Is this time really the last time?
Rogue's Angels decided to each reveal a secret to our fellow writers, bloggers, and viewers. At one time I thought I had no secrets, that I was basically an open book. So thinking of something to reveal was a daunting task for me. From November to February for the last fourteen years I have been busy, busy, busy with a local high school swim team. I swam year round from when I was six until I started high school. Finding myself a tad burned out and wanting to do something different with my time than swim from one end of the pool to the other, I quit the year round program. After that I participated in high school swimming for four years. Go Black Tornados. I won a 6th place medal at the state high school championship meet my Junior year. When my oldest daughter wanted to participate in swimming at the high school level, I became the coach. And have been ever since. My son swam for me as well as my other daughter. When my youngest graduated, I had always planned to quit. But along came another swimmer and wow what a swimmer she is. Four years later and several individual state championship wins by this very talented swimmer will also mark my 14th year as the coach of this team. Should I go for 15?
So the question of the day is… is this really my last year as coach? I will reveal the answer at the end of the season, February 20th. To my friends I have said, for several years, this is my last year. So of course they don't believe anything I say, at least not on this issue.
Rogue's Angels are looking forward to the release of their first anthology on February 14th. We have a contest! Each week, to those who leave a comment, we will have a drawing for a free ebook. (not available until February 14th). Every comment will be placed in a drawing for a basket of goodies and a free POD of our Valentine Anthology. Enter as often as you like. :)
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Sunday, December 20, 2009
WHAT MAKES A GOOD COVER?
POSTED BY: AMBER ANGEL
There are as many answers to what makes a good cover as there are answers to the question, "What makes a good book?" Every reader has a different idea about this. And, many times, authors have little or no say in the design of their covers.
With that said, I'll offer my opinions of what makes a good cover.
As a graphic artist, I design and look for certain things in a cover:
--Can you tell by looking at the cover what the story is about?
--Are the title of the book and author's name clear and readable?
--Does the cover look professionally done?
With the growth of electronic books and selling books on the Internet, covers also have to look good and be readable at a small size: about an inch wide and an inch and a half tall. Covers with a lot of detail that might look wonderful on a printed book that's five or six inches wide can look like a murky mush when reduced to an inch wide. Also, if there's not good contrast between the letters and the background, the title and author's name might be totally unreadable at those small sizes. Oh yeah, and don't forget your itty-bitty cover still has to show what the story is about. For me, simple is better when designing book covers to sell on the Internet.
As a reader, I have a different perspective when selecting books by their covers. Some covers may be beautiful or unusual and catch my eye. But when I read the back cover blurb, I realize the cover doesn't show the story at all. I'll paraphrase what a fellow reader and writer said: If your cover shows a bare chest or a seductively posed couple, readers expect a hot love story. If there's nary a kiss inside, they are going to remember this broken promise and perhaps be wary of buying any more of that author's books. (Again, please give that author some leeway as they might not have had much input on their cover design.)
As a reader, I also bring my own prejudices to buying books. I may not care for a certain type of book or not care for the writing style of a particular author. No matter how attractive and professionally done the cover is, I'm not going to buy that book. There are also certain styles of drawing that seem to be very popular, but register high on my "ick" meter. I'm probably not going to pick up that book. On the other hand, if I love an author's writing and they get a stinker cover, I'll buy the book anyway--and perhaps design them a different cover in my "spare" time.
I've also been known to buy a book because of a mischievous look on a cover model's face--seemingly at odds with his muscular biceps. (The book carried through on the promise of the cover.) And any cover with cute animals will make me take a second look--those are my "sucker" covers.
Obviously, what makes a good cover is subjective. Do you have any types of covers that make you go "ick" or ones that will sucker you in every time?
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Judging a book by its cover
Hello all,
Sable Angel here. This week's column is about book covers -- what makes an eye-catching, got-to-have-it-in-my-collection cover. Hhmmm. That's a real thinker.
I'm of two minds on this... First, I want to be sure people are stopped in their tracks when they see my book covers. I want something about the cover to grab them and not let go. But what exactly is that ethereal quality? Is it a tan, taut, muscled set of abs? Or a black cover with bold red or white letters screaming the title of the book?
What stops readers, and hopefully buyers, in their tracks?
Second, I don't want to give away my story but tickle the reader's interest. Entice them to take the book off the shelf and read the back cover, maybe open the pages and peruse the first or last page. Whatever it takes to get the book in their hands.
I can only speak from my own experience as to what I prefer -- depends on the genre. When I'm looking at sci-fi and fantasy books, I love covers where I can get a glimpse of the world the writer has created.
I like my mystery book covers simple; a few clues arranged on the cover so I'm thinking about who the murderer is and how they accomplished their nefarious task.
When the Angels last met, we discussed this very topic and did agree on one point: if a writer puts a promise on the cover,e.g., a hunky man clutching a curvaceous female with that look in his eyes [does anyone remember Fabio?]; the writer better come through in spades with the promise of a hot, steamy read.
As writers for an epublisher, the Angels are fortunate to have control over what appears on our covers. We work with an artist and create the look to best convey the contents of our book.
In the large publishing houses, the book covers are decided by the art director who can't possibly read every book for which he/she designs the cover. Consequently, some covers create a promise the author can't fulfill and readers pay the price.
As is the case with writers, there are many different covers for many different tastes. Variety is the spice of life and book covers, too.
Don't forget to wear your mittens and keep your feathers dry.
Sable Angel
Sable Angel here. This week's column is about book covers -- what makes an eye-catching, got-to-have-it-in-my-collection cover. Hhmmm. That's a real thinker.
I'm of two minds on this... First, I want to be sure people are stopped in their tracks when they see my book covers. I want something about the cover to grab them and not let go. But what exactly is that ethereal quality? Is it a tan, taut, muscled set of abs? Or a black cover with bold red or white letters screaming the title of the book?
What stops readers, and hopefully buyers, in their tracks?
Second, I don't want to give away my story but tickle the reader's interest. Entice them to take the book off the shelf and read the back cover, maybe open the pages and peruse the first or last page. Whatever it takes to get the book in their hands.
I can only speak from my own experience as to what I prefer -- depends on the genre. When I'm looking at sci-fi and fantasy books, I love covers where I can get a glimpse of the world the writer has created.
I like my mystery book covers simple; a few clues arranged on the cover so I'm thinking about who the murderer is and how they accomplished their nefarious task.
When the Angels last met, we discussed this very topic and did agree on one point: if a writer puts a promise on the cover,e.g., a hunky man clutching a curvaceous female with that look in his eyes [does anyone remember Fabio?]; the writer better come through in spades with the promise of a hot, steamy read.
As writers for an epublisher, the Angels are fortunate to have control over what appears on our covers. We work with an artist and create the look to best convey the contents of our book.
In the large publishing houses, the book covers are decided by the art director who can't possibly read every book for which he/she designs the cover. Consequently, some covers create a promise the author can't fulfill and readers pay the price.
As is the case with writers, there are many different covers for many different tastes. Variety is the spice of life and book covers, too.
Don't forget to wear your mittens and keep your feathers dry.
Sable Angel
Sunday, December 6, 2009
THREE HANDED BOOK COVER
What is in a book cover? Everything! For those of you who have been readers/writers for a long time you will probably remember the three handed book cover. I doubt if this faux pas hurt sales. Yet the quality of lack of quality will. The cover of my first book, which was set in the late 1800's, the heroine wore a pink calico dress with a pink nylon zipper. Hmmm…..
When I researched the zipper, I discovered the zipper had just been invented. I seriously doubt this hurt sales at all. Very few people noticed the zipper and in any event it was a nice cover.
I put my book covers, the ones I design as well as my own covers on http://www.ratemybookcover.com/ and have found the ratings here by other people interesting. I have always thought the cover should represent the book as well as the genre and if it did this well the cover served its purpose and should be a great cover. One of my best covers, in my opinion, is rated very low at this site. But then it's a scary or should I say gruesome cover. I believe this cover would draw the crowd that loves to read scary vampire stories. So why is it rated so low? I don’t know. (If anyone has a thought on this, please share.)
Does anyone remember who the author of the three handed book cover was and the title of the book?
I encourage everyone to log on to the site above and take a stab at rating book covers. Please share what you think makes a great cover.
Allana Angel
When I researched the zipper, I discovered the zipper had just been invented. I seriously doubt this hurt sales at all. Very few people noticed the zipper and in any event it was a nice cover.
I put my book covers, the ones I design as well as my own covers on http://www.ratemybookcover.com/ and have found the ratings here by other people interesting. I have always thought the cover should represent the book as well as the genre and if it did this well the cover served its purpose and should be a great cover. One of my best covers, in my opinion, is rated very low at this site. But then it's a scary or should I say gruesome cover. I believe this cover would draw the crowd that loves to read scary vampire stories. So why is it rated so low? I don’t know. (If anyone has a thought on this, please share.)
Does anyone remember who the author of the three handed book cover was and the title of the book?
I encourage everyone to log on to the site above and take a stab at rating book covers. Please share what you think makes a great cover.
Allana Angel
Sunday, November 29, 2009
WHY WRITE A STORY FOR AN ANTHOLOGY?
--Posted by Amber Angel
When Christine Young asked me if I wanted to contribute a novella as part of a Valentine's Day anthology, I was flattered and delighted. Then thought, What am I going to write?
I poked my writer's muse to see if any ideas surfaced. The muse was silent. Waiting, I think, for me to draw the obvious conclusion: I had drafted a romantic comedy some years earlier but tucked it away when it started to turn into the serious, more dramatic and longer stories I usually write.
But what if this story was shorter? Could I sustain the comedy for 30,000 or 35,000 words? I liked the story enough to give it a try.
My first challenge was trimming the length from nearly 60,000 words down to about 30,000 words. Ever tried to lose weight? What if you had to lose half your weight? Well, at least I had a generous deadline to do this.
I waded into the story with an eye to cutting big chunks of text. Any subplots that weren't necessary to the central story got deleted. If I found a scene that didn't move the story forward, out it went. Two sections that said basically the same thing were combined into one scene.
I was pleased--until I realized I still needed to cut about 15,000 words.
I polished up my delete key and dove into the story once again. In doing so, I discovered how much I had learned about the craft of writing in a few short years. Bouncing points of view, weak motivation, and excessive dialog tags (how many ways can you write "he said"?) became obvious. Cleaning up these writing faux pas brought the word count almost down to my goal.
Another pass through to tighten the dialogue, eliminate excessive phrases, and make sure each word was necessary left the story at a streamlined 34,000 words that sustained the comedy from beginning to The End.
Writing a story as part of an anthology might not have started out as a way to sharpen my writing skills, but that was one bonus. Another bonus was finding an outlet for the romantic comedy side of my writing muse.
Other reasons I like writing for an anthology have to do with Christine Young and C.L. Kraemer (aka Allana Angel and Sable Angel). I love working with two writers I respect and admire. In addition, promotion with other writers is a lot of fun and we can combine resources to reach more readers. For example, our Valentine's Anthology will include "write-in" parts, similar to cameo appearances in movies and TV shows, that were auctioned off as a benefit for the Willamette Humane Society, and our launch party for the anthology will be hosted by WHS.
I have many reasons for participating in an anthology, but what speaks most eloquently is the answer to the question, "Would you do it again?" For me, the answer is a resounding, "Yes!"
As you read this, Rogue's Angels are already planning another anthology for 2011 with more fantasy, more romance, and more fun!
Sunday, November 22, 2009
What's the value of writing for an anthology?
Fair question, don't you think? We writers get so tunnel-visioned about getting our books published, we often forget to write for the sheer joy of putting pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard truth-be-told, and letting a story unfold.
Not all stories require 50,000 to 70,000 words to have impact. Some of America's most memorable authors have penned short stories to highlight a point they wanted to make. In days past, short stories were grouped together in a book and titled "Short stories by [insert famous author name here]". The reading public was so hungry for entertainment [this was pre-television] they would snap up new work by favorite authors. Somewhere along the line the concept of writing short stories got some pretty bad press and many writers stopped practicing this art.
My very first publication of work was a 750-word piece which won a finalist place in a contest Diet Coke was sponsoring. Twenty-three of us won a webpage on the Diet Coke site for three months which featured our bios, pictures and our story. The thought people from around the world could read my work was quite heady.
Enter the Anthology. My next foray into the world of publishing was a story that has become the basis for my dragon series. I sent it to a fantasy writers group. The moderator and final judge for the anthology had co-written several books with Piers Anthony. Fantasy readers should recognize the name. He is a brilliant, multipublished fantasy writer highly respected in the fantasy community. My story Cyre Drake was about 6,000 words and sat nestled in the company of some fantastic writers. I was paid $10.00 and one book for my efforts. I was, at last, a professional writer.
Do you see a pattern here? Sometimes formats such as anthologies serve to help writers hone their craft. Back when I wrote Cyre Drake if someone would have inferred the next thing I put my talents to would have to be 50,000 words or more, I might have stopped. With each story, my confidence grew to the point I was able to write a complete book and not panic.
I have five books, two stories, a written, performed and published comedy short on DVD and several "posts" on websites where I've been asked to contribute. In February, I'll have two more stories in anthologies and, with luck, in March the first book in a dragon series will be released. I've found my groove.
Anthologies can provide a format for writers to tell a story in the most succinct fashion. As is the case with writers who've published more than one book, brevity has become illusive for me. My writing style is such that I try to convey to my readers every sense I can without boring them; sight, sound, smell, touch and even taste.
Most anthologies have a word limitation, so writing in the style I like becomes a challenge to tell the story in the best fashion with the least amount of words. Can I use one word to get the idea across instead of a sentence? Have I developed characters the reader will identify with in such a confined writing space? Did I tell my story?
You will find Allana and Amber Angels to be superb storytellers. The characters in their tales will make you laugh, make you think and keep you asking for more.
Until next time, keep your feathers dry.
Sable Angel
Not all stories require 50,000 to 70,000 words to have impact. Some of America's most memorable authors have penned short stories to highlight a point they wanted to make. In days past, short stories were grouped together in a book and titled "Short stories by [insert famous author name here]". The reading public was so hungry for entertainment [this was pre-television] they would snap up new work by favorite authors. Somewhere along the line the concept of writing short stories got some pretty bad press and many writers stopped practicing this art.
My very first publication of work was a 750-word piece which won a finalist place in a contest Diet Coke was sponsoring. Twenty-three of us won a webpage on the Diet Coke site for three months which featured our bios, pictures and our story. The thought people from around the world could read my work was quite heady.
Enter the Anthology. My next foray into the world of publishing was a story that has become the basis for my dragon series. I sent it to a fantasy writers group. The moderator and final judge for the anthology had co-written several books with Piers Anthony. Fantasy readers should recognize the name. He is a brilliant, multipublished fantasy writer highly respected in the fantasy community. My story Cyre Drake was about 6,000 words and sat nestled in the company of some fantastic writers. I was paid $10.00 and one book for my efforts. I was, at last, a professional writer.
Do you see a pattern here? Sometimes formats such as anthologies serve to help writers hone their craft. Back when I wrote Cyre Drake if someone would have inferred the next thing I put my talents to would have to be 50,000 words or more, I might have stopped. With each story, my confidence grew to the point I was able to write a complete book and not panic.
I have five books, two stories, a written, performed and published comedy short on DVD and several "posts" on websites where I've been asked to contribute. In February, I'll have two more stories in anthologies and, with luck, in March the first book in a dragon series will be released. I've found my groove.
Anthologies can provide a format for writers to tell a story in the most succinct fashion. As is the case with writers who've published more than one book, brevity has become illusive for me. My writing style is such that I try to convey to my readers every sense I can without boring them; sight, sound, smell, touch and even taste.
Most anthologies have a word limitation, so writing in the style I like becomes a challenge to tell the story in the best fashion with the least amount of words. Can I use one word to get the idea across instead of a sentence? Have I developed characters the reader will identify with in such a confined writing space? Did I tell my story?
You will find Allana and Amber Angels to be superb storytellers. The characters in their tales will make you laugh, make you think and keep you asking for more.
Until next time, keep your feathers dry.
Sable Angel
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Why write an anthology?
Anthologies?
When I first published with Kensington, a Christmas anthology was released. The three authors featured in that anthology were some of my favorite authors. I fantasized what it would be like to be asked to write one. If I could share the limelight with authors I respected and admired, that would indeed be icing on the cake.
Ten years later the fantasy became a reality. I don't really remember how the Valentine Anthology came about--perhaps in a conversation--maybe I asked my long time critique partners, Genene and Chris if they would be interested. Perhaps they remember. In any case the first of our Anthologies will be release in three short months.
I love anthologies. Three different stories, three different authors, and there is usually a theme. I love the Christmas and Valentine themes. Over time they have become my favorites. However, working on the St. Patrick's Day Anthology may make this theme one of my favorites.
As critique partners we have always edited, encouraged, as well as offered suggestions to improve each others stories and writing skills. We have done the same on this project. I was thrilled when Genene offered to design the cover for the Valentine Anthology.
This project has been a great deal of fun and as usual I've learned a lot. If asked if I would do this again, I would say unequivocally, yes. And of course the angels will be writing another anthology.
Allana Angel
When I first published with Kensington, a Christmas anthology was released. The three authors featured in that anthology were some of my favorite authors. I fantasized what it would be like to be asked to write one. If I could share the limelight with authors I respected and admired, that would indeed be icing on the cake.
Ten years later the fantasy became a reality. I don't really remember how the Valentine Anthology came about--perhaps in a conversation--maybe I asked my long time critique partners, Genene and Chris if they would be interested. Perhaps they remember. In any case the first of our Anthologies will be release in three short months.
I love anthologies. Three different stories, three different authors, and there is usually a theme. I love the Christmas and Valentine themes. Over time they have become my favorites. However, working on the St. Patrick's Day Anthology may make this theme one of my favorites.
As critique partners we have always edited, encouraged, as well as offered suggestions to improve each others stories and writing skills. We have done the same on this project. I was thrilled when Genene offered to design the cover for the Valentine Anthology.
This project has been a great deal of fun and as usual I've learned a lot. If asked if I would do this again, I would say unequivocally, yes. And of course the angels will be writing another anthology.
Allana Angel
Sunday, November 8, 2009
EXCERPT FROM CHASING RAINBOWS
Amber Angel here...
I've read the entire novellas of Sable Angel and Allana Angel--not just the excerpts they posted the last two weeks. For those of you waiting for this anthology to be released in February, I think you have a treat in store!
My contribution to this anthology is a romantic comedy entitled, CHASING RAINBOWS. I hope you enjoy this excerpt!
***
Hovering at the far end of the bar, Rissa rubbed her arm where That Man's fingers had rested. Dressing as a waitress had seemed like the perfect solution to keep an eye on her brother. Put on a wig and some selected endowments, then circulate through the bar and smile. Unfortunately, because she looked like a waitress, she was expected to act like one also. Except that she didn't know a Black Russian from a Bloody Mary, and her feet hurt. She supposed that her backside would have been black and blue from pinches too if it hadn't been artificially padded.
However, Rissa quickly figured out a simple system. Wine in the tall glasses; hard liquor in the short, squatty ones. Match the color of the umbrellas or what was left of the drink. If she mixed up the orders, she just smiled and apologized profusely. Her system had worked fine.
Until That Man touched her arm.
Rissa couldn't even look into his mesmerizing green eyes without growing dizzy. A dimple appeared briefly in his left cheek as he flashed a smile.
Lowering her gaze was another mistake. His worn-soft bomber jacket and faded-on jeans conveyed a dangerously intimate message. A message her body picked up loud and clear.
Ceiling fans moved languidly, shifting the air but not cooling her heated flesh. Perspiration dampened her palms, her upper lip, the valley between her glued-on, enhanced breasts.
For the first time in her life, Rissa was confronted with the raw sexual power between a man and a woman. It startled and intrigued her; made her want to draw back even as it pulled her under its spell.
The physical impact of someone stumbling against her brought Rissa back to reality--and a commotion by the bar. Rex Foxworth stood alone beside a three-foot-tall cake, his face covered with a stunned expression and clumps of pink frosting.
Where's Ryan? Rissa thought. What happened?
She took a step and her padded breasts slid downward. "Oh, bother and damnation."
The glue must have been loosened by the perspiration generated from close proximity to the tempting stranger. Rissa placed a hand under her sagging bosom and nudged it upward.
The emerald-eyed stranger reappeared, regarding her curiously.
"Are you feeling alright?" the man asked.
Rissa nodded vigorously, which started her bosom sliding once more. She crossed her arms and hugged her waist.
"Are you sure you're not in pain?"
"No!" she whispered as her phony breasts continued their downward slide. If I can just get out of here without the entire bar noticing my escaping body parts.
Rissa edged along the bar. The door seemed miles away, but she could make it. She knew she could.
"Wait!" That Man touched her arm again.
The contact caught Rissa by surprise. As she spun around to face the stranger, her arms dropped their frantic hold across her midsection. She felt a shifting and realized her borrowed bosoms were now at her waist. Horrified, she watched the slow motion descent of her faux breasts as they fell at the stranger's feet.
"I'm sorry," Rissa whispered. She snatched the padding from atop the man's spit-shined shoes and double-timed it out of the Pink Flamingo.
***end of excerpt***
Monday, November 2, 2009
I'm late, I'm late for a very important date...
Hello all,
Sable Angel here. If Allana Angel hadn't reminded me, I would've completely forgotten yesterday was my day to update you all. ::sigh:: I'm so scattered lately.
We're busy trying to find ways to get the word out about our February 2010 anthology. We've been brainstorming so much lately we're losing feathers from our wings. It's a very sad sight. But we want to share with as many as we can our love of writing.
In keeping with that thought, I'll post a bit of the Lending Library here for you to take with you this week.
Magic.
For those who believe, no explanation is necessary;
for those who don’t, no explanation will suffice.
On the east side of Springfield and Eugene, Oregon, stands a town halfway up the hill complete with high rises, nightclubs, shopping centers and teeming life. Few, if any, see the activity, but it overlooks the valley and its larger neighbor to the west.
The mythological beings of the town, and the valley below, allow the disbelief of most humans to serve as their shield against discovery; all except the night elves.
Extraordinarily tall, with unique features to aid them in fitting into human society, night elves use their magic to enchant and lord over weaker souls. The only essence more compelling than magic is power, and night elves seek as much power as they can steal from unsuspecting humans enthralled by their tempting ways.
~ * ~
If you follow the highway east that hugs the shoreline of the river about fifteen miles into the dense forest outside of Eugene/Springfield, a covered bridge spanning the water will appear on the right hand side. Turn your vehicle slowly onto the creaky, wooden single lane passage and after holding your breath and praying the bridge holds your vehicle; follow the narrow lane for three miles.
The transport through a rainbow of greenery is unlike any other spot on this planet. Towering pines reach their evergreen arms to the sky creating a canopy that provides a cool shelter for the creatures of the forest. As the fading blue of the overhead sky begins to morph into inky darkness, the road wends itself past a slatted building tucked into a crook within the wooded landscape. The clapboard siding could do with a coat of paint and visitors must wonder if the shaky building will stand another year in this coveted haven. Much of the outside bears the weathered scars left by years of rain and a slight green sheen to the sides indicate the moss which cushions the foot on the forest floor has decided to overtake the structure thus returning the elements back to their beginning.
The one inconsistent in this picture is the sturdy, new porch hosting minuscule tables and chairs.
A sign out front bears white, chipped letters of explanation:
The Lending Library – open 24 hours. Welcome.
Linda Brown moved to these woods so long ago she’d forgotten the actual date. She hated the isolation at first, but after spending ten years being miserable, she realized she had a choice to make – move or learn to adjust. She adjusted.
It was after she’d adjusted to her situation she discovered mail order catalogs and book clubs. When her husband Donald passed away, she gave away all the earthly things he had felt so important and built shelves in every room except the kitchen to store her books and create her library. She moved her small bed into the old pantry adding a small window so she might see the “little people” when they came to visit her before she fell asleep.
Friends from her socializing days stopped visiting. People in town began calling her the Witch of the Woods and quit passing by the house. Linda didn’t care. She had her library and the wee ones.
One
Ailidh wobbled precariously on her high heels.
Kayne smirked. “Having problems, dear?”
“Shut up!” she snapped. “I need to practice this until I get it right. We don’t really have many options left open to us, Kayne. You had better practice, too.”
He stopped and steadied himself on the railing of the porch. He wriggled his feet out of the closed leather shoes that encased them.
“I don’t know why you insist we wear these ridiculous articles of clothing. This long-sleeved shirt cuts off the circulation to my hands not to mention the lack of space for my wings and these long pants chap my legs. “Worst of all, are these horrendous leather shoes. They pinch and make my feet swell. Why do we have to go through all of this? I don’t understand.” Kayne grumbled.
Ailidh sighed and slowly, patiently explained to him, once again, why they were practicing. “Remember last Wednesday when Keegan and Connal lost their dwelling? The sound of their tree crashing to the ground was deafening. The Others are moving out more and more. We will lose our own home if we don’t act first. Now, put your shoes back on and walk for just five more minutes.”
Kayne wrestled his shirt off and threw it to the porch’s deck. He pulled the long pants off his body and left them in a heap next to the shirt. Bending forward, he touched his toes gingerly as he gradually unfurled his lacey wings. Slowly, he pulled himself to an upright position. Shoulders back, wings completely expanded, he lifted his 18-inch form to its full height and looked at Ailidh defiantly.
“I don’t need to fit into the Others world. They need to adjust themselves to my world and leave us alone.”
Ailidh, teetering, grabbed the lower railing of the porch and shook her head. “Kayne. Most of the Others don’t even know we exist. How can they adjust to something they don’t even believe?”
“They adjust to animals, don’t they?”
“The animals chose to be seen. We did not. Remember? Our great, great grandfathers took a vote and decided we would endanger ourselves more if we continued to be visible to the Others. At that time, they didn’t have all the machinery they have now. They moved into our lands at a slower pace. Now, put on the clothes and try to adjust.”
“No.” Kayne kicked at the clothing on the porch. “I’m going to get a magazine and a cup of coffee. You can stand here and practice day and night for all I care.”
He turned on his heel and lifted himself off the ground with his delicate appendages. He lazily winged his way into the open window of the building marked Lending Library.
Hovering until he landed on the balls of his feet, he folded the wings tight to his torso and walked to the corner of the building signed Coffee Shop. He sat in a small chair snugged close to the matching table. Sliding the Newsweek someone had tossed on the table toward him, he flipped through the pages. Minimized for easier handling, the magazine was still large enough to require both of his hands to turn the pages.
A diminutive nymph in a waitress uniform with a “Chrissy” nametag took his order for a latte. Ten minutes later, she returned with the steaming liquid in a cup.
“Thanks Chrissy,” Kayne picked up the cup carefully and took a sip.
“No problem, Kayne,” she had a surprisingly deep voice for a nymph. “Where’s Ailidh?”
Kayne jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the front porch. “Practicing,” he grunted.
“Oh,” Chrissy mopped the table next to Kayne’s with a wet rag then flew daintily to the kitchen with the dirty cups and saucers she’d picked up. One of the resident dryads of the valley, Chrissy was living in the tree behind the Lending Library. Her home across the meadow had been one of the first destroyed.
Ailidh is right. Kayne frowned at the silent admission. The Others were invading his world with frightening swift, uncaring swaths into the forestlands. Soon there wouldn’t be an Ancient tree left. While, at a glance, their movements seemed random, even careless, Kayne had noted a pattern, albeit haphazard, to their actions. Months earlier he’d watched from a safe distance as the huge screeching yellow machines ripped up his ancient wood friends and squashed their bodies beneath armored tracks. He could never be sure whether the squealing had been the old trees or the vicious yellow machines. After the first occasion of watching as they destroyed a sea of Ancients, Kayne had left on shaky wings and flown home. Ailidh was furious at him, thinking he’d been with his friends drinking honeysuckle wine. He couldn’t stop throwing up long enough to tell her what he’d seen.
When the thunder and growl of the angry yellow tree destroyers rumbled over their living room ceiling several months later, Kayne sat Ailidh down and explained what had happened that fateful night.
He took her soft, dainty hand in his and looked into her sparkling moss green eyes. “We must be prepared to move from our home.”
Ailidh’s exquisite wings trembled. “Why?”
The earth near the entrance to their home groaned and bits of dirt drizzled from around the doorway.
Kayne pointed up. “That—that—monster will reach into our home and pluck us up with no regard whatsoever. I’ve seen it rip out the Ancient trees in the glen over by Drystan’s home.
“The night you thought me so drunk I could not speak, I was ill from watching The Others kill the Ancient trees and destroy homes of our friends. I just couldn’t stop being sick long enough to explain to you. When I finally got the horror of that picture out of my mind and stopped throwing up, you’d gone to bed--angry. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
Ailidh’s face blanched and she slumped to the cloth-covered chair Kayne had so carefully carved from a branch the Ancient tree had gifted them. “Wh-wh-why? We’ve not harmed them. Why do they want to rip out our homes and make us move?”
“I don’t know my love, but we’ve got to find a way to fight back or we’ll be next.”
Kayne had soothed Ailidh’s fears that night, but she began a campaign to move to Faetown and get out of the meadow and woods they called home.
Kayne sighed. She’d get her way and they’d move, but he wasn’t going without a fight. He felt a soft rush of air caress his cheek and looked up to find Ailidh alighting gently on her bare feet, her toes inflamed and angry looking.
He nodded to her. “Better get the Librarian to wrap those before they swell too much. Wouldn’t want to put your shoes in the rubbish bin.” Licking several fingers, he turned the page, the crinkle of the slick paper echoing off the wall of books.
When his smarmy comment met with silence, Kayne looked up to see a large tear meandering down Ailidh’s cheek. He dropped the magazine to the table and hung his head pushing out air between his lips. He’d done it again. He’d hurt the one woman who put up with his attitude and still loved him. Most women of the Fae would have kicked out his boastful self long ago not tolerating his pride and pomposity. Not Ailidh. She’d just look at him with those enormous sparkling moss green eyes, pat his hand and kiss his cheek. Kayne, unlike most Fae men, preferred one mate and one mate only. He never had understood the need to wing from inviting mossy bed to inviting mossy bed.
He reached out and grabbed the wayward drop heading toward the fine line of Ailidh’s jaw. “I’m sorry my love. Let’s see if the Librarian has something to ease the pain.” Kayne lifted himself from the chair and fluttered to the back of the building.
On the door was a sign. It read: “Rap loudly. Human hearing.”
Kayne pounded on the door, settled himself on the floor, and waited.
Slowly the big door opened; before him stood a giant of a person. He sucked in a deep breath and felt his wings tremble.
Pulling up a stool, the giant Librarian sat. She was nearly at his eye level. A gentle smile touched her lips and crinkled her gray eyes. The essence of wild roses swirled lightly on the air. “Kayne. How can I help you?” Her soft voice purred quietly to his keen hearing.
Kayne opened his mouth but nothing came out. He coughed, stepped back then winged himself up a foot. At this level, he was looking in to the kind eyes. “Ailidh… Ailidh has been practicing with those high heel shoes, and now her feet are swollen and hurting. Do you have something that would help?”
Linda thought for a moment. “I do believe I have something to ease her pain. I also have some Epson salts you can take with you so she can use them tonight. Wait here.”
Rising from the step stool slowly, she walked to the back of the small room and opened a cupboard on the wall. Taking out a box and a bottle, the Librarian returned to the doorway.
“May I come out and administer to her?” Gray eyes questioned as she stood with the medicine in her hands.
Kayne hesitated. Ailidh liked the Librarian, but he still didn’t trust her. After all, she was one of the Others. He turned his head and saw his mate trying to stifle the large tears meandering down her cheeks by swiping at them with the back of her hand. “Yes. Please. She’s in such pain.”
Linda was surprised. Very few of the wee folk had become comfortable with her presence, Ailidh was the exception, so getting their permission to move about her own home was necessary if she was to keep them coming into her library. “Lead the way, Kayne.” She wasn’t above playing to his male vanity.
As they got closer to the tiny faerie, Ailidh straightened in her chair and sipped from her coffee drink. She was a bit startled to see the Librarian out in the building. She didn’t come out in the daytime for fear of scaring away the wee folk that gathered. Something must really be wrong for her to take such measures.
“Librarian.” The sweet sound of Ailidh’s voice carried to the odd pair approaching her.
“Ailidh. How are you today?”
“I’m well, thank you. What brings you out of your room?”
“Kayne asked me to see to your feet. He mentioned you were suffering and asked if I could help.”
Ailidh shot Kayne a glare. “My toes are swollen and hurt a bit but they will heal without help, thank you.”
Linda could sense a fight brewing and opted to take the diplomatic way out.
“Well, let me give you some of my healing helpers. Use them if you like and if not, hang on to them. At some point in the future, they might come in handy. These little orange pills here relieve pain from the inside out, small dose aspirin. I believe you have this remedy in a leaf you brew; this is just easier to take and not quite so bitter. Just swallow them, don’t chew, and in about 20 minutes you should feel some relief from the aching.”
Linda gently shook the box of Epsom salts. “These salts work if you place them in hot water and soak your feet. They’re called Epsom salts and can be quite handy for those days when you’ve trekked too far. I’d be more than happy to get a tub so you could start the healing now.”
Ailidh looked at Kayne’s worried face and the concern on the Librarian’s face. She pushed out a sigh. “All right. If it will make both of you happy...” She watched relief flood the faces of the two people she cared about the most. If this would stop her feet from throbbing… she’d try anything.
“I’ll get Chrissy to give you a hand.” Linda took a step and hesitated. Turning, she asked, “Is that all right with you?”
Ailidh nodded.
Linda trod lightly on the old oaken floor. As she came close to the kitchen, she stopped, waiting until all her clothing had stopped rustling. She cleared her throat and closed her eyes. She’d made an agreement with the small ones to ask permission before peering directly at them—it was considered polite in their realm.
“Chrissy?” Linda whispered.
“Yes, Librarian?”
“May I speak with you?”
“Of, course, Librarian. Let me dry my hands and I’ll join you.”
Linda sighed quietly. These wee ones had taught her to slow her world down. It was a lesson she greatly valued.
The whirl of wings wisped past her face and she scrunched her eyes tight.
“Please, Librarian. I thought we had agreed we would not stand on the formalities. Open your eyes. I wish to see your storm-cloud colored eyes.”
Chrissy maneuvered herself to sit on the hand railing that separated the kitchen from the main floor.
Linda relaxed her features and allowed her eyes to open; before her sat the tiny nymph. She had clad herself in a fifties-style, carhop uniform, ingeniously made from the petals of daisies and roses. Linda allowed a smile to touch her lips. “You’re looking very… official today. Any particular reason?”
Chrissy shifted her position. “Yes, I was reading on the Internet that servers used to get something called tips. Every server I saw had a uniform so I decided I like this style best and put it together. Maybe I’ll get some tips.”
Linda was finding it very hard not to laugh aloud. “Well, Chrissy, I don’t really think you have a need for tips.”
Chrissy pushed her lower lip out and furrowed her brow into a thunderous frown. “Why?”
Linda caught herself before a grin covered her face. “Because tips are paper money customers leave if they think the server has done a good job. Since you live here in the forest and most of your housing, food, and needs are met without having to buy anything, paper money doesn’t really have any value, does it?”
Chrissy’s lip pulled in and she smoothed her brow. Her face took on a quizzical look and she tilted her head. “I think you’re right. Well, this uniform would be wilted by the end of the day, anyway. I’ll just wear my regular clothes tomorrow. Was there something you needed, Librarian?”
Linda allowed herself a small chuckle. “Yes. Ailidh has injured her feet, and I wish to get a pan large enough for her to fit in both her feet. I’ll need to have water warm enough to melt these salt crystals and then a towel available for her to dry her feet.”
The little nymph narrowed her eyes and puzzled the situation. “I know there are some large pans in the very back of the cupboard. Will you come in and pull them out?”
Linda hid her surprise. She never entered the kitchen when Chrissy was working. Her size terrified the little nymph and it was, again, one of the agreements they had made. Moving very slowly, Linda entered the tiny room. She crouched on her knees and opened a very tiny door. In the back was a small, quart size, sauté pan which she was sure was the pot the little nymph meant. Using two fingers to slide out the pan, she pulled it from cupboard and placed it on the top. “Is this the one you meant?”
Chrissy buzzed into the room and looked at the pan. “Yes. I’ll warm some water in it in the microwave…”
“Uh, don’t do that. The one thing that won’t work in the microwave is metal. If you’ll allow me, I’ll find something plastic…”
Chrissy smacked her forehead. “Librarian, don’t worry. I’ll just have to use my magic. How silly of me to forget heating water is one of the first things we’re taught. So, if you’ll leave?”
Linda rose slowly from the floor and feeling somewhat like a pretzel, backed out of the small space. She rolled up to her full 4 ft. 8 in. height. It felt good to stretch her cramped muscles. “I’ll leave this to you, Chrissy.”
Turning she noted Ailidh and Kayne deep in conversation. Something about the body language of the two wee ones was very wrong. It made Linda think. These two were not the only faeries to come into the library and whisper in frightened, muted tones. She was determined to find out what was causing such consternation among the Fae community. From the trembling of their wings, she needed to move fast or her tiny folk would be gone, and Linda would be alone with her library full of books.
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I hope you will investigate what happens to the Fae of the Meadow and Linda the Librarian by downloading our February Anthology.
Keep your wings strong and fly straight.
Sable Angel
Sable Angel here. If Allana Angel hadn't reminded me, I would've completely forgotten yesterday was my day to update you all. ::sigh:: I'm so scattered lately.
We're busy trying to find ways to get the word out about our February 2010 anthology. We've been brainstorming so much lately we're losing feathers from our wings. It's a very sad sight. But we want to share with as many as we can our love of writing.
In keeping with that thought, I'll post a bit of the Lending Library here for you to take with you this week.
Magic.
For those who believe, no explanation is necessary;
for those who don’t, no explanation will suffice.
On the east side of Springfield and Eugene, Oregon, stands a town halfway up the hill complete with high rises, nightclubs, shopping centers and teeming life. Few, if any, see the activity, but it overlooks the valley and its larger neighbor to the west.
The mythological beings of the town, and the valley below, allow the disbelief of most humans to serve as their shield against discovery; all except the night elves.
Extraordinarily tall, with unique features to aid them in fitting into human society, night elves use their magic to enchant and lord over weaker souls. The only essence more compelling than magic is power, and night elves seek as much power as they can steal from unsuspecting humans enthralled by their tempting ways.
~ * ~
If you follow the highway east that hugs the shoreline of the river about fifteen miles into the dense forest outside of Eugene/Springfield, a covered bridge spanning the water will appear on the right hand side. Turn your vehicle slowly onto the creaky, wooden single lane passage and after holding your breath and praying the bridge holds your vehicle; follow the narrow lane for three miles.
The transport through a rainbow of greenery is unlike any other spot on this planet. Towering pines reach their evergreen arms to the sky creating a canopy that provides a cool shelter for the creatures of the forest. As the fading blue of the overhead sky begins to morph into inky darkness, the road wends itself past a slatted building tucked into a crook within the wooded landscape. The clapboard siding could do with a coat of paint and visitors must wonder if the shaky building will stand another year in this coveted haven. Much of the outside bears the weathered scars left by years of rain and a slight green sheen to the sides indicate the moss which cushions the foot on the forest floor has decided to overtake the structure thus returning the elements back to their beginning.
The one inconsistent in this picture is the sturdy, new porch hosting minuscule tables and chairs.
A sign out front bears white, chipped letters of explanation:
The Lending Library – open 24 hours. Welcome.
Linda Brown moved to these woods so long ago she’d forgotten the actual date. She hated the isolation at first, but after spending ten years being miserable, she realized she had a choice to make – move or learn to adjust. She adjusted.
It was after she’d adjusted to her situation she discovered mail order catalogs and book clubs. When her husband Donald passed away, she gave away all the earthly things he had felt so important and built shelves in every room except the kitchen to store her books and create her library. She moved her small bed into the old pantry adding a small window so she might see the “little people” when they came to visit her before she fell asleep.
Friends from her socializing days stopped visiting. People in town began calling her the Witch of the Woods and quit passing by the house. Linda didn’t care. She had her library and the wee ones.
One
Ailidh wobbled precariously on her high heels.
Kayne smirked. “Having problems, dear?”
“Shut up!” she snapped. “I need to practice this until I get it right. We don’t really have many options left open to us, Kayne. You had better practice, too.”
He stopped and steadied himself on the railing of the porch. He wriggled his feet out of the closed leather shoes that encased them.
“I don’t know why you insist we wear these ridiculous articles of clothing. This long-sleeved shirt cuts off the circulation to my hands not to mention the lack of space for my wings and these long pants chap my legs. “Worst of all, are these horrendous leather shoes. They pinch and make my feet swell. Why do we have to go through all of this? I don’t understand.” Kayne grumbled.
Ailidh sighed and slowly, patiently explained to him, once again, why they were practicing. “Remember last Wednesday when Keegan and Connal lost their dwelling? The sound of their tree crashing to the ground was deafening. The Others are moving out more and more. We will lose our own home if we don’t act first. Now, put your shoes back on and walk for just five more minutes.”
Kayne wrestled his shirt off and threw it to the porch’s deck. He pulled the long pants off his body and left them in a heap next to the shirt. Bending forward, he touched his toes gingerly as he gradually unfurled his lacey wings. Slowly, he pulled himself to an upright position. Shoulders back, wings completely expanded, he lifted his 18-inch form to its full height and looked at Ailidh defiantly.
“I don’t need to fit into the Others world. They need to adjust themselves to my world and leave us alone.”
Ailidh, teetering, grabbed the lower railing of the porch and shook her head. “Kayne. Most of the Others don’t even know we exist. How can they adjust to something they don’t even believe?”
“They adjust to animals, don’t they?”
“The animals chose to be seen. We did not. Remember? Our great, great grandfathers took a vote and decided we would endanger ourselves more if we continued to be visible to the Others. At that time, they didn’t have all the machinery they have now. They moved into our lands at a slower pace. Now, put on the clothes and try to adjust.”
“No.” Kayne kicked at the clothing on the porch. “I’m going to get a magazine and a cup of coffee. You can stand here and practice day and night for all I care.”
He turned on his heel and lifted himself off the ground with his delicate appendages. He lazily winged his way into the open window of the building marked Lending Library.
Hovering until he landed on the balls of his feet, he folded the wings tight to his torso and walked to the corner of the building signed Coffee Shop. He sat in a small chair snugged close to the matching table. Sliding the Newsweek someone had tossed on the table toward him, he flipped through the pages. Minimized for easier handling, the magazine was still large enough to require both of his hands to turn the pages.
A diminutive nymph in a waitress uniform with a “Chrissy” nametag took his order for a latte. Ten minutes later, she returned with the steaming liquid in a cup.
“Thanks Chrissy,” Kayne picked up the cup carefully and took a sip.
“No problem, Kayne,” she had a surprisingly deep voice for a nymph. “Where’s Ailidh?”
Kayne jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the front porch. “Practicing,” he grunted.
“Oh,” Chrissy mopped the table next to Kayne’s with a wet rag then flew daintily to the kitchen with the dirty cups and saucers she’d picked up. One of the resident dryads of the valley, Chrissy was living in the tree behind the Lending Library. Her home across the meadow had been one of the first destroyed.
Ailidh is right. Kayne frowned at the silent admission. The Others were invading his world with frightening swift, uncaring swaths into the forestlands. Soon there wouldn’t be an Ancient tree left. While, at a glance, their movements seemed random, even careless, Kayne had noted a pattern, albeit haphazard, to their actions. Months earlier he’d watched from a safe distance as the huge screeching yellow machines ripped up his ancient wood friends and squashed their bodies beneath armored tracks. He could never be sure whether the squealing had been the old trees or the vicious yellow machines. After the first occasion of watching as they destroyed a sea of Ancients, Kayne had left on shaky wings and flown home. Ailidh was furious at him, thinking he’d been with his friends drinking honeysuckle wine. He couldn’t stop throwing up long enough to tell her what he’d seen.
When the thunder and growl of the angry yellow tree destroyers rumbled over their living room ceiling several months later, Kayne sat Ailidh down and explained what had happened that fateful night.
He took her soft, dainty hand in his and looked into her sparkling moss green eyes. “We must be prepared to move from our home.”
Ailidh’s exquisite wings trembled. “Why?”
The earth near the entrance to their home groaned and bits of dirt drizzled from around the doorway.
Kayne pointed up. “That—that—monster will reach into our home and pluck us up with no regard whatsoever. I’ve seen it rip out the Ancient trees in the glen over by Drystan’s home.
“The night you thought me so drunk I could not speak, I was ill from watching The Others kill the Ancient trees and destroy homes of our friends. I just couldn’t stop being sick long enough to explain to you. When I finally got the horror of that picture out of my mind and stopped throwing up, you’d gone to bed--angry. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
Ailidh’s face blanched and she slumped to the cloth-covered chair Kayne had so carefully carved from a branch the Ancient tree had gifted them. “Wh-wh-why? We’ve not harmed them. Why do they want to rip out our homes and make us move?”
“I don’t know my love, but we’ve got to find a way to fight back or we’ll be next.”
Kayne had soothed Ailidh’s fears that night, but she began a campaign to move to Faetown and get out of the meadow and woods they called home.
Kayne sighed. She’d get her way and they’d move, but he wasn’t going without a fight. He felt a soft rush of air caress his cheek and looked up to find Ailidh alighting gently on her bare feet, her toes inflamed and angry looking.
He nodded to her. “Better get the Librarian to wrap those before they swell too much. Wouldn’t want to put your shoes in the rubbish bin.” Licking several fingers, he turned the page, the crinkle of the slick paper echoing off the wall of books.
When his smarmy comment met with silence, Kayne looked up to see a large tear meandering down Ailidh’s cheek. He dropped the magazine to the table and hung his head pushing out air between his lips. He’d done it again. He’d hurt the one woman who put up with his attitude and still loved him. Most women of the Fae would have kicked out his boastful self long ago not tolerating his pride and pomposity. Not Ailidh. She’d just look at him with those enormous sparkling moss green eyes, pat his hand and kiss his cheek. Kayne, unlike most Fae men, preferred one mate and one mate only. He never had understood the need to wing from inviting mossy bed to inviting mossy bed.
He reached out and grabbed the wayward drop heading toward the fine line of Ailidh’s jaw. “I’m sorry my love. Let’s see if the Librarian has something to ease the pain.” Kayne lifted himself from the chair and fluttered to the back of the building.
On the door was a sign. It read: “Rap loudly. Human hearing.”
Kayne pounded on the door, settled himself on the floor, and waited.
Slowly the big door opened; before him stood a giant of a person. He sucked in a deep breath and felt his wings tremble.
Pulling up a stool, the giant Librarian sat. She was nearly at his eye level. A gentle smile touched her lips and crinkled her gray eyes. The essence of wild roses swirled lightly on the air. “Kayne. How can I help you?” Her soft voice purred quietly to his keen hearing.
Kayne opened his mouth but nothing came out. He coughed, stepped back then winged himself up a foot. At this level, he was looking in to the kind eyes. “Ailidh… Ailidh has been practicing with those high heel shoes, and now her feet are swollen and hurting. Do you have something that would help?”
Linda thought for a moment. “I do believe I have something to ease her pain. I also have some Epson salts you can take with you so she can use them tonight. Wait here.”
Rising from the step stool slowly, she walked to the back of the small room and opened a cupboard on the wall. Taking out a box and a bottle, the Librarian returned to the doorway.
“May I come out and administer to her?” Gray eyes questioned as she stood with the medicine in her hands.
Kayne hesitated. Ailidh liked the Librarian, but he still didn’t trust her. After all, she was one of the Others. He turned his head and saw his mate trying to stifle the large tears meandering down her cheeks by swiping at them with the back of her hand. “Yes. Please. She’s in such pain.”
Linda was surprised. Very few of the wee folk had become comfortable with her presence, Ailidh was the exception, so getting their permission to move about her own home was necessary if she was to keep them coming into her library. “Lead the way, Kayne.” She wasn’t above playing to his male vanity.
As they got closer to the tiny faerie, Ailidh straightened in her chair and sipped from her coffee drink. She was a bit startled to see the Librarian out in the building. She didn’t come out in the daytime for fear of scaring away the wee folk that gathered. Something must really be wrong for her to take such measures.
“Librarian.” The sweet sound of Ailidh’s voice carried to the odd pair approaching her.
“Ailidh. How are you today?”
“I’m well, thank you. What brings you out of your room?”
“Kayne asked me to see to your feet. He mentioned you were suffering and asked if I could help.”
Ailidh shot Kayne a glare. “My toes are swollen and hurt a bit but they will heal without help, thank you.”
Linda could sense a fight brewing and opted to take the diplomatic way out.
“Well, let me give you some of my healing helpers. Use them if you like and if not, hang on to them. At some point in the future, they might come in handy. These little orange pills here relieve pain from the inside out, small dose aspirin. I believe you have this remedy in a leaf you brew; this is just easier to take and not quite so bitter. Just swallow them, don’t chew, and in about 20 minutes you should feel some relief from the aching.”
Linda gently shook the box of Epsom salts. “These salts work if you place them in hot water and soak your feet. They’re called Epsom salts and can be quite handy for those days when you’ve trekked too far. I’d be more than happy to get a tub so you could start the healing now.”
Ailidh looked at Kayne’s worried face and the concern on the Librarian’s face. She pushed out a sigh. “All right. If it will make both of you happy...” She watched relief flood the faces of the two people she cared about the most. If this would stop her feet from throbbing… she’d try anything.
“I’ll get Chrissy to give you a hand.” Linda took a step and hesitated. Turning, she asked, “Is that all right with you?”
Ailidh nodded.
Linda trod lightly on the old oaken floor. As she came close to the kitchen, she stopped, waiting until all her clothing had stopped rustling. She cleared her throat and closed her eyes. She’d made an agreement with the small ones to ask permission before peering directly at them—it was considered polite in their realm.
“Chrissy?” Linda whispered.
“Yes, Librarian?”
“May I speak with you?”
“Of, course, Librarian. Let me dry my hands and I’ll join you.”
Linda sighed quietly. These wee ones had taught her to slow her world down. It was a lesson she greatly valued.
The whirl of wings wisped past her face and she scrunched her eyes tight.
“Please, Librarian. I thought we had agreed we would not stand on the formalities. Open your eyes. I wish to see your storm-cloud colored eyes.”
Chrissy maneuvered herself to sit on the hand railing that separated the kitchen from the main floor.
Linda relaxed her features and allowed her eyes to open; before her sat the tiny nymph. She had clad herself in a fifties-style, carhop uniform, ingeniously made from the petals of daisies and roses. Linda allowed a smile to touch her lips. “You’re looking very… official today. Any particular reason?”
Chrissy shifted her position. “Yes, I was reading on the Internet that servers used to get something called tips. Every server I saw had a uniform so I decided I like this style best and put it together. Maybe I’ll get some tips.”
Linda was finding it very hard not to laugh aloud. “Well, Chrissy, I don’t really think you have a need for tips.”
Chrissy pushed her lower lip out and furrowed her brow into a thunderous frown. “Why?”
Linda caught herself before a grin covered her face. “Because tips are paper money customers leave if they think the server has done a good job. Since you live here in the forest and most of your housing, food, and needs are met without having to buy anything, paper money doesn’t really have any value, does it?”
Chrissy’s lip pulled in and she smoothed her brow. Her face took on a quizzical look and she tilted her head. “I think you’re right. Well, this uniform would be wilted by the end of the day, anyway. I’ll just wear my regular clothes tomorrow. Was there something you needed, Librarian?”
Linda allowed herself a small chuckle. “Yes. Ailidh has injured her feet, and I wish to get a pan large enough for her to fit in both her feet. I’ll need to have water warm enough to melt these salt crystals and then a towel available for her to dry her feet.”
The little nymph narrowed her eyes and puzzled the situation. “I know there are some large pans in the very back of the cupboard. Will you come in and pull them out?”
Linda hid her surprise. She never entered the kitchen when Chrissy was working. Her size terrified the little nymph and it was, again, one of the agreements they had made. Moving very slowly, Linda entered the tiny room. She crouched on her knees and opened a very tiny door. In the back was a small, quart size, sauté pan which she was sure was the pot the little nymph meant. Using two fingers to slide out the pan, she pulled it from cupboard and placed it on the top. “Is this the one you meant?”
Chrissy buzzed into the room and looked at the pan. “Yes. I’ll warm some water in it in the microwave…”
“Uh, don’t do that. The one thing that won’t work in the microwave is metal. If you’ll allow me, I’ll find something plastic…”
Chrissy smacked her forehead. “Librarian, don’t worry. I’ll just have to use my magic. How silly of me to forget heating water is one of the first things we’re taught. So, if you’ll leave?”
Linda rose slowly from the floor and feeling somewhat like a pretzel, backed out of the small space. She rolled up to her full 4 ft. 8 in. height. It felt good to stretch her cramped muscles. “I’ll leave this to you, Chrissy.”
Turning she noted Ailidh and Kayne deep in conversation. Something about the body language of the two wee ones was very wrong. It made Linda think. These two were not the only faeries to come into the library and whisper in frightened, muted tones. She was determined to find out what was causing such consternation among the Fae community. From the trembling of their wings, she needed to move fast or her tiny folk would be gone, and Linda would be alone with her library full of books.
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I hope you will investigate what happens to the Fae of the Meadow and Linda the Librarian by downloading our February Anthology.
Keep your wings strong and fly straight.
Sable Angel
Sunday, November 1, 2009
And the winner is!
Paty,
Congratulations! In a random drawing you won a copy of my book Higland Song. I will send you a copy ASAP!
Allana Angel
Congratulations! In a random drawing you won a copy of my book Higland Song. I will send you a copy ASAP!
Allana Angel
Sunday, October 25, 2009
The Gift: Excerpt
"No," she whispered and the sound floated away on the breeze as the commander closed the distance between them. She backed up a step, wishing she could turn and run into the woods, wishing too she could bring out the rifle the last men here had confiscated and shoot a hole right through his black heart.
Her hands loosened and fluttered by her sides. She inhaled a sharp breath before raising her hands to rest at her throat. She shook her head, closing her eyes and opening them as if she could erase the sight walking towards her from her memories. She felt as if she were watching a ghost walk toward her.
"Not you. Not again," she said on such a low note that only the cat swishing its tail while he sat on the railing of her porch could have heard. "I guess the rumors were wrong. You didn't die."
Her bottom lip trembled and the words she wanted so much to say clung to her throat. Go away. Please, go away.
"Hello, Elice," the voice she'd dreaded floated around her, echoed inside her chest, hiding the erratic beat of her heart.
"What do you want?" she gasped out. She moved next to the cat and clung to the railing, holding on as best she could so her knees wouldn't buckle.
"A place to stay," he said and the timbre of his voice resonated in her soul. "A meal."
She shook her head and moistened her lips, daring herself to tell him what was on her mind. You can go to hell. She didn't dare. She didn't want to end up in a Yankee prison. Did he know what she'd done? Did he know she had left messages in the hollowed out trunk of an old oak tree when he'd been through these parts two years ago? If he'd been captured, she would have not felt happiness, but she'd done it to protect herself and her daughter.
"Your…" she brought her hand to her mouth, biting her knuckles to keep from telling him what she didn't want him to know.
"My?" he prompted her.
"You're not welcome here."
Her hands loosened and fluttered by her sides. She inhaled a sharp breath before raising her hands to rest at her throat. She shook her head, closing her eyes and opening them as if she could erase the sight walking towards her from her memories. She felt as if she were watching a ghost walk toward her.
"Not you. Not again," she said on such a low note that only the cat swishing its tail while he sat on the railing of her porch could have heard. "I guess the rumors were wrong. You didn't die."
Her bottom lip trembled and the words she wanted so much to say clung to her throat. Go away. Please, go away.
"Hello, Elice," the voice she'd dreaded floated around her, echoed inside her chest, hiding the erratic beat of her heart.
"What do you want?" she gasped out. She moved next to the cat and clung to the railing, holding on as best she could so her knees wouldn't buckle.
"A place to stay," he said and the timbre of his voice resonated in her soul. "A meal."
She shook her head and moistened her lips, daring herself to tell him what was on her mind. You can go to hell. She didn't dare. She didn't want to end up in a Yankee prison. Did he know what she'd done? Did he know she had left messages in the hollowed out trunk of an old oak tree when he'd been through these parts two years ago? If he'd been captured, she would have not felt happiness, but she'd done it to protect herself and her daughter.
"Your…" she brought her hand to her mouth, biting her knuckles to keep from telling him what she didn't want him to know.
"My?" he prompted her.
"You're not welcome here."
Saturday, October 17, 2009
WHY THIS STORY AND WHY NOW?
Posted by Amber Angel
When I was asked to be part of a Valentine's Day anthology from Rogue Phoenix Press, I was thrilled. Then reality set in. What should my story be about? I was used to writing longer stories with dramatic subplots and lots of secondary characters. No room for subplots in a 30,000-word anthology.
However, there was a romantic comedy I had drafted called CHASING RAINBOWS...
Allana Angel really like the "explosive" beginning. However, the longer I wrote, the more this romantic comedy tried to turn serious. Perhaps the shorter format of a novella would keep this story light-hearted.
So I started the editing process.
The original draft was longer than I remembered: almost 60,000 words. No problem, I thought. Just cut out half the words. Gulp. And cut I did. I whittled the story down to 35,000 words--more or less.
As I did so, another reality set in. I had learned a lot about the craft of writing in the years since I had drafted this story. Among other things, editing meant eliminating bouncing points of view, showing instead of telling, and tightening the motivation of the main characters.
The good news was that I still liked the characters and I still thought the dialogue and actions were funny. Hooray! I hope readers will also.
The story had barely been polished and submitted for editorial review when we started talking about another anthology. Could the characters in CHASING RAINBOWS carry off romantic comedy again? I hope so, because Rogue's Angels offered up write-in parts (similar to cameo appearances on TV) in our 2011 St. Patrick's anthology as part of a fundraiser for the Willamette Humane Society. Plans for the 2011 anthology are bubbling even as we promote the release of the Valentine's anthology in February 2010.
I'm also delighted to unveil the cover for the Valentine's Anthology 2010. The front cover will remain at the top of this blog. But I thought you might also want to see the back cover.
When I was asked to be part of a Valentine's Day anthology from Rogue Phoenix Press, I was thrilled. Then reality set in. What should my story be about? I was used to writing longer stories with dramatic subplots and lots of secondary characters. No room for subplots in a 30,000-word anthology.
However, there was a romantic comedy I had drafted called CHASING RAINBOWS...
Allana Angel really like the "explosive" beginning. However, the longer I wrote, the more this romantic comedy tried to turn serious. Perhaps the shorter format of a novella would keep this story light-hearted.
So I started the editing process.
The original draft was longer than I remembered: almost 60,000 words. No problem, I thought. Just cut out half the words. Gulp. And cut I did. I whittled the story down to 35,000 words--more or less.
As I did so, another reality set in. I had learned a lot about the craft of writing in the years since I had drafted this story. Among other things, editing meant eliminating bouncing points of view, showing instead of telling, and tightening the motivation of the main characters.
The good news was that I still liked the characters and I still thought the dialogue and actions were funny. Hooray! I hope readers will also.
The story had barely been polished and submitted for editorial review when we started talking about another anthology. Could the characters in CHASING RAINBOWS carry off romantic comedy again? I hope so, because Rogue's Angels offered up write-in parts (similar to cameo appearances on TV) in our 2011 St. Patrick's anthology as part of a fundraiser for the Willamette Humane Society. Plans for the 2011 anthology are bubbling even as we promote the release of the Valentine's anthology in February 2010.
I'm also delighted to unveil the cover for the Valentine's Anthology 2010. The front cover will remain at the top of this blog. But I thought you might also want to see the back cover.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
The Fae Folk
Sable Angel here...
Now that I've stumbled and entered a blank post--Sunday mornings are NOT my thing--, what say I give you the real stuff? As I thought, you'd prefer to actually read something.
At our last Angel get-together, we threw out the question, "Why did each of us pick the story we wrote for the Valentine's Anthology?" Simple enough question, right?
Well, not really. If you've ever had a passion, you understand the confusion having to make a decision can be. Writers' stories are children who constantly nag to be heard; just when you think you've satisfied one child, the others start complaining.
My faerie story was actually an idea about half a page long. At a conference I attended nearly seven years ago, the presenter gave us the task to put down an idea for a story without "thinking" about what the idea should be. For someone based in the accounting world at the time [yes, Sable Angel counted clouds], free association thinking was a bit foreign. This little Fae folk named Ailidh snuck her way into my head and planted a seed that was to become The Lending Library. But the story languished in my to-do files for a long time while I worked on honing my craft of writing by penning five other books. I attempted writing romance under a pseudonym, Celia Cooper, and didn't fare too badly. I also tried on writing mystery and suspense under my own name of C. L. Kraemer and seemed to have some success.
It was the very first attempt at writing a story, my dragon story Cyre Drake, and my little Fae that rang loud and clear with my writing muse. [Muses can be so pesky when allowed to reign free.] Once I found a villain and heroine supplied by a wonderful friend at the Antelope Valley Press, the story and my muse, went wild. They wanted to be heard in a longer format than the anthology but deadlines were looming and my dragon was throwing a dragon tantrum--something about being there first: children!
When Ailidh and Kayne [main characters] materialized fully for me, the writing seemed to flow freely. A contest Amber Angel had sponsored provided the name, and a more rounded version of a minor character, to complete the story.
I started researching the Fae folk for this story and got lost in the volumes of information of "wee" folk throughout the world. As with dragons, every culture has some version or other of Faeries. I choose to keep them small with magical abilities.
I wasn't sure I had captured a story worth reading until Allana and Amber Angel sent back enthusiastic personal reviews. We critique each other's work.
As we sat talking about our writing excursion, we realized we wanted to revisit the land of the Fae. So began the story for the 2011 St. Patrick's Anthology. The three Angels will be collaborating on a story involving the beginning of the wee ones mischief starting in the British Isles. By the end of the story, we'll see the Fae make their move to America just outside Eugene.
Oh, yeah. We have leprechauns, night elves, brawny men with bulging muscles and time travel with a slightly befuddled inventor professor in that story.
Stay tuned!
Sable Angel
Now that I've stumbled and entered a blank post--Sunday mornings are NOT my thing--, what say I give you the real stuff? As I thought, you'd prefer to actually read something.
At our last Angel get-together, we threw out the question, "Why did each of us pick the story we wrote for the Valentine's Anthology?" Simple enough question, right?
Well, not really. If you've ever had a passion, you understand the confusion having to make a decision can be. Writers' stories are children who constantly nag to be heard; just when you think you've satisfied one child, the others start complaining.
My faerie story was actually an idea about half a page long. At a conference I attended nearly seven years ago, the presenter gave us the task to put down an idea for a story without "thinking" about what the idea should be. For someone based in the accounting world at the time [yes, Sable Angel counted clouds], free association thinking was a bit foreign. This little Fae folk named Ailidh snuck her way into my head and planted a seed that was to become The Lending Library. But the story languished in my to-do files for a long time while I worked on honing my craft of writing by penning five other books. I attempted writing romance under a pseudonym, Celia Cooper, and didn't fare too badly. I also tried on writing mystery and suspense under my own name of C. L. Kraemer and seemed to have some success.
It was the very first attempt at writing a story, my dragon story Cyre Drake, and my little Fae that rang loud and clear with my writing muse. [Muses can be so pesky when allowed to reign free.] Once I found a villain and heroine supplied by a wonderful friend at the Antelope Valley Press, the story and my muse, went wild. They wanted to be heard in a longer format than the anthology but deadlines were looming and my dragon was throwing a dragon tantrum--something about being there first: children!
When Ailidh and Kayne [main characters] materialized fully for me, the writing seemed to flow freely. A contest Amber Angel had sponsored provided the name, and a more rounded version of a minor character, to complete the story.
I started researching the Fae folk for this story and got lost in the volumes of information of "wee" folk throughout the world. As with dragons, every culture has some version or other of Faeries. I choose to keep them small with magical abilities.
I wasn't sure I had captured a story worth reading until Allana and Amber Angel sent back enthusiastic personal reviews. We critique each other's work.
As we sat talking about our writing excursion, we realized we wanted to revisit the land of the Fae. So began the story for the 2011 St. Patrick's Anthology. The three Angels will be collaborating on a story involving the beginning of the wee ones mischief starting in the British Isles. By the end of the story, we'll see the Fae make their move to America just outside Eugene.
Oh, yeah. We have leprechauns, night elves, brawny men with bulging muscles and time travel with a slightly befuddled inventor professor in that story.
Stay tuned!
Sable Angel
Monday, October 5, 2009
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Choosing a time period.
How do we go about choosing a time period to write in? For me there are certain periods of history I connect with. I love the Scottish Highlands and because I grew up hearing stories of the highlands, I love this time. My roots lie in Scotland and England. I always wanted to write in the regency period, but I wanted to get the time period right. After a trip to London, reading many historical books about the period, I felt as if I had done enough research to feel at ease writing at this time. And the old west, what American historical writer couldn't fall in love with this time? Endless possibilities exists for romance.
My fellow Rogues Angels wanted to pose the question, why did each of us choose the time period or the setting for our first anthology? I've always wanted to write about the War Between the States. Even as a child in school when studying this period, I was fascinated. When I began writing, the big houses in New York had already made this period a taboo. They weren't going to publish any more Civil War novels. So I put away my research and started on my westerns.
The Gift, my portion of the anthology, is set during the war. I was thrilled to be able to write something that had been simmering in my head for over ten years. (a shortened version however)
Look for the Rogues Angels Valentine anthology this February. Enter to win a copy of Highland Song. All you have to do is leave a comment. Tell us your favorite time period or the historical time you like to write about. The drawing will be held October 31 (Halloween).
Allana Angel
My fellow Rogues Angels wanted to pose the question, why did each of us choose the time period or the setting for our first anthology? I've always wanted to write about the War Between the States. Even as a child in school when studying this period, I was fascinated. When I began writing, the big houses in New York had already made this period a taboo. They weren't going to publish any more Civil War novels. So I put away my research and started on my westerns.
The Gift, my portion of the anthology, is set during the war. I was thrilled to be able to write something that had been simmering in my head for over ten years. (a shortened version however)
Look for the Rogues Angels Valentine anthology this February. Enter to win a copy of Highland Song. All you have to do is leave a comment. Tell us your favorite time period or the historical time you like to write about. The drawing will be held October 31 (Halloween).
Allana Angel
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Procrastination is my name
Hello all,
Sable Angel here. I'm sitting in my study checking Craig's list, looking at apartments, writing my wise father angel, everything but putting my fingers to keys so I can finish the dragon book. After losing then gaining employment, barely making ends meet and trying not to allow it to blacken the cloud where I live, I find myself sitting and staring at the computer.
No, it's not writer's block. I don't believe there is such a thing. I think all writers have a time when the fire to write seems to be banked. There is still a small spark, but it needs fanning and another log to bring the flames roaring back. I'm at the banked stage right now. Maybe it's best. I have three novels to edit and get ready for galleys before October 15. And yet... my muse will not be silenced.
During my lunch hour at my new employment, I wolf down my food and the urge to put pen to paper takes over. I'm writing but not on the dragon piece. I've realized I need silence to allow my dragons to speak to me. A cafeteria filled with workers complaining about their jobs and life in general doesn't bode well for intense scenes. So Sable Angel is writing a story of romance gone awry--not sure if it will be a novella or full length novel--about the first time she encountered a mass murderer. Oh yeah, gives her chicken skin just thinking about the incident.
Long before Kip Kinkle or the boys in Columbine, Salem, capital of the State of Oregon, experienced a mass shooting. Four people were killed and 19 were wounded. The horrific incident made international news but at that time, those kinds of news stories didn't live for months on end. They were reported and quickly swept under the carpet. As the shooter never gave a reason for his rampage, I, Sable Angel, have taken on the task of fictionalizing a story which will explain what happened. It is FICTION. I have no knowledge why the young man pulled his weapon and killed and wounded so many of my friends, but I need, as do so many others, some closure on this incident.
Most of us were young bucks living the good life and partying. Now we're grandparents putting our time in at baseball games and ballet recitals. Settling down and watching children and grandchildren grow makes us reflective. It's time to put a period at the end of this chapter in Salem's history.
After the dragon story is completed, I'll finish this tale and see if my publisher is interested. Like life, getting books published is never a guaranteed deal.
Now I've warmed my fingers up, I'll take on the world of the sapien draconi.
Sable Angel
Sable Angel here. I'm sitting in my study checking Craig's list, looking at apartments, writing my wise father angel, everything but putting my fingers to keys so I can finish the dragon book. After losing then gaining employment, barely making ends meet and trying not to allow it to blacken the cloud where I live, I find myself sitting and staring at the computer.
No, it's not writer's block. I don't believe there is such a thing. I think all writers have a time when the fire to write seems to be banked. There is still a small spark, but it needs fanning and another log to bring the flames roaring back. I'm at the banked stage right now. Maybe it's best. I have three novels to edit and get ready for galleys before October 15. And yet... my muse will not be silenced.
During my lunch hour at my new employment, I wolf down my food and the urge to put pen to paper takes over. I'm writing but not on the dragon piece. I've realized I need silence to allow my dragons to speak to me. A cafeteria filled with workers complaining about their jobs and life in general doesn't bode well for intense scenes. So Sable Angel is writing a story of romance gone awry--not sure if it will be a novella or full length novel--about the first time she encountered a mass murderer. Oh yeah, gives her chicken skin just thinking about the incident.
Long before Kip Kinkle or the boys in Columbine, Salem, capital of the State of Oregon, experienced a mass shooting. Four people were killed and 19 were wounded. The horrific incident made international news but at that time, those kinds of news stories didn't live for months on end. They were reported and quickly swept under the carpet. As the shooter never gave a reason for his rampage, I, Sable Angel, have taken on the task of fictionalizing a story which will explain what happened. It is FICTION. I have no knowledge why the young man pulled his weapon and killed and wounded so many of my friends, but I need, as do so many others, some closure on this incident.
Most of us were young bucks living the good life and partying. Now we're grandparents putting our time in at baseball games and ballet recitals. Settling down and watching children and grandchildren grow makes us reflective. It's time to put a period at the end of this chapter in Salem's history.
After the dragon story is completed, I'll finish this tale and see if my publisher is interested. Like life, getting books published is never a guaranteed deal.
Now I've warmed my fingers up, I'll take on the world of the sapien draconi.
Sable Angel
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Faeries & More
Saturday, August 1, I felt as if I fell into a time warp or hitched a ride on a time machine back to the late '60's. Oops I gave away my age. Only this time everyone, well almost everyone, was dressed in costumes--faeries were predominate but there were also lots of elves and some pirates and just costumes. The shops were fun and full of celtic art. (bought some christmas presents). I'm trying to be organized.
So the purpose of anything like this is to return inspired. So was the journey to faerie world successful? Absolutely. I entered a world I knew nothing about and have returned somewhat enlightened. Would I recommend the experience? Only to the adventurous at heart.
Now I have to write. The photo show following are pictures I took and clip art I downloaded. And I saw and almost bought (I controlled myself) a faerie house. I am becoming a believer.
So the purpose of anything like this is to return inspired. So was the journey to faerie world successful? Absolutely. I entered a world I knew nothing about and have returned somewhat enlightened. Would I recommend the experience? Only to the adventurous at heart.
Now I have to write. The photo show following are pictures I took and clip art I downloaded. And I saw and almost bought (I controlled myself) a faerie house. I am becoming a believer.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Faerie World fun research
I'm so excited about going to the faerie festival and learning lots about leprachauns, faeries, and gnomes. I will post pictures later. Can't wait to finish my St.Patty's day anthology and to see how all three stories go together. (Right now I'm clueless) For those who live in Oregon, I think it's a lot like the country fair in Eugene earlier in the summer. We will see...
Friday, July 17, 2009
Writing a book is a lot like losing weight
Laying in bed this morning, thinking about what I planned to do today, I had an epiphany of sorts. I told my husband I would help him paint the lattice work on our fence but I had to write my two pages first. LOL, that could take all day. For those of you who know me well, I used to be prolific with my writing. I could write ten to twenty pages a day if I had nothing better to do. Those days are long gone. So, you say, how is writing a book like losing weight? Well, they both involve setting one small goal at a time. When the goal is achieved, you set the next goal. If you don't "write the alotted 2 pages," then the next day you sit down and try to write two pages. Of course the goal is whatever works for you. Before you know it you have two chapters written and you are not quite sure how to you did it. The same goes for losing weight. You set a goal and you work until you reach that goal. Then you set a new goal. The goals have to be reachable and attainable in a reasonable amount of time. Wow, enough of the lecture. I have been trying to write my anthology for next year and it has been really tough to find the time. But if you haven't guessed already, I have finished chapter two and am heading into chapter three.
Allana Angel
Allana Angel
Monday, July 13, 2009
CELEBRATION TIME!
I've finished edits of the novella, CHASING RAINBOWS, for the February 2010 anthology. It's still out to one critique partner but I'm delighted with the story. The hero and heroine earned their happily-ever-after, and the secondary characters were great fun.
I'm now focusing on other parts of my life, but gathering ideas for later this year when we start seriously promoting this anthology. What fun it will be to have two other great authors to share promotion!
-Amber Angel
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Friday, July 3, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
New Beginnings
I'm back from vacation. School is out for the summer and I'm ready to write. I have been thinking about my part in the Rogue's Angels anthology for St. Patty's Day 2011. Wow, it is a long time from now because we are still working on the Valentine anthology to be published February 2010. I took an idea from a tale my mom told me. It was passed down from her mother and I'm guessing her mother which would be my--great grandmother--I think. So today, I'm running off my plotting cheat sheets, working on my characters (although they have been building in my mind for about three months) and hopefully starting on the first scene.
Allana Angel
Allana Angel
Monday, May 18, 2009
Flying too high causes hypothermia
Sable Angel here. I've been working 50 plus hours a week and surviving on oxygen, at least that's what the devil with the red suit and wings told me. Something about the gleam in his eyes made me wonder...
The push to catch up at work is over and other obligations have been whittled to a small mole hill. I've been feeling breathless and flighty. Finally figured out I need an influx of fingers to keyboard and faeries, dragons, and wingers to make me feel better. When you find what you love you should pursue it to the ends of the earth.
Oh yeah! Wingman has gotten employment and is flying on his own now. Think we may hop on the softtail and head to the coast for a day this Memorial Day weekend. Can't beat the Oregon sea air for rejuvenation.
All of you out there take care. As we Harley riders say, keep the shiny side up!
Sable Angel
The push to catch up at work is over and other obligations have been whittled to a small mole hill. I've been feeling breathless and flighty. Finally figured out I need an influx of fingers to keyboard and faeries, dragons, and wingers to make me feel better. When you find what you love you should pursue it to the ends of the earth.
Oh yeah! Wingman has gotten employment and is flying on his own now. Think we may hop on the softtail and head to the coast for a day this Memorial Day weekend. Can't beat the Oregon sea air for rejuvenation.
All of you out there take care. As we Harley riders say, keep the shiny side up!
Sable Angel
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
SO, HOW'S THE STORY GOING?
Just a quick post before I dive back into edits of CHASING RAINBOWS, my story in our Rogue's Angels anthology to be released February 2010. Ideally, I still need to cut a few thousand words, but I've strengthened the hero's motivation and ramped up the sexual tension between the hero and heroine. The cameo appearance by our gracious LINDA is also developing nicely.
Once edits are done, I'll pass this story to my critique partners for their comments. Soon after that I'll introduce some of the characters in this story--they are keeping me entertained with their antics!
Even though there are still about nine months of production time until the anthology is released, I'm getting more and more excited about it!
Now, back to edits...
-Amber Angel
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Grand Opening!
May 9th, I can't believe it is almost upon us. And what a busy three days it will be. With the signing on Saturday, Mother's Day on Sunday, and my youngest daughter's birthday on Monday, I will have lots to keep me busy.
The Angels are all hoping that all our friends and family can be there. I know I'm a bit dissapointed, my mom and dad, who were the inspiration for this business adventure will not be able to make the drive up from Medford. Ah well, they will be with us all in spirit.
So, mark the date and time, 1:00 to 4:00, on Saturday to come to the Blue Pepper, visit, and maybe even download a book or two. There will be print versions of our books available also.
See you there! Allana.
The Angels are all hoping that all our friends and family can be there. I know I'm a bit dissapointed, my mom and dad, who were the inspiration for this business adventure will not be able to make the drive up from Medford. Ah well, they will be with us all in spirit.
So, mark the date and time, 1:00 to 4:00, on Saturday to come to the Blue Pepper, visit, and maybe even download a book or two. There will be print versions of our books available also.
See you there! Allana.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Sable Angel flying high
Greetings!
Aren't Amber and Allana Angels amazing? I have insider's information to know just how much each of them does outside of their writing personas... truly amazing people. That's why they are Angels.
Sable Angel here. All of the positive thinking and good wishes of family and friends has come through for Sable Angel and her wingman. She is now working a job which puts food on the table and keeps the roof over our heads. I've been able to write [looming deadline] and get some work done for the publishing house. I'm also beginning to do the things I moved back to Oregon to do. It's very wonderful to spend time with children and grandchildren.
I'm keeping in touch with the writing world and indulging myself in Middle Eastern dancing [laymen's terms - belly dancing]. It has become apparent Sable's wingman has flown his last mission, physical limitations hampering his flight, so Sable is the main breadwinner now.
Just means I have to get busy on the Dragon story. Wingman is certain it is a best seller. It was to be a trilogy but I've rethought the story and decided to go for a series. Just too many dragons' stories to fit into a trilogy. Now to find the time...
Thank you all for your continued positive thoughts. Know they helped and I'll be passing them forward to someone else who needs them.
Don't forget to circle May 9th on your calendars. Rogue's Angels along with another Rogue Phoenix author, Rosemary Indra, will be signing books at The Blue Pepper, Commercial Street, in Salem from 1:00 p.m. to 4:00 p.m.
Come see if we keep all our feathers or if some wind up on the floor.
Aren't Amber and Allana Angels amazing? I have insider's information to know just how much each of them does outside of their writing personas... truly amazing people. That's why they are Angels.
Sable Angel here. All of the positive thinking and good wishes of family and friends has come through for Sable Angel and her wingman. She is now working a job which puts food on the table and keeps the roof over our heads. I've been able to write [looming deadline] and get some work done for the publishing house. I'm also beginning to do the things I moved back to Oregon to do. It's very wonderful to spend time with children and grandchildren.
I'm keeping in touch with the writing world and indulging myself in Middle Eastern dancing [laymen's terms - belly dancing]. It has become apparent Sable's wingman has flown his last mission, physical limitations hampering his flight, so Sable is the main breadwinner now.
Just means I have to get busy on the Dragon story. Wingman is certain it is a best seller. It was to be a trilogy but I've rethought the story and decided to go for a series. Just too many dragons' stories to fit into a trilogy. Now to find the time...
Thank you all for your continued positive thoughts. Know they helped and I'll be passing them forward to someone else who needs them.
Don't forget to circle May 9th on your calendars. Rogue's Angels along with another Rogue Phoenix author, Rosemary Indra, will be signing books at The Blue Pepper, Commercial Street, in Salem from 1:00 p.m. to 4:00 p.m.
Come see if we keep all our feathers or if some wind up on the floor.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Here is Genene--Amber Angel
Rogue: What inspired you to start writing?
Amber: I read a book I didn't particularly care for and thought, "I can write better than that!" Of course, once I actually sat down to write, I learned it's not quite as easy as saying, "I'm going to write a book."
Rogue: How did you come up with the idea for your trilogy, Songs of the Heart, Feathers on the Floor, and Stars in Your Eyes?
Amber: Like most females, I had a crush or two on rock stars when I was a teenager. However, the stereotypical rock star is not known for being faithful to one woman. But I played one of my favorite writing exercises--What If. What If a rock star loves one woman enough to be faithful? What If that woman has a secret that won't let her trust his love? What If their love is strong enough to overcome their fears and the interference of well-meaning friends and family? Though I rewrote SONGS OF THE HEART many times over the fourteen years it took for the idea to develop into a publishable story, Geoff and Shannon were two characters who stayed in my mind until I gave them their happily-ever-after.
The idea for FEATHERS ON THE FLOOR developed as I was writing SONGS. A former bodyguard who handled physical confrontation every day and a studious psychiatrist who resolved conflict with calming words are pretty opposite personalities. However, as Julia faced a husband who turned abusive and Mitch's emotional trauma from the past surfaced, they were perfect to help each other heal.
STARS IN YOUR EYES was also born as I wrote SONGS OF THE HEART. Zach and Lauren had been in love for years but were too busy convincing themselves that their separate lives were perfect to admit they really wanted each other. When Zach suffers a heart attack, he and Lauren realize they've wasted a lot of time they could have been sharing.
Rogue: What expertise did you bring to your writing and these three books?
All three books deal with deeply emotional issues--including losing a child, domestic violence, facing death--and finding the courage to heal and open your heart to loving again. In the years I worked for a social service agency and in my personal life, I've seen people do this. It still amazes me!
Rogue: What would you like your readers to know about you that may not be in your bio?
Amber: I love dogs--all sizes and breeds and personalities. They are incredible teachers if only we pay attention to the lessons they offer.
Rogue: A little on the personal side, what can you tell us about your plans for your dog sanctuary?
Amber: I was just under a year old when a Collie came into my life. He was my pillow, my protector and my confidante. He started my life-long love affair with dogs. When I started working at the local animal shelter about three years ago, I realized many dogs who didn't do well in a shelter absolutely blossomed when they went home with a family. So my dream of a very special dog rescue and sanctuary took root. Animal communicators to greet new arrivals and explain what was happening. Healing hands to soothe and comfort. Soft beds to sleep on and people to cuddle with. Other dogs to play with and an ever-changing range of smells to explore. My goal is to sell my house in town and buy property where my current crew of dogs and I can settle in, then start welcoming new arrivals. You can read a bit about us at <http://www.quantumcanines.com/>.
Rogue: As far as writing goes, what are your future plans?
Amber: After three releases in less than twelve months, this year has slowed down as I focus on setting up a dog rescue and sanctuary. My next release will be a novella in an anthology from Rogue Phoenix Press in February 2010 with two authors I have known and respected for many years. After that novella is finished, I'll be working on a series of nine drama/action romance books that are impatiently waiting to be written.
Rogue: Anything else you might want to add?
Amber: I love to sponsor contests and give away prizes. We're running contests on the Rogue's Angels blog <http://www.roguesangels.blogspot.com/> and I'll also soon be announcing a new contest on my writing Web site at <genene@genenevalleau.com>. I hope you take the time to enter--and maybe win!
Thank you so much: Genene/Amber
Amber: I read a book I didn't particularly care for and thought, "I can write better than that!" Of course, once I actually sat down to write, I learned it's not quite as easy as saying, "I'm going to write a book."
Rogue: How did you come up with the idea for your trilogy, Songs of the Heart, Feathers on the Floor, and Stars in Your Eyes?
Amber: Like most females, I had a crush or two on rock stars when I was a teenager. However, the stereotypical rock star is not known for being faithful to one woman. But I played one of my favorite writing exercises--What If. What If a rock star loves one woman enough to be faithful? What If that woman has a secret that won't let her trust his love? What If their love is strong enough to overcome their fears and the interference of well-meaning friends and family? Though I rewrote SONGS OF THE HEART many times over the fourteen years it took for the idea to develop into a publishable story, Geoff and Shannon were two characters who stayed in my mind until I gave them their happily-ever-after.
The idea for FEATHERS ON THE FLOOR developed as I was writing SONGS. A former bodyguard who handled physical confrontation every day and a studious psychiatrist who resolved conflict with calming words are pretty opposite personalities. However, as Julia faced a husband who turned abusive and Mitch's emotional trauma from the past surfaced, they were perfect to help each other heal.
STARS IN YOUR EYES was also born as I wrote SONGS OF THE HEART. Zach and Lauren had been in love for years but were too busy convincing themselves that their separate lives were perfect to admit they really wanted each other. When Zach suffers a heart attack, he and Lauren realize they've wasted a lot of time they could have been sharing.
Rogue: What expertise did you bring to your writing and these three books?
All three books deal with deeply emotional issues--including losing a child, domestic violence, facing death--and finding the courage to heal and open your heart to loving again. In the years I worked for a social service agency and in my personal life, I've seen people do this. It still amazes me!
Rogue: What would you like your readers to know about you that may not be in your bio?
Amber: I love dogs--all sizes and breeds and personalities. They are incredible teachers if only we pay attention to the lessons they offer.
Rogue: A little on the personal side, what can you tell us about your plans for your dog sanctuary?
Amber: I was just under a year old when a Collie came into my life. He was my pillow, my protector and my confidante. He started my life-long love affair with dogs. When I started working at the local animal shelter about three years ago, I realized many dogs who didn't do well in a shelter absolutely blossomed when they went home with a family. So my dream of a very special dog rescue and sanctuary took root. Animal communicators to greet new arrivals and explain what was happening. Healing hands to soothe and comfort. Soft beds to sleep on and people to cuddle with. Other dogs to play with and an ever-changing range of smells to explore. My goal is to sell my house in town and buy property where my current crew of dogs and I can settle in, then start welcoming new arrivals. You can read a bit about us at <http://www.quantumcanines.com/>.
Rogue: As far as writing goes, what are your future plans?
Amber: After three releases in less than twelve months, this year has slowed down as I focus on setting up a dog rescue and sanctuary. My next release will be a novella in an anthology from Rogue Phoenix Press in February 2010 with two authors I have known and respected for many years. After that novella is finished, I'll be working on a series of nine drama/action romance books that are impatiently waiting to be written.
Rogue: Anything else you might want to add?
Amber: I love to sponsor contests and give away prizes. We're running contests on the Rogue's Angels blog <http://www.roguesangels.blogspot.com/> and I'll also soon be announcing a new contest on my writing Web site at <genene@genenevalleau.com>. I hope you take the time to enter--and maybe win!
Thank you so much: Genene/Amber
Thursday, April 16, 2009
NEED A HUG AND A KISS? (Of the chocolate variety, that is!)
Posted by: Amber AngelProgress on novella: deep edits
The sun is shining. It's a beautiful day in my corner of the world. And I'm chipping away at edits on my novella, CHASING RAINBOWS. It's going slower than I had hoped, but I'm used to writing stories of 50,000-75,000 words rather the novella size of 30,000. Angel Allana is probably chuckling since her stories are usually around 100,000 words.
This is a good editing review for me. I'm looking at every scene. First of all, does it need to be in the story? Then, does it move the story forward? Can it do double duty with another scene?
I'm also looking at every character. I tend to write a lot of secondary characters in my stories. No room for that in a novella. Subplots begone! And woe to the secondary character who tries to take over the main action!
Eventually I'll get down to making every word count. It's gotta be important or it doesn't go in. :)
So, readers and writers, please weigh in. Do you have any novellas on your "keeper" shelf? Have you read (or written) a shorter story that really stuck with you? Or did those stories get pushed aside by longer novels?
Anyone who comments will be entered in the next drawing (which I have been totally lax about doing--my apologies!) The next drawing will be May 14--nine months before the release of the Rogue's Angels' anthology, of which CHASING RAINBOWS will be a part. Production of this anthology will be picking up in a couple months. But I gotta finish the story first!
P.S. Goodies in this drawing will include hugs and kisses (of the chocolate variety!), a cute and cuddly stuffed Valentine's dog, a heart candy dish, heart candles...yep, we're celebrating Valentine's Day all year long until the release of the Rogue's Angels' anthology in February 2010!
The sun is shining. It's a beautiful day in my corner of the world. And I'm chipping away at edits on my novella, CHASING RAINBOWS. It's going slower than I had hoped, but I'm used to writing stories of 50,000-75,000 words rather the novella size of 30,000. Angel Allana is probably chuckling since her stories are usually around 100,000 words.
This is a good editing review for me. I'm looking at every scene. First of all, does it need to be in the story? Then, does it move the story forward? Can it do double duty with another scene?
I'm also looking at every character. I tend to write a lot of secondary characters in my stories. No room for that in a novella. Subplots begone! And woe to the secondary character who tries to take over the main action!
Eventually I'll get down to making every word count. It's gotta be important or it doesn't go in. :)
So, readers and writers, please weigh in. Do you have any novellas on your "keeper" shelf? Have you read (or written) a shorter story that really stuck with you? Or did those stories get pushed aside by longer novels?
Anyone who comments will be entered in the next drawing (which I have been totally lax about doing--my apologies!) The next drawing will be May 14--nine months before the release of the Rogue's Angels' anthology, of which CHASING RAINBOWS will be a part. Production of this anthology will be picking up in a couple months. But I gotta finish the story first!
P.S. Goodies in this drawing will include hugs and kisses (of the chocolate variety!), a cute and cuddly stuffed Valentine's dog, a heart candy dish, heart candles...yep, we're celebrating Valentine's Day all year long until the release of the Rogue's Angels' anthology in February 2010!
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Interview: Preston Sexton--Thirst of Youth
Rogue: What inspired you to start writing? and why horror?
Preston: I started writing poetry or something that resembled poetry while I was in the Navy. I never knew before that time at sea that I even enjoyed writing. My inspiration was the solitude of the Pacific Ocean. You’d be surprised how alone you are when you’re surrounded by 350 people for six months. Horror has always been my favorite genre. I didn’t read a lot before. But I watched a lot of movies. My wife says I am morbid but I say I am creative. I love fear. A person can do amazing things when they learn to turn their fear into a motivator.
Rogue: How did you come up with the idea of the Vamptillians?
Preston: Vampires have been explored in a variety of ways. Some are day walkers but most aren’t. They never explain how the typical vampire can’t survive the sun while others can. I just thought I would explain away the day walking. It also gives me more options to explore in later books.
Rogue: What expertise did you bring to your writing?
Preston: I wish I could say there was a lot of expertise involved in writing Thirst of Youth. My wife is from Oregon and I have driven the roads Justin travelled. I was in the Navy and know how sailors can act when they are drinking. I have been to a rave or two but I left a lot of the real activity of a rave out of the story. I grew up in a neighborhood like the one Justin settled in when he moved to Long Beach. So some of the things are familiar but I am no expert.
Rogue: What would you like your readers to know about you that may not be in your bio?
Preston: I will get better--not only as a writer but in all aspects of my life. I pride myself on getting better in everything I do. If it is going to represent me, then I want it to be the best. I am a bit morbid so future writings will probably be more gruesome and more scary. I will be a better writer, with every book. I have many more to come. Some of my other hobbies are drawing--hopefully I will get into comics in the near future. I love football. I mean really, really, love football.
Rouge: A little on the personal side but, how did you start out in the Navy and end up in the Army? Isn't that a bit unusual?
Preston: It isn’t as unusual as you might think. Many of the best soldiers were sailors or marines. What would be unusual is going in the opposite direction (from the Army to the Navy). I never thought I’d end up in the military. In fact, in high school, I was completely against the idea. That’s when life happened and before I was ready for it, I was a father. I made the choice to forgo other dreams and join the military. The Navy, for lack of a better word--SUCKED! Yet it taught me a lot about myself and what I really wanted from my life. I got out after my four years of service and realized I had no real skills that were transferable to a civilian career. And again before I was ready, I had another person come into the world dependant upon me to make a better way. I knew I was good at the military by that point and knew that the Army had jobs that could easily transfer into a civilian career. After a few years in the Army, I decided it would be more beneficial for me to make a career out of the military. So far I have been right. God willing (or whoever you believe to be the highest power), I will walk away in good health and proud of my time serving our great country.
Rogue: Anything else you would like to add?
Preston: I’d like to thank all the readers. I hope they enjoy the book and follow me as I progress in writing. I would also like to thank everyone at Rogue Phoenix Press for their words of advice and hard work. I would like to thank my family, friends, and fellow soldiers for inspiring me to continue to strive for my dreams. And finally, thank you for your time and interest in me.
Preston: I started writing poetry or something that resembled poetry while I was in the Navy. I never knew before that time at sea that I even enjoyed writing. My inspiration was the solitude of the Pacific Ocean. You’d be surprised how alone you are when you’re surrounded by 350 people for six months. Horror has always been my favorite genre. I didn’t read a lot before. But I watched a lot of movies. My wife says I am morbid but I say I am creative. I love fear. A person can do amazing things when they learn to turn their fear into a motivator.
Rogue: How did you come up with the idea of the Vamptillians?
Preston: Vampires have been explored in a variety of ways. Some are day walkers but most aren’t. They never explain how the typical vampire can’t survive the sun while others can. I just thought I would explain away the day walking. It also gives me more options to explore in later books.
Rogue: What expertise did you bring to your writing?
Preston: I wish I could say there was a lot of expertise involved in writing Thirst of Youth. My wife is from Oregon and I have driven the roads Justin travelled. I was in the Navy and know how sailors can act when they are drinking. I have been to a rave or two but I left a lot of the real activity of a rave out of the story. I grew up in a neighborhood like the one Justin settled in when he moved to Long Beach. So some of the things are familiar but I am no expert.
Rogue: What would you like your readers to know about you that may not be in your bio?
Preston: I will get better--not only as a writer but in all aspects of my life. I pride myself on getting better in everything I do. If it is going to represent me, then I want it to be the best. I am a bit morbid so future writings will probably be more gruesome and more scary. I will be a better writer, with every book. I have many more to come. Some of my other hobbies are drawing--hopefully I will get into comics in the near future. I love football. I mean really, really, love football.
Rouge: A little on the personal side but, how did you start out in the Navy and end up in the Army? Isn't that a bit unusual?
Preston: It isn’t as unusual as you might think. Many of the best soldiers were sailors or marines. What would be unusual is going in the opposite direction (from the Army to the Navy). I never thought I’d end up in the military. In fact, in high school, I was completely against the idea. That’s when life happened and before I was ready for it, I was a father. I made the choice to forgo other dreams and join the military. The Navy, for lack of a better word--SUCKED! Yet it taught me a lot about myself and what I really wanted from my life. I got out after my four years of service and realized I had no real skills that were transferable to a civilian career. And again before I was ready, I had another person come into the world dependant upon me to make a better way. I knew I was good at the military by that point and knew that the Army had jobs that could easily transfer into a civilian career. After a few years in the Army, I decided it would be more beneficial for me to make a career out of the military. So far I have been right. God willing (or whoever you believe to be the highest power), I will walk away in good health and proud of my time serving our great country.
Rogue: Anything else you would like to add?
Preston: I’d like to thank all the readers. I hope they enjoy the book and follow me as I progress in writing. I would also like to thank everyone at Rogue Phoenix Press for their words of advice and hard work. I would like to thank my family, friends, and fellow soldiers for inspiring me to continue to strive for my dreams. And finally, thank you for your time and interest in me.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
The Talisman
I've been working on the cover for my next Rogue Phoenix Release, The Talisman. It's the sequel to The Locket which was released in November. I'm also trying to get the rights back from Kensington Publishing house for the two books which came before The Locket, Dakota's Bride and My Angel. I'm hoping that sometime in the next few months, I'll recieve the good news.
I've also been working on the last book in this series. It doesn't have a title yet. But it's Jacob and Etta's story. I remeber Kate Duffy at Kensington, hoping for Jacob's story to be the second in the series. Ah well, it's been over 10 years and finally Jacob gets his own story.
Christine
I've also been working on the last book in this series. It doesn't have a title yet. But it's Jacob and Etta's story. I remeber Kate Duffy at Kensington, hoping for Jacob's story to be the second in the series. Ah well, it's been over 10 years and finally Jacob gets his own story.
Christine
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Sable checking in
Hello all,
The state of the household at Sable Angel's has improved somewhat. Because a friend of a friend came through, Sable has been working a bit. Minimum wage and part time but the wolf will have to find another house to haunt.
After experiencing a bit of writer's block [stress has a way of creating that, you know], Sable has finally found her way back to the writing desk. The faeries and gnomes will not be silenced by my inability to put words together. Thank goodness.
It's also helpful that the job Sable is working is around children. They have the ability to put life into focus. Simple pleasures bring the biggest smiles and laughter carries on the air when they are around. Makes being unangelic criminal.
Well, I need to wing out of here and put words to paper -- application for a position that will pay more than the gasoline bill.
Take care of yourselves and do something fun. It won't make the bad economy go away, but it will take your mind to a much happier place.
Sable Angel
The state of the household at Sable Angel's has improved somewhat. Because a friend of a friend came through, Sable has been working a bit. Minimum wage and part time but the wolf will have to find another house to haunt.
After experiencing a bit of writer's block [stress has a way of creating that, you know], Sable has finally found her way back to the writing desk. The faeries and gnomes will not be silenced by my inability to put words together. Thank goodness.
It's also helpful that the job Sable is working is around children. They have the ability to put life into focus. Simple pleasures bring the biggest smiles and laughter carries on the air when they are around. Makes being unangelic criminal.
Well, I need to wing out of here and put words to paper -- application for a position that will pay more than the gasoline bill.
Take care of yourselves and do something fun. It won't make the bad economy go away, but it will take your mind to a much happier place.
Sable Angel
A name for the "No name angel"
I decided on a name. The Scottish Lass posted three choices. I'm going to go with Allana which means fair.
Thanks to everyone who entered the contest.
Allana
Thanks to everyone who entered the contest.
Allana
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Contest for a new name is still running
Please send names for the angel without a name. Winner receives a copy of Safari Moon. Go to Coffee Time Romance for latest reveiw.
No name angel.
No name angel.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
WILL THE "REAL" LINDA PLEASE STAND UP!
from the Red-Haired Angel O :)
I am having great fun working on the Rogue's Angels anthology, scheduled to be released in February 2010! First of all, because I am working with two wonderful friends who are also authors.
Secondly, because our anthology benefits shelter animals, a cause very dear to me. How did this come about? Well, I'm a dog lover and used to work at Willamette Humane Society. Last year, I was approached by the development director there, who knows I'm also a writer, about the idea of donating a "write-in" part in a book, similar to a cameo appearance on TV, to a fundraising auction for the shelter. Of course I said yes and how about three write-in parts, one from each of the Rogue's Angels.
The winning auction bid was a gift from three daughters to their mom, who is named Linda. So each of the three stories in our Valentine's Day 2010 anthology will have a character named Linda. Our fictional characters won't all be the same, but they will all be named in honor of the real Linda, whom Rogue's Angels had the pleasure of meeting. (Here's a photo of all of us.)
We promised the real Linda and her three daughters that we would keep them up to date on how Linda's character namesakes were developing in our stories. So as part of this blog, we'll talk about the process of how a book is produced. From drafting and editing a story to final galley proofs, designing the cover, selecting the "blurb" for the back cover, and much more.
Hope you enjoy the journey!
P.S. The first draft of my story is done. Now it's time for me to revise, revise and revise again before the story goes to my critique partners. After I get feedback from them, I'll go back and revise again!
I am having great fun working on the Rogue's Angels anthology, scheduled to be released in February 2010! First of all, because I am working with two wonderful friends who are also authors.
Secondly, because our anthology benefits shelter animals, a cause very dear to me. How did this come about? Well, I'm a dog lover and used to work at Willamette Humane Society. Last year, I was approached by the development director there, who knows I'm also a writer, about the idea of donating a "write-in" part in a book, similar to a cameo appearance on TV, to a fundraising auction for the shelter. Of course I said yes and how about three write-in parts, one from each of the Rogue's Angels.
The winning auction bid was a gift from three daughters to their mom, who is named Linda. So each of the three stories in our Valentine's Day 2010 anthology will have a character named Linda. Our fictional characters won't all be the same, but they will all be named in honor of the real Linda, whom Rogue's Angels had the pleasure of meeting. (Here's a photo of all of us.)
We promised the real Linda and her three daughters that we would keep them up to date on how Linda's character namesakes were developing in our stories. So as part of this blog, we'll talk about the process of how a book is produced. From drafting and editing a story to final galley proofs, designing the cover, selecting the "blurb" for the back cover, and much more.
Hope you enjoy the journey!
P.S. The first draft of my story is done. Now it's time for me to revise, revise and revise again before the story goes to my critique partners. After I get feedback from them, I'll go back and revise again!
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
St. Patrick's Day Musings
It is St. Patrick's Day and all is quiet in the southeast of Salem.
Hi, I'm Sable Angel and I decided to drop in and muse a bit. Things in this Angel's existance have been, well, unearthly and stressful. But when I consider the day and the significance of the man who took it upon himself to save an entire island, my struggles are minuscule and small in comparison.
Many will celebrate the day with green beer and corn beef and cabbage. I had some myself. But it is a time for considering how we can help each other. As a recent returnee from the California desert, this angel and her mate have fallen a bit on hard times. Unlike when we moved to the desert to be with family, we've noticed that the good people of the Northwest have opened their hearts to others in distress.
I don't remember so many kind smiles and courteous drivers; so many "let me help you with that's" and neighbors opening doors and their hearts. It is a welcome to everyone, not just Angels. People seem to sense that when one of us is in need, we all are in need.
We've had friends of friends checking everywhere they know for leads to jobs and all seem to be ready and willing to try to cheer us up when they know that is all they can give.
The latest figures from the Department of Employment show Oregon has 10.8% unemployment. Let's all remember we don't need to be a saint to act like one.
Take if from someone who knows - a smile at a stranger does change their day for the better... and they're free.
Thank you for making the transition easier. We know jobs are just around the corner and we'll be able to provide the encouragement and smiles for someone else.
Have a great St. Patrick's Day! Remember the Fae Folk when you walk in the woods. Step carefully.
Sable Angel
Hi, I'm Sable Angel and I decided to drop in and muse a bit. Things in this Angel's existance have been, well, unearthly and stressful. But when I consider the day and the significance of the man who took it upon himself to save an entire island, my struggles are minuscule and small in comparison.
Many will celebrate the day with green beer and corn beef and cabbage. I had some myself. But it is a time for considering how we can help each other. As a recent returnee from the California desert, this angel and her mate have fallen a bit on hard times. Unlike when we moved to the desert to be with family, we've noticed that the good people of the Northwest have opened their hearts to others in distress.
I don't remember so many kind smiles and courteous drivers; so many "let me help you with that's" and neighbors opening doors and their hearts. It is a welcome to everyone, not just Angels. People seem to sense that when one of us is in need, we all are in need.
We've had friends of friends checking everywhere they know for leads to jobs and all seem to be ready and willing to try to cheer us up when they know that is all they can give.
The latest figures from the Department of Employment show Oregon has 10.8% unemployment. Let's all remember we don't need to be a saint to act like one.
Take if from someone who knows - a smile at a stranger does change their day for the better... and they're free.
Thank you for making the transition easier. We know jobs are just around the corner and we'll be able to provide the encouragement and smiles for someone else.
Have a great St. Patrick's Day! Remember the Fae Folk when you walk in the woods. Step carefully.
Sable Angel
Sunday, March 15, 2009
AN ANGEL WITHOUT A NAME--CONTEST
An angel without a name is almost as bad as an angel without wings. All the angels save one have a name. The dark haired angel is Sable, the red-haired angel is Red. The white-haired angel is--nameless.
Please give the last angel a name!
Contest will run two weeks. The winner will receive a copy of Safari Moon--just reviewed by Coffee Time Romance. (When you enter, please enclose an email or an address where I can reach you if the name you enter wins.)
Reivew:
What a gorgeous setting for this story! From Oregon to Alaska, the fresh air and beauty leaps from the pages. I adore the relationship Solo and Nyssa share. Best friends with the potential to be more. It is a tale as old as time itself, yet so fresh and new, I kept reading just to find out the outcome. These two people are so confident until it comes to their feelings for one another. This story will bring laughter to your life, a tear to your eye, and joy to your heart.
Please give the last angel a name!
Contest will run two weeks. The winner will receive a copy of Safari Moon--just reviewed by Coffee Time Romance. (When you enter, please enclose an email or an address where I can reach you if the name you enter wins.)
Reivew:
What a gorgeous setting for this story! From Oregon to Alaska, the fresh air and beauty leaps from the pages. I adore the relationship Solo and Nyssa share. Best friends with the potential to be more. It is a tale as old as time itself, yet so fresh and new, I kept reading just to find out the outcome. These two people are so confident until it comes to their feelings for one another. This story will bring laughter to your life, a tear to your eye, and joy to your heart.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
kick-ass heroines
What is a kick-ass heroine? In the writing world we all want to talk about this type of woman. But who is she really? To me she is the woman who is strong and courageous. She stands up for herself, the ones she loves, and what is right. She doesn't let anyone walk over her.
Can any of us achieve this perfection without being called the "B" word? We see women in the real world trying to do just that. i.e. Hilary Clinton. But she gets many unflattering labels for doing what some us admire.
In our romance books, we all try to incorporate this goddess into the attributes of our heroines. But in order for the story line to work we also have to make her vulnerable.
What do you think? What is a "kick-ass" heroine?
Comments welcome.
DON'T FORGET TO ENTER THE MARCH 14th CONTEST!
Can any of us achieve this perfection without being called the "B" word? We see women in the real world trying to do just that. i.e. Hilary Clinton. But she gets many unflattering labels for doing what some us admire.
In our romance books, we all try to incorporate this goddess into the attributes of our heroines. But in order for the story line to work we also have to make her vulnerable.
What do you think? What is a "kick-ass" heroine?
Comments welcome.
DON'T FORGET TO ENTER THE MARCH 14th CONTEST!
Sunday, March 1, 2009
GO GREEN!
No, I'm not a staunch Duck fan (for those of you who live in Oregon) although over half my family are duck fans. Go Beavs! What I'm talking about today are ebooks. There is no paper trail, no tree killing, and no storage problem.
So what does a person do when they like to curl up on the sofa and read their favorite story?
What do we do when we have no more space to store out favorite books?
Can we find comfort reading from the computer? How does one curl up in front of a computer anyway?
In this economy, how do we find the loose change to buy a paperback a week to feed our habits?
Any suggestions or comments? All are welcome.
Christine
No, I'm not a staunch Duck fan (for those of you who live in Oregon) although over half my family are duck fans. Go Beavs! What I'm talking about today are ebooks. There is no paper trail, no tree killing, and no storage problem.
So what does a person do when they like to curl up on the sofa and read their favorite story?
What do we do when we have no more space to store out favorite books?
Can we find comfort reading from the computer? How does one curl up in front of a computer anyway?
In this economy, how do we find the loose change to buy a paperback a week to feed our habits?
Any suggestions or comments? All are welcome.
Christine
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