Wish Upon a Star

Once upon a time there was a cybernetic organism named Peter Pinocchio. Peter preferred the name cyborg, as he considered himself to be more than the typical cyborg and far more than a man that was electronically manufactured. However, Gina Geppetto, his maker, was fond of reminding him he was, after all, her creation. Peter dared to differ with her, for he was sure he was a creation of the universal mind of imagination, a powerful force far beyond only Gina’s capabilities. He did, after all, have powers greater than hers. He was sure he had only tapped a few. But she always could be expected to task him with mundane daily duties and never really allowed him to go beyond his basest talents.

Peter dreamed he could one day be all-human, but with his current super-human qualities. He knew what he wished was nothing but a dream, but his best friend, Jimminy Android convinced him it was possible. “When you wish upon a star your dreams come true,” he told Peter.

Maybe in another time and pace,” he said. “But not in what’s left of war-torn Nevada.”

“Even here,” Jimminy said. “Bob told me so.”

“Bob?”

He nodded. The fairy who assigned me to you.”

“I never knew you were assigned.”

He cocked his head sideways. “Do you really think I’d take care of you just because?”

Peter sighed in exasperation. Jimminy was forever pulling his leg. “So who is this Bob fairy person?”

He grinned. “He’s blue. Folks say he’s a Martian, but he claims he’s only been typecast and actually comes from Ceres. But he’s a fairy all right, as gay as they come. Still, he has the power to grant wishes.”

I nodded. “To each his own, Jimminy. I’m not into any kind of discrimination. After all, I’m considered substandard as a cyborg. I find it most devastating, as I am in love with Gina.”

Jimminy frowned. “Oh my, if you’re wishing for Gina, I’m not sure even Bob can grant your wish.”

A tall blue man with pointed ears walked around the corner. “My ears were burning. Were you talking about my granting a wish?”

Peter nodded. “Jimminy says you can make me a real man.”

Bob grinned. “So I can. But if I do, you need to prove you can be honest loyal and faithful.”

Peter patted his chest. “No problem. I am not programmed to lie or to stray from those who have been good to me.” He leaned forward. “Do you think I could make Gina fall in love with me?”

Bob’s eyebrow arched. “That’s a tall order. Let’s see how you do on the other part first.”

He waved his hand and Peter lurched as his electronic parts vanished and he stood before them, knowing he now had a beating heart instead of a mechanical valve system. Peter ran to the mirror and held his hand to his face. “I look similar, but there’s something about my skin. That must be blood flushing my cheeks.”

Bob nodded. “Other things flush also. You will feel stirrings you haven’t before.”

Peter cocked his head sideways. Whatever did he mean? “What do I need to do now to prove myself?”

Pointing, Bob smiled again. “Go to Pleasure Island of course. If you can remain honest loyal and faithful there, you can do it anywhere.”

“But Bob.” Jimminy trembled. “It is forbidden for anyone to go to Pleasure Island, for no one emerges who isn’t corrupt.”

Bob nodded. “So they say. That’s why it’s such a great test of Peter’s determination.”

After a week on Pleasure Island, Peter was exhausted. Jimminy had long since given up on him, for Peter had relished in all the island’s delights. He’d been amazed at how lavishly a real man could live. Just think, there was a never-ending buffet, wine and liquor and, most of all, women. Who’d have known the last item could be so enticing? It wasn’t disloyal of him to learn how to have sex, was it? After all, it would only make him a better lover for Gina. He had to admit, though, it was becoming more difficult with some, for something happened when he lied. He looked down at the crotch of his pants. If it got any longer he wouldn’t be able to zip it inside. He’d decided he had to tell the truth from here on out.

While in the middle of an all-night card game, Peter turned to see Jimminy standing next to him. Jimminy’s eyes looked frightened and distant. “Peter, Gina came looking for you, and a band of pirates in a hovercraft captured her. She’s being held captive on the Jolly Whale.”

Peter threw down his cards. “We have to get to her. Even if I have ruined my chances for ever making her fall in love with me, probably ruined them for staying a man if I go back, I must risk it. I cannot let her die.”

Early the next morning, just before the sun rose, Peter scaled the side of the Jolly Whale. He knocked the guard unconscious. Quickly he sneaked around front of the craft. There, tied to a pole, was his own sweet love, Gina, her long golden hair gleaming down her shoulders like the sun’s own rays. Her eyes widened as she saw him silently stride toward her. Taking a knife he had in his pocket, he sliced through her bindings. “I cannot believe how barbaric these men must be,” he whispered, “For them to use such old-fashioned methods in this day and age. Are you okay?”

She nodded. “Let’s get out of here.”

As they turned, a huge Gigantitron stood there in all of its glory, towering at least twelve feet over them. “You’re not going anywhere, mosquito,” the machine boomed.

“I will not let you harm her.” Peter placed his body between Gina and the Gigantitron.

The machine picked him up in its clawed hand and threw him in the lake’s deep water. Peter struggled, but the force of the fall had knocked all life out of him. As he sank below the murky depths, he closed his eyes and thanked Bob for at least allowing him to show Gina how much he loved her…

Thrashing with his arms to climb out of the darkness, Peter felt hands caressing his chest. “It’s okay, Peter. It’s okay.”

He opened his eyes to see Gina’s face swimming above his. “Where am I?”

Gina smiled and rubbed his forehead. “At the cottage. We placed you on your bed.”

His eyes focused. “It is my bed. But how?” He suddenly saw the faint outline of blue, Bob the fairy hovering above him.

“You deserved your wish Peter.” Bob vanished with a smile.

Gina kissed his lips. “Oh Peter, I’ve always loved you. When I made you I wished upon a star you could become a real man.”

Peter kissed her back. “I will always be true to you and we will be very happy.”

And they were. For Gina never complained about Peter’s previous small bout of lying.

THE END

Interview with Amanda Ashley

Amanda Ashley is an author of paranormal romance. Her newest work, EVERLASTING DESIRE, is available in bookstores, on Amazon and Kindle and from Zebra Books.

What is the name of your latest book? And how did you come up with the title?

Everlasting Desire is my latest book. It is a sequel to Everlasting Kiss. Since my hero is a vampire, Everlasting Desire seemed a fitting title, since when a vampire loves you, he can love you forever.

What is Everlasting Desire about?

My hero, Rhys, is the Master of the West Coast vampires. When an ancient vampire decides he would like to add the West Coast to his territory, he goes on a killing spree from the East Coast to the West. It is up to Rhys to protect the vampires in his territory. A new woman in his life adds an unwanted complication, but one he can’t ignore. Rhys was a secondary character in the previous book, Everlasting Kiss. I loved him so much, I decided he needed a book of his own. Everlasting Desire was recently voted best romance by USA Book News

What books have most influenced your life most?

I suppose Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles, since hers were among the first vampire books I read.

If you had to choose, which writer would you consider a mentor?

I don’t think I could pick just one. Many authors have influenced me over the years, from Rosemary Rogers, who wrote the first romance I ever read, to Nancy Gideon and Maggie Shayne.

What are your current projects?

I have two books coming out back-to-back in September and October of next year – Bound by Night and Bound by Blood.

The hero in the first book is not your usual vampire. And although the book is set in contemporary times, it has a historical feel to it, as my hero lives in an ancient castle in Romania. It is a story of love and hate and revenge, and I think one of my best.

My editor liked this book and this world so much, she asked for a sequel, which I am currently working on.

Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing?

Hmmm, probably “the middle”. I can write beginnings and endings all day long, but filling up the middle is always a challenge!

Do you have any advice for other writers?

I assume you mean aspiring writers. My best advice has always been to write what you love to read. To join a critique group, if possible. To enter contests for the feedback they provide. And to never, never, ever give up. My first book was rejected 31 times before I sold it.


Here's a blurb on my latest release:

DESIRE BURNS FOREVER

The clientele at Shore's clothing store includes some of L.A.'s sexiest bachelors. But none of them affects Megan DeLacey as deeply as the dark-eyed stranger who strides into her boutique one evening - and keeps returning, night after night. Megan is drawn to Rhys Costain even as she fears him. Because his reason for being there is clear -he wants Megan, with an intensity that's both tempting and terrifying...

For almost five centuries, Rhys has lived alone, using women as it pleased him and never wanting more. As Master of the West Coast vampires, it's his duty to eliminate the ancient vampire who's draining humans on his turf, putting all of their kind at risk. But Megan's lush beauty and vibrant warmth is blinding him to a danger that will soon engulf them both - and tear him from the only woman who can satisfy his darkest hunger.

Thanks for the interview, Amanda! The books sound fascinating.

Dragons and Romance

Today's blog is compliments of Amber Kallen. Thanks for joining us, Amber.

I love Dragons. Always have, always will.

I love the fact that dragon mythology can be found in many cultures through history, spread across the globe. The question always turns to How? How did so many different people who never communicated come up with the same legends if Dragons never existed?

The dragons I write about are a mixed breed of these different cultures, with a bit of my own style thrown in.

European in appearance -- four legs, wide wings, spiked tales and horny heads. Eastern in magicks and abilities. My dragons are different colors, which in turn, sometimes means different powers as well.

The idea of magic and shapeshifting began as demonic powers in Europe, natural abilities in Native American cultures.

Over time it has become so much more.

Today, the shapeshifter is hot. Romantic and alluring.

It’s allowed authors to take their stories to such a wonderfully high level, and it seems only the beginning.

Dragon lovers abound. So what better than to make dragon shapeshifters?

I enjoy both reading and writing about them. The grace, power and protectiveness of dragons is, for me, the perfect romance.


Blurb:

When Calla, a dragon shifter, heads to a sleepy mountain town to investigate their recent arson outbreak, she doesn't expect to come face to face with the dark dragon who killed her mother, or find her destined mate beneath the burning rays of the moon. Firefighter Scott O'Neil can't fight his attraction to her, even after he finds out what she is, and the shocking secret of his own past.

Excerpt:

The Other was here.

Lowering the truck window, Calla Dragos sniffed the chilly afternoon. Pine trees, asphalt. All overshadowed by the distinct stench of sulfur. Her stomach lurched, vileness rising to choke her. As she drove into the blink of a town, it grew stronger, overpowering all other senses.

Drawing closer to the Jasper Fire Department, she focused on keeping her clammy hands on the wheel, her concentration on the light traffic. Keeping her foot on the gas pedal, rather than slamming the brakes and fleeing.

How could he be here?

It was bad enough her job as an arson investigator brought her to this small, mountaintop town of Jasper, Arizona. Bad enough she’d left her family behind in the midst of yet another argument about her independence. The possibility of facing Eric brought tremors to her body.

Parking her cherry red pickup in front of the station, Calla shaded her eyes from the late afternoon sun and searched the colorful wood-front buildings. The stench faded.

Eric marked her, then fled. Like a coward. And he was a coward. She needed to remember that fact. Otherwise, the fear coiling in her heart would drive her batty.

After a couple deep breaths, she calmed the nausea a little. She could do this. She would do this. And if that bastard decided to show up, she’d face him with all her strength.

Calla stepped from the truck on shaky legs, smoothed her navy skirt and slipped on the matching jacket. Reaching across the seat, she grabbed her oversized black bag, which held a notebook, pens and her kit. After another soothing breath, filling her lungs with the crisp mountain air, she headed around the corner to the firemen’s entrance.

Giggles drew her attention to a group of teenage girls scantily dressed. And the man they huddled near.

In nothing but low-slung jeans, the top button carelessly undone, the man gave off the rugged air of a male underwear model with a sexy, take me to your bedroom now look. His blond hair, slightly too long for a clean-cut look, dripped water, from a recent shower maybe. Or a drenching with the hose. The scruff on his chin, a shade darker than his hair, enhanced the bad boy aura.

Gods, he was just like Petey. Playboy and chick magnet, an older version of her youngest brother.

“So can we have your autograph? Please?” one of the girls begged, her voice high. The other girls giggled some more.

“Certainly, ladies.” The man’s voice was as smoky and smooth as his gray eyes.

His gaze flicked to Calla. The intensity shooting from his eyes made her tense, caught like a rabbit in the headlights. His lips twitched. A flush spread up her cheeks. Calla stared at her feet, hurrying along the flower-bordered sidewalk. Before she reached the door, the teen girls filed past, happily waving calendars with mostly naked men.

Figured. A playboy, just like Petey. Which month was he?

Bare feet filled her view. She took in the long, jean-clad legs, the scruff of hair above the gaping waistband. A blond trail led up a golden, ripped abdomen and chest, to dark eyes. This close, flecks of green and blue mixing with the gray were visible.

His scent, suntan lotion and hay, punched into her, dissipating the last remains of the sulfur.

Her libido woke and started clamoring. She gritted her teeth. Not why she was here. And besides, she had no business being attracted to this man. This human.

“Howdy, ma’am.” He tipped an imaginary hat, a lusty smile twitching at his lips.

“Excuse me,” she replied, her voice steady and cool, the payoff from years of practice working around other untouchable hunks. “I need to see the fire chief.”

Something unreadable flashed in his gaze and the smirk disappeared. “What would a beautiful woman like you want with him?”

“Frankly, it’s none of your business.” Knowing the best way to turn him off, she put a hand to her hip, jutted her chin and raked her gaze over his long, lean form. Unfortunately, her normal barriers weren’t working. The only thing she wanted to do was reach out and touch his glistening tanned skin. Instead, she added in a sharp tone, “Let me guess. Mr. October.”

His face hardened, all amusement fleeing. The playboy took a step back as if she’d actually offended him. Then, his grin came back, along with a devil-may-care shrug. “Actually,” he drawled, “I’m December. I wanted a Santa hat on my lap, not a pumpkin.” Leaning closer, his minty breath a whisper on her cheek, he added, “Why? You need a calendar?”

Remember to be Thankful at Thanksgiving

As Thanksgiving nears, we need to stop and reflect on all the things we’re thankful for. So here are my own personal thanks.

I am thankful for friends I can count on to brighten my day, a nice house to live in and a husband who loves me and tells me so during television commercials as he’s flipping the remote control. I’m even thankful for my dog who was a goat in a previous life and ultra thankful I got to her last night before she ate hubby’s box of Ex-Lax. I’m thankful for family members who will tell me how much they love my books and wait to get them for presents only to set them on the bookshelf telling people I wrote it but who never crack the binding. I am thankful to the postman who rarely loses my mail except when it’s a letter from an editor or my new contract. I am thankful for the countless agents I’ve contacted and the nice way they say no by sending me a form letter rejecting my manuscript. Those whose e-mails didn’t get to me after several months, never fear, I know you e-mailed me, but it was simply lost in cyberspace. And to those sending me rejections by mail, I appreciate the time it took for you to put that postcard in my SASE envelope, IF it got to me because it could be one my postman simply misplaced.

There are so many blessings around us all the time like those my friends ask me to send out to my twenty friends or I’ll be cursed. I know they only mean well. After all, my true wish will become reality in twenty-four hours if I do. I also appreciate all those who send me warnings so I can avoid being mugged, defrauded or have ten years of bad luck and who forward e-mails that will win me a new computer from Dell or an IPod if I forward it, even if they don’t check Snopes.com before they sent it. But most of all, dear friend, I appreciate your taking time to read this and if your post doesn’t show up, I understand you commented, but the website wouldn’t let your post go through.

May your Thanksgiving be filled with thanks and wellbeing! And remember: No matter what genre, I always write comedy.

The Pressure to Find the Right Gift

If my photo on this blog looks familiar, that's because I'm Bobbye Terry writing as Daryn Cross, my fantasy pseudonym. If you started at the beginning of the Blog Hop, you know my current hubby's present was, well, less than what every woman wants. But, before I was engaged to my current husband, I was engaged once before. That fiance loved to be outside but wasn't quite as much of an outdoorsman as my husband. We fell into a routine after we got engaged where he'd come to my apartment for dinner and dessert and then we'd go out for awhile, or not. The or not wasn't what you'd normally think, at least not all the time.

First let me give you a little background. I was in my gourmet cooking phase. I still love to cook, but back then I was obsessed with Bon Appetit magazine, had a subscription and saved all the copies. Everytime I got one, I had a big cooking extravaganza on the weekend and my fiance was always there to try the new dishes. Later I decided it was because it saved him money on groceries. Anyway, more often than not, he'd fall asleep on my sofa afterwards watching television while I did the dishes. Now do you know why this relationship didn't last?

Christmas was coming, and I had gone all out for his gift. expecting (yes, always the romantic) something I'd really love.

Here's what I got:


(In case you don't reconize it, this is what a pressure cooker used to look like before modern technology took over.)

More Great News

My book, Craigs' Legacy, a time travel to the Civil War period co-written with Linda Campbell as Terry Campbell, will be re-released on February 11, 2011 as a debut book by new publisher, Black Opal Books. This book started it all, though not the first one to get published, and is one that has never had the proper opportunity to shine. Love it and hope you folks will too.

Coming Soon from L&L Dreamspell

Short story in Dreamspell Romance Volume 1, to be released soon. Enjoy the trailer.

After deciding she’s had enough of trying to find true love and ending up with true misery, Grace Temple takes desperate measures. She’s ready to pin her hopes on baking a chocolate seduction cake and casting a goddess spell. Maybe this time she’ll get what she really wants: Mr. Wonderful

Santa Claus and Imagination

When I was deciding on a blog post for today, I ran across a mother’s blog on the Internet. I won’t mention the name and only give sketchy details. Suffice to say she’s a former follower of a faith with strong religious convictions and is now an atheist living in another country. In this particular blog, the mother mentions she doesn’t believe in telling her children either Santa or God are real. She says that because she has told them Santa’s not real and her children still have active imaginations, it proves Santa isn’t necessary. I don’t know what she’d say about leaving them devoid of faith in a divine being.

It seems one of her sons has invented a new solar system with multiple giant Earths where a special breed of carnivorous plants live with high intelligence. They have a different numeric system that goes to nine and then has three numbers they have manufactured in their native tongue. He also has invented a heat miser and snow miser who control the weather and a train miser that sends trains around the world. Now, add to that the fact this kid also invented a Pirate Santa Claus with no eye patch who has a sister with a long white beard.

Well, I formed an entirely different conclusion to this woman’s suggestion that imagination exists without Santa. In my estimation, this child apparently is trying to come to grips with a world in which two important beliefs have been taken away from him. I believe Santa Claus exists to give a child a sense of wonder when he is young and that child, hopefully, can carry that same precious wonder on into his adult life, even after he knows the Santa character was just make-believe. For what Santa symbolizes is real. As for God, well, he may not be an all-knowing being living in the sky, but in my humble opinion, God is as real as that divine spark that lives inside us and makes us have lively imaginations just like that woman’s son.

Thankfully, the little boy has chosen his own path. Maybe he’ll grow up to be a great fantasy writer.

Check out my contest on my mystery blog

www.BobbyeTerry.Blogspot.com--I'm giving away a copy of It's Magic as one of the prizes just for writing a small segment of a round robin short story. Contest ends tomorrow a.m. at 8 EST.

Now that's a Mystery

I read an review the other day that said most fantasies don’t have a mystery in them, and I began to wonder about that. I’m not sure that’s true, because to me it seems most fantasies have the hero/heroine searching for something. If they don’t know what it is, isn’t that a mystery? Even in my romantic comedies, the main characters are searching for a fundamental truth.

But, I have noticed as I write more straight mystery novels and turn to higher adventure fantasies, that the two become inexplicably combined in my fantasies (maybe a touch of magic even shows up in my mysteries).

In an upcoming series that I have, strange things start to happen and even the earth angels involved can’t figure out how they’re occurring. For instance, what’s going on when a car appears to have driven by itself, no driver, or when lions suddenly appear in the back yard. What’s with the huge buzzard that keeps crashing into windshields? Then there’s the mysterious question of why the main character’s mother-in-law is being guarded by an archangel.

In my latest co-written work, It’s Magic, released this month, the hero and heroine are searching for a love that has evaded them their whole lives. More importantly, they are searching for that one thing that will make them truly happy in their own skin. At the beginning, neither person is filled with wonder but beaten down by everyday life. To make matters even more interesting, mysterious things begin to happen, like everyone seemingly knowing what they’re doing all the time. How? Snakes not indigenous to the US also show up in Virginia and suddenly all the condoms are missing in Chesterfield County. Who could be behind all the mysterious occurrences they are now experiencing?

Piqued your interest? It’s Magic is available any day now. The other series I mentioned will be out late next year. You can read more about it and others on my website, www.DarynCross.com . For now, just remember that if someone says there’s no mystery in fantasy, you can ask them if they know how it will end when they begin. Not that’s a mystery.

Happy Monday!

Short story tralier

My short story, 6,000+ words, is in an e-anthology just released by L&L Dreamspell Halloween evening. The trailer is below. If you enjoy and would like to read, the buy link is below.



BUY LINKS:

12 Perfect Days
Dreamspell Haunts Volume 1 (ebook anthology)
http://www.lldreamspell.com/DreamspellHauntsVol1.htm
http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-dreamspellhauntsvolume1-477920-140.html

Welcome Author Jaleta Clegg

Jaleta Clegg is an author of science fiction adventure, comic fantasy, and silly horror. Her newest work Nexus Point, the Fall of the Altairan Empire Book 1 is available from Cyberwizard Productions.

How did you come up with your latest title?

Nexus Point is a starting point, a beginning. This book sets the stage for the rest of the series. The Fall of the Altairan Empire is space opera, a grand sweeping tale of galactic civilizations crumbling as told by those at the crux of the crisis. I wanted a title for the first book that hinted at where the series was headed.

What is Nexus Point about?

Nexus Point says it's book one, but don't let that fool you. The book is a complete story. It's told by Dace, the main character for the series. She's been out of the Patrol Academy for only a couple of months, following her dream of owning her own trading ship. But her crew betrays her, sabotaging her ship, and stranding her on a planet locked in a feudal level of technology. The natives of the planet want to kill her because she's a demon. Drug smugglers on the planet want her dead because they think she's working for the competition. The Patrol agent on the planet thinks she's working for the smugglers. Everywhere Dace turns, people want her dead. Ever hear the phrase, "Out of the frying pan, into the fire?" That's how Dace feels as she tries to find a way to get off the planet and back to real civilization. If you're looking for a fast-paced adventure story, Nexus Point never slows down.

What books have influenced your life most?

I read just about everything I can get my hands on. I've lost track of how many books I own. There are several authors that really stand out, though. Andre Norton will always be my favorite SF author. I discovered her books when I was still in grade school. Reading them again is like visiting with old friends. Other authors that have influenced me include Elizabeth Moon, Julie Czerneda, Madeline L'Engle, Isaac Asimov, and Larry Niven. There are many, many others I could list, but those are the ones that stick out. The Bible and The Book of Mormon are the only non-fiction books I'd list. I wouldn't be who I am without that influence.

If you had to choose, which writer would you consider a mentor?

I've had the privilege of meeting many SF/F authors through my work at conventions. Most of them are wonderful, caring people. They take time to en-courage new authors, giving a few words of advice when asked. I can't say any of them have been a mentor for me, not personally, but their example and especially their writing, have inspired me to tell my own tales.

What are your current projects?

I'm currently in edits for Priestess of the Eggstone, book 2 in my series. Lots of fun and excitement going on for Dace, who's in trouble again. I've got stories in three different anthologies. "Omega Museum", a hard SF story about the museum of the last, in The Last Man Anthology from Sword & Saga Press just released. "Always a Bridesmaid", a silly zombie story, in Rotting Tales: A Zombie Anthology from Pill Hill Press is scheduled to release any day. "The Effect of Degraded Food Supplies on Indigenous Populations", a classic vam-pire story, is in "Fangs, Vol. 1", an ebook anthology from L&L Dreamspell Press, which is due out soon. I've got more stories in the works in various an-thologies and magazines. The complete list, and links, are on my website. http://www.jaletac.com Keeping track of all of them is proving harder than I anticipated.

I'm also putting together an anthology for my publisher, Cyberwizard Pro-ductions. Titled "Wandering Weeds: Tales of Rabid Vegetation", my co-editor and I are looking for stories about vicious, nasty, evil tumbleweeds. Details are on the blog: http://wanderingweeds.blogspot.com/

Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing?

Where do I start? No, really, I struggle with beginnings. When I start a book, I have to get to know the characters, the setting, the plot, everything. It's a very stressful social situation. My characters are real. Sometimes I have to wander for several pages before the characters start talking to me. Then I have to weave it into the story. Knowing where to jump into the action is more difficult than it seems. This is why editing and rewriting are so important. I've got several trusted friends that have no trouble telling me when I miss. I want that opening to grab you and drag you into the story, plus it's got to make you care about the characters. It's a difficult dance.

Do you have any advice for other writers?

Same as what I've heard from everyone else: Keep writing. Every day. Find something to write- a blog post, a poem, an essay, a chapter, a short descrip-tion, a story, whatever you can squeeze into every day. If you're too busy to write, you aren't a writer yet. I work a part-time job, run two businesses out of my home, sew costumes and quilts, and have eight kids of my own. I write as my escape. It keeps me sane to write my insane stories. Maybe that's why I do so many silly horror stories. And adventures. I crave the escape. If one thing isn't working, I've got a million other ideas to play with.

Second piece of advice: BACKUP! Save those files often. And back them up on a flash drive or somewhere else not on your computer at least once a week. Nothing is more frightening than realizing you've just lost months of work. Keep multiple backups of every piece you write. You won't regret it. You will regret NOT doing it.

Thanks for inviting me to your blog today. It was great visiting with you!

Nexus Point: The Fall of the Altairan Empire Book 1Purchase links all at http://www.nexuspoint.info

Excerpt:
I clawed my way through thickets and brambles. I dodged past barely seen trees. I splashed through streams and tore my feet on rocks. I was lost in the woods with animals that wanted to eat me. I ran until my side ached and I couldn't breathe.

I stumbled to a stop. Grasses waved in a light breeze. Mist rose from a stream, thin streamers of white that faded only a few feet above the ground. I dropped to my knees, trembling from fear. My stomach heaved. I retched up nothing.

The grass in front of me slowly parted. I stared into a wide face of evil green eyes and huge fangs. The animal snarled, showing more teeth. I didn't have the breath to run any longer. I scrabbled through the grass until I found a big rock. I staggered to my feet, hefting the rock in shaky arms.

"Go away," I said, my voice squeaking with fear. "You aren't going to eat me." I lifted the rock to my shoulder. My muscles protested.

The creature shot a look over its shoulder, then bounded away into the night.

I let out a slow breath. Something had just scared the creature. That something would be bigger and meaner. Fear shivered along my spine. I held the rock higher, ready to throw it at the new threat.

He came out of the mist like a primeval god in a really bad romance vid–dark hair, darker eyes, and a face stolen from my most secret fantasies. He wore a leather vest with no shirt, tight pants, and tall boots. He stopped on the other side of the stream, muscles flexing as he folded his bare arms across his chest.

I swallowed hard, wondering if he was just a dream. I shifted my feet on the stream bank. "What do you want?"

Happy Halloween--------from some of Daryn Cross' Critters

Character Overload

I was hit yesterday with a severe case of character overload. If you’re a writer, I know this has happened to you. It may even happen to a reader if you read several books at the same time. How do you do that last thing, you ask? I don’t have a clue, but one of my friends says she does, so I doubt she’s alone. Anyway, my definition of character overload is a condition in which all the characters you have, whether in books being edited, in the work you’re currently writing or who are plotted and awaiting their opportunity for the turn of your pen (or computer keystroke), begin to war in your mind for dominance.

When this happens to me, I find myself balanced on a piece of threadlike wire, hopping from thought to thought and unable to settle down and make noticeable progress in one project, ANY project. Yesterday, Editor 1 sent me a proof to go over one last time in the middle of my doing front edits for Editor Number 2. Five minutes after Editor number 1 set me the proof, a potential Editor Number 3 sent me a note saying she loves my book and please send the whole manuscript. Then there’s the proposal I just sent off to a potential Agent Number 1 re: yet another work.

I doubt I’ll ever have Alzheimer’s because my mind gets a great work out. I may, however, end up with one heck of a case of multiple personality disorder. So, as a result of all this, it’s time to sit back and entertain you with a fractured harried married writer poem, Character Uprising.

CHARACTER UPRISING

My characters are not too pleased,
With whom I’ve written them to be,
They’ve been grumbling, and they might
Form a union, go on strike.

It seems my hero thinks I’ve goofed,
By showing he’s a bit aloof,
My heroine wants to have big breasts,
Now she has a small flat chest.

The other beings moan and wail,
They claim there’s not enough detail,
And all of them agree they’re not,
Happy with my crafted plot.

My hero says that he will fight,
Until I make him more a knight,
My heroine has clammed right up.
Until she’s curvy, she won’t budge.

And as for all the rest of them,
They’re plotting wildly, full of vim
And vigor, certain they can steal,
My story, make it seem quite real.

And there I sit and cannot write
Because they finally went on strike,
Crushed, I give up, let them tell
Me how to write them so they’ll sell.

The moral of this all you see,
Is let your story be set free,
Ask the people in your tale,
To write themselves, and you won’t fail.

New interview up!

Come join me at:
http://blog.JulieALindsey.com

Learn about me, my characters and more!

How to Have Magic in Life Everyday

At the beginning of the book, IT’S MAGIC, there’s a short prologue in which the mysterious magical matchmaker, Maxwell Magic, speaks to the reader explaining that adults no longer believe and dream like children. He goes on to speak about everyday magic, the simple pleasure of smelling the air after a summer rain, the tingle of excitement from a cool breeze off the ocean, the delight in tasting freshly fallen snow. How do you have magic in your life everyday? Here are my top ten suggestions:

10. Don’t anticipate, be spontaneous. If you plan too much it ruins the magic. Okay, so you’re a planner. At least write down my ten things and post them on your car dash. Then, in the middle of errands etc., just do one of the things on the list (uh, don’t do it while driving, okay?)

9. Have dessert first, or better yet, go to a restaurant and just order dessert (even if you’re on a diet, once will not hurt).

8. Take a disadvantaged person to the movies.

7. Buy a book in the bookstore for someone in line, or tell the person at the drive-through, you’re paying for a latte, burger, chicken dinner whatever for the next driver. Don’t do drive-through? Drive-through anyway and pay for whatever for the person behind you.

6. Walk through the grass barefoot.

5. Read a book from a genre you’ve never read before.

4. Go on a picnic lunch (Too cold? So? Dress warmly and have an insulated carrier—OR have the picnic lunch inside on the floor.

3. Meditate outside for twenty minutes (the quieter the place the better).

2. Go on a long walk or a bike ride.

1. Spend a night at home with someone special and no television or computer.

You’ll be surprised how much better you feel after you break from your routine and see life through a brand new set of filters. It is, after all, magic!

I Have a New Cover!

The publishers say this book, co-written by L.J. DeLeon and me, will be in electronic format prerelease in a few days. I'll let you know when and announce a special promotion.

IT'S MAGIC Release November 2010

Here's a description of the story line:
Can true love exist between a man who believes a woman is capable of sticking a shive in his heart while making love and a woman who is convinced men think with only one head? Maxwell Magic, an eccentric mysterious matchmaker swears it can and he’s the man to provide the stimulus to make it happen. Kasey Bell, feminist writer, and Guy McLane, radio’s famous chauvinistic psychiatrist, are his targets. Even with carefully executed plans, the road to true love is strewn with mishaps, mirth and money-hungry nighttime talk show hosts. Will Kasey and Guy risk their reputations by exposing secrets buried beneath layers of shame and self-doubt for a desperately needed big money pay-off? Or, will they claim what has evaded them their entire lives—a love that lasts forever?

Excerpt:
As Kasey followed the stagehand, Guy grimaced. Damn. Why’d she have to have sea-green eyes and be a natural, sun-streaked blonde? He was a sucker for natural blondes, she appeared to be one. Unlike his ex, Helen, he suspected Kasey Bell’s blonde hair wasn’t found just on her head.

His gaze took in her tight ass and long legs. God, what legs Some men were turned-on by big breasts. Others by asses. Not him. He was a leg man through and through. And Kasey had the best set he’d seen in years.

Her dress clung in all the right places and was designed to make a man forget his own name. Not that it had a chance with him.

Guy studied her the way a connoisseur would a fine wine. Vintage seventy-three. He took another long, slow perusal and shook his head. He was wrong. The body on this Cabernet Sauvignon came from a perfect year. More likely a seventy-eight or if he were lucky, a classic seventy-five.

He grinned as she smoothed the sides of her dress while continuing to cross the stage on her perfectly toned legs.

Definitely still corked. She hadn’t had a chance to breathe, yet. He inhaled sharply. There was no mistaking a good mellow grape when he saw one. And when squeezed just right, the grape was memorable. One to be savored, never gulped.

No question about it, Ms. Kasey Bell was premium sipping quality. First, he’d give her time to breathe. Then he’d taste her, a little at a time, a gentle swirl over the tongue, a teasing of the taste buds.

As he continued to examine her, Guy swallowed hard. From the way her dress moved and the lack of lines, she wore a thong and thigh-high hose. Her derriere was the perfect size for his hands to cup each cheek as he pulled her flush against him. He could feel her long legs wrapping around him. And then there were her delicate ankles. They were so slim his fingers could circle them.

The whole package was enough to bring a grown man to his knees. Especially one like him who’d been alone for last three years. God, help him. Because if he didn’t, Guy knew there was no way he’d maintain his cool while seated next to her on stage.

“Dr. McLane?”

Guy snapped to attention. Standing before him were two lanky young men. “Yes.”
“I’m Josh Bell. This is my younger brother Jacob.”

Guy thrust out his hand and greeted each boy. “I understand you want to take some photos.”

“Yes, sir,” Josh answered.

“You’re our hero.”

Jacob frowned at Josh’s sharp jab to his ribs and Guy laughed. “What does your mother think of that?” He grinned as the two boys looked at each other, shrugged, then turned back to him.

“She hates it,” they said together.

“Dr. McLane, you’ve got two minutes.”

“Thanks, Al.” He turned to the boys. “We’d better get those photos taken.”
Guy started to move, then grimaced, again. Damn. He hadn’t reacted to a female this rapidly since adolescence. Back then, much to his embarrassment, all it’d taken was a slight breeze to get a reaction out of him. And at thirty-eight, the last thing he wanted was to look like a coat rack in some kids’ photos. “Both of you stand here,” he said, positioning the boys in front of him.

As Al Mack took more than a dozen photos, Guy wondered what it was about Kasey Bell that rang his chimes. They’d never met, yet he’d swear he’d seen her before.
Ah, well, he’d remember eventually. He never forgot a pair of legs, especially ones as spectacular as Kasey’s.

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