Gender Flipping: Why I wrote Asleep

One of the experiences that has most colored my life is the simple fact that I am a woman. I'm happy being a woman, and there are some things I really love about it, such as shoes like these and Coach purses. My love for Coach purses borders on obsession. But there are some things about being a woman that I wholeheartedly dislike, such as the constant pressure for our bodies to look a certain way, being told I'm good at something "for a girl", etc. I could make a whole list, but that's not the intent of this post.

For as long as I've been a writer, I've been a reader and a consumer of various other forms of media. One thing that has always disappointed me is the lack of female heroes, particularly when it comes to movies and television shows. Female heroes are easier to come by in books, but even in literature--even in literature written by women--it is a very common thing to find a female character who needs a man to defend her, to give her a reason to live, to help her define her life. I'll put it simply: I don't like this.

Now, I have one caveat to add here: there are times when having a weak female character can serve a specific narrative purpose. It's not that I'm against weak characters, male or female. But what I don't like is this deeply-ingrained assumption that women need to have a man in order to function, and that there are certain things men can do that poor, delicate women can't. I also don't like the assumption that women are one way and men another. I'm sorry, I just don't buy it. Sure, we may have different biology, but men and women are people, and we share many of the same personality traits, character flaws, hopes, and aspirations. Society wants us to believe that men and women are so profoundly different, but I reject that notion.

Long, long ago, I wrote a book called The Eye of the Beholder. That book was a retelling of Beauty and the Beast, but the twist I wanted to put on it was to also tell it from the beast's point of view. Along with writing from the beast's point of view, I wanted to write a Beauty who wasn't afraid to stand up for herself, so that's the sort of Beauty I wrote. When I published the book, I thought I'd sell maybe 100 copies in a year. Imagine my surprise when I passed the number by a factor of ten.

Since that book was so successful, I started thinking about writing other fairy tale reboots. Confession time: I've always loved fairy tales and princess stories. Always. I love the frilly dresses, the dragons, the handsome princes, and everything that comes with them. What I do not like is that warrior princesses are so much less common than warrior princes. So when I chose to put my own spin on Sleeping Beauty, I decided I wanted to shake that tale up a lot. Instead of magic, I wanted to have the captured party be drugged, that way I could also tell the tale from their point of view and have them interact with the villain. I also decided that, instead of a damsel in distress, wouldn't it be interesting if it were the prince who was captured and the princess who had to save him?

I liked this idea, but I decided that, in the world I was creating for Asleep, I didn't want there to be anything out of the ordinary about a princess who uses her weapons to fight for the man she loves. I didn't want her to be the exception to some sort of rule. In the world I constructed, some women are warriors and some men are. Some of the monarchs running their Realms are men and some are women. Sometimes it's the women who go off to wage war, sometimes it's the men. What I did, very, very deliberately, was try to remove gender roles and, instead, focus on who the characters were as people. So Jess is the warrior, the confident one who wears the weight of her responsibility easily. Dev is the one who's more of a tactician, who has problems with self-doubt, who isn't convinced he'll be good at reigning.

What's the result? Well, reception has been mixed. Some readers were thrilled to read about a warrior princess, while others were a little confused by it. Some readers didn't mind the lack of magic while others didn't like it. This is kind of what being a writer boils down to: some people will like your work and others won't, which is not only fine, it's cool. The world would be such a boring place if we all liked the same things. I'm a huge fan of variety, so I'm all for people having differing opinions.

But the gender question in particular has been interesting to me. Lately, I've been watching a lot of videos and reading a lot about how women are represented in media. For an excellent summary with tons of great links to things like book cover swapping, how men and women are portrayed in advertisements, the treatment of female gamers, and the Hawkeye Initiative, read this great article on Junkee.

I am a feminist and not ashamed to call myself one, but feminism for me means total gender equity. It means men can be sensitive and cry, can become dancers, can play with baby dolls without fear of censure from society, a society that currently tells men they must be macho. It means women can be scientists, warriors, and able to provide for themselves without living in a 50s scenario where it's the man who calls all the shots. The status quo is good for no one, regardless of whether you're male or female, or if you identify with a gender other than the one you were born into. I want to get away from the male/female dichotomy. Instead, I just want us all to be people.

That's why I did a gender flip when I wrote Asleep. I want there to be more warrior princesses, so I wrote one. I want there to be more male characters who aren't afraid to show their vulnerabilities, so I wrote one. I understand that not everyone will be on board with that, that it will make some people uncomfortable, and I'm okay with that. But I'm not going to stop doing it because I know I'm not the only one who's been longing for warrior princesses.

Announcement: Review copies of Asleep are up for grabs!

At long last, the release date for the second book in my Elizabeth Darcy Fairytale Collection series is on the horizon: on or before June 13, 2013, Asleep will be available for purchase!

How would you like to get your hands on an advance copy? If you're a member of LibraryThing, I have a week-long giveaway going there with 50 copies up for grabs, and it starts today. NetGalley users will also be able to request copies soon, and I'll post further details once the book is available there.

Without further ado, feast your eyes on the lovely cover:

**Note: This book contains some mature content**

A reimagining of the sleeping beauty tale.

When her beloved Prince Devaran is abducted from her parents’ castle during their engagement announcement ceremony, Princess Jessmyn vows that nothing will stop her from bringing his abductors to justice. Rescuing Dev won't be easy, and Jess will have to form an alliance with the other Realms if she's to win the most important battle of her life. 

Imprisoned in a forbidding tower, Dev tries to find a way to warn Jess of the perils she’ll face. Weakened by deprivation and by the drugs administered by the madwoman who kidnapped him, Dev drifts between sleep and consciousness. As he relives cherished moments spent with Jess, Dev wonders if he’ll ever again be with the woman he loves.

Wouldn't it look nice sitting on your to-read shelf on Goodreads?

Feature Fridays: Dev is captured

I've had my struggles this NaNoWriMo, but I think I'm really hitting my groove with this novel.  Once I started easing up and just let it be what it wanted to be, I started to feel better about it.

When I started thinking about what I wanted to do for NaNo, I knew I wanted to write another Elizabeth Darcy book, and I decided to use the sleeping beauty story as an inspiration.  However, I didn't want to do the standard tale of the damsel in distress being rescued by the handsome prince, so I decided to have the princess do the rescuing.  Here, in its very rough form, is the scene where Dev is captured.

*****

Opening his eyes required a lot of effort, and he put the last of his remaining energy into it, managing to open them enough to see a narrow slice of the room before him.  A cloaked and hooded figure knelt before him, and at first he thought he was hallucinating, because the face looked so strange, like that of a scarecrow.  His confused brain tried to make sense of what he was seeing, and he finally realized that the other person wore a mask, which might explain why he or she didn’t seem to be all that bothered by the smoke.

“Who are you?” Dev ground out, his voice so low he could barely hear it.

“Ah, but we’ll have time for introductions later,” the voice said, each word like a caress.  The sound made him want to shudder, but he didn’t have the energy for it.  It wasn’t a voice he recognized and, besides that, it was accented, so he knew it wasn’t anyone from his realm or from Jess’s. 

“You’re from Moritan.”

“My, aren’t we a clever prince?”

“That would explain why you reek of sheep.”

Another pair of footsteps appeared, and Dev caught his breath as someone struck him across the face.  His head snapped back and he bit his tongue forcefully enough to make it bleed.  The tenuous hold he had on consciousness began to slip away.

“Enough,” growled the first voice he’d heard.  “We need him alive.”

“He’d be just as good to us dead,” a guttural voice responded.  Was it the man who’d struck him?

“No, you idiot, he would not.  The only way to lure Jessmyn to us is by using him as bait.  If he’s dead, she’ll attack, and we’ll never get close enough to get to her.”

“My apologies, greatness.”

Fear bolted through Dev, jolting him so strongly that it woke him from his stupor.  All fatigue forgotten, he lashed out at his two attackers, his swings wild.  His fist struck something solid, and he heard a grunt and a thud as the guttural-voice man dropped next to him.

“Subdue him,” the first voice ordered, and now Dev realized it was a woman.

His flailing took on a new desperation as two more pairs of feet approached.  Who would want to harm Jessmyn?  As far as he knew, her realm was on good terms with Moritan.  Moreover, it was not at all like King Mallaric to commit an act of such dishonorable subterfuge, and Dev knew Mallaric valued honor above all else.  No, if Mallaric felt any ill will toward King Amin and Queen Farah, he would make it plain.

Desperate, Dev tried shouting, but his voice failed once again.  The other two assailants descended upon him and, though he fought savagely, using his fists, feet, and teeth, he was simply too weak to beat them off.  They pinned him to the floor and he sucked in great gulps of air that seemed only to make him breathe more deeply, as if what flowed in wasn’t sufficient to feed his lungs.  The black borders of his vision filled more rapidly and he was lost, his lips unconsciously forming Jessmyn’s name.

Monday Musings: My characters have a life of their own

This NaNoWriMo, I'm noticing the same phenomenon I noticed during last year's NaNoWriMo: my vision for what the story would look like and the way the story began to take shape aren't necessarily the same thing.  This is something I think most writers can identify with.  Usually, I don't consciously realize a story would work better if I did it a bit differently.  For me, it tends to be more unconscious.  I'll write something, read it, and think, "Oh, that does make more sense, doesn't it?"

I think a big part of my anxiety over this project comes from the fact that The Eye of the Beholder has been a lot more successful than I'd imagined it would be.  I'm thrilled I've found an audience, and I am very grateful for my readers.  However, I'm also aware that having this audience may lead to expectations.  When I wrote just for myself without ever knowing if anyone else would really read it, I didn't worry too much about the turns my stories took.  I just let my characters do their thing while taking me along for the ride.  But now I'm afraid that if I deviate a lot from the style I used in The Eye, I may let my readers down.

I didn't feel this same level of anxiety with Contributor or with Phoning It In, because they were different.  I'm interested in a lot of genres, and I knew some of my readers might like one genre in which I write but not another, and that's perfectly understandable.  It also frees me from having to worry about expectations, because I've already set up the expectation that what's coming is going to be different from what's already out there.

However, Asleep is meant to be my second in the Fairytale Collection, and it's shaping up to be a different book from The Eye.  The Eye was my take, but it was still pretty much a straight up retelling of the beauty and the beast story.  My inspiration for Asleep is the sleeping beauty story, but the tale I'm telling is far, far different from the Disney version.  There are elements I've straight up left out--the fairies--and elements that I've inverted--the princess being the rescuer while the prince is the rescuee.  So, while Asleep is also inspired by a fairytale, it doesn't stick as closely to the fairytale as The Eye did.

The major difference between this year and last is this: I'm having trouble letting go.  When Contributor started to turn out a lot differently than I'd anticipated, I went with it and was happy with the result.  I'm more nervous about Asleep because I've got something out there for it to be measured against.  At the end of the day, I need to be faithful to the characters and the way the story wants to progress.  I think any writer will say that if you fight this and try to make the story fit your original vision, the end result will be something that's not worth reading.

I'm gaining a new perspective on being an author with at least one published book.  When I first plunged into the world of publishing, I worried what my readers would think when they compared my work to that of other authors.  Now, I worry more about what my readers will think when they compare my previous novels to my newer ones.

Feature Fridays: Taking a flying leap

I'm making serious headway with Asleep, having hit the 25k mark today.  While I'm officially halfway done with NaNoWriMo, it will take more than 50k words to wrap up this story.

When it comes to the writing itself, there are portions I'm loving and other portions that rouse the vicious self-doubt monster.  There's nothing worse than trying to keep yourself going when that mocking little voice in your head says, "This stinks!  You think you're a writer?"

At any rate, I'm avoiding reading the bulk of the work because my NaNoWriMo motto can basically be boiled down to this: Just Keep Going.  No matter what happens, no matter how many typos I know I've made, no matter how much I hate the particular section I'm writing, Just Keep Going.

As with last week, this is completely raw, so there are likely some typos and random weirdness that may make little sense.  Consider yourself forewarned! ;)

*****

As the world went black, Jess’s face once more appeared to him, but this time she was around ten years old, and her eyes flashed in challenge.  Tanvir lurked nearby, but he’d already been disqualified from this particular challenge, due to his age.

“Your age must have two digits; otherwise, you’re too much of a baby to participate,” Jess told him loftily.  “Shall I explain that to you?”

“I know what two digits means!” Tanvir squeaked, his seven-year-old voice high with indignation.

“Watch and learn, children,” Dev’s cocky, twelve-year-old self called out.

“Dev, I don’t know if this is a good idea.  That tree is really high, and if you jump—” Tanvir protested.

“Keep your lessons to yourself,” Dev instructed, rolling his eyes.  “I’m not your tutor, so you won’t score any bonus points with me for cleverness.”

“Well, you’re certainly good at earning high marks for stupidity,” Tanvir snapped back.

“Or are you just trying to conceal the fact that your brother is more courageous than you?” Jess challenged.

“You’re both stupid, and I’ll have no part of this.”  Tanvir stamped his foot and ran off, heading back toward the castle.

“If you’re going to do it, best do it now, before your brother has a chance to tattle,” Jess said.

“Right you are.” 

Extending his arms in the air, fingers pointed, as he’d once seen an acrobat do, Dev launched himself from the branch on which he’d perched, feelings a rush of exhilaration as he flew through the air.  His confidence was high, his fingers steady.  There was no doubt in his mind that he’d catch the next branch, and so it came as a very rude surprise when only the tips of his fingers smacked into the branch, and he felt his hands clawing futilely at the air.

As he plummeted toward the earth, he heard Jess’s scream of horror and he couldn’t help but smile at the knowledge that he had managed to ruffle the seemingly unflappable princess.  His body striking the ground wiped the smile right off his face.  Fortunately for him, he landed rear first, which cushioned the impact.  Still, he fell back, his head striking the ground, causing his teeth to snap together.  Blood and grit filled his mouth and he felt dizzy.

“Dev!  Dev!  Are you okay?” Jess cried, suddenly appearing at his side.

Disoriented, he looked up at her and gave her a smile, some blood dribbling out of the corner of his mouth.  “Are you an angel?” he asked, before he lost consciousness.

There was no forgetting the aftermath of that little episode.  It had caused some tension between King Amin and King Adar, both of whom knew they had impetuous and sometimes foolhardy children, but who both, in their distress, wanted to blame the other.  Dev had earned a sever concussion for his trouble, and he spent days in bed while he recovered, his head pounding, vision swimming all the while.  The boredom was almost more of a torment than the physical pain.  Eventually, his mother’s fears that he had permanently addled his brain were laid to rest, but there was no repairing the chip to the tooth on the top right side of his mouth.  As it was right next to his front tooth, it became a prominent part of his smile.  The truth was, he would have leapt from that branch again, because he had never forgotten how lovely Jess looked as she hovered over him, fearful for his well-being.

Feature Fridays: First look at Asleep

It's day two of NaNoWriMo, and I've got 7,163 words under my belt, so I'm feeling pretty good about that!  My project for this month is Asleep, the second installment in my Fairytale Collection.  Asleep is my reboot of the sleeping beauty tale and, while I was looking forward to writing it, it's proven even more fun than I thought.

Today, I had some struggles with my inner editor, but I managed to beat her into submission.  The rules of NaNoWriMo state that there is to be no editing, so the excerpt I'm posting here is raw, uncut, and likely has a few typos--don't worry, they'll be fixed after NaNoWriMo, when I can edit to my heart's content.  This excerpt is from the very beginning of the book.  I can't guarantee it'll stay like this once I get down to editing, but this should give you a feel for the book.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

*****

I don’t have time for this.  I have drills to run, that supply issue needs to be resolved…  I wonder if security is tight enough.  I hope my father didn’t entrust it to that buffoon Wynart.  Surely he closed that gap in the north tower by now?

Jessmyn tugged impatiently at her gown.  She had to admit, it was stunningly beautiful, but she’d have preferred to be in her plate at the moment.  It was one of life’s great mysteries how a gown of satins and lace could feel more confining than a sixty pounds of armor.  She’d have to keep that question in mind for the next time her seamstress asked her what sort of gown she would like, so that she could instruct the woman to fashion her something a little less encrusted with pearls and small jewels, one that would allow for greater freedom of movement.

When Jess was truthful with herself, she knew the weight of her gown had nothing to do with the disquiet state of her mind.  It was nerves that were eating her alive.  Though royal protocol was old hat to Jess, she had never before been a part of something so monumentally important to her realm—nor had she ever experienced anything of greater personal importance.

Forcing herself to stand still, Jess closed her eyes and thought of Dev, tried to imagine how he was feeling at this moment, how he looked.  A small smiled played about her lips as she imagined him, though she also felt a sense of exasperation.  No doubt he was handling it all much better than she was.  He was probably busy cracking jokes with his attendants, making them roar with laughter.  At this image, her smiled widened and she opened her eyes, feeling somewhat settled at last.  Dev always had that effect on her.  It was part of what made him so essential to her life.

Still, she knew his jovial exterior likely hid just as many nerves as she felt.  For all Dev looked as if he hadn’t a care in the world, he felt things very deeply, even if others weren’t always aware of this fact.  He could not have captured Jess’s heart as it had were it otherwise.  This was both good and bad.  While Jess had to admit that she enjoyed knowing she understood this hidden part of Dev, it had also caused him some pain due to the blithe unawareness of others.

“Are you ready, your highness?” Lady Lilia Vindar asked.  Shyly, she glanced up at Jess, searching the princess’s face.  Jess could tell from the look in Vindar’s eyes that she was caught up in the romance of the occasion, and it made Jess smile.  Lilia always did love a good fairytale.

“I am,” Jess confirmed.

Lilia and the two other ladies in attendance dropped low curtsies and then took their positions behind the princess.  Jess squared her shoulders, tilted her head slightly back, and began her slow procession out to the main hall.

The crowd was noisy, boisterous and jubilant because of the celebration.  Music and voices competed with one another, creating a blend that somehow still managed to please the ear.  It was impossible to distinguish any conversation from this distance, but Jess could still hear tones that we somewhat unfamiliar to her ear, evidence of the attendance of the mighty and influential of the other realms.  This was the biggest celebration in the history of the Five Realms, and it was this more than anything that made Jess nervous.  Having so many important people in any one place was always an enormous security risk and, despite herself, she found her eyes darting around as she walked, looking for evidence of guards.  It didn’t matter that she had trained most of them herself; she could not help but feel anxious about the possibility of some sort of disturbance.

“There are twenty guards in this hallway alone,” her father said, coming to stand at her side and speaking in a low tones, so only she would be able to hear.  He had been waiting down the opposite corridor, and she had been so distracted, she had noticed neither his approach or the that he was watching her.

Some martial master I am!  I don’t even notice when my own father and his ten attendants approach!

Looking at her with some exasperation, as if he could guess what was going on inside her head, her father shook his head.  “My beloved Jess, can you not relax, just for one day?  This is a day meant for you, and for Dev.”

Woo Hoo Wednesday: True heroes

It's that time of the week, where I take some time to celebrate the small things that make life awesome.  So what made you want to say "Woo Hoo!" this week?

First off, my readers have once again made me shout WOO HOO!  After a slow start to the month, I had a couple of crazy, amazing days where my sales rose high enough for me to be in the top 100 in my subcategories.  As of today, I have now had my best month ever for sales of The Eye of the Beholder.  I want to sincerely, sincerely thank each and every person who has read the book, because you're making my dreams come true--really!  Because of you, I feel I can actually make a job out of my true passion in life, and there really aren't words to express how happy that makes me.

My second woo hoo goes out to NaNoWriMo.  I haven't taken as many days to prepare for it as I would have liked, because I've been so busy with edits to Phoning It In, which I want to have out by the end of this year.  However, I've had a LOT of fun over the last two days making plans for Asleep--and I do mean a LOT of fun.  I can hardly wait until tomorrow, so I can finally start doing some actual writing!  Because The Eye of the Beholder is doing so well, I was inspired to take on another fairy tale reboot for NaNoWriMo, and I can hardly wait to start sharing samples of it with all of you.  My readers ROCK!

However, all of this pales in contrast to the real news of the week, which is Hurricane Sandy and its aftermath.  My heart goes out to all those who have lost loved ones, and all those struggling to rebuild and get their lives back in order.  It's inadequate to say a woo hoo for those courageous first responders who have been rescuing people trapped by the flooding, who have been evacuating hospitals, who have been protecting citizens.  These people put their lives on the line every day for the greater good, and I can't imagine a more heroic thing to do.  If you ask me, our culture has a tendency to make heroes out of the wrong people.  My heroes are those doctors, nurses, police officers, fire fighters, EMTs, and Coast Guard personnel who put themselves at risk to help the rest of us.  Thank you so much for your service.  You have proven to us time and time again that your courage is unshakeable, even in the face of terrifying disasters.

If you're able, please join me in donating to the Red Cross here.  Monetary donations are so important, because they give the Red Cross the funds they need to buy supplies necessary to provide disaster relief.  You can also help by donating blood, and more information on that can be found here.  And another big woo hoo and thanks goes out to the Red Cross relief workers who go into disaster zones to help those affected.

Monday Musings: My mind is a playground

Ever since I was a kid, I've loved roaming around in my imagination.  It has always been my favorite playground.  And what's awesome about my life now is that my job is to wander around my imagination and see what I can find in it.  There are days when I honestly have to drag myself away from the keyboard, lest I end up with a serious Vitamin D deficiency due to lack of sunlight.

Today is one of those days where I'm having tons and tons of fun frolicking through my imagination.  As some of you know, NaNoWriMo is coming up (and if you don't know what that is, check out the link!), and you may also know I'm planning on working on another Elizabeth Darcy/Fairytale Collection book during November.   Today, I started laying some of the groundwork for that novel.  I didn't write any of the novel yet--that would be cheating, and cheating makes puppies cry, something to which I am vehemently opposed!  But I did start working on character and setting sketches.

So far, I've sketched out my main male and female characters, and I'm just going to come out and admit it: I'm already kind of in love with my male protagonist.  I'm also very happy with the way my female protagonist is shaping up.  I spent some quality time with Scrivener, using their nifty character sketch sheets to help me get a picture of what each of them will be like.  I'd already been working on my female character in my ol' brain, but I now feel like I have a much better idea of what makes her tick, and what her relationship with the male protagonist looks like.

From there, I started working on setting sketches, and that was so much fun!  The place templates in Scrivener really got my ol' imagination working.  I got to imagine what the settings looked like, what made them special and distinctive, and that inevitably led to me picturing lots of castles and beautiful vistas and other fun things. 

Basically, what I'm saying is, I was in nerdtopia today.

My writing style has always been distinctively pantser, but it only took me one attempt at NaNo to realize I needed a little focus or I risk ending up with a stream-of-consciousness mess that looks nothing like a manuscript--and that's exactly what I had at the end of NaNo 2010.  Last year, I started out by doing some background world building before I ever typed a word, and it made the writing flow a lot more smoothly.  The product of NaNo 2011 was Contributor, and I have lots of fond memories of drinking copious amounts of coffee while pounding that story out.

During the month of November, my blog will become something of a NaNo journal, complete with excerpts from the work in progress, which I'll post on Feature Fridays.  You'll get a first peek at the uncut version of Asleep, my reimagining of the sleeping beauty tale.  If you're planning on tackling NaNo this year and want a writing buddy to urge you on, feel free to add NCiacchella.  Good luck and happy writing/reading!

Tuesday Teaser: Sneak Peek at Contributor!

I'm back from my end-of-the-summer hiatus, raring to focus on my fall writing schedule.  On the agenda: book two in the Contributor series (which I've already started), and my NaNoWriMo project, which will be my alternative take on Sleeping Beauty.  I'm really excited about both of them, and am looking forward to getting back into the fairytale genre in November.

However, before those two is the upcoming publication of Contributor.  I've got an amazing cover for it, and am working on polishing up the last bit, but I'll be sending it over Amazon's way tomorrow, which means it should be available for purchase on Thursday!  Also, to celebrate the release of Contributor, I'm running a promotion: download a copy of Creators (the prequel novella to the series) for FREE on Amazon on Friday, September7.

To whet your appetite, I thought I'd offer a little taste of Contributor.  I hope you enjoy it!

*****

“As for you, Apprentice Morrow,” Andersen said, bringing her work up on the screen.  Her throat constricted and she could barely breathe.  “Your solution was quite ingenious.”

Surprised, Dara hazarded a glance at Letizia, who gave her a searing glare.

“It’s unfortunate that you made such an inexcusable error in the beginning,” Andersen continued, staring at her.  She felt like sinking down in her chair, through the floor, and continuing on down into the depths of the earth.  “Had Apprentice LeTour not caught it, your solution would have resulted in even more extensive damage.  An innovative mind is a useless quality in an engineer who makes stupid errors, errors that could cost Magnum millions.”

Dara went completely numb.  She felt as though her fingers and toes had turned to ice, and she feared they might begin to crack, shattering her into a million tiny pieces.  Still, that would probably be far less painful than the public dressing down she’d just received.

“Cheer up,” Javier murmured as they left the room.  “He did say your solution was quite ingenious.”  Surprised, Dara glanced at him.  He grinned crookedly at her.

“Um, thanks,” she said.

“No problem.”

Warming up to him, she smiled ever so slightly.  “Thanks for what you said to Ryan too.”

“Don’t think that means we’re on the same side, Dara.  There can only be one of us left at the end, and I don’t like you that much.”  He winked.

Feeling her spine stiffen, Dara nodded curtly and increased her pace, leaving him trailing in her wake.

Motivational Mondays: From one book to the next!

Happy Monday!  This is pretty much the summer of vacations for me.  I went on one at the end of June, came home for a week, and then left for the next.  The end result is, my house is desperately in need of cleaning and I am so not motivated to do it.  However, I've been really productive in the book department, so I'm happy about that!

What I’m working on: Now that Creators is finished and published, it's time for me to turn to Contributor.  I entered it in ABNA this year, so I'd already done several rounds of edits, but I'm going to put it on my Kindle and do another round of edits.  I've found that doing this is a really effective way at catching small errors (i.e. using "or" when I meant to use "of"), and it also lets me see how the book will look once it's finished.  I'll also give that one a spin through SmartEdit as that program was extremely helpful when I was doing the edits on Creators.

What I hope to achieve: This week, I'm scaling back my expectations because I did just publish another book.  The problem I find with writing is that I feel a sort of compulsion to work constantly.  If I'm not writing, I'm feeling guilty about not writing.  However, as with any job, it's also important to have some down time and to do other things like reading or exercising or cleaning my house.  If I don't take the time to relax, I start feeling really frazzled and stressed out and that really does nothing to improve my writing.  So, for this week, I'll maybe read a few chapters of Contributor.

What are my challenges: House cleaning.  Seriously.  It takes up so much time it's unreal.  Also, as I mentioned, I need to give myself permissions to just relax once in a while.

What freaks me out: I'm not sure if it's because The Eye of the Beholder has already been out there for a while, but I'm not quite as terrified of bad reviews this time around.  Granted, I know it'll be tough to get bad reviews, but I think publishing that first book was the point where I really stepped off the cliff.

My one big worry about writing a trilogy is maintaining consistency.  I never thought about how HUGE writing a series is until I start writing one.  Now I worry a lot about readers contacting me saying, "In book 1, character A says this but, in book 3, they do something that totally contradicts it."  I once read there was an editor whose sole function was to read all of J.K. Rowling's books to make sure the spells were consistent throughout the series.  It seemed kind of strange to me at the time, but now I totally get it.

What’s making me happy today: Having another book published, of course!  And the fact that I've already had my first sale.  I'm also very pleased that The Eye of the Beholder continues to sell a few more copies each month.  Progress is good!

Teaser for Tuesday: Tomorrow I'll offer a first peek at Contributor.  Though Creators is part of the universe, it's a standalone story, so Contributor will offer the first look into the meat of the trilogy.

Sample Sunday: Mira stands up to the Beast

“Mira, you are a sentimental fool,” I said, shaking my head and smiling rather condescendingly at her.  “Your heart bleeds for those who know nothing of you and care nothing for you.  Why waste your time?”

“Why do I even bother to discuss these things with you?”  Her eyes were full of reproach, and I could see that I had ruined her cheerful mood.

“Why do you?” I sneered.

“Never mind.”  She tossed the book aside rather fiercely and rose from her seat, stalking over to the bookshelves on the other side of the chamber.

I watched the rigid set of her shoulders as she moved.  I knew exactly why she read such things to me and then attempted to discuss them with me.  She was searching for some good within me, attempting to give me the opportunity to prove myself redeemable.  She was incurably naive in this respect. 

“Would you rather I read to you about wars and pestilence?” she called, after a long moment of silence.  She remained with her back to me, and she ran a rather listless finger over the leather-bound spines on the shelves.

“Why should I wish to hear about pestilence?  I have already told you numerous times that the sufferings of others are meaningless to me.  Perhaps if I were suffering from a pestilence myself, I might muster some curiosity on the subject, if only in the hopes that it would enable me to find a cure.”

“Of course.  You care to hear of something only if it directly involves you.”  The line of her slender shoulders grew even tauter, and I watched as one of her hands balled into a fist.  I could see her body heave as she took a deep breath, and I knew she was attempting to quell her anger.

“Wars are another matter,” I said, wanting to stoke her anger before she could regain her faculties and answer my scathing remarks with smiles, as she had taken to doing as of late.

She turned to eye me warily.  “Indeed?”

“Certainly.”  I sat back in my chair.  I felt a sense of satisfaction creep over me as I watched her face.

My next words were certain to provoke her.  “There is appeal in hearing about those who have used might and brutal force to take what they will.”

There was a flicker of horror in her eyes, but her recovery surprised me.  “Not everyone is as unscrupulous as you,” she said triumphantly, her smile returning.  “I shall be glad to read you war tales.  Shall I start with the tale of the ancient Eudorian king who went to war to free the slaves of Lynere, or would you prefer the history of the knights of Altheria who swore their lives to the noble service of stamping out injustice wherever they encountered it?”

Ah, but two can play at this game.

“Neither.  I would prefer for you to read the history of Marcus the Black, who went to war for the sheer thrill of cutting down his enemy.”

I watched as Mira scanned the shelf and removed a book.  She walked over to me and deliberately flung the tome into my lap.  “Read it yourself then.”  She spun on her heel and stormed out of the library with a furious rustle of silken skirts.

Sample Sunday: Angering the Beast

After spending a night in the Beast's castle, Mira's father takes what he thinks is the perfect gift for his daughter and suffers the consequences...


Peering out, I could see that the man was approaching the gates.  He paused as he reached them, glancing back over his shoulder.  I moved into the shadows, concealing myself from his gaze.  He stared at the castle for several long moments before stepping down from his wagon and walking carefully across the gravel path to the castle walls, casting glances about him as he went.  I was perplexed, but then I saw his object.  Slowly, he approached the castle wall and reached out a hand to touch one of the roses.  I went perfectly still, my spine rigid.  Reaching into his pocket, the man pulled out a small penknife and used it to cut the rose from the vine. 

Pure, sheer rage washed over me like a black wave, and I let out an ear-splitting roar.  Before turning from the window, I could see the man start, his face as pale as milk.  I ran on all fours from the second floor, down the stairs, and burst through the front entrance of the castle.

“Merciful heaven!” the man shrieked, dropping to his knees and throwing his arms over his head at the sight of me.

He was tall and thin with arms and legs that were ropy and well-muscled.  His hair was a drab shade of brown, and what I could see of his face was very plain and trembling with terror.

“You dare to steal one of my roses?” I roared.

He cried out in terror.  “For-forgive me.  I d-did not mean any harm,” he said, sinking closer to the ground, as if he sought to sink directly through it, the rose still clutched in his hand.  I could see a bright spot of blood on his thumb from where he had pricked himself with one of the thorns.  He had dropped his knife and it laid useless on the ground, far too small to be any threat to me and my rapier-sharp claws.

“You did not mean any harm?” I asked, my voice lowering into a deep and menacing growl.  “I offer you my hospitality, feed you and shelter you for the night, and you repay me by taking what I hold most dear?”

“I did not think anyone lived here.  I did not think the rose would be missed,” he said, in a small and terrified voice.

“Then who fed you, built you a fire?” I asked, astounded by the stupidity of his statement.

“I am sorry.  Please, I beg you, have mercy on me.”

“Mercy?  Why should I have mercy on a thief?  I should strike you dead where you cower,” I growled furiously.

He lowered his arms and looked up into my face.  I could see an expression of abject terror in his eyes, and a shudder of revulsion passed over his features.  I raised one of my arms, ready to strike him down, but he held the rose out and pleaded with me.

“I beg you, do not kill me.  I have three daughters waiting for me at home.  What will become of them if I do not return?” he asked, his voice pitiful.

“Your daughters are none of my concern!” I shouted unthinkingly.  “Why did you take my rose?”

“I took it for my youngest daughter.  Her sisters asked me for expensive gifts, but she asked only for my safe return.  I wanted to bring her a book, but could find none,” he babbled.  “She is such a good child, such a kind and generous child, and I could not bear to return without a gift for her.  When I saw this rose, I knew that she would love it.  She has always loved flowers.”

Slowly and in spite of my rage, my mind was beginning to work.  This man had three daughters, one of whom he described as kind and generous and who loved roses.  Surely it would be a waste to simply kill him.  Perhaps there was another option.  I was silent for so long that the man ceased to shake and sob and went into what appeared to be a state of shock.  His eyes went dull, and I knew that he believed I was going to kill him.

“You have two choices,” I growled, speaking slowly.  “Your first choice is to go home and, in a fortnight, return to me.  You will be placed in my dungeon as my prisoner, where you will die.  Your second choice is to send your youngest daughter to me in your place.  I will not confine her to the dungeon, nor will I mistreat her in any manner.  She will be well cared for and protected in my castle, but she must remain with me forever.”

The man began to shake and sob again.  “Please, have mercy!  I will not send my youngest to you!  But if I die, how will my daughters survive?”

“Those are your choices,” I replied coldly.  “I care not what difficulty they cause you.”

“Please, sir, I beg you…”

“Silence!” I roared.  “Be gone before I change my mind and kill you after all!”

My words spurred the man to action.  Without looking at me, he clambered up into his wagon, his hand clutched so tightly around the rose that it was white.  The rose itself was a deep, deep crimson, the color of the blood that ran from the puncture wound in the man’s thumb.  The horse was nearly screaming in fear.  His eyes rolled back in his head, showing me their whites, and he reared and nearly toppled both the wagon and himself.  The man managed to hold on and, as he applied the whip, the horse shot forward and sped out of the gate at breakneck speed.

I stood watching the man as he disappeared in a cloud of dust down the road.  Then I closed the gates and walked back into the castle, finding my servants assembled in the great hall.

“I expect you heard every word of that exchange,” I growled.  They stared at me with their blank eyes but did not move.  “Then you know what needs to be done!  Ready both the dungeon and one of the guest chambers!  We shall be prepared to deal with whoever returns here in a fortnight’s time.”

To preview other chapters, read reviews, and purchase a copy of The Eye of the Beholder for Kindle, visit Amazon; or visit Goodreads for additional reviews.

Sample Sunday: Mira and the Beast meet at last

 After all of the agonizing anticipation, Mira and the Beast finally meet...


“Who are you?” I asked, my voice sounding hoarse and dusty.  My eyes wanted to dart about the chamber, but I was afraid of what I might see, so I resolutely fixed my gaze upon the light of the candle.

There was a long silence and then I heard a slight rustling from the other side of the library.  Someone was sitting in the shadowy far right corner, which was a good distance from where I stood.  That thought offered some comfort, and I felt the tension in my body ease slightly.

The silence became so long that I grew vexed.  It was unspeakably rude for this creature to sit in the chamber watching me but refusing to acknowledge me.  “I would appreciate the favor of an answer to my question,” I said.  I was surprised at the sharpness of my own voice, and relieved that the edge concealed a slight quaver.

From the corner came a deep rumbling that baffled me upon first hearing but, when I listened more closely, I realized it was a voice so roughened by bestial sounds it was nearly unintelligible. 

“Why do you ask who I am?  I would imagine you are capable of guessing,” the voice said.
Any courage I may have mustered was quickly quelled by the sound of that strange voice, but I did my best to conceal this.  “I suppose you think I should conjecture that you are the master of this castle, but I know that there must be servants, and I cannot be certain that you are not one of them.”

Another silence followed this declaration and then the voice rose from the corner once again.
“Indeed, there are servants in this castle, but you are incorrect that I could be one of them.  They are mute, as you will discover for yourself when you see them.”

“They are all of them mute?” I asked, astonished.  Had the beast purposely chosen them as his servants because of this—or had he done something to ensure they could not speak?

“Aye,” he said, and I noticed for the first time that he sounded…antiquated.  There was something odd about his accent and the manner in which he phrased his speech.

“You have been living here without another soul with whom you could speak?”  I was intrigued in spite of myself.

“By choice,” was the succinct response.

“Then why am I here?”  The question escaped my lips before I could stop it. 

The tension in the chamber crackled to life once more and I took a faltering step backward, bumping into one of the ladders that were spaced throughout the chamber, allowing access to the upper shelves.  My hand curled around the rail, and I found myself leaning against the ladder for support.

“You know why you are here,” the voice replied, at last.  There was a dangerous undercurrent in it, a low growl that had not been there before.

I could say nothing in response to this and, instead, turned to leave the library, but the voice stopped me. 

“There are some things of which we will never speak,” it said.  “But we must learn to live and even to converse with one another, for there is not another soul in the castle with whom we might speak.  Or do you believe yourself capable of enduring an eternity of silence?”

“No,” I admitted, though I was loath to answer the question. 

I heard more rustling from the corner and imagined that the beast must have been moving about impatiently, though I had no wish to look and confirm my conjecture.  I did not understand what was passing between us.  When he spoke, he gave me the distinct impression that the sound of my voice pained him, but he was making the assertion that he and I needed to converse.  The contradiction confounded me and, once again, my nervous tongue betrayed me.

“It seems apparent to me that you have no wish to speak, so why are you suggesting that we converse with one another?” I asked.

The beast growled and I tightened my hold on the ladder’s rail.  “What do you suggest?  Do you suggest I return to my quarters and remain there forever without seeing or speaking to you?”

“I suggest you do whatever pleases you,” I responded, an impatient edge to my voice.  “I also ask that you have the courtesy to tell me what it is you have planned for me.”

“Planned for you?  You are a guest in this castle.  You may do as you wish.”

“A guest?  I would have called myself a prisoner.”

“You have not the slightest idea what it means to be a prisoner,” he said.  The words were spoken so softly and were so layered with bestial growls that I nearly did not understand them.

“You frighten me,” I said, bluntly.  I could not fathom how it was that I found the courage to be so honest with him.  Perhaps it was simply because I had lived in such fear and gloom that I had not the tolerance for it any longer.  Perhaps I merely wished to provoke the worst so that I might weather the storm and have done with it.

“You have not yet seen me,” he said.

“No, I have not, but my father described you, and that description was enough to frighten me.”

“I give my word that, though I may frighten you, I will not harm you.”

“Why should I believe that?” I demanded.  “You threatened harm enough to my father.  Why should your behavior toward me be any different?”

“Your father stole from me,” the beast snarled.

I flinched but refused to relent, even though my heart pounded so hard that I thought it might burst from sheer terror.  “He did not mean to steal from you.  He was simply looking for a gift for me, and he did not know the rose belonged to anyone.”

“That does not change the fact that he took something that was not his.”

“And how was he to know that you did not wish him to take it?  You offered him food and lodging freely enough.”

“That is why he should not have dared to take more from me.”  It sounded as though the beast was exercising every bit of self-control he possessed not to begin shouting at me.

I was suddenly weary of this fight.  I had to admit that the beast’s words were not devoid of truth, though I felt his reaction had been unreasonable.  Papa had made a simple error, and a decent soul would have been more understanding.

“Very well,” I said.  “I have no wish to quarrel with you.  You do not know my father as I do, and it seems you will not be persuaded to believe anything different from what you have already decided to believe.”

“What I find curious is that you defend the man who sent you here to live with me,” the beast said, with a cruel edge to his voice.

“You think he sent me here?” I asked, amazed. 

“Why else would you be here?”

“I came here of my own free will.”

“Why?” the beast asked, sounding amazed in return.

“Why?  Is it not obvious to you?  I was afraid of what might happen to Papa should he return here, so I came in his place.  I could not help but feel responsible.  He brought the rose to me out of the goodness of his own heart, out of a desire to please me.  I could not allow him to be punished for the kindness of his actions.”

The beast said nothing, and I had the sense that he was finding it hard to believe what I had told him.  This was both surprising and rather sad.  Had he never loved another enough to wish to sacrifice his own comfort and happiness for the sake of the person he loved?  A life without sound was punishment enough, but what of a life without love?  What sort of punishment was that?

Motivational Mondays: Good reviews bring great joy!

Well, it's Monday again, so here's hoping none of you are having a case of the Mondays!  For those of you new to the blog, Mondays are the day where I talk a little about what's motivating me for the coming week.

What I’m working on: I'm still working on Creators, which I plan on finishing today.  I'll then begin the editing process and try to get everything ready for a late June release. 

I'm also planning on going back and reading through Contributor one last time.  I did extensive edits on it before entering it in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Awards, so it's pretty much ready to go, but I did cut one chapter that I'm thinking about reinserting.  Having had some distance from the work is a good thing, as I think it'll help me make a good decision as to whether or not that chapter is really appropriate any longer.

I am really excited about releasing Creators and then Contributor.  I've really enjoyed writing them!

What I hope to achieve: I hope to make good headway with the editing of Creators.  I'm also hoping to work some more with my cover artists on the art for both Creators and Contributor.  I'm also hoping to see a bump in my sales of The Eye of the Beholder, and I think the fact that I now have a couple of reviews should help.

What are my challenges: This is the last week of school, so finding a good routine and rhythm over the summer is going to be a challenge--but I'm not saying anything any other parent doesn't already know!

In addition to having both of my kids at home with me, I've also got a couple of trips planned and the usual summer festivities such as graduation parties.  Summer is always such a busy time, so trying to be disciplined about my writing is an especially high hurdle in the summer.

What freaks me out: I'm feeling more relaxed this week, so I'm not as worried.  I got my first couple of reviews under my belt, so at least the stressful wait for feedback is over! 

Naturally, I am still dreading the first negative review.  As much as I like my novel, I know not everyone will, so I'm trying to keep that perspective.  I also want to keep my head on straight so that I can learn from my negative reviews.  If I have one mega-fear, it's that I will stop growing and improving as a writer.

What’s making me happy today: I am over the moon about getting my first two reviews for The Eye of the Beholder.  One was a five star, the other a four, and they're both really beautiful and made me feel great.  There are few things more gratifying than working really, really hard to make a work the best you can make it, and to find out that others enjoyed it.  As much as I appreciate my family and friends reading my work and giving me feedback, it's even sweeter to get positive reviews from people who don't know me because they are more objective.

Teaser for Tuesday: For tomorrow's Tidbits Tuesday post, I'll be featuring an excerpt from my work in progress, Creators, along with a little commentary on it.

Fairytales: not just kid stuff

I have to admit that when I talked about my manuscript for The Eye of the Beholder, I was kind of embarrassed to tell people what it was about.  Lately, I've been a lot more open about my writing and have asked friends and family to read manuscripts and give feedback, but in the past my writing was kind of my secret.  When people did find out I'd written something, their first question would always be, "What's it about?"  This question never failed to fill me with dread.

This is partially because I was anxious about how people would react.  I understand that not everyone is going to be in love with the genre I've chosen, and that's fine.  But it's always awkward to be put into a situation where I'm talking about something that has so much of my heart and soul in it because I'm afraid the other person might not be interested but will be forced, for the sake of being politely social, to pretend like they are interested.  Sometimes I think people are more interested in the idea of someone writing a book than they are in the actual reality of the book, and that's fine.  As with anything in life, though, it's hard when something that's meaningful to you doesn't seem like such a big deal to other people, particularly when those people are important to you.

The other reason why this question fills me with dread is because it's very hard to boil down the essence of your novel into just a few words.  My fellow writers know what I'm talking about.  The thing that stressed me out the most about ABNA was writing my pitch.  When I published The Eye, I was more wigged out by trying to write the novel's description than I was by writing the actual novel.  It's very difficult to make things sound snappy and interesting without giving too much away and in only a few hundred words.  Anyone who's ever picked up a book and not made it all the way through the flap description will understand what a skill it is to write copy that's attention-grabbing.

Now, take all of this and imagine that the book you just wrote is about a fairytale.  I will temporarily go all geeky on you and say that fairytales weren't originally for children, they were for adults.  They were often used as a way to talk of forbidden or subversive things (like how much the king sucked) while still being able to claim innocence.  Don't believe me?  Pick up a copy of Grimm and/or Andersen and read just one of the tales there.  I guarantee they're nothing like the Disney versions--not that I'm knocking Disney because I very much dig their fairytale movies.  My point here is that using a fairytale to tell a story offers a means to tell a tale through a familiar lens while trying to put your own unique spin on it.

Of all the fairytales, the Beauty and the Beast tale has always been my favorite.  There are two reasons for this: I love its theme of redemption and I love the message that love goes far beyond the merely physical.  Beauty learns to look past Beast's appearance and love him for who he is while Beast has to become a better version of himself in order to be worthy of her love.  This is meaningful to me because I think the best kind of love is the love that inspires you to be more than you are.  I am definitely not talking about a relationship where you have to lose weight because your boyfriend tells you to lose weight.  That's not love at all.  What I'm talking about is the relationship where you feel like your partner loves you warts and all and also helps highlight your best traits.  Real love should bring out the best in you.

This is why I chose to do a retelling of the tale.  I'm the kind of writer who thinks a lot about my characters and what motivates them.  This is partially a reflection of my personality.  Not only do I tend to think about why people do the things they do, I think a lot about what motivates me to do what I do.  I think self awareness is a very good thing, as long as you don't take it too far, which I sometimes tend to do.  I can be my own worst critic, and I think that's reflected in the character of Lysander, who has a tendency to be his own worst enemy.

Writing the novel was very challenging at times because it is difficult to take a character like Lysander, who is initially so unrepentant, but who ends up genuinely wanting to change.  Mira wasn't without her challenges either, as I wanted her to be very strong-willed but, yet, she had to somehow fall in love with someone who, let's face it, isn't very nice in the beginning.  This often made me feel like I was walking a tightrope, but hopefully I pulled it off.

The Eye of the Beholder is available in the Kindle store and can also be borrowed from the Kindle Owner's Lending Library for those of you who are Prime members.  Happy reading and stay tuned--for my next trick I will try tackling women's lit!