Dancer and Eppie's Interview with Anny Cook Part 2

After fortifying themselves with quoltania wine, Eppie Llewellyn and her bond mate, Dancer Devereaux continued their interview with Anny Cook.

Eppie: Dancer had some difficulties with the language differences when he first arrived. How did you deal with this problem?

Anny: Oh, I compiled a glossary. So helpful, you know? Of course, there aren't that many differences...and I'm thinking about posting it on my webpage so that readers have access to it.

Eppie: Webpage? What is a webpage?

Dancer: Something for the computer, Eppie. Remember when I showed you my laptop?

Eppie: Oh, yes. Is this webpage something important?

Anny: Well, on the outside, yes. For instance, my webpage lists the books I've written with some short excerpts from them. And of course there's a biography about me. And um, there's a map of the valley plus a map of Lost Market, where you live.

Eppie: You're writing about where we live? With a map? What if everyone decides that Mystic Valley's a wonderful place to visit? Where will we put everyone?

Anny: No, no. I don't tell them how to get there. I would never do anything to harm the valley.

Dancer: (scowling at Anny) I hope you didn't mention personal stuff in that book!

Anny: Define personal...Oh! You mean you don't want the readers to know you wear a skirt?

Dancer: Sharda! It's called a sharda! It's NOT a skirt!

Anny: I liked the shardas. I especially liked the reason for the sharda. Availability, wasn't it? I bet the ladies among my readers will like that idea, too. Hey! It might even catch on outside the valley. Especially if they find out what you wear beneath your sharda...

Eppie: (confused) Underneath their shardas? They don't wear anything under their shardas. How would they be available if they had something--

Dancer: Hush! Don't give her more ammunition!

Eppie: (sly smile on her face) Did you explain about schalzina and the schela?

Anny: Of course! I thought the locking part was the most interesting. Imagine being locked together--

Dancer: No! No locking! For crying out loud, woman! Is nothing private with you? Do you think I want my friends to know that Eppie and I are locked together for that long?

Anny: (with bright professional interest) How long would that be? Ten minutes? Twenty?

Eppie: Oh, longer than that usually. Sometimes, he just dozes off. But if I squeeze his kzusha just right, well he wakes up in a hurry! (Giggles) He looooves my schela.

Dancer: (groans and hides his face) Now you've done it! Every guy in the world will be trying to find the valley. They'll all want their own bond mate so they can lock together!


Drop by tomorrow for the last installment of Dancer and Eppie's interview with Anny Cook. Until then, drop by Amarinda's Place at www.amarindajones.blogspot.com and Kelly's Blog at www.kkirch.blogspot.com to check out how things are going in their worlds. Blessings on your day!

Burnt Oatmeal

Yesterday morning I burned the oatmeal. This is not a new occurrence. Rather it is the norm. My friend Jane and the house hunk don't even find it a subject worth discussing as I always burn the oatmeal. You might ask why make oatmeal if you always burn it? Because I need to eat oatmeal. There's always enough unburned oatmeal to satisfy my needs.



Why does it burn? Mostly because I have too many things going on at one time. I set the timer and then immerse my concentration on some other project to the extent that I don't hear the timer. It burns. I scrape off the top layer and put the pot in the sink to soak. And move on.



Life is pretty full of burnt oatmeal. All those wrong turns and bad choices we make in life have consequences. How we handle the inevitable consequences determines what our life is like. We can wail and gnash our teeth and cry over our burnt oatmeal. We can beat ourselves up or blame some one else for calling us on the phone while our oatmeal was cooking. But the truth is that none of those things really address the fact that we still have burnt oatmeal.



Or we can salvage what we can, put the pan to soak, and move on. There will likely be a lot of pans of burnt oatmeal in our lives. If I waste time obsessing about the burnt oatmeal, that's time I've lost forever. Time I could have put to more constructive use. Oh yeah, and while I'm moaning and groaning the salvaged oatmeal is getting cold. Who wants to eat cold oatmeal?



There are things I can do to "pretty up" my oatmeal. I can add nuts, raisens, peanut butter, brown sugar, nutella, or cream. All of those make the oatmeal more palatable. And unless I tell someone, they'll never know that I burned the oatmeal. See? Life is what you make it--even burnt oatmeal.

Anny

Only three more days for the February Scavenger Hunt at http://www.annycook.com/ Check out the Contest Box on page two for the rules and clues. The prize is a free e-copy of any of my current releases.



Isn't that a pretty book cover? I'm so pleased to announce that Dancer's Delight is now available in print from the Cerridwen Press. If you're just dying to get your hands on a copy, you can order it from http://www.jasminejade.com/p-3932-dancers-delight.aspx?skinid=13 for $5.99! Now that's a bargain for sure!

The cover gods at Ellora's Cave sent me the cover for Kama Sutra Lovers today. I can't show it off, but once it's approved by the powers that be, then I'll post it on the right side with the rest of my covers. I've been very, very lucky with some lovely covers.

It doesn't seem possible that it's only four more days until March. The year is flying by with unusual speed, isn't it? In April, I'll be at the Romantic Times Convention in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. The exciting part is that I'll be taking part in the e-book signing on Wednesday, April 16th and also the print book signing on Saturday, April 19th. I hope to see some of you there! For more information, see my webpage or the RT Convention site.

Finally, I want to urge you to stop by Amarinda's Place at http://www.amarindajones.blogspot.com/ and Kelly's Blog at http://www.kkirch.blogspot.com/ They start my day every morning with their wit, humor, and insightful observations. Don't miss out! Blessings on your day!

A little Dancer's Delight

So! Have you sent in your answers to the Eternally Yours Contest?


What could you spend an eternity doing? What is your passion? Your hunger? Your deepest desire? Ten authors will complete the line, "My darling I could spend eternity…" on either their blog or website. Collect all ten answers and e-mail them to anny@annycook.com with Eternally Yours in the subject line to win some hot, romantic books. There will be three lucky Valentine winners.

The prizes –1st prize--5 books

2nd prize--3 books

3rd prize--2 books

Hurry and get your entry in. Entries must be in by February 16 at midnight EST. All books and prize winners will be drawn randomly.





Sandra Cox Silverhills
Mona Risk To Love a Hero
Brynn Paulin Tribute For the Goddess
Bronwyn Green Mystic Circle
Cindy Spencer Pape Stone and Earth
N.J. Walters Seduction of Shamus O’Rourke
Elyssa Edwards Mating Stone
Amarinda Jones Shades of Gray
Kelly Kirch Time for Love
Anny Cook Honeysuckle


A little over a year ago, my first book was accepted at Cerridwen Press. I thought perhaps you might enjoy a little excerpt from Dancer's Delight.

Quiet fell over the concert hall as the orchestra moved into the first notes of the closing composition. Perched on a stool in the center of the stage, the musician known simply as Devereaux calmly waited for his cue before launching into his signature piece, Devereaux’s Dance. The guitar notes seemed to leap into the air, glittering and dancing as his fingers flew across the strings. When the last note shimmered across the hall, a deep moment of silence preceded a storm of applause. Devereaux bowed low, accepting the audience’s acclaim, then strode from the stage, his mind already occupied with the next step in his plan.

In his dressing room, he quickly stripped off his formal clothing and stepped into the small shower stall. His friend and agent, Jake was waiting when he stepped back into the dressing room naked except for a small towel wrapped around his hips. Jake waggled one eyebrow in query. “No encore?”

When he shrugged in reply, the blue and green dragon tattoo that stretched across his left shoulder and biceps rippled. Jerking on the clothing laid out—gray silk boxers, soft faded jeans, plain navy blue t-shirt and polished black cowboy boots—Devereaux nodded once. “I’ll give them one. Two minutes, Jake. After the encore, I’m out of here. No interviews. No autographs.”

Jake soberly studied his friend and client. The hard, honed body usually camouflaged beneath a specially tailored tux was obvious in the soft comfortable jeans and shirt. Devereaux’s golden hip length hair, normally tucked out of site beneath his jacket, slithered across his taut butt, confined in an elaborate French braid. “You’re really coming out of the closet, Dev and going out there like that? Your fans don’t know what a predator you really are.”

“They’ll get over it,” Dev replied shortly while he shoved his wallet into his back pocket and slid a handful of change and his keys in his front pocket. “Next week, there will be a new sensation and they’ll be saying ‘Devereaux who?’ “

Jake snorted in disgust. “Right! How many virtuoso musicians of your caliber play to sell out crowds? Violinists at your level are rare enough, but you play nearly every stringed instrument that exists! I’m not announcing your retirement. Go on this search you’ve planned. Find your damned mystery woman. When you get her out of your system, let me know and I’ll arrange another tour.” Shaking his head, he slammed out the door.

Dev surveyed the small room and pondered how anxious Jake would be to arrange another tour if he knew that it was just a cover for Dev’s day job as an assassin. With the grim black humor he’d developed over the years, he decided that he should have acquired business cards with the legend Troubleshooter for Hire. Maybe print it in blood red ink with a black rifle underscoring the title.

Once Jake was gone, Dev retrieved his personal weapons from their hiding places and swiftly distributed them about his person, before shrugging on his long black leather duster. He strapped on his chrome watch, slipped tiny gold hoops in his ear lobes and slid his passport in his inside coat pocket. As a final touch, before leaving the dressing room, he put on his dark glasses and ducked to survey himself in the mirror. Not many dressing rooms were designed for someone over six four. Grinning, he shook his head, snagged his black cowboy hat and departed.

Stunned silence rippled across the auditorium as he strode confidently to the center of the stage with a sexy loose-hipped motion, took his violin and bow in hand and with no further ado, leaped into his most recent solo composition, never before performed in public. The reviewers the next day raved about the appropriately titled, Dancer’s Delight, while avidly dissecting his changed appearance. What was not reported was the fact that Devereaux vanished when he walked off the stage after his final performance.

Buy here: http://www.cerridwenpress.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419909566


If you would like more information or a chance to read other excerpts from all of my books, then check out the bookshelf at my web page. http://www.annycook.com/ And while you're there stop by the Contest Box and enter one of my February Scavenger Hunts to win free prizes!

There are also maps, family trees, and other information about the Mystic Valley series and the Flowers of Camelot. Feel free to explore all the possibilities.

Anny

Kelly has part two of her Friday story, Family Business at http://www.kkirch.blogspot.com/ and Amarinda will be offering hints for the Eternally Yours contest at http://www.amarindajones.blogspot.com/ Blessings on your day!

Anita Birt, Isabelle's Diary AND Silent Night

I'm delighted to have Anita Birt as my guest author today. She was gracious enough to answer my questions at this busy, busy time of year. So let us jump in and get to know her before we talk about her book, Isabelle's Diary.

1) If you could start over with your writing career, what if anything would you change? I'd start when I was thirty.

2) What was the best piece of advice you received regarding the life of a writer? Don't quit. Your next manuscript might sell or the next one … Nora Roberts said, "You can fix your writing but you can't fix a blank page." Write on! And remember it's hard work.

3) If you could meet anyone, living or dead, who would it be? Tom Wolfe. He's a wonderful writer and I adore the way he dresses in white suits, etc. Elegant man.

4) If you could meet any fictional character, who would it be? Sherlock Holmes

5) What do you want to be when you grow up? Acclaimed writer and failing that, a pleasant dear old dame adored by family and friends for her wit and good humor.

6) In the next century, what do you hope people will remember you for? I don't think anyone will remember me and that's okay. I'm living in the present and the future can take care of itself.

Isabelle's Diary by Anita Birt from Cerridwen Press

I have been extraordinarily pleased with the books I've been privileged to read during my stint as a mini-reviewer. Isabelle's Diary was a gentle, romantic love story that left me wishing it wasn't quite over. And according to Anita, there is a follow-up book, Isabelle's Story, coming December 27 from Cerridwen Press. I will curb my impatience--barely.

Isabelle's Diary is the story of Sally, a Canadian in Wales on holiday. Near the end of her stay, while enjoying a break at a coffee shop, she notices a young woman dressed in Victorian clothing sitting at a table in the corner reading a diary and weeping. It turns out that the young woman is Isabelle, a ghost.

Sally is a pragmatic woman in her forties, recently dumped by her husband for a very young woman. She's not inclined to flights of fancy, particularly ghosts, so she finds the entire episode very disturbing. When she tries to find out more about her ghost she is referred to a local doctor, Dan Conway.

Over the next few days as they follow clues and find dead-ends, they fall in love. But our hero and heroine have both suffered hurts in the past and they aren't inclined to leap into a permanent relationship blindly. The story of how they finally discover what happened to Isabelle and how they found the courage to grasp their own happiness is wonderful. You may be sure that two days after Christmas I will be first in line to buy Isabelle's Story.

In the meantime, go at once to Cerridwen Press and get your own copy of Isabelle's Diary by Anita Birt.

Silent Night

Christmas 1956. I was seven years old that Christmas that I played Silent Night as part of the Christmas Pageant. I had been taking piano lessons for six months, practicing on the old beat up upright piano in our living room. We lived in a small town in Arizona where my father was the pastor of the church we attended. He also worked full-time in a copper mine about forty miles away. Every day he traveled to work on a narrow two lane curvy, hilly road.

He was a lineman, stringing wire underground for the communication system. One day he fell from an underground pole and broke his back. Considering the state of medicine back in that day, it's a miracle that he ever walked again. I still have pictures of him in his body cast that made him look twice as big around.

Anyway, our church had a Christmas Pageant. It had the usual cast of suspects. Mary, Joseph, the Wise Men, the Shepherds, and the Angels. My baby doll was the baby Jesus. I wasn't very happy about that because one of the Shepherds decided to play catch with one of the Wise Men and they used my dolly's head for their ball.

In an effort to defuse my understandable wrath at this abuse of my dolly, Mrs. Jones, the Pageant director made an on the spot decision that I would play Silent Night on the piano while the Angels tiptoed up the aisles, toting lighted candles, on their way to sing Hark the Herald Angel Sings.

It might have worked out that way, too, except that I couldn't see the sheet music in the dark, I couldn't reach the pedals on the piano so it sounded more like a choppy march, and I played it so slow that the Angels could have crawled up the aisles and still reached the stage before I finished. Since the Angels were all from the primary grades and were hopped up on all the sugar from candy canes and cookies, Mrs. Jones had to devise a new plan.

After some reworking, she finally determined that I would play Silent Night while the Shepherds trudged slowly up the aisle carrying their stuffed toy sheep. And then there would still be time for the Wise Men to traipse up the aisle, swaying to and fro like they were riding camels.

The night of the Pageant arrived. I had a new red plaid taffeta dress that my mother made. She made all of our clothes because she could sew like a wizard on that old Singer treadle sewing machine. My mother was a crafty woman. She made all the Angels' wings and most of the costumes.

When it was time for me to play, I pranced up to the piano like I was a movie star, flounced onto the piano stool and ponderously pounded out my rendition of Silent Night. The Shepherds and Wise Men did their part, but still arrived at the stage before I was half-way through.

When I finished the congregation stood up and clapped wildly. Looking back on it, I think they were incredibly relieved that I finally finished. I do know that was the last time I was asked to play anything in that church. That's okay. I certainly had my one night as a Christmas Star.

Anny

12 Days of Romance – Day Three! Do you want to win some fantastic holiday reading? Of course you do. If so come celebrate the Twelve days of Romance with 12 authors from Ellora's Cave, Wild Rose Press, Total-E-Bound and Cerridwen Press. Each day beginning December 8th and running through December 19th one of the twelve authors will tell what their "True love gave to them" on either their blog or website.Collect all twelve answers and e-mail them to mailto:anny@annycook.comwith 12 days of Romance in the subject line to win some great books. There will be three lucky winners.

The prizes –1st prize--6 books

2nd prize--4 books

3rd prize--2 books.

All books and prize winners will be drawn randomly.

Anny Cook Winter Hearts
Sandra Cox Boji Stones
Bronwyn Green Ronan's Grail
Heather Hiestand Cards Never Lie
Barbara Huffert Deal of a Lifetime
Amarinda Jones Mad About Mirabelle
Kelly Kirch Time for Love
Cindy Spencer Pape Cowboy's Christmas Bride
Brynn Paulin Fallen
Jacquéline Roth Access Denied
KZ Snow Mrs. Claws
Lacey Thorn Earth Moves

Don't forget to stop by Kelly's blog at www.kkirch.blogspot.com to catch the latest on the Saga. And then pop over to see the Amarinda Report at www.amarindajones.blogspot.com Blessings on your day!

The Art of Inventing Non-humans

Werewolves! Vampires! Aliens! Creatures of all descriptions and with all sorts of paranormal abilities abound in the romance world. How do your invent your own creation? How do you make them unique and yet, believable?

Much like world building, you decide your parameters. What special abilities does you character have? What vulnerabilities do they have? What do they look like? How is their body different from a human body? If your character is going to have a sexual relationship with a human, how do those differences affect that?

Let's take the ever popular vampire...a vulnerability that is pretty common is that they can't be in the sun. Another one is that they require human blood to survive. If your vampire isn't going to have to contend with those two issues, then what exactly makes him/her a vampire? Your parameters must be clearly stated in order for your story to work.

I once read a vampire story where it was clear that the writer hadn't made any decisions about what the vampire really was going to contend with. On one page he desperately needed blood--so much so that he attacked a human in a park. Three pages later he was having a steak dinner complete with dessert and wine with his werewolf friend. Several pages later he he was driving in the desert (wearing his sunglasses with the top down on his convertible) during the day. Two chapters later, he very seriously explains to the heroine how the sun will kill him.

Once you decide on the parameters and description for the character, then you can decide how those limitations and abilities will enhance the story. Always, always, you must remember what that character can and cannot do.

In my Mystic Valley series, the valley people are blue. They have pointed ears and small fanged eye-teeth. The genitalia on all humans tends to be a slightly darker shade that the rest of the body, whatever that primary shade. However, it's usually a hue that ranges from rosy pink to light red. I had to translate that quality to my blue people. Darker blue? Violet? Lavender? And what about nipples? What color should they be?

It gives the expression blue balls an entirely different connotation. Every reference had to be carefully considered because while I like humor as much as the next person, I certainly didn't want inadvertant laughter from an ill considered description. I gave the females the ability to lock the male's penis inside during intercourse. Then I had to decide if that would be every time? Or if only at special times, what would determine when those times would be?

And you thought I only worried about whether the men had long hair! Speaking of hair...In this case I decided that hair colors and eye colors would resemble those out-valley. But hair styles for the men are determined by their position in the valley. There's an elaborate system of ranking that's indicated by the chinka colors. None of that made it into any of the books so far, but I know it's there and if I choose to use it in a plot, I won't have to worry about how it will affect earlier books.

The valley people have a variety of paranormal abilities. Some have been revealed in the stories, some have not yet made their appearance, but they are plotted out by individual so that three books down the line I don't have my editor saying to me, "Where the heck did that come from?"

Finally, it's not enough to invent the character, but you must make them real. They must have emotions and thoughts that make them someone the reader will care about. Sad to say, many vampires and wolfies are cardboard charcters, stamped out like so many ticky-tacky non-humans. I always wonder how does this character feel about being a vampire or alien? Aren't there things he/she must deal with that are less than pleasant? What are the advantages to being a vampire? How do they feel about never seeing the sun?

All of us must walk in our own skin so the only way we can experience the way other people live is if the writer shows us that inner life. In the end, that is what makes a successful character.

Anny

In this excerpt from Traveller's Refuge, we meet Wrenna and her brother Wolfe and watch as they deal with the unfortunate effects of their little brother's greed.

Without bothering to track down the rest of her sibs, she settled into her task for the afternoon—small squat clay jars destined to hold salves and ointments prepared and dispensed by her brother, Llyon in his healing practice. When she ran out of space on the tray she kept for curing, she realized that she had made twice as many as Llyon had requested while she was day-dreaming.

Well, perhaps it wasn’t exactly daydreaming. Mulling over the events of the past moon since her bond-brother had arrived wasn’t really daydreaming, except when she wondered what his brother, Traveller was really like. Her sister, Eppie had asked Dancer to describe Traveller but it wasn’t until he had shown them a small picture of Trav that Wrenna was completely heart-struck. Dancer had called the picture a photo and smiled as he gently ran a calloused fingertip over the glossy surface. Since Dancer didn’t smile very often, Wrenna was happy that the picture brought back good memories but she wished she was comfortable enough with her new bond-brother to ask for a closer look.

When she stared absently at the tray of jars and then shook her head, her loosely secured topknot listed precariously to one side. Ruefully she stared at her hands, strong pale blue fingers covered with creamy colored clay. Even after she wiped them on the tan smock covering her bright yellow meerlim, they were too dirty to touch her hair. With a deep sigh, she studied the small pots. No doubt Llyon would eventually use all of them but until then, she would have to find some place to store them after they were fired. Maybe Ciara, the herbalist at Dai’s Hamlet, would take a few. She sighed when she thought of the long walk down to Dai’s Hamlet just so she could find out what colors Ciara would need.

“Wrenna? Are you out here?” Wolfe pounded on the side of the dome with a heavy hand. “Can you come in, please? Cougar threw up all over me and I need help getting him cleaned up…”

She rushed over to the shop door, skidding to a halt when she caught the full meaning of her sib’s monologue. Ewww! Wrinkling her nose, she stared at the regurgitated blueberries covering his bare chest and filthy sharda. “You’re trying to tell me there was more than that in that boy’s belly? Where did he fit it?” she demanded.

“Exactly the problem,” Wolfe retorted. “He must have cleaned every bush in the Deep Meadow. Wait until you see him.”

She followed him back into the house, biting her lip to keep from chuckling. Wolfe was the most fastidious of all her siblings. She couldn’t even imagine how he’d tolerated the mess long enough to fetch her from her pottery shop. “Go on, Wolfe and get yourself cleaned up. I’ll take care of Cougar.”

“I’ll send Falcon to help you if he’s in our room,” he promised before turning away toward the bathing room he shared with his older brothers.

Wrenna went into the main bathing room and silently surveyed her youngest brother. Cougar stood naked in the empty bathing tub, his pale blue skin covered in goose bumps, shivering and filthy. His twin, Gazelle, sat on the toilet, slow tears running down her face while she mournfully held his hand. “All right, it’s not that bad,” Wrenna said kindly. “Cougar step out here on this bathing sheet and let me wipe the worst of it off of you and then we’ll run a warm bath and finish cleaning you up.” She studied him seriously for a moment. “Are you finished? Or is there more where this came from?”

He moaned. “No more.”

“Is that a wish or a fact?”

“Truth,” he muttered. “No more left.” He clambered out of the tub and stood while Wrenna wiped him down. When she judged that the worst was off, she motioned for him to get back in the tub and she started filling it with warm water.

“Gazelle, you stay with him while I run this out to the laundry tubs. Then you can tell me what happened.” Bundling up the bathing sheet along with his sharda and the dirty washing cloth, she carried it out to the laundry shed and dumped it in the soaking tub. His sandals, she figured were a lost cause but she dropped them next to the tub and returned to finish cleaning up one seven-year-old who she suspected would stay away from the blueberry bushes for a while—at least until next year.

When Cougar was finally clean and dry, she settled him in his bed with Gazelle to keep him company while she went back to the kitchen to prepare him some wachaz tea to settle his belly.

Wolfe, fresh from his bath, stalked past her with the bundle of his sharda and bathing sheet. His shiny black warrior braids were gathered up in a twist held by two carved skewers but the glassy chinkas on the ends still clinked musically when he moved. By the time he returned from the laundry shed, the tea was nearly ready.

“Cougar’s sandals aren’t worth messing with,” he observed shortly as he pulled the skewers from his hair, allowing his braids to slither down his back. He tucked the skewers in the waistband of his sharda and went to the sink to wash his hands. “I tossed them in the trash heap. They were his old ones, anyway.”

She nodded while she added a healthy dollop of honey to the tea. “I thought as much but he was waiting by the tub, so I just left them. I have plenty of hot water here. Do you want tea?”

He shuddered. “No thanks. I don’t think I could face anything right now. Do you think he’ll be okay?”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “I think so. You’re the one with healer talent. Why?”

“He was violently ill. I’ve never seen any of us get that sick.” He took the mug of tea from her and led the way down to the room the younger boys shared. Gazelle was curled up next to Cougar, holding his hand and both were sound asleep. Wolfe set the mug on the bedside table and fetched a light coverlet to spread over them.

“Well, I guess he’s okay,” he said doubtfully. “Gazelle seems peaceful enough and she would be making a fuss if he wasn’t.” In the way of all of the twin sets in the family, Cougar and Gazelle shared the bad times as well as the good.

“He will be fine. Can you help me for a few minutes out in the shop? I need you to move a curing tray for me.”

Wolfe shot her a knowing glance before slowly shaking his head. “You made too many again, huh? What was it this time?”

“Oh, just thinking. So much has happened in the last moon.” She sighed quietly. “Dancer came and bonded with Eppie and then we had that terrible bonding storm. Llyon and Tyger finally swore a covenant bond. Homer died trying to kill Silence. It seems like it’s been several moons instead of just one.” She led the way out to the spacious dome perched on a low rise above the river. Completed only the week before, as a gift from the villagers, she still got a little thrill every time she looked at it. “I guess you didn’t find Falcon. He never came to help.”

“Hawke dragged Falcon out to the back patio to help him make a new loom,” Wolfe replied absently. “He damaged Hawke’s old one. You know how attached Hawke was to that loom just because Tyger gave to him. When Tyger gets past what he did to his own great loom on his bonding night, I’m pretty sure Hawke’s going to ask him to take him as an apprentice. I looked around for one of the others but they were all busy. Arano’s still out at Silence’s house helping her sort through Homer’s belongings. I don’t know what’s taking so much time. Surely he didn’t have that much stuff!

“As usual, Arturo is training the third level boys out at the field. You know that Panther and Llynx are still grounded for breaking old Marta’s window. Well, Arturo caught them down by the river and sent them home so now they’re weeding Mama’s garden.” He shrugged. “Hawke’s keeping an eye on them.”

“You would think with fourteen of us, there would be more help available,” she grumbled impatiently. “Ah well. The little twins will probably sleep for a while. After you move that tray for me, I’ll clean up and start dinner.”

He easily lifted the tray and carried it across to the shelves where she kept her curing items. “This all right?”

“Great. Would you mind very much going down to the smoke house and bringing something back for dinner?” She looked around at the mess in her shop with a vague glance. “I’ll be in as soon as I clean up.”

“Not a problem. What do you want?” he inquired while he casually picked up various items and set them in place with the ease of long familiarity. At one time, he had considered apprenticing with Wrenna but potting wasn’t in his future. He enjoyed it as a relaxing occupation for his free time but it wasn’t going to be his life’s work.

“What I really want are some gilly fish,” she said wistfully. “But I’ll settle for a rowan roast, I suppose.”

“In this heat? The kitchen would get hot enough to cook it without the oven.” Wolfe shook his head, setting his jeweled chinkas to tinkling like a waterfall. “Nah. I’ll drag Hawke and Falcon down to the river and we’ll catch enough gillies for dinner. We can cook them out on the grille on the patio. You fix the rest, okay?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s no problem at all.” He suffered a quick hug from Wrenna before making his escape but he didn’t miss the quick smile that lit up her face. Since Dancer had arrived, it seemed like her normally sunny disposition had gone into hiding. He had a notion that it had something to do with Dancer’s brother, Trav. He took a deep breath and then asked, “Wrenna, are you sure about Traveller? He’s the one?”

She froze, taking a long moment before she answered. “I’m sure—just as you’re sure that Raven is the one for you. Do you doubt that?” The serious expression on her face didn’t seem right. In all his eighteen years, Wolfe didn’t recall more than a handful of times that Wrenna wasn’t smiling. Mama had commented once that people with red hair supposedly were quick tempered but that definitely wasn’t Wrenna. She always had a smile on her sweet face and infinite patience.

“I don’t doubt our attachments,” Wolfe said slowly, trying to capture the essence of his unease. “I just wonder why? Why is each of us attached to Dancer’s siblings?"

More? Check out Traveller's Refuge from Ellora's Cave at http://www.ellorascave.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419910593

Don't forget to check out Amarinda's blog at http://www.amarindajones.blogspot.com/ for her daily take on life as an Aussie. And then pop over to Kelly's blog at http://www.kkirch.blogspot.com/ where she's interviewing Norah (ND Hanson-Hill) author from Cerridwen Press. Blessings on your day!

Witch Ball by Kathleen Coddington

Today it's Monday again! Time for a new guest author interview and a fascinating new review. Today my guest is Kathleen Coddington and I'll be reviewing her book, Witch Ball. Please welcome Kathleen who was gracious enough to answer my nosy questions.

1)If you could start over with your writing career, what if anything would you change?

If any thing, I wish I had started sooner. I’ve been writing on and off since I was in elementary school—poetry, short stories even a play for my Girl Scout group. Then I got married and for a long time my energy was focused on my family and my career as a school librarian. On the other hand, I’m a firm believer in things happen for a reason, so probably I’m where I’m supposed to be.

2) What was the best piece of advice you received regarding the life of a writer?

I took a writing course with multi-published fantasy author, Anne Kelleher, when I first started to get serious about writing a novel. She told me that perseverance, as much as luck and talent, is the key to getting published—put your butt in the chair and finish the damn book. Send it out and start another. I followed her advice and kept at it. Although it took a while, her advice paid off ‘because here I am at Cerridwen Press with one book out and second one on the way.

3) If you could meet anyone, living or dead, who would it be?

Gads, the list would be a mile long. There are so many fascinating people—Alexander the Great, Cleopatra, Jesus, Elizabeth I, Shakespeare, Einstein, Stephen Hawking, Anne McCaffrey. At the moment, I think my mother would top the list. She died when I was 28. She loved books. I wish I could share my achievements with her. She’d be so thrilled to find out that two of her daughters (my older sister is published too) turned out to be writers.

4) If you could meet any fictional character, who would it be?

Another impossible list. I’ve always loved Lessa and F’lar from Anne McCaffrey’s Dragons of Pern series. I’d love to meet them and their dragons. I adore the idea of being a dragon rider. After them I think I’d like to meet my characters to see if I did them and their stories justice.

5) What do you want to be when you grow up?

Who says I’m planning to grow up? My two favorite pastimes as a child were playing dress-ups and making up complex stories to entertain myself and my friends. Since my husband and I are both Civil War re-enactors, I dress up regularly. And as a writer I’m still living in my imaginary worlds. Not much has changed, if you think about it.

6) In the next century, what do you hope people will remember you for?

Well, of course it would be fantastic if one of my books survived and ended on the required reading list of every American high school. On a more serious note, I’d want people to remember me as a loving, compassionate, decent person who added something positive to their lives.

Witch Ball by Kathleen Coddington from Cerridwen Press

In Witch Ball, Kathleen has given us an intriguing story of long denied love, vindictive jealousy, and murderous intent. Long ago a small group of people, worshipers of the goddess, came to America and established a colony where they could worship freely. Miranda, the high priestess and Nathaniel, the high priest were destined to marry at Beltane. On the eve of their marriage, Elizabeth met Miranda at the sacred alter and tricked her into holding the witch ball, a purported wedding gift. Setting the final threads of her wicked spell into motion, Elizabeth trapped Miranda in the witch ball.

Three hundred years later, Elizabeth still waits for the completions of her scheme. Nathaniel, reincarnated and unaware, arrives in Lady's Cove and moves into the same home where the original Nathaniel lived. Recovering from the recent loss of his wife, he struggles with parenting his young daughter while beginning a new job. In a frustrated effort to stir his apathetic daughter's interest in something--anything, he urges her to accept the offer of a gift from Elizabeth. Caitlin, his daughter chooses the witch ball hanging in Elizabeth's shop.

Nathaniel accidentally shatters the fragile witch ball, setting into motion the final stages of the spell that was activated so long ago. What follows is an exquisite exercise in frustration. Kathleen provides some interesting and dangerous obstacles to true love. And of course, like all the best spells, there is a time limit.

Will Miranda convince Nathaniel that she's not crazy or a scam artist? Will Nathaniel fall in love with the right woman? Will they survive Elizabeth's machinations? And what about that delicious secondary character, John? Will he get his own story? To find out the answers to this intricate story my recommendation is for you to zip over to Cerridwen Press at once and snap up your own copy of the Witch Ball.

Anny

To find out what fascinating new fact Kelly has dredged up about Australia (and of course her take on the Saga) stop by http://www.kkirch.blogspot.com/ and check her out. Then pop over to Amarinda's blog at http://www.amarindajones.blogspot.com/ to find out how her weekend away went. And then? Blessings on your day.

Prime Time by Vicky Burkholder

It's Monday again! Seems like time just whizzes by. Today my guest author is Vicky Burkholder and I'll be reviewing her book, Prime Time from Cerridwen Press.

1) If you could start over with your writing career, what if anything would you change?
I’d start earlier. I’ve always wanted to write, but put it off for other things until late in life. Now I see my younger friends doing what I wish I’d done thirty years ago and envy them. But at the same time, thirty years ago, we didn’t have the resources and support available to us that we do today, so it all worked out.

2) What was the best piece of advice you received regarding the life of a writer?
Don’t quit your day job. Actually, that’s a bit trite, but true. Without my husband’s support, I’m not sure I could do this full time. I know I couldn’t raise a family on what I’m making. But again, there are so many more opportunities to sell these days that it’s easier than it was when I was younger. Unfortunately, there’s also a lot more competition!

3) If you could meet anyone, living or dead, who would it be? I had to think about this one for a while. There are so many – famous writers like Louisa May Alcott, Laura Ingalls Wilder, Charles Dickens, Shakespeare. Then, although I’m not politically minded, the great statesmen like Lincoln, Washington, Jefferson, etc. Or scientists like Einstein; or humanitarians… so many. But I think the two that come to the fore are Helen Keller, just because she’s such a fascinating person or Anne McCaffrey, just to talk to her about her writing.

4) If you could meet any fictional character, who would it be? Either Gandalf from the Lord of the Rings series or Professor Dumbledoor or McGonagall (do you sense a theme here?) Yes, I could have chosen among the thousands that are out there and that I’ve read, but these three intrigue me. I love fantasy stories and these three are powerful characters without being overpowering.

5) What do you want to be when you grow up? Just what I am. A writer.

6) In the next century, what do you hope people will remember you for? That I was a good person who wrote intriguing stories.

Prime Time by Vicky Burkholder

One of the most interesting aspects of embarking on this reviewing enterprise of mine has been the wonderful books I've read that I might have missed otherwise. One of those is Vicky Burkholder's Prime Time. This gem of a book is set on our moon in an Orwellian society in the habitats. It is an unfortunate truth that the human race will always find some way to divide into a class society. In this story, that society is divided between the rich well educated class and the poor workers class. The divide is further emphasized by the their living arrangments. The rich live on the lowest ten levels of the habitat. The poor on the upper ten levels closest to the moon's surface.

Deena is a porter, scrounging for a way to support herself day to day. When she is offered a chance to work with Jake, a techie and the Security Forces, she agrees. Their undercover assignment is further enhanced by a contract marriage. At this point, things rapidly begin to go down hill. Someone is not happy with their marriage and takes great pains to demonstrate their distress. The story rockets along, careening from one obstacle to the next, right up to the end.

Vicky devised an incredibly complex cast of characters to support her story. I was amazed at the world building which was extensive and interesting. And Jake and Deena have trust issues that not only endanger their growing attraction, but place other lives in jeopardy. This was a great book with inventive story line. I read it in one sitting and recommend that you run out immediately and pick up a copy of Prime Time by Vicky Burkholder from Cerridwen Press.

Anny

Don't forget to pick up the Saga at Kelly's Blog at http://www.kkirch.blogspot.com/ and then pop over to Amarinda's Blog for her take on the state of life in OZ at http://www.amarindajones.blogspot.com/ Blessings on your day.

Access Denied by Jacquéline Roth

It's Monday again! Boy time sure did fly this last week. Today's guest author is Jacquéline Roth and the book I'll be reviewing is her new release, Access Denied. But before we get to the book, let's meet her and find out a little bit about her.

1) If you could start over with your writing career, what if anything would you change?
I'd start much sooner. I had a less than ideal childhood and the idea that I could actually be a writer was sort of smothered out of me early on. I can remember making up stories and even illustrating them as a child. My grandfather partitioned a place behind his recliner in the living room for me and my stories and pictures were taped to the walls. He always said I could be anything I wanted to be. Unfortunately after a while, his wasn't the voice I heard in my head. I heard the one that laughed at the idea that I could ever really be a writer. So if I could go back, I'd listen harder and longer to my grandfather and never let anyone silence that dream.

2) What was the best piece of advice you received regarding the life of a writer?
The best advice I've ever received came from a friend of mine who is part of my critique and workshop group. Britannia has this way of cutting through the...nonsense...and laying out on the line in a way that makes you go, "Well duh! Why didn't I see that before?" I was recently agonizing over the direction to take a story I was writing. After listening to me dither she said "Go with your muse, if the muse says [option A], go [option A]. If the muse says [option B] then go with [option B], if the muse says both [option A and B] and everything in between then that's the way to go. If you start second guessing yourself out of guilt you'll compromise your story."

Then of course there is the advice my editor, Helen Woodall keeps giving me. Have fun.

I guess in a way they are both saying the same thing. I think as writers we want to be liked and accepted. Our stories and characters are our children and we want them to liked and accepted. But if we lose sight of who we--or our stories--are, then we will lose something much more important than the approval of others. Not everyone is going to like what you write so you had damned well better be satisfying your muse and pleasing yourself.

3) If you could meet anyone, living or dead, who would it be?
This is a hard one. I’ve really had to think. There have been so many people who have changed history and so many who have touched my life in some way though I have never met them. Either something they wrote reached out to me through the pages of their books or something they did made the world a different place. People like Robert Kennedy for his integrity and courage, Thomas Jefferson for his eloquence and foresight, Jane Austen for her ability to capture people and make us want to be or know them and Eleanor Roosevelt for being a woman far ahead of her--time all inspire me.

But if I had to choose one person it would be Queen Elizabeth I. She altered women’s roles in the world forever. Following in the footsteps of her step-Grandmother, Queen Isabella of Spain, she was a woman who ruled and who did so with no apology for being a woman. I’d love to ask her how she managed such a male dominated society so completely. Was it that she was wise enough to surround herself with the right people? How much of what was attributed to her did she really accomplish on her own volition and how much was orchestrated for her and done in her name?

4) If you could meet any fictional character, who would it be?
Jane Austen’s Mr. Darcy. But only if he agrees to fall madly in love with me and sweep me off my feet to a life of wealth and privilege in a lovely English manor house surrounded by servants. Oh, and only if he really does look like Colin Firth.

Darcy isn’t my favorite Austen hero, but Colonel Brandon belongs to Marianne so completely that I could never dream of coming between them. But then again…

5) What do you want to be when you grow up?
You mean I actually have to grow up? *sigh* In that case I want to be Sherrilyn Kenyon when I grow up. I want to create a fresh and original story concept and thrill and fascinate a world of readers. I want to “birth” amazing characters that thrill and astonish people. I want to have a book that I’ve created become someone’s “comfort book” the way Night Play has become mine. I could go back and read the story of Vane, the werewolf who is so overcome with passion and love for the plus size heroine that he can’t help himself.

Yep, I wanna be Sherrilyn Kenyon when I grow up. I’m not sure how that works, though, since I think technically she is younger than I am.

6) In the next century, what do you hope people will remember you for?
If anyone remembers me in the next decade, let alone the next century, I want it to be for one reason. I want someone to say, “You know, she really showed me that reading could be fun.”
I don’t care if it’s a former student of mine for whom I found that book which opened up a whole world of possibilities in the written word or a reader who had a good time reading one of my stories and decided to pick up another book and keep going. It is really a thrill when I see people lined up at bookstores to buy the latest installment in any series, be it Rowling’s Harry Potter or Stephenie Meyer’s teen vampire series. That is what reading should be. Exciting, thrilling, provoking and fun.

Access Denied by Jacquéline Roth from Cerridwen Press

"That is what reading should be. Exciting, thrilling, provoking, and fun." Well, this week's author certainly delivered. Each week I'm struck by what a very talented group of writers our editor has gathered together in her "Frog's Pond" and this week is no exception.

Access Denied is a creative look at "what if". "What if" a meteor struck Earth and we had enough time to prepare for it? What would the response be? What would life be like afterwards? How would our culture change?

In Access Denied, we are presented with a couple who are matched by the ruling body of Sanctuary, the Committee for a three month assignment. During their assignment time, they will get to know each other and decide ultimately if they are suited for permanent status. There are a few problems. Leah, a school teacher is less than attractive. James, a nurse is recovering from the aftermath of the loss of his first wife followed swiftly by a bad divorce from his second wife. He's in no mood to take on a third wife.

Slowly but surely the two misfits fall in love. And of course, there should be a Happily Ever After. But not so fast... There are forces at work here behind the scenes that lead to a shocking ending I never saw coming. Jacquéline very skillfully led me right down the access tunnel by my nose. Bam!

The story is filled with wonderful memorable characters that tug at your heart. The world building is creative and very well thought out. When I reached the end I wanted the story to go on. I hope that Ms. Roth writes another story for the Sanctuary world. If you want a very entertaining read, then go immediately to Cerridwen Press and buy a copy of Access Denied by Jacquéline Roth.

Anny

Today Kelly has the Saga and it's a doozy. Go to http://www.kkirch.blogspot.com/ to check it out. The head on over to Amarinda's blog at http://www.amarindajones.blogspot.com/ to find out how she triumphs over the lowly management at work. I'm sure it will demonstrate true creative flare.

Last Man Standing by Janet Davies from Cerridwen Press

I seldom get too excited by the men on our covers. They're attractive, but -- they're men. Young and cookie cutter pretty. The young man that posed for the cover for Last Man Standing isn't pretty. He's attractive, masculine, and perfect for the character of Alex, the hero of Last Man Standing.



The book is the sequel to Swift of Heart which I reviewed a while back. While strictly speaking you could read this book as a stand alone because Janet did such an excellent job of providing backstory for the book, I'm one of those people who insist on reading books in sequence. And that's my personal recommendation.



Swift of Heart is the story of Mackinley Swift, a warrior from another dimension, and Stephanie Hart, regular girl about town from Brisbane. Alex Navarro is Mac's best friend. And the heroine of Last Man Standing is Stephanie's sister, Amy Hart. Cozy arrangement there. No problems with the inlaws this way, right?



Alex arrives from his home dimension to warn Amy that she's in danger. She doesn't take the news very well. She handles the sudden attraction between them with even less enthusiasm. But Alex is not put off by her prickly attitude. Inevitably, they become lovers, fall in love and Alex panics because....there is a prophecy.



It's been my experience that if at all possible, men will choose the worst interpretation of the future. I believe it's in their genes. Alex automatically decides that he will endanger Amy if he stays with her so after repudiating her, he returns home.



Fast forward a few months..."I am not the father." Surprise!



Does Alex ever acknowledge parentage? Do they catch the bad guys? Do Amy and Alex get together in the end? Or does she keep insisting that she won't have him even if he's the Last Man Standing? Quick, go directly to Cerridwen Press and grab your copy of the delightful story Last Man Standing by Janet Davies.


Anny



Check out Amarinda's blog tomorrow to catch the new twist on the Saga at http://www.amarindajones.blogspot.com/ and then drop by and leave an encouraging word at Kelly's blog at http://www.kkirch.blogspot.com/ because there are always days that will be made better by an encouraging word.

Deadly Climb by Teri Thackston

Good morning! It's time for the Monday Interview/Review. Today my guest is Teri Thackston. Based on some of her answers to my nosy questions, I think she would be right at home with my library. Honestly, I wondered if I was the only one who had ever read The Scarlet Pimpernel! And here are her answers...

1) If you could start over with your writing career, what if anything would you change? I would definitely spend more time studying the craft and talking to other writers. I think I spent too much time stumbling along on my own, which definitely slowed the learning process.

2) What was the best piece of advice you received regarding the life of a writer? Write every day. We all hear it but we don't all heed it. It is so important to treat our writing with the importance it deserves.

3) If you could meet anyone, living or dead, who would it be? Gene Kelly. I've always said that he's my favorite person that I never met. I smile just thinking about his talent and his grin. He was a person who worked hard at his craft and yet made it look so effortless. I can only hope that someone says the same about me some day.

4) If you could meet any fictional character, who would it be? Oh, how to pick one fictional character out of the many I've known? Don Quixote for his courage and nobility...but no! Of course it would be Sir Percival Blakeney--the Scarlet Pimpernel. He's my absolute favorite fictional hero. Did you know that it's said that he was the first "secret identity" hero? And a woman created him: the Baroness Emmuska Orczy.

5) What do you want to be when you grow up? A working writer who can earn her living doing what she loves. That would be the best.

6) In the next century, what do you hope people will remember you for? I hope to be remembered for my storytelling ability. I don't expect my works to become "classics" but I'd like people to read my books for enjoyment...again and again as I've read the works of writers like Mary Stewart, Victoria Holt and Alistair MacLean. They were real storytellers who are still widely read today. So maybe they've become the new classics. I should be so lucky.

Deadly Climb by Teri Thackston from Cerridwen Press

If you like authors like Linda Howard or Elizabeth Lowell with their thriller-chase across the country stories, then Deadly Climb is the story for you. Actually, the relationship between the hero and heroine almost reminds me of that old movie North by Northwest. Teri keeps you guessing right to the cliff hanger-ending.

The heroine, Laura is a U.S. Marshall who is recovering from a terrible work accident. Unable to face what has happened, she has more or less barricaded herself in her apartment for several months. The hero, John abducts her so that she can help him get information from his small nephew about the identity of the killer of little Ryan's parents. Laura knew Ryan well as she had guarded the family while they were waiting to testify at a trial.

As they race across country to reach Ryan, the killers are right behind them engaging in a game of smoke and mirrors. Who are the bad guys? Who are the good guys? And how do the bad guys always seem to know where they are?

I found the story to be an absorbing, exciting tale the drew me in and kept me reading to the final sentence. I heartily recommend that you pop on over to Cerridwen Press and pick up your own copy of Deadly Climb by Teri Thackston.

Anny

Don't forget to stop over at Amarinda's at http://www.amarindajones.blogspot.com/ as she says she's going to write about the seven deadly sins. This I want to read. And then pop on over to Kelly's at http://www.kkirch.blogspot.com/ as she has the Blogga Saga today. Boy what she did with it now...

Beginning tomorrow and then several times over the next two weeks, I will be interviewing reviewers. So if you want to find out about the reviewing process, please stop by tomorrow for my interview with Terrie Figueroa from Romance Reviews Today.

The Nature of Work

Well, Kelly has once again led us down the garden path with the blog saga. Make sure you check it out at www.kkirch.blogspot.com and then of course tomorrow Amarinda will jog off in a totally different direction so check her out at www.amarindajones.blogspot.com today to read her take on winning the lotto.

This morning when I booted up my computer I was confronted with a news story titled "Oldest worker in America at 101"--man declares he will never stop working. Well, okay. Goody for him. It beats sitting at home on the porch. I'm wondering if there can't be a medium point, though.

Retirement is around the corner for a large segment of our population. Many of them look forward to it only to find that there are real pitfalls in moving from a daily work schedule to a life of leisure. Others never retire for fear of boredom or lack of money. Surely there is a middle ground.

One of the things I've observed is that too many retirees fail to plan what they will do after leaving their jobs behind. Then what? It's all well and good to ensure the financial security, but what about everyday life? If the individual was active and social before retirement, how will they cope afterwards--especially when the social aspects are much less?

Loneliness is the bane of retirement. On its heels is the feeling of uselessness. Since I'm in that age bracket, I'm talked to many retirees and many looking forward to retirement. Here's what I've noticed. If the retiree has a hobby or interest that keeps him or her busy and fulfilled then all goes well. But if he or she has failed to look past that day when they walk away from work, then they often suffer from depression and withdrawal.

I am officially retired. I receive a small retirement check every month which allows me to stay at home. I worked in a very high stress office environment and friends declared that I would be bored at home. Not a chance. There aren't enough hours in the day to do everything I want to do. And that was BEFORE I started writing!

I believe that psychologically, we are engineered to work, to be productive. When we are unable to contribute something to society in general, even if it's only beautifying our surroundings by gardening or crocheting, we feel like failures and are disatisfied with life.

That is the inherent nature of work. In the following excerpt from Dancer's Delight, Dancer ponders his choices in a place that really doesn't need his skills.

“Can we go find Eppie now?”

“In a few minutes. Aside from bonding with my daughter, what are your plans for your future?”

“How the hell would I know?” Dancer demanded irritably. “I play music and kill people. It doesn’t seem to me that there’s much call for either skill here in your little lost utopia.”

“I wouldn’t say that. We have a great need for a capable trainer for our warriors. I suspect that your skills are more than equal to that task. And we’ve had a need for music for a long time. Over the past few years, I’ve taken to collecting any old instruments I could find. When things settle down after your oath-binding, maybe you’ll want to look at them and see if any are suitable for the purpose of training our valley children.”

“If I’m to support your daughter, what I need is a job, not just make-work to keep me busy.” Dancer sat back and drummed his fingers restlessly on the table. “This just sucks. There’s nothing here for me to do except this weird bonding with your daughter. You can only spend so much time making love. Surely there are other, more suitable men in this valley?”

“None that she wanted,” Merlyn pointed out dryly. “Since the women make that choice here, I believe that you’re stuck. But we have a barter system here, Dance. Teachers are highly regarded and are afforded high credit for their skills. If you choose to teach either warrior skills to our older young men or music to our youngsters, you will make more than enough barter credit to cover your family’s needs.”

“Maybe. I’ll think about it. Can we go find Eppie now?”

Want to know more? Check it out at http://www.cerridwenpress.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419909566

Anny

The ring of authenticity

I write fantasy romances. That's a minor sub-genre in the vast romance category. There are a few people who believe that fantasy is the least difficult of all writing. After all, you make everything up...right? So your characters can do anything you want them to. Your world can be anything you want. How tough can that be?

I suppose it depends on whether you want the reader to be able to suspend belief or not. That's the ability to become so involved in the story that you "suspend" your belief in reality for the duration of the story. And that my friends requires some heavy duty world building.

I was recently interviewed for an e-zine (electronic magazine) and some of the questions were about the world building in my Mystic Valley series. How did you decide this? Why did you decide that? Those are the answers you come up with before you start writing a fantasy.

Decisions range from clothing and character appearance to culture, government, and monetary systems. What type of housing and furnishings are there? What type of occupations? What do they eat? How sophisticated are the sanitary arrangements? How do they get around?

And how does the author keep track of the details? Every fantasy writer has some type of system to keep track of decisions they've made along the way as they write. Sometimes you hit a point in the story where you have to stop and consider what long range consequences the action will have on the world you've spent so much time building. Then you have to go back through your notes. How will this change what you said back in book one?

The bigger the cast of characters you have, the more details there are to keep track of. My primary family in Mystic Valley, the Llewellyns, have sixteen children, each unique and special in their own way. In the early books, the younger children have cameo spots where they walk onto the stage briefly, but eventually all of them will take center stage, so every single one has to be thought out carefully.

There are villagers, out-valley people, in-laws, out-laws and what I call the incidental people that walk on and off the stage for one short scene. Readers are sharp-eyed. If you use the name Bob for that incidental person in book one, they'll notice if you use Bob in book three--especially if Bob has a different occupation in book three.

What about climate? Does it snow? Rain? Is it hot in the summer?

What about holidays? Religions? Education? All of those have to be accounted for one way or the other. Plants and animals have to be considered. Will the author use familiar animals from earth or will they make new ones up. What will the plants be like?

I had a wonderful time inventing the world of Mystic Valley. I hope you'll have a wonderful time discovering it, too. Just to give you a little taste, I've posted a bit from Dancer's Delight. Enjoy!

The path that led to the village wandered through a new section of woods. Immediately, Dancer knew that he was in a fantasy forest. As they walked along the trail, he took note of the plants, both familiar and strange. Unlike the last stand of trees he’d encountered, most of these were very strange, indeed. There were huge trees with odd dark blue leaves. One lonely tree had smooth, glittery black bark. Back from the path, he saw a pair of trees with orange bark and triangular purple leaves. Occasionally, he spotted pine-like trees with shiny red needles. The undergrowth was a multi-colored riot of prolifically flowering shrubs and a bright blue runner vine. Suddenly, without warning, the path took a sharp jog to the right and they stood at the edge of a thriving village unlike anything he had ever seen.

Circular adobe cottages with smooth, domed adobe roofs were arranged in concentric circles around a cluster of larger square stone buildings. The cottages ranged from small, one circle buildings to a very large compound of multiple joined buildings. Without hesitation, Eppie headed for the compound. Following on her heels, he observed as much as he could, noting the neat yards and gardens enclosed with low stone walls. Some had blue or green birds similar to chickens pecking at the dirt. In a couple of yards, enormous long-haired creatures that vaguely resembled dogs, silently eyed them as they walked by.

On the front steps of the compound, two huge cat-like animals were curled up, sleeping in the sun. The long-haired orange one’s ears twitched as they went by and it opened one green eye before settling back into slumber. The chocolate and cream animal opened both eyes, yawned mightily, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth and stretched before curling back up and snoring lightly. “Those are Tyger and Llyon’s packits,” Eppie commented briefly before opening the door and entering the cool darkness of a wide foyer.

Dancer merely nodded and followed her inside, completely resigned to the odd and amazing. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the shadowy hallway, but when they did, he observed a entryway like he had never imagined. A huge exquisite woven tapestry covered the wall on the left. The deep jewel colors shone vividly, even in the dimness. On the right, three unframed landscapes were arranged above a long narrow carved table. There were no artist names on the paintings, but it was obvious the same individual—in a style reminiscent of Goya—had painted them all. Bold bright colors portrayed life in the valley. The table below them had elaborately carved legs and skirt. When he bent over to study it, he saw the carvings were leaves and flowers.

Eppie barely paused before leading him into a larger room with an empty fireplace and a large varied collection of chairs. Standing in the doorway, he stared around in amazement. Every chair was occupied. Near the center of the room, he picked out two people he thought must be her parents. After focusing for a moment, he realized the rest were probably her siblings… and there were a lot of them. Every single male, from the youngest through the eldest, was dressed in the skirt-like garments. Some had on loose over-wrapped shirts, but most were bare-chested. And all of them had their hair neatly arranged in the narrow braids ending with the tiny jeweled clasps.

The man in the center stood and came forward, offering his hand in a gesture that was the first familiar thing Dancer had encountered. They shook hands as the man said, “Welcome. I’m Merlyn, that’s my wife Jade,” he nodded toward a very youthful looking red-head, “and the rest are our children, who I won’t overwhelm you further by introducing.”

“I appreciate that,” Dancer replied dryly.

“Come in and rest,” Jade invited with a lovely smile. “Arturo, please bring tea and wafers. The rest of you may satisfy your curiosity later. I’m sure you all have someplace to be. If not, I’ll be happy to find something for you to do.” In seconds, the room echoed with emptiness as they quietly vanished.

Unable to help himself, Dancer began to laugh. “I’ve never seen a room empty so fast.”

Want to read more? Go to http://www.cerridwenpress.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419909566 to check out Dancer's Delight.

Anny

Don't forget to stop at Amarinda's blog to check out what she's done with Louella, Sam and Jonas...and Emmeline at www.amarindajones.blogspot.com and then pop over to Kelly's blog where she's interviewing one of her characters, Sir Marcus, at www.kkirch.blogspot.com

Reading til the wee hours...

When is the last time you sat up until the wee hours reading? You know what I mean--it's so late you may as well not go to bed?



I finished Swift of Heart at 3:30 AM this morning and I'm still not quite awake. Swift of Heart is a book written by my friend/blog partner, Amarinda Jones under her alter-ego's name of Janet Davies. You're probably wondering what kind of story could keep anyone up until 3:30 AM. Well, I have to admit that it's a pretty unusual premise.



The hero, Mac, shows up after a year long absence with no word to the heroine, Stephanie, and when she demands to know where he's been, he tells her he's been away fighting a war in his home country... in another dimension. Of course, she immediately believes him and all is forgiven--not!



Anyway, I made the mistake of starting this book while I was waiting for Yahoo to get it's act together yesterday afternoon. Janet/Amarinda had a chat scheduled that she was gracious enough to share with a few friends. In case you don't know what this is, author and friends post excerpts from their books and chat about them. Maybe there are some questions and answers from authors or readers. Everyone has a good time. As long as Yahoo is working properly!



Yesterday, however, Yahoo had a meltdown about five minutes before the chat began. No posts showed up. Frantic efforts on the Hostess' part were for naught. So once I posted a few things and waited for Yahoo to fix whatever was wrong, I thought I'll just begin this book and read for a while. Reading time is precious when you're a writer so you grab whatever time you can find to read.



Uh-huh. Never start a good book when you're going to have to keep putting it down... or since this was an e-book, I kept having to switch screens to check on the chat. Then my royalty check came and I had to run out to the bank to deposit it (no it wasn't that big, but every penny counts so rush out and buy one of my books!) Support your local author.



Then I had to stop and feed the ravening beast (my husband). Haven't quite figured out why he insists on eating every evening, but there you are. Some things are cast in stone after forty years.



Back to the chat which was hopping by then as Yahoo suddenly "fixed" whatever was wrong, though I know there were a couple of posts I sent that still hadn't showed up when I signed off at 10:30 PM. That's because our hostess extended the chat so we could still chat and post.



Ah-hah, I thought. Now I'll get to read the book. Nope. Had to deal with a couple of emergencies and a long dog walk.



Midnight. Okay, now I'll get back to Swift of Heart! The computer decided it was time to run a scheduled scan. So I puttered around while that happened. I should have done the dishes, but was too impatient by that time to mess with it.



1:00 AM. Finally, back to the saga of Mac and Stephanie. By this time, I'm determined to find out how they defeat the bad guy and win. Of course, they'll have a happy ever after--that's required, but how will they get there? How many bad guys will they have to defeat? What will it take to convince Stephanie that Mac won't disappear again?



What? You think I'm going to tell you the answers after I sat glued to my computer monitor until the wee hours? Not a chance. I will however tell you where to get your very own copy of Swift of Heart.... http://www.cerridwenpress.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419908255 by Janet Davies from Cerridwen Press. Don't delay as the sequel will be out in September.

Finally satisfied that all was well with Mac and Stephanie, I toddled off to bed. This morning I dragged my sorry ass around the house, yawning and trying to remember what I had to do today. As is my custom, I booted up the computer to check e-mail and stuff. Imagine my complete lack of surprise when I discovered that Yahoo seems to have misplaced several of my chat loops--including the one from yesterday. Guess it wasn't quite fixed, eh?

Well, that's a job for later on when I'm actually awake. In the meantime, go read what Kelly did to my sexy Scrabble story at http://www.kkirch.blogspot.com/ and then stop by Amarinda's blog to read her take on the entire chat to-do at http://www.amarindajones.blogspot.com/

I think I might go take a nap.

Anny

What If?

My sister-in-law and I were discussing science fiction and fantasy versus reality in fiction. She finds that the impossibilities or improbabilities stop the narrative flow for her so she doesn't enjoy the story. I've known quite a few people like that. My daughters prefer non-fiction inspirational material. My second son prefers westerns. Fortunately, my oldest son enjoys playing the what if game. Other wise I would feel totally isolated as their father (and my husband) is the most literal minded man on earth.

Even as a kid, I was always attracted to the fantastic and futuristic. When other kids were reading Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys, I was devouring Tom Swift and Gulliver's Travels. Perhaps that was because I had enough grim reality in my life already. I know that books were my solace through lonely, difficult times. Books don't walk away or reject or make fun of the reader. They're loyal companions, always there when needed.

I used to think that all people were like me, but now I know that there are a lot of people who are uncomfortable with the uncertainty implied in what if. They cling to the concepts and places they are familiar with because the fantastic makes them feel insecure. That's okay. Fortunately in the world of books, there's something for everyone.

My brain is evidently hard-wired for the what ifs in life. Instead of assuming the most logical string of events, my mind hops out there to peer at the most far out what if. I used to fight it in my writing, but finally I conceded that was just the way I am. The book I'm currently working on opens with a small plane flying through a storm. Two possibilities--the plane crashes or it doesn't. But of course in my story, it crashes. Two possibilities--the people die or they survive. Of course they survive. Otherwise there wouldn't be a story. Now what? There my brain took a sideways hop and my characters ended up back in BC with natives throwing rocks at the shiny beast that suddenly appeared in their formerly pristine meadow.

See? That's just the way it is. In the blog I'm writing with Amarinda and Kelly, our readers think I deliberately tossed in a peeler. Not so. That was just a normal brain glitch. It could have easily been a bottle brush or a nail clip. I reached into the grab bag and pulled out a peeler.

The what if gene is both a gift and a curse. It makes it very difficult to write a straight romance. Goodness knows I've tried. Everytime I begin a perfectly normal story line, it jogs off into the brush where I need an off road vehicle to follow along. Witness the plane crash story. What should have been straight forward has gotten lost in the mists of time. Ah, well. The research should be interesting. I learn a lot of new things by playing what if...

Anny

Speaking of jogging off the beaten path... Amarinda has dragged us off into la-la land. Check it out at http://www.amarindajones.blogspot.com/ and if you missed Kelly's set up for this, hurry over to http://www.kkirch.blogspot.com/ and catch up.

I'll leave you with a small peek at Traveller's Refuge:

When Bishop woke, a very old, smallish blue man was leaning over Traveller. He had both hands spread out over him and was slowly moving them along Trav’s body as though he could see through the skin with them. The man noticed that he was awake and nodded to him. “Your friend is badly hurt,” he announced. “I’ve called for help to move him.”

“Who are you?” Bish asked in puzzlement. He had never seen anything like the strange man. His long silver hair, arranged in a multitude of small braids, each finished with a jeweled clasp, pooled around his knees as he knelt next to Trav. When he moved, the clasps clinked together like a delicate wind chime. Bishop squinted in the cave’s dim light, unwilling to accept the hint of fangs and delicately pointed ears he could swear the little man had. His face reminded Bish of a withered apple, except for those bright, twinkling green eyes. They brought to mind bird eyes. The little old man had some sort of cloth wrapped around his lower body and soft leather sandals.

“I am Dai.”

“Uh-huh. And who are you when you’re home, Die?” Bish’s brows rose in query.

“I am Dai. A healer.” He looked directly at Bishop. “Your friend is in need of a healer.” His head came up as he heard people approaching. “Good. Help has arrived and soon your friend will be more comfortable.”

Shoving the blanket away, Bish clambered to his feet. No one was going to move Trav until he talked to somebody that made more sense. Several people appeared on the pathway behind the waterfall shielding the cave, carrying bright light wands and all talking at once. When they saw Bish, the babble stopped abruptly as though cut with a knife.

The oldest man in the group tilted his head to one side, smiled widely revealing definite pointed fangs and said calmly, “Hello, Bishop. Fancy meeting you here.”

Bish knew that voice though he hadn’t heard it in many years. He sat down so suddenly he had bruises on his backside for a week. He shook his head very slowly and then just stared. “Baron.” His eyes grew round with shock as he really looked at him. Baron’s black hair, shot through with silver streaks now, was arranged like the old man’s hair. He wore the same soft skirt-like garment with matching vest and the soft sandals. And in the light of the wands they carried, his skin was indisputably blue. Almost absently, Bishop noted the gently pointed ears, pierced and decorated with multiple gold rings. After a minute, he realized that he was opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish but no sound was coming out. He tried again but it came out as a hoarse croak. “Baron.”

Merlyn came and squatted down next to him, with his arm across his shoulder. “Bish, I’m glad to see you.” He gestured for the others to come closer. “This is part of my family. Llyon. Tyger.” Two tall young men with blinding red hair arranged in tight twists on top of their heads. “Wrenna.” A tiny young woman with locks the color of glorious sunrise streaming down her back. “And two men from our village, Jonas and Mali. And you remember Jade, don’t you?” Yes, he remembered Jade but she looked quite different with her glowing auburn hair bound up in some kind of braided coronet arrangement sprinkled with tiny jewels. He had never seen her when her hair was this neat. And they were all blue…

The Secret Vice

Some people drink. Some smoke. Others, like my husband and kids, play computer role playing games. I have variously crocheted, embroidered, done calligraphy and genealogy, and written stories. But always through the years I've been a reader. Reading requires the presence of reading material.



Recently, I've met up with several people who don't quite get this fundamental fact. One woman in particular was appalled at the amount of money I spend on books. "Go to the library," she suggested. Well, for what I pay in overdue fines, I may as well own the book. Yes, I am that worst of all persons, the one who never makes it back to the library to return the book. I finally just quit going there. Instead I buy the book and then read it... and re-read it.



On one of the chat loops I occasionally visit, they had a question recently. What do you do with you books after you read them? KEEP them, of course. So I can read them again. That's why they're called KEEPERS! I have seven bookcases (make note to self--buy another bookcase soon) that are all overflowing. I read pretty fast. I read often. And I usually read most of the books I have every year. When I buy the newest installment in a series, I read the entire series before reading the newest one. At different times--if I'm on a reading jag--I have read as many as six books in one day.

It was wonderful when I stumbled across e-books. The difficulty with a print book is that it's so hard to hide. After a while the hubby notices that books are stacked on every flat surface in the room. "When did you get this book?" he demands. "Ummm. Oh, I've had that one for a while..." (since Monday, I think). So e-books were a god-send. E-books are invisible.

I keep them stashed on my computer in the e-book file. And since they are purchased with my mad money, no alarm bells go off to snag his notice. Eventually he caught on, but it seems that his major objection wasn't the money spent, but the room occupied by the print books. Since the e-books occupy no space, he's perfectly happy for me to indulge my secret vice. So happy in fact that he bought me an e-book reader for Valentine's Day last year.

Of course, that didn't solve ALL of my problems because there are some authors that still don't sell in e-format. But the odd thing I've noticed is that I've been gradually shifting away from the print books and authors. That's primarily due to an aging problem.

The print books have tiny print I can barely read. I can set my e-reader on large print so I can see it. Isn't that wonderful? And if that isn't big enough, then I can go up to the next size. There now. That's much better!

I have an idea as more and more of the population reaches the post fifties, that e-readers may become wildly popular. I hope so because then my favorite authors will be available in e-format. In the meantime, I'll enjoy the work of my fellow authors at Ellora's Cave and Cerridwen Press. Discovery of new talent is always one of the joys of my secret vice.

Anny

Don't forget to trot over to Kelly's site and see what she's done with Emmeline at www.kkirch.blogspot.com and then check out Amarinda at her best at www.amarindajones.blogspot.com