxiety medication. It took the edge off for him, but wasn’t super great. The next day we got a sedative from the vet, but it was like Merlin ate Crack. The dog was lively. Sigh.
I was almost done with The Elf Job when I realized it had jumped the shark and I have to scrap and rewrite the last third or so. I hate it when that happens, but at least I discovered it before I published it. I just have to keep reminding myself that that’s a good thing.
I’m also working Diamond City 5. Plan to turn that in to my editor in September. I just have to get on top of the writing. Seems like every time I turn around I’ve got life stuff to deal with . I kind of want to go be a hermit for a month or so and get some work done.
I hope all is well with you. I’ll report in again soon.
This is a picture of some roses from my yard. I have a lot of rose bushes and this year I’m finally getting enough that I can have fresh roses in the house at all times. I’m delighted with this. Aren’t they pretty? And they smell diving.
Monday, May 6th, 2019
From the second Mission Magic book, a little chopped out snippet:
“So when Arcadia decides you’re a threat and starts lobbing magic bombs at you, you’ll what?”
He gave a knife smile. “I will open up the heavens and rain hell down on earth.”
I stared, trying to figure out if that was a euphemism or not. “What does that mean?”
“It means that no matter what happens, people are going to die. I can push the hatchlings toward Arcadia, but when they attack me, the hatchlings will go wild. I’ll be killing anyone who comes at me. The hatchlings will run wild and all these innocents will become the banquet the elves destined them to be.”
For a few minutes I’d had a slender hope that with So’la’s help, things wouldn’t go worst case scenario. Now I had to wonder if anybody could be saved at all. It was too much to hope that So’la would be willing to sacrifice himself for anybody else. He wasn’t the type.
“Do you have a point?”
“Get to it then,” I said curtly. I shoved my hands deep into my pockets, my body rigid with tension. What the hell was I going to do? How was I going to keep all these innocent people alive? And all the Arcadia personnel?
Wednesday, March 13th, 2019
The battle to a) not get bitten by Merlin, b)teach him not to bite, c) keep him supremely occupied and entertained, is ongoing. He’s doing better in a lot of ways. We’re also giving him a calming treat with some CBD in it designed for dogs. That helps him with anxiety, which I think he has a little bit of. He seems to bite/snap when he’s relaxing and we start petting him. It’s odd. Yesterday he came and snuggled onto my lap and I went to pet his head and he snapped. He didn’t really get me (I’m learning to move quick) but it’s not just me, is it? That’s weird?
We’re still considering taking him to a veterinarian behaviorist. But first I have to get copy edits in on The WitchKin Murders and I have to get my taxes together and off to the accountant.
We’ve been taking the dogs out every day for their walk and then to throw the ball for Merlin who loves to chase it, even when he’s dead tired. It’s hard to find places where we can take him off leash, though. And we’ve discovered if one of us throws the ball and the other takes the other dogs off walking, he comes looking for the walkers. He gets really worried as soon as he can’t see the walkers. So we do the walk first and then the older dog rests and the younger corgi plays and sniffs while Merlin runs after the ball. I’ve also been making fleece tug toys that both puppies love. It’s a whole lot cheaper than buying them.
After three and a half weeks, I still have itchy hives and allergy medicine isn’t helping. Hoping to talk to the doctor today. She’s been out of the office the last few days.
I’ll post a snippet of The Witchkin Murders soon, so look for it!
Monday, September 24th, 2018
My book, Putting the Fun in Funeral, came out earlier this month. It’s one I enjoyed writing quite a bit. It made me laugh a lot. That was a relief, at the time of writing. I used the novel as an escape. Dealing with politics, the schisms in our society, the horrors of various manmade and natural disasters, and on top of that . . . teenagers. I needed a place to hide out where I could have fun and not think about reality.
That said, Putting the Fun in Funeral has a dark side. I’ve got a morbid sense of humor, and I that definitely comes out. I got to thinking about the dark elements in the past couple of weeks, and I had a bit of a realization. In this book, as in many of my books, there’s a lot of hardship and some terrible people who do terrible things. Those terrible things are truly awful. Heinous.
A lot of the dark stuff happened before the book starts. It’s what makes Beck who she is and the girls who they are. I needed that dark stuff to be there, but I didn’t want it on the page. I didn’t want to have to wallow in it. I just wanted the reader aware of what Beck has fought against in her life. I wanted the focus to be on the relationships, on dealing with the aftermath, on not only surviving, but triumphing.
I’ve had a review or two (I try not to read reviews, but couldn’t help myself because I love this book so much) where people have said that I don’t show enough of Beck’s scars, of the PTSD she must surely have.
I got to thinking about why that might be and my conclusion is that I wanted to write this where part of the fantasy of the book is saying that you can escape the scars and the evil, that you can overcome those things, that evil can be put behind you. Yes, it leaves a stain and I’m not trying to suggest it doesn’t. We all know it does and we all know you don’t just “get over it.” But I really wanted to show someone moving on with strength and determination, with a feeling that she can get past it and live a great life.
I wanted her to triumph over her enemies by taking back her life and living it with joy. I wanted a story where the effects of the bad can be fixed. I think that’s something we hope for in today’s world, even if we know it’s not so easy a thing to accomplish. That’s the fantasy. That’s my sort of happily ever after.
Read the first chapter here.
Tuesday, September 4th, 2018
Today is the release of Putting the Fun in Funeral, book 1 of my Everyday Disasters series. Click the link to read the first chapter.
I love this book. I had such a good time writing it. I let things happen that I worried wouldn’t fly, and yet they made the story so much better. I have unexpected twists, and a fun group of girlfriends, a mysterious handsome sorcerer, and a murder, a curse, a kidnapping, and best of all, a dog rescue. If I had to say what makes this book special to me, it would be the relationships between everybody. They feel so real to me, and so strong. There’s more to Beck’s story, and in time I want to get to Stacey, Jen, and Lorraine.
I wanted to tell a story where good can conquer evil; where evil, even when it’s strong, can be overcome by good people working together. I also want to tell a story of someone going through a hard time and coming out the other side. Maybe there are a few cracks and chips, but she’s whole and optimistic. I wanted to tell a story with romance and with a happy ending. I wanted something with a lot of humor, even though there’s darkness in it. I wanted a story of hope.
I can’t begin to say how much I want all my fans and everybody else to read this book. To pass it along. To want to talk about it. I just adore it.
Finally, I’ve got two words for you. Two words to tantalize: banana buddha.
And then a snippet:
I was a little surprised she wanted me dead. She’d spend my whole life controlling me and making me suffer. So why was *name redacted* so certain I was dying? Had mom fucked up her curse? Maybe she didn’t know shit about magic either. Or maybe it was me. I’d never let her know I could do magic. I’d done all I could to keep it a secret from her. I’d probably made it go haywire somehow. Plus, I’m pretty sure if Mommy Dearest had wanted me dead, she’d have found a horribly painful method, not death by coma.
Okay, then. She probably hadn’t wanted me to die, but she’d accidentally sent me on the way to my coffin anyhow. She’d cursed me without knowing I could do magic and that could have caused a bad reaction. Sorry, Doctor Witch. I had a bad reaction to the curse. I’m allergic. Note that on my chart, would you? Can we try a different one? Maybe get me an anticursetamine? Benadrylahex? Benakillacurse? Calacurse lotion?
Thursday, June 28th, 2018
Because the center cannot hold, a fun snippet:
The snake venom from the magical snakes tended to have magical consequences, making their bites dangerous in whole new ways. Most people avoided the area, and those who traveled the river used magic shields to protect themselves.
As they passed through, snakes lunged at the boat, some launching up into the air almost like they had wings. They struck viciously at the boat. Several landed on top of the boat shield, slithering in midair above and snapping their ire at the intruders. Ray couldn’t help but watch them warily, even knowing they could not break through.
“Sometimes I wonder if they have their own witches,” Annette said as she watched them slither and slide off the shield and drop back into the water. “If some of them can do spells.”
“That’s comforting,” Ray said.
Tuesday, May 8th, 2018
No context, but this amused me, so I’m sharing:
She closed her inner eyes and just let herself feel. For a moment it was too much. All the information coming in from every single connection that tied her to the land and people of Portland. She let that all go fuzzy, like ignoring an itch. Instead she concentrated on the sword. It throbbed and hungered. It wanted to dominate, to control, to take.
It was like one of those terrible nighttime cravings for barbecue or ice cream, one that required you to get out of bed and go get what you hungered for as fast as possible.
Kayla had no intention of giving into this craving. Barbecue, sure, but god-chow? No thanks.
Tuesday, March 6th, 2018
No context, but it’s still fun–if a whole lot rough:
Ray boiled as he strode behind Kayla. He wanted to shake answers out of her. His hands clenched and unclenched and magic sluiced through him in a hot torrent. It built inside him like steam in a kettle. He couldn’t let it blow. Normally when this happened, he found a way to discharge a bolt of the energy–into the ground or the river or an asphalt parking lot.
But here? In his current mood? He’d be almost guaranteed to kill trees, and the dryads would most definitely take offense at that. The myths that said they were gentle beings lied. The best you’d get was live and let live. Fuck with them, and they’d come after you with a vengeance. He’d heard stories of them reaching out through uninhabited trees and plants and dragging people under the dirt and burying them alive. The rest of the time they fought dirty.
He dragged in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to make himself relax. An almost impossible task with Kayla in front of him. Half of him wanted to shove her up against a tree and kiss the living shit out of her, and the other half wanted to throttle her until she finally gave up the truth. The fucking dryads knew more about her than he did.
He had no idea what to make of her claim she could handle magic. She wasn’t suicidal, and yet she was acting like it, thinking she could go up against this killer alone. Not that he’d let her.
A voice in Ray’s head jeered at that. Like he could stop her. What was he going to do? Handcuff her when he wasn’t around? Maybe if he handcuffed himself to her she might not go off on her own, but he wouldn’t bet the farm. On the other hand, he’d have to sleep with her . . .
His entire body flushed hot as he imagined her curled up against him, his arms around her. How far gone was he that neither of them were naked in his little daydream? How far gone was he that just the idea of cuddling her made his dick hard?
God, but he was fucked up. The last thing he wanted to do was start something up with any woman, but with Kayla least of all–even if she’d cooperate, which was highly unlikely. Besides, if he did manage to get her in bed, it couldn’t end well, and he’d lose her all over again.
Talk about a dose of frigid reality. The possibility froze his body and cooled his magic. Fear stalked across his soul. He wouldn’t let it happen. Whatever had taken her away, he’d fix it, no matter how much anger and hurt he had to swallow. He didn’t need his pride; he needed her.
Wednesday, February 14th, 2018
I is helping, Momma. Will you pet me now?
Why is it I keep coming up with new novel ideas–especially first in a series books, or stand alones? I have other things I need to be focusing on and yet . . . . My mind just keeps producing more and more new things and all I can do is take notes and get everything I can down on paper and try to make time later to write. I need to write faster, obviously.
A little WIP snippet from my Horngate world novel:
Even after the nightmare of the Witchwar, even though nobody trusted a witch, people still swarmed into the Night Market looking to buy spells. Some witches had gone so far as to open up shops in the city, despite the continuing hatred for their kind.
His aversion rooted deeper than that, though. He didn’t like that some invisible force could come out of nowhere and create havoc or save the world. He didn’t like that you couldn’t see it coming and had no idea when it might show up. It was like relying on God. Send up your prayers and maybe you’d get a miracle or maybe you’d be damned, or more likely the bastard would just ignore you. Only magic came around a lot more often than any god or devil, and it fucked things up. It fucked people up.
Thursday, January 11th, 2018
Karla Weaver! You are the giveaway winner. I need you to tell me your email address. Post it here or send it to me through the contacts tab. Congratulations! And thanks everybody for the good wishes and for playing!
And a small snippet from a very very very drafty draft of my Horngate book. If you hate it, don’t tell me.
“You don’t think they deserve justice?”
“I think this is a magical crime and without a human involved, it falls out of my jurisdiction.”
The accusation and condemnation in her voice put his hackles up. “We don’t have a choice. There are only so many of us to go around and we can’t spend time on cases that fall outside our mission.”
“Your mission?” Her brows rose.
“To protect and to serve. Humans.”
“But the city is far more than humans now. You don’t think they deserve to be protected? Or are they just disposable?”
“They have to take care of themselves, unless and until they harm a human. Then we step in.”
It was a cold, hard truth. It didn’t sit well with Ray, either, but he understood it. After the Magicfall, humans hated witchkin. For turning their lives upside down. For deforming the landscape and killing so many people all over the world. The resentment, suspicion, and hate ran deep. Even in Portland, the proud home of all things weird, people didn’t welcome any witches or witchkin.
Kayla shook her head and muttered something.
“What did you say?”
She leveled her gaze at him. “I said, good thing I got out when I did. How can you stomach that crap?”
Ray jerked like she’d struck him. Fury ignited. His voice turned sharp as an arctic wind. “Maybe if you hadn’t left, things might be different, so you can take your judgement and shove it up your ass.”