Samhain Publishing

Writing is a tough gig to handle. It isn’t for the meek of heart. Anyone who’s been in this game long enough is well aware of the ups and downs (and sideways … backs and forths for that matter) that an author has to go through to get published. The competition is fierce. The quality of your work has to be near perfect to make it in today’s market. Particularly in today’s market. We’re all feeling the pinch. The publishers, the bookstores and especially the consumer. Those entertainment dollars are going to be more carefully scrutinized before being released into the economy.

But it doesn’t stop there. Oh no … not by a long shot. Once your book is accepted for publication there’s the editing, decisions to be made with the cover artist, that all important release date. And it still doesn’t stop. There’s the promotion you gotta do, the appearances and finally, that all important next book.

That last part is probably the most important. You gotta make your next masterpiece just as compelling and thrilling as your first. You have a name to build, after all, and you certainly don’t want to do anything to trash that name. Then finally … there are no guarantees that the next book is going to be accepted for publication. The list just goes on … doesn’t it?

Sorta makes you wonder why you got into this business in the first place, doesn’t it? Could be that we love writing. That we’re compelled to write. What got you into this business? And would you still write if there wasn’t someone willing to pay you for it?

What can you say? It’s a well known fact that holidays play havoc on the writing schedule. Between the parties, the decorating, visiting with family, shopping, etc., etc., finding the time to write is a challenge. For a lot of people (like me) the month of December is pretty much shot.

I just spent yesterday evening dragging the Christmas decorations out of the crawlspace (and whacking my head a couple of times on the low ceiling) and putting them up all over the house. This is even with the intention of not going overboard and putting up each and every candle, angle, or snowman that I own. We haven’t even purchased the tree yet. We always go the real tree route as opposed to the artificial. The debate of real versus fake is material for another blog, so I won’t get into it.

The point is, I didn’t get a speck of writing done today. I’m hoping to do better tomorrow, but that will probably be spent shopping for Christmas gifts, wrapping and perhaps buying said tree. The entire day of Sunday will spent putting the lights on the tree (so I’m anal. Sue me), decorating the sucker and then dragging all the empty boxes back into the crawlspace.

I’ve got to do a better job of time management. Under normal circumstances … i.e., the other eleven months out of the year … I usually manage to put aside two hours an evening for writing. Maybe its not all productive writing, but its something. Whether, I get three, five, ten pages done, or only a couple of lines … that’s a couple of lines I didn’t have before.

So, for the month of December, I’m determined to make the time to write. I’m in the middle of a paranormal that I’m very excited about, so finding the time is imperative while the story is hot and the will to get it down on paper (or computer) is high.

Who needs sleep anyway?

It was a toss up as to what I was going to blog about today. There’s the ever popular promotion blog … or there was the discussion of the pros and cons of the ebook signing at the RT conference this year. You may have heard about it. This year in Pittsburgh, RT decided to hold a book signing for the e-pubbed authors on Wednesday and the usual signing for the print authors on Saturday.

I recall there was a lot of talk last year when this idea was first broached. A lot of fear that the e-pubbed authors were going to be segregated from those who were in print. I’ll admit, I had a few doubts myself and participated in a lot of discussion with other writers — both published in eformat and in print. No one was quite sure what to think of the idea.

However, this year I had the advantage of being able to participate in both events. I had books released in print and in eformat. I was able to form an opinion as to the success of this idea and personally speaking, I thought both events were huge successes. By having the epubbed authors do their signing on Wednesday (3 days prior to the usual Saturday event), we were able to draw our target audience. These are the people who are advocates of ebooks … who go in search of them. There was no competition for space and plenty of buyers interested in our product. The turnout was terrific and the people were eager to meet and chat with favorite authors.

Despite all the misgivings, the main thing we have to keep in mind when participating in book signings at RT (and at the RWA National conference). The proceeds are for the benefit of literacy. This isn’t a matter of us versus them. It’s a matter of selling books (whether in print or in eformat) for a good cause.

My turn to blog again? Hmm … that came up fast. Oh wait! This is Sunday. I get to announce the print release of my first romantic science fiction ‘Forget About Tomorrow’. I thought blogging about the eformat release was exciting. Knowing that my baby is gonna be out there in the hands of reader is infinitely more so.

I’ve had a couple of wonderful reviews for “Forget About Tomorrow”. Coffee Time Reviews says: ‘Ms. Kreger has a talent for drawing out the action in such a way as to keep the reader on their toes until the very last page.’ While Romantic Times says in their February issue: ‘This action-filled thrill ride is full of romance and suspense. Rich characters and lush, detailed descriptions of other worlds enhance the reading experience.’

How can something like that not go to an author’s head?

A short blurb — Larissalyia Ashanti, is hiding out on Earth, on the run from an intergalactic mob boss who plans to use her as leverage to force her magistrate father to clear his criminal record.

Mac, an earthman and barbarian unsanctified by FOW—Federation of Worlds—standards, witnesses the evidence of aliens when the mob catches up with Lacey. After he helps her fight them off, she does the only thing she can think of—she kidnaps him and takes him with her as she flees Earth. Mac learns the answers to that age old question of whether there’s life out there…in spades. But not only does he have to convince Lacey that his numerous skills are indispensable, he has to find a way into her heart.

The chase is just beginning…and so are the romance, adventure and danger as they cross the universe in search of safety and answers.

I hope everyone enjoys reading “Forget About Tomorrow” as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I’m sure someone has talked about this before … or maybe I have. So many blogs — so little time. Still, everyone has their own perspective and I’m going to share mine.

Some people are really big on description. Some like to write bare to the bone. Time and again I hear from other writers that editors prefer less description, more action. Keep the story moving … faster … more action … don’t slow the pace. As a reader, I find this lacking. I need lulls in the story to allow me to catch my breath and regroup for the next action scene. Give me a rich enough description where I can smell the coffee, feel the warmth of the sun on my face, hear the whisper of the wind on a cold winter evening.

In other words, I need the visual. When I write, I visualize the scene in my head. From there I’m able to make my worlds come to life. Sometimes I go overboard … which my crit partners are quick to point out, but mostly I think I manage to keep it within reason. I have to be able to see the scene in my head in order to enjoy it. However, I’m not a fan of page after page of droning description. That would get boring even for me. There has to be a balance.

A lot of writers need to outline, create whole character charts, background — you name it. I can’t write that way. I mull over an idea. If it has legs, it lingers in my mind for a long time. That’s when I know that I have a viable idea. From there, I build on it, visualize the surroundings, imagine situations and scenes that my characters would find themselves. Its only after I have a clear picture in my head that I’m able to begin a book.

Many writers cannot write that way, but it seems to work best for me. I guess its another example of the old adage — there is no wrong way to write a book.

How ‘bout you? Which method do you prefer? Copious notes until you know your character inside and out? Or painting a picture of them in your head?

I’m happy to announce the release of the second book of my Tomorrow series – PROMISE FOR TOMORROW.

Genre: Romantic Sci-Fi
ISBN: 1-59998-694-9
Length: Novel
Price: $5.50

Dodging assassins and political intrigue, Rianna and Jhaan fight to bring a promise of hope to a world on the edge of extinction.

I’m including a brief excerpt. I hope you enjoy my story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Slowly he moved toward her, his eyes capturing and holding her attention. A mesmerizing golden amber, they were fringed with thick black lashes. The intensity of his gaze held hers, hypnotic. Rianna found herself staring into them, falling into their depths as the world dropped from beneath her feet.

She didn’t know how, but as impossible as it seemed, she knew this man. Something deep within her recognized him. Even knowing he was a complete stranger, she couldn’t shake off the conviction. She was inexplicably drawn to him.

Her world narrowed to that penetrating gaze, everything else, even the danger still surrounding her, fell away. Without thought, she leaned toward him, forgetting the body stretched out between them, forgetting the man she had disabled. Nothing else mattered.

Rianna didn’t know what she might have done or said as sharp pain again dug into her mind and dizziness swept over her. Blackness edged her vision until she had to fight to cling to consciousness.

Reaching out toward him, she instinctively sought his strength as the world threatened to spin out of control. His warm hands took hers, anchoring her. With determination she fought off the desire to close her eyes and sink into oblivion, clinging to him with a need bordering on desperation. Her gaze was held by the golden heat of his as she became conscious of a tickling sensation at the back of her mind. It was a fragile bubble of awareness hovering just beyond her reach, tantalizing and elusive. As she stared into his eyes, she felt it flare to life, a pressure building in her head, its strength growing by the second. The world steadied.

“Come.” His dark voice possessed a purring quality. He continued to hold her hands, those amber eyes encouraging, compelling her to accompany him. Commanding.

Rianna hesitated, tearing her gaze away from his to flicker downward to the figure of the man lying at her feet. Absently she realized that the fog was dissipating, allowing her a fairly clear view of her assailant where he lay among the crushed vegetation. She couldn’t tell if he was dead or alive. Did it matter?

“You need not worry about him. The one called Cayo will trouble you no more.” The stranger spoke Basic with a lilting accent, deep and musical. The tantalizing tone curled around her nerve endings to feather down her spine until something deep within her responded to that seductive purr. “There was one other. We must not linger.”

Jhaan stared deeply into her eyes as he prepared a simple compulsion to ensure her cooperation. As he built the command, he allowed himself the pleasure of tracing the delectable curves of her face with his gaze. Following feminine lines to fall into the snare of mysterious green eyes, noting the intriguing manner in which they slanted upward.

He felt a stirring deep within, his heart’s tempo accelerating until his blood pounded in his ears. It was like nothing he had felt before. Tentatively he opened his psychic Talent fully to her. With a gentle touch he tested the mental paths of the female, tuning into the cadences of her subconsciousness, seeking to enforce her compliance.

Instead, it was he who was caught. The instant he fully dropped his shields, her mind reached out and snared his. Unexpectedly, her mental patterns laced with his, meshing with perfection. For a moment he stopped breathing as the full impact of her psi compatibility seeped into his consciousness.

This was not possible! No woman outside of Dakar possessed the psychic capability to match that of a male of his world. It was unheard of.

Shock held him immobile. His thoughts scattered like thistle on the wind.

Rianna frowned with growing perplexity as odd impressions swirled through her mind, dancing at the edges of her peripheral consciousness. There was a sense of tearing, another brief flash of excruciating pain before it was gone, leaving her disorientated. For just a moment it was almost as if she could feel his sense of shocked discovery before it melted into a heated attraction and finally faded into a sense of acceptance. For endless seconds the man stared into her eyes, seemingly blind and deaf to his surroundings, too stunned to move.

That moment of perfect recognition was abruptly shattered when a rustle of movement behind her drew her attention. With great effort she tore her gaze away and turned, her hand diving into the folds of her tunic to pull her small weapon from its concealment. Their unexpected connection had been so startling, so unexpected that they had forgotten about the man she had disabled.

Smitty stumbled to his feet, swaying with drunken disorientation before his eyes found his fallen companion. Rage crossed his face before he turned on the small woman who had taken him out so effortlessly. Blood still ran down his lower face from his ruined nose, lending it a sense of brutish violence.

“I’m gonna kill you, bitch!” Menace emanated from him as he advanced on her, hesitating when he noticed the tall warrior. Noting the lack of a weapon in the hands of this new threat, fierce satisfaction blossomed in his eyes. Smitty’s lips drew back in a parody of a smile even as he darted a hand toward his boot to pull out a lethal-looking blade. Rianna felt his confidence flare as he expertly reversed the blade with the intention of launching it straight at the chest of her rescuer.

His biggest mistake was taking his eyes off her, dismissing her as a threat. She never hesitated. Even as he drew his arm back to throw, she brought up her weapon and in one smooth motion took aim and gently squeezed the trigger as she had been taught. The little weapon fired, striking the man full in the chest, the force of the blast flinging him backwards to disappear into the tall grasses.
Everything fell silent once more.

Horrified and sickened, Rianna slowly dropped her arm. She had never fired upon another living creature before, much less killed one. Her practice had always been on inanimate targets, things that did not wear a brief look of stunned surprise before being overtaken by death. The little blaster suddenly felt heavy in her hand. Repulsive. Nothing moved but the gentle sway of the grasses, remaining tendrils of fog flowing forward to mute the swatch of vegetation. She swallowed hard, her stomach tightening as nausea threatened.

The Dakarian came to stand beside her, his gaze following hers. When Rianna turned to look up at him, she saw a gleam of approval in those amber eyes, a savage satisfaction.

“Well done,” he said, his eyes clearly reassessing his initial impression of her as she stood frozen at his side.

“Well done?” Rianna repeated in a tight voice, disbelief threatening to overwhelm her. “I just killed a man and all you can say is well done?”

Perplexity was clear in those riveting golden eyes. “He would have killed you, my lady. You reacted in the only manner open to you.”

Somehow his calm acceptance of the fact that she had just killed a man, even if it was in self-defense, did not sit well with her. That this was one of the fabled savage Dakarians was without a doubt. The fierceness of their reputation was well earned.

“A third man remained with their ship,” the stranger said, forcing Rianna to focus on him. “He may yet work up the nerve to come in search of his companions.”

No sooner had he spoken than the stillness was shattered by the sound of powerful engines. With a majestic grace, the pirate ship rose over the tall grasses, swimming briefly into view through the mist before streaking off into the cloud cover, vanishing from sight.

Cutting those superfluous scenes … painful, ain’t it? You have a scene that’s absolutely perfect. The setting is terrific, the characters are in place, the mood is dark … but it doesn’t move the story forward. (Thud!) What do you do? You slice it. That wonderful scene has got to go. No matter how much it hurts you have to make a clean cut. Otherwise your story may grind to a messy halt.

I went through the painful process of slicing and dicing when I had to clean up the very first book I wrote. It was written nearly eight years ago and that sucker was over 800 pages. Goes to show you what a newbie I was. LOL. I had absolutely no clue that 400 pages was the norm. You ever try to cut nearly 400 pages? It was painful … excruciating. I was in therapy for a year. (Okay, maybe I wasn’t, but I probably should have been.)

So what do you do with all that cut material? Do you use it elsewhere or in a different book? I’ve heard authors say that once they cut something, its history. They cannot use it for another book because it was geared towards this particular story/character. That’s where the dicing comes in. Personally? If it’s a good scene, I’d use it. I believe any writer worth her or his salt can re-write a scene to fit a new character. I had a perfectly good scene which involved some interesting sexual calisthenics. Too bad it involved a secondary character that I had to cut. Did I dump the entire scene? Sure … for that book. However, I’ve got it saved in the bowels of my ‘puter … just waiting for that moment when the mood is right and I have a situation that calls for that particular piece.

So, do tell … are you a saver or a dumper. Or should I say a slicer or a dicer?

What is it about Vamps that draws the reader? And the writer, for that matter. According to a book I read years ago by Stephen King … “Danse Macabre”, I think it was … he’s of the opinion that vampires are dead from the waist down. Don’t quite recall the exact quote (it was a number of years ago when I read it), but it really made sense.

Vampires are reputed to be cold and lifeless until they get that all important infusion of Type O. Then they “come to life” so to speak. The way King described them, it was like handling dead fish. Cold and clammy. Yuck! Nothing appealing about that.

I’m sure this discussion has made the loops, ad nauseam. But here’s another blog about the subject … deal with it. Each and every vamp book I’ve read (and believe me, I’ve read a ton of them), the vampire hero is a tall, dark (usually tortured) soul. They hate what they are, they’re moody, they’re on the verge of turning feral.

Well, for God’s sake, if your existence is that miserable, go take a walk at high noon already.

So what makes them so damned sexy? There’s such a fascination with vampires. At the RT conference last week I sat in on a couple of author panels who discussed the phenomena. I just want to note here that Mary Janice Davidson is a stitch. Between she and Charlaine Harris, they had everyone laughing hysterically. They have pretty much the same opinion as I when it comes the vampire angst.

Still, there’s something about them. And there’s the fact that a writer can pretty much make their own rules. You want a vampire who can tolerate a certain amount of daylight? Sure, go ahead. How about one that feeds on emotions rather than blood. No problem. You are the writer. You make up the ground rules.

I’ve never had a desire to write a vampire book, but then an idea hit me. It was fresh, it was exciting, it was different. I’ve written about twenty scenes on it and actually plotted it out. Anyone who knows me is aware of the fact that I’m a dedicated pantser. I would have said I couldn’t plot out a book if you put a gun to my head. Yet, there I was … scribbling out notes, brainstorming with friends and putting together a bonafide outline.

I may never recover.

I’m absolutely thrilled that my first book is being released by Samhain Publishing today. A dream come true. So many authors have worked long and hard to get published and I’m breathing a huge sigh of relief to realize that I’m one of them.

I’m including a short excerpt with this announcement. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. LOL

Liz Kreger

This evening was getting stranger by the second. If he didn’t know better, he’d say he was the one who had been drugged and dragged into some bizarre waking dream.

Going by the evidence of his eyes, he had a feeling the question of whether mankind was alone in the universe was about to be answered. No way in hell were those scaly things people in costumes. Even Hollywood couldn’t have come up with something so bizarre.

Which left only one explanation.

He cocked one eyebrow upward when she didn’t answer. “Let’s start with something real easy, lady. You got a name?”

Her chin came up in the same imperial manner he had noticed earlier. That gesture was beginning to irritate him. Her regal attitude tried to relegate him to the status of an underling, but he wasn’t falling for it. The grin he gave her was designed to infuriate and, going by the frown gathering on her brow, he’d succeeded.

Then he was distracted from his amusement when he noticed something else. Her eyes were now the color of dark storm clouds. He was sure she had ice blue eyes. No, they’d been a pale gray. He shook his head. He was a trained observer and he couldn’t even say for sure what her eye color was.

“Yes, I have a name.” He again noticed her sing-song manner of speech. It feathered up and down his spine in a very intriguing way. Hell, with that voice, he’d listen to her read from a dictionary. It was steamy and cool at the same time and everything in between. Sexier than hell.
“It is Larissalyia Sarisekko Ashanti.”

He stared at her for several seconds, dumbfounded. The way she pronounced her name inserted vowels where he wouldn’t have guessed any existed. He began to laugh. The movement irritated his back but he ignored it. “I couldn’t pronounce that on a bet. I’ll just call you Lacey.”

“You will do no such thing.”

“Look, lady. It’s late, I’m hurting and I’m really not in the mood to put up with a prima donna.” With slow deliberation, he stalked her, exuding intimidation. He was pleased to note she refused to back down. She had guts, he had to say that for her. If anything, that stubborn chin came up higher. This close, he saw that her eyes were no longer gray. Even as he watched, they bled into a deep brown with reddish specks emerging.

Shit. No wonder he couldn’t put a color to her eyes. They changed with her moods!

Before today, Mac would have said he didn’t believe in aliens. Tonight’s events proved him wrong.

Watching her closely, he picked out little hints of her otherworldliness. It wasn’t just the eyes—unusual though they were. Her hair color had to be natural—for her. It sure as hell didn’t come out of a bottle. Under this lighting the luxurious tresses melted into a whole spectrum of colors which ranged from golden to reddish strands intermixed with the pale of near white blond. Besides being drop-dead gorgeous, she had few other indications that she came from another world. Hell, she was probably from a different universe.

“I do not know who or what this prima donna is, but I assure you I am not accustomed to being treated this way.”

“Tough! Get used to it.”

“I will do no such thing, Earthman—”

“The name is MacNaught, Victor MacNaught, but I won’t answer to anything but Mac.”

“How about barbarian?” she shot back before pausing to draw a deep breath. The gesture did all sorts of interesting things to the front of that tight sweater. Mac had to concentrate to keep his gaze on her face.

“I did not ask for you to help us,” she added.

“Honey, you wouldn’t have gotten out of that bar without my help.”

What made you first start writing? I’d been doing it for years … off and on. I always knew I wanted to be a writer, I just never found my nitch. After reading probably 10,000 Harlequin categories, I tried writing ‘em, but they weren’t for me. Had no problem reading them, but I couldn’t finish writing one.

Fast forward ten years and I picked up the pen once more (figuratively speaking). This time I was going to write a historical. Had the time period, the setting, the characters, did the research and … nothing. Couldn’t do it. I think I gave up after three chapters.

But it was in the paranormal genre that I found my nitch. I love the idea of creating a world of my own … one populated by people who live only in my imagination. No one can tell me whether it was right or wrong, if my research was faulty, because this is my world. I make up the rules. As long as those rules are consistent and I can sweep my reader along with me, I’m a happy camper.

It wasn’t until we were waiting for the arrival of our daughter that I actually began, and finished, my first book. A paranormal. It was a long gestation period … two years to be exact. We adopted a little girl from China in 2000 and it was during the interminable wait to get our travel orders that I managed to complete that first book. It was magical, it was an accomplishment … it was 200,000 words long. Obviously I didn’t have a clue as to what the guidelines were. You ever try to cut 50,000 or 60,000 words from a manuscript? It was a Herculean endeavor and one that I managed to do. Almost.

Doesn’t matter that this book will probably never see the light of day. It was a book. It had a beginning, the middle and an end. It was done. I’ve since gone on the write five more books and actually had one of them accepted by Samhain Publishing.

I guess that’s all the proof I needed to prove to myself that I’m an author at long last. How about you? When did you first get bitten by that writing bug? How did you find the genre that spoke to you?