Welcome Back.

Okay, I am behind on everything.  There are reasons.  The biggest is that my Dad has not been doing well and it has taken a toll. 

Also, the day job has been just nuts and the book had a deadline, my health has been iffy, and well, it's been crazed and I wasn't up for it.  I plugged along, am getting through it all, but it hasn't been a wonderful time.  Certainly it hasn't been the kind of time you want to write about.  So I haven't.  I will eventually catch up on everything.  But it won't be today.  And I'm not going to push myself too hard.  It'll get done when it gets done.

But know that I appreciate everyone's patience. 

Cie

Holy CRAP it's the Middle of April

Holy CRAP it's the middle of April.  How in the BLEEP did that happen? 
Life has been nuts.  Work has been nuts.  Dad is hanging in there.  I'm hanging in there too. 

But I am behind on everything and not terribly together as far as getting it all done.  I have to.  I know I do.  But I can't seem to do it. 

STRESS is not my friend.

Hang in there everybody.  I'll get my act together sooner or later.

Cie

Update on What's Happening

For those of you who wonder where I've been, my father was ill and in the hospital and I flew off to Illinois to be with the family.  He is now out of the hospital, and doing as well as can be expected, but there are some things that just "can't be fixed."   I love my parents desperately, but they are in their eighties, so there will be things like this trip happening. 

It was a wonderful visit, despite the circumstances, and I am SO glad I went, but it has changed all of my travel plans (as in canceled).  I will no longer be attending RT in two weeks.  I am sorry.  I hope no one is too disappointed.  But there you go.

I must go now.  A friend is picking me up at the hotel to go home and I need to be ready.  But I thought I'd let everyone know.

Best.

Cie

VISITING DIGNITARY -- SHANNON BUTCHER

Okay guys, besides being a terrific author, Shannon is a really good friend of mine.  So be nice.  Comment lots, and buy her books, not just because I said so, but because they are WONDERFUL.

I give to you (but only on loan and for a limited time)  SHANNON BUTCHER:

(INSERT SHOUTS OF JOY)

What releases do you have coming out in 2012?

I just had an eSpecial novella come out in February, titled BOUND BY VENGEANCE. It’s part of the Sentinel Wars world, featuring Liam and Dakota in a hunt for the demons who killed her brother. In March book 6 of the Sentinel Wars, DYING WISH, comes out. This is Jackie and Iain’s story. After that, I have another novella coming out in late summer titled FORGET ME NOT, and the third book in the Edge series, EDGE OF SANITY, coming this fall.

If you had to be “stuck in an elevator” with one of your characters for several hours, who would it be and what would you talk about?

I’m not sure I’d want to be that close to any of my characters. They all have demons, fanatical scientists, and killers after them. Way too much stress. J

 

You write romance (and do it well may I add), why that genre?

I grew up reading fantasy and sci-fi. I didn’t pick up a romance until 1998 (after years of nagging from some of my friends and family). I’d always scoffed at them as those books my mom read. Finally, I gave into the pressure and picked one up. I was totally and utterly hooked. This was what all of those other books I’d read had been missing—that deep connection and the thrill of falling in love. Even if I were to ever branch out beyond straight romance, I don’t think I’d ever be able to do so without that fundamental romantic core.

Do you listen to music as you write? If so, which artists? What is your playlist?

I need music for inspiration, and typically listen to rock and alternative rock. But when I write, I need silence or white noise. Anything else is simply too distracting. 

Does having another writer in the house make the process harder or easier? 

Both. There are times when there is twice the stress or double deadlines in the house. That makes things tough. But on the flip side, we also totally get what each other is going through. There’s no need to explain why I need to spend the next week with my fingers attached to the keyboard to the exclusion of all else. Jim just gets it. And being able to talk shop is nice, too.

The best part is the flexibility we have. If we want to run off on a date in the middle of the day, we can. Assuming there are no looming deadlines. J

The business of writing is changing rapidly. Do you find the change scary? Invigorating? How (if at all) have you changed your career plans/path as a result?

You know, if I worried about this stuff, it would eat me alive with stress. I’ve decided just to worry about that part that’s within my control, so I write the books I want to write as well as I can, as quickly as I can, and let people smarter than me worry about the future of publishing and strategizing.

What is one key bit of advice you would give to a prospective writer?

Write. A lot. Every day. Even if it’s only a few words you get down, your head will stay in book space, and your subconscious will work even while you’re not. Plus, one of the great benefits of writing a lot is that each word you write becomes less precious. One of the keys to writing a great book is cutting out all the crap that isn’t good. If you’ve written 100k words, you’re much more likely to cut out the bad 10k than if you’ve only written a total of 20k, and you’re looking at cutting half. And there’s that whole thing where you actually get better when you write more, and have less to cut. That doesn’t suck. J 

 

AND FOLKS -- THERE IS A GIVEAWAY AVAILABLE TO ONE LUCKY COMMENTER.  NOT JUST A BOOK EITHER (ALTHOUGH THAT'S GREAT ENOUGH.)  WE ALSO HAVE A HAND-MADE PIECE OF JEWELRY MADE WITH SHANNON'S OWN TWO HANDS.  I HAVE SOME OF HER STUFF.  IT'S GORGEOUS.  SOOOOOOO  COMMENT ALREADY!!!

Saturday Morning/BOOK SIGNING TODAY

Reminder -- we have a signing today at the B&N in Round Rock, Texas.  Hope lots and lots of folks show up to keep us company.

AND NOW FOR THE SATURDAY MORNING BREAKFAST SERIAL:
Who in the @#*$& is Boone Carter?


Sara and my mother died in the crash.  I was thrown from the wreckage on the way down.  Knocked me out, broke my leg, but I lived:  lived to testify against Abe, who'd been driving the truck that hit us.  That testimony, combined with the DNA evidence that Sara's baby was his, convinced the judge and jury to send him away for a long, long time.

It didn't bring them back.  Nothing could.  At fourteen years old I was alone, with enemies that wanted me dead.  I stayed with a foster family until I graduated high school at seventeen.  They were nice enough folks.  They took good care of me.  But I didn't love them, and I don't think they were heartbroken when I went out on my own.

After Katrina I went down to New Orleans, started over in a new place with a new name. 

But you carry your past with you wherever you go.  It's part of who you are.  It may not be as immediate as it was.  But it's there. 

And now the enemies of my past where here.

The question was, what was I going to do about it?

VISITING DIGNITARY/SENIOR EDITOR MELISSA SINGER

Ladies and gentlemen, I want to take a minute to do a bit of a special introduction for our Visiting Dignitary this week.  Melissa Singer is our editor, the editor at Tor who has worked with us for several years and gives us the kind of advice that is sometimes hard to hear but ALWAYS makes the book better.  She is a wonderful person, too, and I feel absolutely privileged to work with her.  She even took time from her hectic schedule to stop by and do a blog post.  So please give her an especially warm welcome.  I give you - Melissa Singer.

***

Melissa Ann Singer is a Senior Editor at Tor/Forge Books, where she has worked for more than 25 years. She began her career in publishing at the ripe old age of 19, as an assistant in the science fiction and fantasy department at Berkley Books, and survived at least three corporate mergers before moving to Tor, where she began by editing horror and a series of nonfiction books on parenting—topics which any parent will tell you dovetail nicely. In the years since, Melissa has edited just about every category of genre fiction there is, from sf/f to westerns, from woman-and-child-in-jeopardy to disaster thrillers, from historical novels to police procedurals. She edits Tor’s monthly email newsletter, supervises the graphic fiction publishing program, occasionally acquires fiction for tor.com, and goes to far too many meetings. Melissa is a 3rd-generation native of New York City, where she is currently raising a teenage daughter. In her wild youth she studied stage combat and could periodically be seen slinging steel in Central Park, often while very oddly dressed.

***

I am a lucky, lucky woman.  I grew up with parents who not only understood genre fiction; they were fans.  In my household, Star Trek was fodder for dinnertime conversation (which series? which captain? would you rather be in engineering, science, or command?); as a teenager, when I finished my weekly stack of comic books, I’d pass them to my dad; my mother still reads sf. 

So I grew up surrounded by titans of category fiction (all kinds of categories, not just sf/f).  When I was 19, I started working in publishing, first in sf/f, later in horror, and even in comics, a tiny bit.  Now I edit pretty much any category that appeals to me.  I was in my early 20s when I started meeting some of the writers who had shaped my literary life.  I am eternally grateful for their courtesy and tolerance for what I am sure was a fair amount of fangirl squee. 

Cool as meeting some of my idols was, actually working with them was utterly terrifying.  I mean, how dare I tamper with their words?  What would convince them to take editorial advice from me, snot-nosed child that I was? 

At some convention in the mid-to-late 1980s I walked up to my boss, Tom Doherty, who was chatting with an older man, and Tom introduced me to:

ROBERT BLOCH

ROBERT BLOCH!

ROBERT BLOCH!!  

I almost fell on the floor.  The man was a god.

He was also one of the nicest human beings in the entire world.  (This is true of many horror writers, btw.  Nice, nice people.  All the nasty goes into the writing, I guess.)  He and his wife invited me to their home (!!!) and introduced me to their cats, who were sweethearts too.  Bob and Ellie Bloch were completely, devotedly in love with each other; it was wonderful to see. 

And then we worked together.

I. Edited. Robert. Bloch.

I cannot tell you how terrified I was to send off my first editorial letter to Bob. I just kept thinking, Are you people all insane?  Why are you trusting me with this?

Bob was a gentleman, so even if I had sent him a letter full of twaddle, he would have found a polite way to express his displeasure. Bob had been a working writer for decades longer than I’d been alive.  I think I entertained him with my youthful enthusiasm, and once I stopped treading on eggshells around him, we developed a good relationship.

Bob really enjoyed his work.  Once we had lunch at  convention (probably the first World Horror Convention) and talked shop through most of it, working out plot details for the book he was writing and hashing over the Crippen case, which we were both fascinated with.  We were deep in discussion of various methods of disposing of bodies (quicklime, dismemberment, etc.) when the restaurant’s manager came over. 

Apparently we had terrified our waitress to the point where she refused to serve us!

We gaped at the poor man before bursting out laughing.  I reassured the manager that no actual crimes were being plotted, only fictional ones.  I gave him my business card and introduced Robert, author of Psycho, Bloch.  The manager went off to calm the waitress, who eventually returned, bringing tea and the check.  I tipped her a little extra in an attempt to compensate for the scare we’d given her. 

Bob was not-so-secretly delighted that he’d frightened the woman.  As he often said, he had “the heart of a small boy.”  (“I keep it in a jar on my desk.”)

Scaring people was what he did.  On the page, on the screen, and in real life.  I’m so happy I got to witness some of it.

I’ve been lucky to work with many authors whose writings I’ve enjoyed, but there are only two others for whom I felt similar youthful passions.  One is Kit Reed.  The first thing of hers I remember reading is the short story “Automatic Tiger,” which was published in 1964 but which I suspect I read sometime around 1971, when I had begun devouring my dad’s sf library.  Reed’s feminist and subversive sf changed the way I looked at the world.  I edited three novels of hers, and one of them, Thinner Than Thou, is a powerful and important work that I will always be proud of being associated with.

The other is Chelsea Quinn Yarbro, whose Hotel Transylvania was published in 1978.  I read it that year, shortly before I started working in publishing.  I was 18, just a few years older than the novel’s heroine, and Hotel Transylvania was the major romantic vampire story of my youth.  Quinn and I have now done ten books together and I cannot begin to tell you how much I’ve learned from her.  On every book, I try to think, what will make people feel about this novel what I felt when I first read Hotel Transylvania? 

Editors want to kindle passion in people.  When we get to do that with writers who inspire passion in us, it’s a huge bonus and one that we treasure.  

Saturday Evening Post, BLEECK

Hi Guys. 
It is Saturday, it is Evening, and therefore I post.  But I post quickly because I am not feeling well.  Which sucketh big pond scum covered rocks.

No, it is not serious.  Nothing to worry about.  Just annoying.  VERY annoying.  I have a cold.  I also am having . . . ahem, digestive distress.  Simultaneously.  Which seems mightily unfair to me. 

But in a day or two the cold will be gone.  The distress is already waning.  So I will rest and all will be well. 

EXCEPT that there will be fewer pages produced this weekend than I needed to.

Le sigh.

At least the pages that have been produced thus far are keepers.

Take care.  Be well.  Be happy.

Cie

VISITING DIGNITARY - CATHY L. CLAMP

Yes folks, indeed, in honor of the release of THE ISIS COLLAR we have the other half of the dynamic duo visiting today.  Give a warm welcome to CATHY L. CLAMP!  (WOOOO HOOOO!!!!)

The Making of a Hero

In THE ISIS COLLAR, our heroine Celia Graves continues to struggle with which of her two favorite guys she prefers. Bruno DeLuca is low-key and thoughtful but funny. He’s caring but sometimes thoughtless, while John Creede is flashy but surprisingly private. He’s supportive but sometimes condescending. In other words, two very typical alpha males. They’re both heroic in their own ways, and both can often clash with what Celia needs or wants.

How does an author create a hero? What traits do they need to be BOTH a knight in shining armor while still realistic enough to have conflicts with the heroine. Most alpha males have things in common that make them the modern equivalent of knights. They frequently have a willingness to help others (or at least can be talked into it with money or power.) They’re physically and mentally tough enough to get through a crisis. They’re driven to excel in what they do and have a high opinion of their talents (usually justified.)

But the flip side of those coins are what are often exasperating to a likewise driven female warrior. They have egos. Oh, lord do they have egos! They expect to get their own way (read as: tough and driven), whether or not anyone has other plans. They’re often moody when they’re losing or likely to lose.

So what makes them so darned endearing? At least for Celia, it’s the caring. Her alpha heroes care about doing the right thing. Yes, sometimes they tromp on the flowers on the way to saving the forest, but by hell or high water, the forest will be saved! They’ll give their last dying breath to be sure they attain their goal. And who doesn’t find that loveable?

We recently did a poll at Coffeetime Romance to ask whether Celia should wind up with Bruno or Creede. So far, Creede is in the lead. But Bruno is the shining star of THE ISIS COLLAR, so will the polls change once everyone has had a chance to read it? Only you can be the judge! Here’s an exclusive excerpt of a kiss from each of the guys. Which one rung Celia’s chime more? Let us know and you’ll be in a drawing to WIN an autographed copy of THE ISIS COLLAR!

First is Creede (because I created Creede so he’s my fav to win!)

********************

Creede knelt in front of me, his hands still on my shoulders. His gaze locked with mine and the compassion in his eyes made me believe the words he spoke next. “I don’t know. But I’m going to find out. I promise.” His fingers squeezed just a bit. “All right?”

A promise from him could be put in the bank. “Okay. Thanks. What should I do until then?”

The corner of his mouth turned up a fraction and his hands moved until they were on either side of my face. “Quit trying to be superwoman. Ask for help when you’re hurt. Remember that if you’re hurt, it’s serious.”

It sounded so logical when he said it. But . . . “That’s not so easy for me.”

The quirk of a smile became an amused flash of teeth. “Tell me about it.”  Without any warning, he leaned forward and eased his lips against mine. I found myself being pulled into the kiss before I realized what was happening. His hand slid around my head, fingers twining in my hair and my eyes closed automatically. I leaned into him before I realized I was doing it. My breath froze in my lungs and I couldn’t seem to think past the dual sensations of magic and gentle pressure as he slowly moved his soft, full lips against mine. Warm breath on my cheek, magic sweet as candy and the caress of his tongue made my knees weak and my stomach do flip-flops. His hand, lightly stroking my hair, sent electric shocks to my scalp. It was a good thing I was sitting down. My heart began pounding hard and my fingers buried themselves in the fabric of the armrests to keep from wrapping around him and pulling him into my lap. I wanted to . . . a lot. The strength of the desire terrified me.

The kiss was probably over in seconds, though it felt like it lasted a week. He drew back slowly and I wound up suspended, eyes closed, enjoying the remaining pull of the magic that tugged at my stomach. A quick, nearly chaste kiss in the back of a store shouldn’t really be that big a deal.

Right.

**********************

And now it’s Bruno’s turn (Bruno is Cie’s favorite, so he always gets equal time!):

**********************

Bruno arrived first and wrapped me in a hug when I opened the door that left me warm but breathless. Then the kiss he bestowed turned what was left of my muscles into jello. “How you doin’?”

I let out a slow sigh and allowed myself to rest against his muscled chest. “Better. The feds used some magic on me. Apparently, my vampire healing doesn’t work on burns. I could still use a little more rest. You?”

He nodded and lowered his mouth to mine once more. I could feel his warm breath on my face as his mouth ate at mine gently. God, those lips. I’d missed them. He smoothed his hands down my back, knowing just where to touch to make me moan. I pulled away after a few moments, shaky but pleased. “Mmm. Much better now. Actually, I’m headed back to New Jersey. Just stopped by on the way to the airport.”

*********************

Which of Celia’s guys do you like better, and why? We really want to know!

Oh, and if you’re intrigued (and you know you are) go out and buy THE ISIS COLLAR by Cat Adams right away! And if you’ve never heard of Celia Graves’ earlier adventures in BLOOD SONG, SIREN SONG and DEMON SONG, they’re on sale until the release of ISIS! It’s a really good sale, too: only $2.99 for a Kindle download. Heck, that’s three for the price of one! And if you’re a print fanatic, they’re also on sale at Amazon on a 4-for-3 special. But lots of other retailers have them on sale too, so go to our publisher’s website (http://us.macmillan.com/theisiscollar/CatAdams) , scroll all the way to the bottom and choose your favorite store.

Edits going well, closing in on the end./Breakfast Serial

Edits are going well.  I'm closing in on the end.  YAHOO.  Not there yet, but progress is being made.  So is research.  LOL.

Okay, I'm doing a short serial this week so I can get back to my edits. 

**************************

Who in the @#$&* is Boone Carter
(Who is, alas, still in flashback mode.  Were this a book I'd be checking to see if it was too long and needed editing.  Good information, but need to get back to the main plot.)

Even seeing the headlights, knowing it was probably them, the first impact was a hell of a shock.  My mother swore, fighting for control of the truck, Sara roused enough to scream.  They hit us again right before the next curve.  The truck swerved.  Metal screamed as we scraped against the guard rail.  The truck bucked and wove.  Mom might have recovered control if they hadn't chose that precise moment to hit us again.

There was a horrible, sickening moment when the guardrail gave, and we were airborne.

*************

PLEASE COMMENT.

Hanging in there.

Sometimes I just get tired.  Part of it is physical.  Part of it is mental and emotional.

I'm VERY glad it is Friday.  I truly hope to get some rest this weekend.  It doesn't look like I should.  But I think I may do it anyway.

Toodles.

Cie

DOUBLE FEATURE VISITING DIGNITARIES

Okay guys, life occasionally (oh, who am I kidding, FREQUENTLY) gets away from me.  I've been working really hard on scheduling the Visiting Dignitaries.  Lots of e-mails, lots of talks with old friends and new ones.  Pull out the calendar and write down the dates.  Fun, not to hard.

And then (cue danger music)

The dog (who spends most of her time in the office) decided to chase the cat across the desk and corner him.  They were just playing.  The animals are fine.  My calendar -- not so much.  February and March don't exist.  I have a ten month calendar--starting in April. 

Which is how I ended up with two people scheduled for today, Leap Day.  So I'm calling it a Leap Day Bonus.  You are going along with me on this.  Right?  I said RIGHT?

So, for our first guest I am proud and pleased to introduce the lovely, talented (and possibly shizoid--just kidding folks, but she does have work with a number of pen names).  JADE LEE.  (Cue the applause).

Our second lovely guest is a friend from the convention circuit and a wonderful author of short fiction.  She is also the voice of a redhead, from the apocalypse.  Give a HUGE WARM WELCOME folks to RHONDA EUDALY!

Riff This... By Jade Lee

Ever get up and try to be funny? Really clever, cute, and funny? Lots of people do because they’re naturally delightful. My brother-in-law for one. He’s hysterical which is good because he’s in advertising. For me to be clever and funny/delightful, I need (a) coffee and (b) someone to play off of. Another person who can sparkle back at me. And I need rhythm. Dialogue rhythm, setting rhythm, alcohol rhythm.

Which is why–in my split personality–I am funny as Kathy Lyons for my Harlequin Blazes. They’re short, sweet, contemporary, and I can set up a situation and just riff. Those are my funny books, written mostly in the afternoon, and with a large sense of the ridiculous. My historicals as Jade Lee are dark, sensuous character stories of people struggling in a difficult time. Jade is SEXY (and yes, I managed to find a way to be sexy first thing in the morning. Well...after my latte). But when my editor asked me to bring my Kathy Lyons humor to the regency for the new series, I thought she was...well, joking. Jade Lee was serious. She wasn’t...oh right. She’s not really a person. She’s ME and I can be funny. Or so I promised my editor.

It took me a LONG time to get the right note. A long, struggling time of bad jokes, worse puns, and really nothing at all delightful except for when I hit the delete key. Apparently, I sucked at HISTORICAL funny. And then I remembered something really key. I remembered all those regency romances from when I was a kid. The ones that were sweet and funny and could still manage sexy. It’s what brought me to the time period in the first place. So I embarked on a remember-why-you-love-the-regency campaign. I found it. In lots of places. And, I have to admit, in writing a lot of bad words until I found the right ones.

I’m happy to say that I think I succeeded. Publishers Weekly said I had charming verbal fencing, clever retorts, and an entertaining read. WOO HOO! But that’s not what really counts. What counts is what YOU think is funny. So click on this link [http://jadeleeauthor.com/books/bridal-favors-series/wedded-in-scandal/wedded-in-scandal-excerpt] and you’ll get one of my most favorite scenes in the book. Someone who comments on this excerpt will get a free copy of Wedded in Scandal! And for those of you who feel left out, click on this link [http://jadeleeauthor.com/engaged-in-wickedness-free ] and you’ll get a free e-copy of the prequel novella Engaged in Wickedness.

So....you tell me. Did I succeed in being funny? Or do I need to get some more alcohol and try again? PS. You can also tell me what books you run to get your love of the regency back!

AND NOW  --- RHONDA!

I want to thank you for having my as a Visiting Dignitary. Though, seeing some of the other dignitaries here, I have to admit I don't feel very "Dignified". I will do my best to entertain you - or at least sound coherent.

For those who don't know me, I'm Rhonda Eudaly. I've done a lot of short fiction work both in print and online. I'm moving into longer work. I'm best known for my collaborative work, The Four Redheads of the Apocalypse with Yard Dog Press. I write the character, Zoe - who is Death. What most people don't realize is that I do write more than humor fantasy. I have a wide range of stories, including one really dark Science Fiction piece which was part of a Bram Stoker nominated anthology in 2006 put out by Apex Book Company.

Now that you know a little bit about WHO I am, let's talk about more about what and how I do what I do. All writers get the "how do you get your ideas" questions. But I've also been asked "HOW do you become a writer?" almost as much. The really simplistic answer is: apply behind to chair, write a story, finish the story, and submit the story -- even though there is so much more to it these days. A writer isn't a JUST a writer any more.

I've spoken and written about the "American Idol Effect" (or if you're "of a certain age", the "MTV Effect") for writers where NOW it's not enough to write a brilliant story writers are now required to market, promote, have an active online presence and even (sometimes literally) sing and dance - and that's if you're traditionally published. If you choose self-publishing you have all that PLUS editing, proofreading, and actually PUBLISHING added on.

It can be a tedious and daunting task to figure out the time management aspects of what constitutes a writing career. But we have an outlet. We have CONVENTIONS. This is a marketing/promoting outlet that lets writers get out among their fellow writers, editors, and readers. Even as we sit on panels talking about various aspects of writing, we are recharged creatively by being among people who think we are the universe's MOST SPECIAL OF SNOWFLAKES. And that can be exhilarating (and a bit embarrassing if YOU are trying to be a fan and have a book signed, and you're pulled out of said line to sign one of YOUR books for someone else - but embarrassing in a cool way).

However, Special Snowflake Syndrome (as fun as it is) has a shelf life of 3-5 days (depending on the length of the convention). It's like Cinderella's dress and coach - it expires when you pull back into the driveway of your home. We all want to still be that Special Snowflake even after the convention - but it's hard to hold on to that when sorting laundry and putting unsold books back on a shelf.

And that's the reality of writing. Depending on how many conventions or If you're on major signing tours - a writer like me spends at the most 10% of the year in the Special Snowflake Zone. The other 90% of the time is dealing with the "chore" part of this industry - writing, typing, market research, editing, and market research. We are feeding families, housecleaning, and paying bills -- just like everyone else and it's a hard thing (sometimes) to readjust to - because we all want to hold on to the Special Snowflake feeling.

So if you think you're not getting anywhere in your writing, keep at it. Keep plugging along in that 90% or so range, because for what it's worth? Those times when you're in the Special Snowflake Zone? It really does help motivate you (well, me) to keep moving forward. To keep producing new material to keep the buzz going with the loyal fans and to bring in new ones. It makes it all worth it.

Saturday Evening Post AND Sunday Morning Breakfast Serial

That's right folks, "Two great tastes that taste great together."  No, wait, that's a Reeses.  But still.

Yesterday I was working on edits.  Hard.  When I got stuck I would do housework or attack the weeds in the back yard with the scythe.  Nothing like a little physical labor to clear the head.

I made excellent progress, but I was at it until bedtime so, no post.

Now it is Sunday morning and since I skipped the serial last week, I really feel like I should do it too.  I mean, I left my poor guy in the middle of a flashback/escape with the girl of his dreams.  How sad is that.  SO, since it's been two weeks I'm going to post the last couple of sentences of the last post to remind you where you left off and go from there. 

Oh, and YES I am behind on sending prizes AGAIN.  I just get caught up and then you guys go and win things.  JEEZ.  (LOL)  But I will get it done.  Probably next weekend. 

Now, without further ado, I give you. . . . (drum roll)

Who in the @#$@# is Boone Carter?


"Bitch." Abraham's wife had a bright red handprint on one side of her face and blood at the corner of her mouth. "You'll pay for that." She stomped out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her. Even from where I stood I could hear the bolt shoot home.

My mother wasted no time. She scrambled over to the window, unlocked it and pulled it open. "Come, quickly. We don't have much time."

I climbed in seconds before she went out.  "Wrap her up in the blankets and bring her out through the window.  I'll get a car."

That wasn't going to be as easy as it sounded.  This was a 'closed compound.'  Abe didn't want any of the followers just wandering off.  But I didn't question her.  There was no time.  Another contraction had hit Sara.  She was screaming, and there was more blood. 

I ran to the bed.  It took a minute or so for the contraction to pass, when it did, and she opened her eyes she saw me there.

"Sam."  She whispered, giving me a weak smile that tore at my heart.

"I'm here.  I'm here."  I pulled the sheets and blankets off of the edge of the bed, wrapping them all around her.  "Hang on.  We're getting you to the hospital."

"I'm glad you're here." 

I bent to pick her up.  She wasn't heavy, more awkward than anything else.  She tried to help, reaching up to put her arms around my neck, but she there was no strength in them.  She was so weak.

Getting through the window with  her was difficult, but I managed.  Just in time too.  My mom came peeling up in a battered old truck that had belonged to my dad before he died and she joined up.  She flung open the door and I dashed up as lights came on and shouts were heard.

"COME ON!"  My mom ordered.  I didn't argue.  I set Sara on the seat as gently and quickly as I could and climbed in.  We were moving before I could even shut the door, sending the guards scrambling and diving for cover when it was clear we weren't stopping for anything. 

We blasted through the gate, and were down the drive and onto the highway.  Looking over my shoulder I saw men running for the garage and the other vehicles.

Mom drove as fast as she dared.  We needed to get a lead on our pursuers, and get to the hospital soonest, but the narrow, twisting roads, with their sharp drops guarded only my thin metal rails required care and moderation.  I held Sara close, her moans of pain tearing at my heart and prayed that we'd make it as I looked over my shoulder again and again.

We were less than halfway down when I saw what I'd been dreading.

Headlights.

VISITING DIGNITARY - Keith R. A. DeCandido

GUYS I WANT A REALLY WARM WELCOME for a very interesting author.  He's clever, he's charming, he's eminently readable.  (Well, his work is.  You get the point.  I'm not sure if he is actually.  Keith, do you have any tattoos?  MANY tattoos?  Inquiring minds want to know.  Of course, if not, we could just go for palm reading.)  ANYWAY, without further digression or ado, I present:

KEITH R.A. DeCANDIDO

(APPLAUSE AND CHEERS FROM THE GALLERY)

OH and guys.  Prizes to random commenters.  Be sure to leave your e-mails.  :)

FANTASTICAL COPS

by Keith R.A. DeCandido

I've always been a huge fan of police procedurals. I think it can be blamed on watching Hill Street Blues at an impressionable young age (I was 12 when the show debuted). Probably my favorite nonfiction book of all time is David Simon's Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets, the book that served as the direct basis of the NBC series Homicide: Life on the Streets, and the indirect inspiration for Simon's HBO TV series The Wire.

What fascinates me are the elements you often don't see on most cop shows (though you did see them on HSB, Homicide, and The Wire, as well as such shows as DaVinci's Inquest and The Shield), to wit, the politics, the difficulties, the frustrations. What I like are stories about cops who aren't (necessarily) noble paragons of order and justice who view the job as a calling (the Dragnet model), nor do I like stories where the crimefighting tools are all available, reliable, and instant (the CSI model). I prefer it when the good guys don't always win, when the cases are messy and difficult, and when the lab results aren't always fast or accurate or definitive. And I prefer it when the cops have to deal with the day-to-day realities of budgetary and political expediency instead of magically having everything they need.

Plus, of course, you have the interrogations. There are few things more fun to read than interrogations, a cop and a suspect doing a verbal fencing match as the former tries to get the latter to talk through deceit and manipulation and cleverness. Simon put it best in his Homicide book: the interrogating detective is "a salesman, a huckster as thieving and silver-tongued as any man who ever moved used cars or aluminum siding—more so, in fact, when you consider that he's selling long prison terms to customers who have no genuine need for the product."

I've always wanted to write procedurals, which fall under the mystery rubric, but I'm at heart a science fiction/fantasy writer. Luckily, the two genres mix quite well—SF/F is a genre of setting, where mystery is a genre of plot.

My very first novel, Spider-Man: Venom's Wrath in 1998 (written with José R. Nieto), had Spider-Man working with NYPD detectives on a case—and I wrote another Spidey novel (solo this time) in 2005, Down These Mean Streets, that also showed the hero collaborating with New York's Finest. I did other tie-ins that brought cops into the storyline (Supernatural: Nevermore, Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Blackout), and I always tried to follow the example provided by Hill Street and by Simon's amazing book.

(I also wrote a CSI: NY book, Four Walls, which proved an interesting challenge, as that franchise exists in a world where DNA tests happen instantaneously and lab techs carry guns and solve cases. I did, however, have fun giving one murder scene the trace evidence of a black cotton/polyester blend fiber. As anyone who lives in New York knows, that does nothing to narrow the suspect pool, since everyone 'round here wears black...)

It was so much fun to insert cops into Marvel's New York, or amidst the Winchester Brothers' monster-hunting, or the demon-infested world of Vampire Slayers, that I needed to do it some more.

Hence, my two original series.

Dragon Precinct (2004, reissued in 2011) and its sequels, Unicorn Precinct (2011) and the spring 2012 release Goblin Precinct, puts cops in a very traditional fantasy setting, one that wouldn't be out of place in Tolkien or your average Dungeons & Dragons game. The port city of Cliff's End is a crossroads of humans, elves, dwarves, gnomes, and halflings, and the Castle Guard is tasked with maintaining law and order—including a squad of detectives who solve the bigger crimes in the city-state. There's an M.E. who inspects the crime scene—a magical examiner on loan from the Brotherhood of Wizards—and interference from politicians who are more concerned with expediency than crime-solving.

The crimes themselves are, of course, fantastical variants on what we come to expect from our mysteries: a serial rapist who uses a store-bought spell to turn himself invisible; a succubus whose disguise as a human interferes with the M.E.'s "peel-back" spell; a magickal drug that causes people to overdose; bank robbers who use glamours to disguise themselves; and so on.

The other series is called SCPD—the first book, The Case of the Claw, is now out digitally, with the trade paperback edition due shortly, and the second, Avenging Amethyst, is in the works. It's about the adventures of the Super City Police Department. Like Metropolis or Gotham City, Super City is a fictional environment that is full to bursting with superheroes: the Superior Six, the Terrific Trio, the Bruiser, the Cowboy, Spectacular Man, and more.

But this isn't their story. It's the story of how the cops deal with the property damage, the insufficient evidence, the nightmare of solving the "murder" of the Clone Master who has multiple versions of himself, and, of course, heroes who don't testify in court, lest they risk their secret identities. The Cowboy stops a purse snatcher and ties him to a lamppost, but by the time the cops arrive the Cowboy and the victim are long gone, and the suspect must be kicked for lack of evidence. The Bolt is arrested on a DUI with no ID; when he sobers up, he blows a hole in the holding-cell wall. When the Superior Six battle the Brute Squad, one of the latter misplaces a ray-gun that is found by an abused woman who uses it on her husband when next he beats her.

The best part of all of these? Writing the interrogations. Whether it's Lieutenants Danthres Tresyllione and Torin ban Wyvald getting Bogg the Barbarian to admit to who he and his friends were after in Dragon Precinct, or Detectives Peter MacAvoy and Kristin Milewski talking to a bunch of high school kids who may or may not have witnessed a murder in The Case of the Claw, the give-and-take of the interview process is some of the most compelling stuff to write—and, I hope, to read.

(To purchase SCPD: The Case of the Claw, Dragon Precinct, or Unicorn Precinct, go to www.DeCandido.net, where there are purchasing links for Amazon, B&N, Smashwords, and directly from the publisher—Crossroad Press for SCPD, Dark Quest Books for the Precinct books.)

Keith R.A. DeCandido is the author of 45 novels, as well as a mess of short stories, comic books, novellas, and more. In 2009, the International Association of Media Tie-in Writers granted him a Lifetime Achievement Award for his body of licensed work in multiple media universes. His other recent work besides the procedurals mentioned above include Dungeons & Dragons: Dark Sun: Under the Crimson Sun, Guilt in Innocence: A Tale of the Scattered Earth, the post-"Peacekeeper Wars" Farscape graphic novels, -30- (with Steven Savile), and stories in the anthologies VWars (edited by Jonathan Maberry), Dragon's Lure, Tales from the House Band, Liar Liar, and Bad-Ass Faeries 4: It's Elemental. Friend him on Facebook (facebook.com/kradec), follow him on Twitter (@KRADeC), read his blog (kradical.livejournal.com), and listen to his twice-monthly podcast Dead Kitchen Radio (deadkitchenradio.mevio.com).

Working Hard on Edits

Working hard.  Think it's going well.  :)

But it means I'm not going to be doing much online for a bit.  I'll try to post the serial tomorrow.  But if not, forgive me.

EDITS HAVE ARRIVED

Okay folks, edits have arrived.  This will probably mess a bit with the schedule as I put my nose to the grindstone and WORK.  I'm excited though.  Good things are about to happen writing-wise.  I just know it!

Be good while I'm gone.

Cie

A Meandering post . . .

Today typing in the address I put ciesBOG.  It kind of suits.  I'm feeling very bogged down lately.  I'm trying to get my head together, gather some momentum, really kick ass, but it's kind of hard to kick at all when you're knee deep in mud.  I have too many things going on in my mind, and too many of them are negative.  I need to look on the bright side.  Which I'm going to do here.

For example, HEY, I WRITE BOOKS.  THEY GET PUBLISHED.  HOW COOL IS THAT?

My teeth don't hurt any more.  I can't tell you how WONDERFUL that is.  Really.  The pain was hideous, and now it isn't.  That SOOOOOOOO rocks my world.

My health is basically pretty good.  Oh, there's the ongoing chronic stuff, but it's pretty minor really.  Considering how bad I was a decade ago, I never EVER would have imagined that I'd be able to do what I do easily today.

I'm employed.  My son is employed.  He's healthy and basically happy.

I have people and pets who love me and who I love.

I never have to go hungry.  (I probably SHOULD considering my weight, but we're looking for positives here, LOL).

And speaking of employed, it's time for the day job.  Gotta run.  Be well, be happy.

Cie

VISITING DIGNITARY -- RACHEL CAINE

GUYS, I WANT YOU TO WELCOME NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR RACHEL CAINE, a wonderful author and dear friend, whose Revivalist, Weather Warden books and Morganville Vampire Series are great MUST read books.    SHE SO ROCKS.  Trust me on this.

(APPLAUSE)
*******************************************

THE GAME OF CONCENTRATION

Two weeks ago, I was happily immersed in deadlines. I know that sounds contradictory, right? Deadlines are HELL, ask any working writer ... they eat our time and warp our lives around them like black holes. You can almost hear us complaining as we disappear over the event horizon: DAMN YOUUUUUUU DEEEEEAAAAADDDDLLLLLLLIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNN ... but we never get to the last "E" because of the time distortion.

Anyway.

Happily immersed in deadlines. I finished edits on the second Revivalist novel, TWO WEEKS' NOTICE; I also did proof check on BLACK DAWN, the 12th Morganville Vampires novel coming out in May 2012. And then on February 1, I popped my head up out of my little foxhole, thinking I would take a short breather before diving into the next book, due Very Soon Indeed. I was looking forward to some rest and relaxation.

And the pile-on began.

Like, home repair. Some of you may remember my Great Squirrel Invasion of Ought Six, where squirrels chewed through my giant-sized, multi-level roof and set up their own playgrounds, parks, and condominiums, and were evicted only with great effort. Well, this turns out to be Invasion 2: Bigger and Better! Because this time, they brought their friends: Birds. Rats. Raccoons. Oh, and sappers, because we had possums and armadillos digging under our foundation, too.

This is what happens when you have four or five books a year, plus travel: you really don't do those property walk-arounds like you should to make sure everything's cool with the trim and roof and foundation. Nah, you say to yourself, it's fine, and I have another deadline, so it'll wait.

Indeed. UNTIL IT DOESN'T. Which is now, for me. As I write this, there is yelling, hammering, singing, loud music, sawing, and a very nice repairman looking in my window and waving as he replaces rotted soffit under the eaves of my house.

And yes, I've been writing while this is going on. It will go on another full week, after which we will have another set of contractors coming to fix even more issues. Deadlines don't stop coming for these things.

I laugh a little bit when I hear would-be writers say they can't write unless conditions are completely right, because this is how life is, at least for most writers I know ... a continuous parade of distractions that attempt to keep them from doing the work. We're especially vulnerable to it because we're working "at home" generally -- a condition that leads to family interruptions, soliciting phone calls, deliveries, friends dropping in, and a thousand other reasons not to write. It's dead easy to find a convenient distraction ... my construction example is extreme, but the fact is that you can make your own distractions even if none exist. Tile to be grouted. Something you just HAVE to watch on TV. Etc.

But as a writer, the job is to somehow ignore your way through all of that and come out the other side, with words. Good words. 

Excuse me for a sec ...

Back now. My construction guy rapped on the window and asked me if I was a writer or something. I said I was. He wanted to chat about how he'd always wanted to be a writer but never found the time. I told him you never find the time, because time isn't just laying around ... you cut the time out of your schedule, every day. Then I apologized, put my headphones on, and sat back down to finish this blog.

Concentration, see?

I haven't done really well on my concentration these two weeks. My immediate family had, in no particular order, construction, a fire, a flooded apartment, doctor appointments, hair appointments, hospital visits, surgery consultations, surgery, refinancing of the house, another surgery, dental appointments, meetings with producers, and a reptile show. 

And a near miss with death.

On Friday a few days ago I was heading home after a day of running errands, sitting at a major stoplight, when a giant crane truck bulled through the intersection at right angles to me, crane raised, and took out light poles, traffic lights, and about a ton of high-voltage wires. Transformers exploded like bombs. In the chaos, something hit my car, and at first I thought it was the light pole ... but no, it was LIVE HIGH VOLTAGE WIRES, draped over the roof and across the driver's side and passenger doors. 

And my very first thoughts were, (a) wow, I can use this in a book! then (b) dammit, if I die now, I'll never get to finish writing BITTER BLOOD. Okay, my third thought was (c) how do I get out of here? ... but it was definitely third in line.

After 20 minutes on the phone with 911 (I suspect they thought I try to grab a live wire), the Arlington Fire Department pushed the cables off my car, and I was finally able to escape my brush with doom. While sitting there, I saw one of the most interesting, yet appalling, demonstrations of concentration I've ever seen ... a BMX bike rider raced down the street and effortlessly jumped through the obstacle course of all of the hissing, sparking downed wires. Never even slowed down.

Now THAT'S concentration. I think it was a great visual example of what we all have to do as writers: avoid those potentially lethal distractions that could ground us.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to concentrate. Noise-cancelling headphones full power!

-- Rachel Caine

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!!

Happy Valentine's Day folks.  This is one of those holidays people either love or hate.  I do not have a Valentine this year, so I am looking forward to chocolates being on sale tomorrow rather more.  LOL.

HOWEVER, in honor of the holiday (and in hopes that your love life is moving along more swimmingly than my own) we are having something special going on at the forums.  (Forums?  You have FORUMS?  When did this happen?!!!) (Yes, we have forums.  Go forth and foray.  There will be a link at the bottom of this post.)

There are two surveys up and one winner will be chosen from the replies to each.  Prize is an autographed book and a RomCom DVD.

#1 - Who should Celia end up with?

#2 - Who is your favorite Sazi of all time?

Again, foray into the forums forthwith!

http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/board/forumdisplay.php?f=1054

VALENTINE'S DAY SPECIAL TOMORROW

Tomorrow, in honor of Valentine's Day we'll be doing some fun stuff at the forums.  ("Forums?  You have forums?" Why YES we do.  And in the morning I will post a link and further information.  STAY TUNED!

Cie

Sunday Morning Breakfast Serial - Who in the @#$*& is Boone Carter?

Who in the @#$^ is Boone Carter?
Chapter Whatever


It took a few phone calls to find them.  They were registered at the Hyatt.  No surprise.  Jacob (and I had a sinking feeling it really was Jacob) likes to go in style.  He justifies it by saying that a cheap hotel is the fastest way to scare of a high dollar mark.  And yes, he does call them marks.  Just not to their face, of course.

My stomach was roiling as I picked up my keys and headed down to the truck.  I needed to go see for myself. . . needed to be sure.  But I didn't want to. 

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

The word kept running through my mind like an obscene mantra.  My past, the past I'd run so far and fast from, looked to finally have caught up with me. 

I shook myself.  "Stop it Carter.  Stop now.  You're not a fifteen year old kid any more.  You're a man.  If it's Jacob, you'll deal with it, and him."  It was true.  I'd grown up in the years since I'd left, and not just physically.  Still, I couldn't help but remember that last night.

It had been cold.  Damned cold.  Cold enough that the hairs in your nose froze when you took a breath.  I was supposed to be in bed, but I couldn't sleep.  Sara, the love of my life, was in labor.  Not my baby.  Nope.  I wasn't old enough to be given a wife, and she was too pretty for them to leave her alone until I was.   Never mind that it was what we both wanted.  It was irrelevant.  The only people whose wants were important were Abe and his oldest son, Jacob.  So she was the youngest wife of Abraham himself.   It was supposed to be a big f'ing honor.  I know she wasn't honored, and I had spent the last year avoiding my 'spiritual leader' so that I didn't do or say something that would earn me an even worse beating than the last one.

A scream tore through the night, and through my soul.  Yeah, women in labor scream.  It happens.  But this . . . this was Sara, and it was wrong, worse somehow.  Casting a furtive glance to make sure none of the men on guard could see me I crept up to the window.  Using my sleeve I wiped a clear spot on the part of the glass that wasn't iced over. 

Sara was on the bed, her eyes closed.  There was blood.  So much blood.  Something was wrong.  I heard my mother whispering urgently to Jacob's mother, Miriam.  "She needs a hospital.  We're going to lose them both."

"You know better than that.  She's underage.  No hospital."

"Talk to him.  You have to at least try.  She'll die."

Miriam shook her head, her lips compressed tightly.  Looking at her I saw . . . something in her expression.  Grim satisfaction.  Sara was lovely, and young, and had been a favorite of Abraham.  The older woman might not kill her outright, but she'd be glad to see her dead, glad not to have to share her husband with a smart-mouthed slip of a girl.

My mother saw it too.  Her eyes blazed in anger.  Fast as a snake her hand shot up.  She slapped Miriam hard enough to send her stumbling into the wall. 

"Bitch."  Abraham's wife had a bright red handprint on one side of her face and blood at the corner of her mouth.  "You'll pay for that."  She stomped out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.  Even from where I stood I could hear the bolt shoot home.

My mother wasted no time.  She scrambled over to the window, unlocked it and pulled it open.  "Come, quickly.  We don't have much time."