Samhain Publishing

It’s that time of year – time to start a new book. Time to write something exciting and fresh. Time to take on the dreaded Tween book (read “pre-teen” here – as in 12) that I’ve promised my step-son we’d write together for oh… years.

He came up with the premise way back when he was 11 (his comment the other days was, “I think we’ll have to update things. I’m a lot older now.”) and it is basically Harry Potter meets the Gothic novel. Lots of dreary skies and zombies running around trying to kill the hero and his trusty sidekick Frank (my step-daughter, who just turned 10, wants to grow up to be a boy – it’s her greatest desire). Lucky for the hero and sidekick, they have magic at their fingertips — literally.

It’s not that I’m not looking forward to this. Really I am and I’ve put a lot of work into plotting and taking their diamond in the rough and molding it into something I can work with — although I must admit as a romance author, I keep trying to plot the hero a heroine… heh heh heh. My stepson would D-I-E if some icky girl got in there. I think this will change next year – but I digress…

I guess I’m just nervous. Really, really nervous. I’m used to writing things like SECRET OBSESSION which is about two people who can’t keep their hands off each other while they try to save their island home from destruction. I’m used to also writing steamy hot rompy Science Fiction. I have no experience writing kid books – even when I was a kid, my first book I wrote at 14 was titled LOVE ON THE SLOPES. It was about a 14 year old girl who finds love on the ski slopes (yes, yes – it wasn’t all that deep) and gets her first kiss on aforementioned ski slope.

I guess I just don’t want to let him down. I know I write great stories for adults, but I’m not so sure about stories for kids. I mean, what if he discovers that I really am uncool afterall and my cover is blown for good? I know it’s coming anyway, I just hate for it to be this soon.

When I start a book it’s always by writing the first couple chapters, then going back to play the “why is everyone doing what they’re doing” game. Only at a high level – I like to keep some surprises. That’s how I plot and what allows me to just let things roll naturally while still keeping me from wandering around like an Alzheimers patient in a mall parking lot trying to find her car.

But I’m finding myself putting off the beginning of this story by plotting endlessly. I caught myself this morning in the shower dissecting the Aunt for the 20th time. While it’s good to know where your characters come from, she will only be on stage for half a chapter. I don’t need to know how many hairs she has in her left nostril.

As I washed my face afterwards, I realized that my fear is making it hard for me to begin. But anything hard is… well… hard. I need to just jump in and do it. Just sit down and write.

I’ll have to try again tomorrow, since today I organized my placemat drawer and threw out some old wrapping paper and some broken gargoyles my critique partner sent me for Christmas (sorry Skully!!). I tried to superglue them back together but they were toast. Hmmm… me thinks I’m procrastinating!!!!!

I hope if you are reading this blog that YOU aren’t procrastinating! If you are, I understand as you can see from my rant above. Here’s hoping you break free of the vicious loop!

But if you don’t break free, feel free to procrastinate on over to my website – www.leighwyndfield.com – and read an excerpt for my latest novel in print – SECRET OBSESSION. It’s better than organizing placemats!! I promise!

Halloween has always been my favorite holiday. Not because of the candy (although I love candy of any sort) or the costumes or the decorations (although I love those too). It’s because of the spooky crispness of the air and the strange stir of possibility that makes me shiver every time I step out the door. I can almost imagine Cooger and Dark’s Pandemonium Shadow Show from Something Wicked This Way Comes unloading in the distance. Evil and good shimmer around me as if I’ve ventured near some sort of portal to an alternate reality. It’s a very good time to be an author, if I can just slow down enough to listen.

Lately I’ve been thinking about these same moments in books – those moments when a reader sits up and thinks, “holy smokes, this is going to be good,” similar to what I feel every time I step out the door during the short season we call fall here. And since I’m writing my first Tween book with my step-son, I’ve been thinking about what makes a great kid’s book. This exercise has had me thinking of my personal favorites – The Witch of Blackbird Pond, Something Wicked, The Hobbit, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe … And I’ve been thinking about the shivery moments – you know the ones – like when Tumnus came trotting by the lamppost, or when Kit meets the witch Hannah Tupper that first time crying in the meadow. Or when the boys see Cooger riding the carousel backwards, turning into a young boy.

Those moments are priceless for an author. I myself have only written a couple of them, but when they happened, I sat in my chair, eyes wide, unable to move for a bit as I tried to process all the emotions flying through me. One was in IN HEAT, when the hero opens a door with red hands and a woman over his shoulder in the safe house. Another was when the heroine in SECRET OBSESSION
kicked off her shoes when she and the hero were alone for the first time. When I wrote those scenes, I felt so very alive.

And it’s that feeling of being alive that I think I’ve been missing lately in the grind of working and writing and working some more. I think in our every day lives, we can have amazing moments if we’re open and ready for them. I keep reminding myself that I need to participate in life and not sit on the sidelines watching it roll by. Watching is so much less stressful, but then I miss the shivery bits. It took the change of the seasons to shake me out of my lethargy. Fall is a time that reminds me of possibility and I’m recommitting to living life to the fullest. I hope you’ll join me!

Check out excerpts and more at www.leighwyndfield.com.

Three months ago, I went back to work fulltime. It was a good opportunity, one I felt I couldn’t pass up (read here – I sold out for the money!). When I started the job, I had visions of working my eight hour days, then coming home and getting my page count done. I had no doubt I could balance both, even though I thought my writing would slow down a bit.

I was so wrong!!! My writing didn’t slow down, it skidded to a halt. First of all, an eight hour day is a lie. You’re at work from eight until five. That’s nine hours, not eight. Plus there is the commute there and back. Plus there are all those things I didn’t have to do when I was working at home —- such as shower and wear things other than my pajamas.

And then there are the people. For the past five years, it’s been me and my cats. Cats are simple creatures who tend to find a happy sunbeam during the day and sleep in it. They’re not big on demands, unless it’s for you to turn on the tap in the sink for them to grab a quick drink of water. I had totally forgotten what it’s like to interact with other adults day in and day out. I was, quite frankly, out of practice. People are very demanding and my social skills were rusty. I came home exhausted for the first few weeks, unable to do more than lie on the sofa watching Project Runway reruns.

So I decided to ask my author friends how they balance work, writing and home life. Everyone at first sent me emails back saying, “Balance?! What’s balance?? LOL!” After finally convincing them that I was being serious, they shared with me some tips and I thought I’d share them with all of you because they can be applied for the most part to just about anything in your life.

1. Above all else, you need to mentally commit to writing when you’re working fulltime. While this seems intuitive, it’s not. Writing at night and on weekends is like having a part time job that isn’t monitored by a boss. You have to do it even when you’re dead tired, even when you really want to go to the movies or hang out with your family.

2. Self motivation becomes imperative and family pressures increase exponentially when you work fulltime and write on “off” hours. This past Saturday, everyone wanted a piece of me. I ran around like a chicken with its head cut off, taking care of the 1000 things which needed to be done, then finally escaped to write about 11am. That’s when both my cats came out of hiding, demanding water from the sink, cat nip and a rubdown. I barely had two pages edited before my husband invited me to watch a movie with he and the kids. I had to turn them down, but it was hard. I don’t want to miss out on the fun.

3. Take every opportunity you can to write during those five and ten minutes of downtime you usually use for silly things. I’ve started hauling a notebook with me everywhere I go. I use lulls at work to answer writing emails or do things like write this blog. When I drive to work, I now brainstorm my story ideas. There are so many opportunities we let slip by to further our writing. Just taking those five minutes you stand in line at the grocery store to plan out what you’ll do that night makes all the difference in how efficient you are when you sit down to write.

4. Stop beating yourself up when you don’t get to write when you’d hoped you would. This is perhaps the hardest bit of advice I’ve gotten yet. Self flagellation isn’t getting you anywhere. In fact, it takes up precious time where you could be working for the man, writing, or spending precious moments with your family. Lighten up!

Above is a summary of the advice I was given. Nothing earth shattering for sure, but I think it’s still worth thinking about and revisiting. If you have any other hints, drop me an email at leighwyndfield @ yahoo.com (without the spaces). I’m always open to new ideas.

And if you’re looking for a spicy, out-of-this-world read, check out my latest Samhain release ICY HEAT here for a sneak peek!

Leigh Wyndfield

I’ve always had an ice cream addiction. In fact, as I started writing this blog, I switched my iPod to Van Morrison’s “Crazy Love,” because it’s the kind of dreamy song which goes along with eating the creamy wonder food which punctuated every personal success I’ve ever had. Ice cream for me has always meant good times and if the good times are gone, then it was what I turned to when I needed to banish away the bad.

Van Morrison is singing:
Take away my trouble, take away my grief
Take away my heartache, in the night like a thief
She gives me love, love, love, love, crazy love

If the “she” in the song was ice cream, it would be our song.

But a little over three months ago, I was diagnosed with a strange illness which left my body unable to break down certain proteins. Not only did gluten (the protein in wheat) become forbidden, but casein (the protein in most dairy products) went on the list as well.

Ice cream was gone – possibly forever and ever. There is a chance that my body might fix itself, but I’d let things go for so long, my body sees those proteins as dangerous and works hard to get them out of my system pronto if I eat anything with them in it. To say I was devastated would be an understatement. “It’s just certain foods,” my husband said reasonably to me when I started crying for the tenth time in the last three months. How could I explain that I’d tied my emotions to food? Oh sure, some of you might say that’s unhealthy, but it came as a blow, and no matter how much I told myself I was being unreasonable, I felt myself dropping into a weird sort of malaise, almost like a form of depression you might have if you lost a friend. Silly, but there you have it.

But today, in the organic foods section (which is just about the only place kind enough to tell you what’s really in the food your buying), this tiny pint of “ice cream” caught my eye. It was right next to other real ice creams, so why I stopped to look, I’ll never know. But I saw it down on the bottom shelf almost hidden by the seam of the cooler door. I took it out and read the carton. No dairy, no gluten, no all kinds of other stuff that I don’t care about at this point because….excitement begins to build…. I just might get to eat something that looks like the real deal.

Like a heroin addict, I stood shaking, wondering if it actually tasted like real ice cream too.

I put it in my basket and headed for the checkout, forgetting completely about my husband shaving cream. The carton already felt a bit soft and I couldn’t take a chance on it melting before I made it home.

Now, I sit typing to all of you having eaten all four servings (800 calories – oh. my. god!!!!). It wasn’t bad, either. Creamy. Smooth. Nice flavor. Perhaps a bit of a strange after-taste, but those living on a diet of bread made out of nut or rice flour will tell you that the gluten-free “bagel” might have a hole, but one taste lets you know you aren’t eating a bagel. Overall, it’s a fantastic substitute for real thing.

So what’s the point of this ramble? I wish I could say I learned my lesson about ice cream binging. You’d think after all this time I wouldn’t do it, but while I always swear I won’t do it again, I know I will. Instead, I’ve learned that even though it sometimes looks like the good times are over and the ice cream won’t ever be mine again, if I can just be open and ready and watching, I’ll find something just as good sitting on the bottom shelf, hidden from view. Good things are out there. I should never lose hope.

Leigh’s best selling book is coming back, longer and filled with sexy adventure!!

Enter a contest to celebrate the release – Details HERE

ISBN: 1-59998-907-7
Length: Category
Price: 4.50
Publication Date: April 4, 2008
Cover art by Anne Cain
A mating ritual as old as time could be the death of them both…

Jax’s yearly mating cycle couldn’t come at a more inconvenient time. He’s on the verge of ending seven years of exile and claiming his birthright, but for 24 hours he’ll be vulnerable to his enemies, alone and in agony—unless he can find a willing partner. He thinks he’s found the perfect solution in the beautiful slave Waverly. He’ll buy her at any price, and after it’s over, he’ll give her the one thing all slaves crave. Freedom.

But Waverly isn’t really a slave. She’s a transport pilot double crossed by Junkeaters and sold to a notorious gunrunner. Escape is the only thing on her mind—and she better disappear fast, before her own heat reaches a crescendo.

Before she can slip away, the overpowering need to mate crashes over them, the intensity taking them both by surprise. But the Inter-World Council is out to hang Jax for a crime he didn’t commit, Junkeaters are hot on their trail, and ruthless arms traders are gunning for them.

Their passion may burn hot enough to last a lifetime, but first they must survive.

This book has been previously published and has been revised and expanded from its original release.

READ AN EXCERPT HERE

She can run, but he won’t let her go without a fight…

Three years ago, Clemant Taylor left Blue Island to escape her secret obsession with Wade Tawes, the son of her clan’s greatest enemy. But when the head of her family becomes ill, she is forced to return to Blue—at the risk of succumbing once more to Wade’s irresistible sexual lure.

Promising herself she won’t be enticed again into having mind-blowing sex with him, she vows to focus only on stopping the escalating violence between their clans and the collapse of the island’s way of life.

Wade Tawes, now the head of a family that has long sworn to seek retribution against the Taylors, is stuck between loyalty to his clan and his love for Clemant. He doesn’t know how he’ll do it, but he plans to force his family to accept his choice, after he finds out who’s really behind the vandalism that is ripping the island apart. And after he convinces Clemant that she really does love him.

But the feud heats up, blood is spilled, and pressure for revenge mounts on both sides. Wade and Clemant must find a way to heal the rift between their clans—or their world will implode, leaving them both empty and alone.

Check out excerpts and monthly contests at Leigh’s Website!!

I’ve got a confession to make. The heroes in my romances are usually a prototype of my husband in some way, shape or form. After all, he’s the man I know best and I married him because I obviously find him hero-material. Combining him with a little Han Solo, I had in my opinion a wonderful male. But after many books, I began to think I needed a new prototype. Someone was bound to start noticing that my hot, yummy heroes were all a little alike.

So, I started the search for another hero archetype. He had to be handsome, smart, witty and the number one requirement was that even if he wasn’t perfect (in fact, I was looking for slightly flawed), he needed to be okay with not being perfect. I like heroes who feel great in their own skins.

I looked and looked and couldn’t find anyone. Months rolled by. I began to despair. Even the issue of People magazine’s yearly Best Looking People provided no new fodder. The men all looked too handsome, too delicate, so perfect as to be uninteresting.

Then I saw him. I was meeting my old work buddies (think a table full of computer geeks) when this guy walked into Panera’s. Tall, lean but covered in muscle, sandy hair, a real tan that had lasted into October, and a walk that screamed confidence. But that wasn’t the clincher. The thing that sealed the deal was that he wore an Australian outback riding jacket as if he’d just come in off the range. My mouth dropped open. What guy could actually pull that off and not look like a complete idiot?? My fingers itched to take out the small writing pad I haul everywhere with me for just these occasions. He was the perfect combination of Brad Pitt before he got all weird and a 30 year old Robert Redford. Brad Redford I named him in my mind, suppressing a female giggle that really isn’t my style, I swear.

It might have been better if he’d walked on by, forever to live in my mind as a fictional character. Instead, he sat down next to me. It turns out he was friends with the guys I was eating lunch with. Usually I’m okay with my voyeuristic tendencies – I’m an author after all. How am I supposed to build stories if I’m not constantly watching my fellow man? But now I felt a little weird and uncomfortable, similar to the feeling I had when my mother-in-law told me about her sex life.

This odd feeling went on until I looked down and saw him fiddling with his sock. Only it didn’t look like a sock exactly. It looked like…

“What the hell is that on your leg?” I asked, horror creeping into my tone.

He yanked on the thin, stretchy fabric. “That’s the problem with wearing tights. They always get all messed up around the ankles.” He spoke as if there was nothing out of the ordinary about men wearing tights.

I couldn’t stop myself. I had to know why Brad Redford was wearing women’s legging, even if I had a feeling the answer wouldn’t bring me any satisfaction. “But why are you wearing tights?”

He looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. “It’s cold out,” he said, as if that explained everything.

I left that day heartbroken and, without knowing it, had made a new (tights wearing) friend. Dave plays soccer every chance he gets, is a complete jokester and is, yes, hot. Weird (too weird), but hot. It took me two years before I finally used him in a story and when I did, it was unexpected, mainly because it isn’t the type of tale I ever thought I’d write. He’s one of the two men in my latest release, a ménage with the title TWO FOR THE MONEY. If Dave ever knew I put him in a M/M/F ménage, he’d be furious. He may wear tights, but he’s also much too Alpha to ever share a woman. But lucky for me, he’ll never know. It will just be our little secret!

Check out an excerpt of my stories at www.leighwyndfield.com!