Night Legions Available for Pre-Order

I’m very proud to say that the fourth book in the fast paced, action-packed, superhero series, Children of Nostradamus is now available for pre-order. I need to give a shout out to the awesome folks in my Superhero Street Team. Special recognition to my beta readers, Ken and Sonja who are enduring a first draft. Lastly, a happy early birthday to one of my fans, Meenaz. I promised her the book would be available on her birthday (at least I got the pre-order, right?)

The darkness wears many faces.

Seeking absolution, Conthan discovers the Church of Nostradamus may be more than a cult of Child worshipping radicals. As tensions reach a fevered pitch, the Nighthawks find their fate intertwined with a renegade hacker determined to expose the president. Will their alliance be enough to stop a tyrant incapable of dying?

In Chicago, Jasmine smuggles hunted Children across the border. But when the Canadian Prime Minister reveals himself to be a mentalist, the president moves forces to the Windy City to begin an assault on the north. Can Jasmine outrun her past or will she find that redemption is nothing more than an illusion?

In the battle for Chicago there will be no victor.

Night Legions Available for Pre-Order from Major eBook Retailers.
Releases 08/01/18
Amazon | iTunes | Nook | Kobo

 

Morning Sun (Prequel)
Nighthawks
Night Shadows
Night Legions

15 Random Facts: Welcome to the Weird

I don’t know why this has been stuck in my head all day. But I’ve been dwelling on random little tidbits about myself that others would find quirky or odd. What I discovered, I do some seriously weird shit. I’m sure I’ll have to revisit this list or continue expanding it, but for now, here are 15 little known random facts about me.

  1. For five years in college I listened to the same song, Are You Out There? by Dar Williams, every night going to sleep. My boyfriend at the time did not appreciate this.
  2. I wear a six fifteen 4E shoe. 16 if it’s a 2E.
  3. Run Lola Run is my favorite movie of all time, original German only.
  4. I spent three years reading every X-Men related comic. I haven’t read once since 2015.
  5. I use Miracle Whip & Mayonnaise equally.
  6. I was a creative writing major at my first college. A single professor made me hate it so much I wouldn’t write creatively again for seven years.
  7. I only honor my Scottish heritage despite being equal parts English, Irish and Scottish.
  8. I am both a youngest and only child. My brother Jason passed when I was three weeks old.
  9. I was raised by women while my father was overseas with the military. At one point I lived with my mother, Susan, grandmother, MiMi, and Great-grandmother, Mam.
  10. I have worked at BJ’s, Borders, a credit card company, an herbal viagra company, a tattoo parlor, and a gay travel agency.
  11. The first “story” I wrote in 1987 was on my father’s military laptop which came in a very large briefcase.
  12. I suffer from clinical insomnia and have since I was a teenager.
  13. I once wanted to be a crime scene photographer and have never been bothered by the sight of death.
  14. The tattoo on my leg reads, “Believe in me ’cause I don’t believe in anything, and I wanna be someone who believes.” Mr. Jones and Round Here by the Counting Crows are my favorite songs.
  15. I’ve probably seen Bring it On more than any other movie. I have a love for kickass cheerleaders.

Death by Papercut

I finished writing Night Legions last night. The victory is significant, but it’s overshadowed by feeling I had not anticipated. In the pit of my stomach I have an uncanny sense of sadness. I can’t quite explain it, not with words. But much like the last night before vacation ends or the last bite of your favorite cake, delight is mixed with heartache.

More so than ever before when writing a novel, I am in mourning.

For four books I have grown to love my characters.  They are bits of my soul on a page helping me dissect my emotions and unravel the inner workings of who I am. Last night, one of the characters, a cast member who had been with me since the beginning didn’t survive the finale. I can’t discuss the particulars for fear of giving away the plot, but I allowed character’s unresolved issues to be sorted out. For the first time since I started writing, I debated on correcting the scene and allowing them to live.

It’s twenty-four hours since this horrific scene played out. I miss them. For three years they’ve been a part of my life with almost daily encounters. I’ve watched them grow and they’ve survived my bumbling prose, editors, and even readers. Together we’ve survived the cruelest critics. I sat down tonight to start another chapter and I realized this character no longer had a place on the page. They’d be remembered or perhaps see the page through a flash back, but their journey had come to an end.

Not to get weirdly metaphysical about it, but this year death has been on the forefront of my mind. I’ve withstood two suicides and the death of once close and personal friend. I have never “dealt” with death. I won’t get into expressing my personal beliefs, but being able to detach and view the situation from a scientific standpoint has always helped. Now, here I am with my innards tied in knots over a fictitious character. I ponder if all creators feel this way? Does an artist mourn the selling of their work? After years working on a painting, I imagine there’d be an emotional bond. The pattern of preparing to paint, the act itself, and even the security that develops from the repetition vanishing over night.

Would the artist mourn?

There will be new characters. There may even be characters that are derived from this one. However, for several years now, I found I’ve had the ability to interact with this figment of my imagination as if it were real. Tonight, I go to bed thinking of them. I’ve had the opportunity to watch them grow from innocent to courageous and I enjoyed every step of the way. May readers discover the amazing talents they brought to my novel.

Tonight, I mourn. Tomorrow I create.


The Tribe: Faces Along the Journey

I’ve been publishing for almost five years now, and when I cycle through the photos on my computer, it’s amazing the people I’ve met while doing this writing thing. And while I tend to act like a hermit and write from the comfort of my local coffee shop, every person I’ve met along the way has had significant impact on my career. Most of these connections have humorous beginnings in which I wonder how the hell they put up with me?

From the, “Hey, I write zombie books too,” to, “You’re the fiercest woman I’ve ever met,” to “Let me sign your husband’s chest,” I tend to make an impression, thankfully writers are okay with the awkward or I’d have been dead in the water. Years later I see these folks more often than not and we run in such tight circles you can only go a month before you’re tabling next to them, meeting in their house, or in the rare circumstance, attending their wedding.

I transitioned from overseeing the Metrowest chapter of NaNoWriMo to overseeing an Science Fiction and Fantasy organization spanning all of New England. Fourteen writing projects later I’ve met some seriously weird and creative people. From the woman hiding at a convention behind a vendor table trying to avoid the crowd to a magical baker turned writer of witches, they’re not a dull point.

I guess what I’m saying in long-winded terms, the old adage is true. It does indeed take a village. In a career requiring an extreme amount of isolation, it’s the moments you poke your head out of your cave to interact with other that magic happens. It may take a while, and it may take dozens of failed friendships, but oddly enough, there will come a moment when you realize you have a tribe willing to bend over backward to support you.

Find your tribe. Writer or reader, geek or realist, they’re out there. Once you find them, you’ll know, cause despite your shortcomings, they keep sending you messages at 2AM on a Wednesday night.


Let’s Talk about Sex (in Writing)

April is the first time this year I’ve had a moment to pause and breath. The world behind the scenes for this author have been busy and productive (more busy it seems.) I’m one of a trio putting together an anthology with the New England Speculative Writers and while it’s extremely rewarding, nobody warned us how much work it would take. Along with that I released the   of Suburban Zombie High and much to my surprise, it blew away my expectations. And now my attention has been firmly set on finishing books two and three of the Children of Nostradamus. But enough of the boring stuff, let’s get to the fun stuff.

Let’s talk about sex.

If you’ve read my books, you know I’m anything but a prude. My characters get into fights, wade through puddles of blood, and have no problem severing a head. However, in all my books, there has been a consistent lack of low-light turn up the Barry White sexy time. In Suburban Zombie, even the busty school nurse and her male play thing only do the nasty behind closed (extremely thick) doors. In the Children of Nostradamus, it’s been hard to give my characters down time have some “get down” time. Writing novels in a condensed time frame (each of my books takes place in two or three days) and you’re being chased by bad guys, typically survival is more important than doing the horizontal mambo. However, in Night Shadows, we get jiggy with it. The two characters decide surviving isn’t enough, they let off some steam of the naked variety.

Fade to black.

I make the joke that eventually I’ll write some sort of smut. But here’s my dirty secret, I have performance anxiety when my characters get bumping and grinding. In Night Legions it gets a bit more explicit. As the stakes are risen, tension is at its worst, I decided to have another go at it. The showers are steamy, the characters are naked, and it the mood is perfect. Fade to black? What the hell? Yet again, I wuss out.

I’ve read numerous novels in which there is sex, but most often I find it’s an indulgent fantasy completely unnecessary to the story. Even at times when the sex is essential to the plot, it gets clunky. The author has done a great job at creating these characters and being candid with their responses, and then sexy time language comes into play. Who, and I mean who in their entire life, has referred to “their manhood” or “nether regions?” And how sexy is it to refer to human anatomy by their actual names? That leaves a lot of slang which requires some porno music and a shag carpet.

My beta readers are pouring over the rough manuscript right now. They’ve been asked to gauge my character’s need for stress relief. We’ll see what makes it into the book and what drops to the cutting room floor. Death? No problem. Cannibalism? Sure! Soul theft? All the time. Sex? Whoa, slow down.

So how do you like sex handled in your novels? Turn up the steam or close the blinds?


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