Samhain Publishing

I began watching ONCE UPON A TIME with my oldest daughters from the very first episode. I was a bit skeptical, but willing to give it a try. Bottom line? I love it.

But I’ve found my favorite characters aren’t necessarily the traditional storybook heroes and heroines. When it comes to this show, I’m more intrigued by the villains. The heroes… ‘Prince Charming’, for example… aren’t impressing me at this juncture. For one thing, they’re rather predictable.

As a writer, I can tell you it isn’t always easy to make a believable, almost ‘likable’ villain. I prefer to write and be entertained by those characters who have a reason for their naughtiness. The “he’s just evil” types are old hat. And boring. Honestly, any of us could be the villain — it mostly depends on our reaction to circumstance. It depends on what we choose to do with the cards we’re dealt.

Rumplestiltskin is the one villain I would love to rehabilitate. I never would have dreamed in a million years that this child-stealing, creepy, troll-like character could pull such emotions from me. How can one be repelled… creeped out… and yet somehow attracted to someone at the same time? It’s the stuff therapists dream of.

Um, no, this isn’t normal for me. I’m naturally very conservative. The type of woman who notices the bad-boys from afar, but would never dare to get a closer look.

In my opinion, a lot of the Rumplestiltkin/Mr. Gold appeal is wrapped up in two things:

First, his backstory. He was once a normal, humble, and meek man. Not a hero — even branded a coward. But he was a good man, nonetheless. He has a past that makes women like me say: “Awwww! Poor guy.” And want to give him a hug.

The second reason he appeals? I will have to say it’s the acting of Robert Carlyle. He is an amazing actor, giving us glimpses from one moment to the next of the conflicting personalities living within his character. He makes this villain someone you’d like to see win … if only he’d stop being so nasty.

He isn’t handsome, really. He definitely isn’t a pretty-boy. But there’s just something… even when wearing the hideous gray, rubbery make-up… something draws you closer. Just as it drew Belle when she gave him that kiss.

I loved the Beauty and the Beast twist in the episode, Skin Deep. I thought it was well handled, even with the not-so-subtle homage to Disney’s popular version. I really could believe that she would fall in love with the thoroughly unlovable spinner of gold.

The storyline, along with the acting, gave somewhat new dimension to my favorite fairytale and my favorite ‘villain turned hero’, “the Beast”. And yes, folks, after his transformation, ‘the Beast’ was not always depicted as a hot stud. Anyone see the version starring George C. Scott? Enough said.

Will OUAT take the same track with Mr. Gold? Will he be redeemed and receive his own happy ending? There’s that possibility. But as another favorite movie character of mine says: “The bad-guy never gets the girl.”

Either way, I’ll be carefully… cautiously… cheering him on. Hero’s are made, after all, not born.

Who’s your favorite villain?

~~Meg Allison

Indulge your senses…

http://www.megallisonauthor.com

I loved fairytales as a child. Okay, yes, as an adult, as well. Which is probably a big part of the reason I began writing romance — the ‘happy ever after’ part just seemed natural.

However, I tend to gravitate toward the more interesting heroines. Those with spirit, intelligence, and ingenuity. Unfortunately, in the past, most Disney versions of these heroines rather lack such character traits. Many seem to lack, well, much character at all. Sure, Snow White, Cinderella, et al, are pretty and sweet as can be… but beyond that? Hmm, not so sure I’d want them on my side if things got tough.

My favorite story in any venue is Beauty and the Beast. It’s the perfect romance, in my opinion, because the heroine doesn’t fall in love at first sight. Neither does she fall in love because the prince is charming and handsome and rich. She falls for him after she gets to know him. She loves him quite despite herself, because she witnesses the true beauty of his soul.

Such a cliche, lol!

But as a reader and writer, I have very little use for any story, whether it be written or on-screen, where the romantic leads do not have a good reason to be together. Keep them apart for most of the tale, please do. But when they are finally together, I’d better believe they’ll stay that way for the long haul. Yes, I’m old-fashioned that way.

I’ve noticed that my favorite romances tend to follow the a basic fairytale theme — particularly mimicing the story of Beauty and her Beast. Jane Eyre, comes to mind, mostly because I watched the newer film version this weekend. I love the gruff, surly Mr. Rochester. I enjoy the way the young Jane stands up to him and the passion that flairs beneath the surface. It’s a wonderful romance that almost isn’t one at all. It’s among the best written romances, I think, because the reader cannot imagine the possibility of a happy ending. There’s just no way for these two to be together. Yes, there it is.

My goal over the next six months is to finish the story I’ve started. But then, I want to start the next one, which is very reminiscent of my favorite fairytale. I only hope I can make the reader believe — as Miss Bronte did — that the couple couldn’t possibly end up together… and then bring them to that point anyway.

~~Meg Allison

http://www.megallisonauthor.com

Pie is baking, filling the house with the smell of apples and cinnamon. Soon the turkey will join in… along with sage and other spices from the stuffing. Oh, and don’t forget the sweet smell of yams with marshmallows melting on top. (Oh, excuse me…that’s my stomach growling.)

Yes, it’s Thanksgiving morning here in America, and my daughters and I are preparing the traditional feast. I’ve never been quite sure why we celebrate every important holiday by stuffing ourselves silly, but we do. And who am I to scoff tradition?

Here’s wishing each of you a happy, healthy and safe Thanksgiving Day!

~~Meg Allison

Indulge your senses…
www.megallisonauthor.com

I will be the first to say that I’m not sad to see the month of June pass into the realm of history. It was not the most pleasant thirty days I’ve had in a while. Not because of any one thing in particular, but mainly a series of small things. Annoying things… shake-up-your-life things. Some of which were completely unexpected.

It all started with the end of another school year. Hm, okay, with five children in the house, we’ve been through this before. We’ll do this again. Only this time around, we had one graduating high school. Good, right? Yes and no. Graduation means the end of one stage of life and the beginning of another: adulthood. (shudder) No one is ever truly ready to become an ‘adult’, are they?

By the way, who’s lame idea was it that human beings should decide the course of their entire adult lives by the age of seventeen? Eighteen? No pressure there, right?

Then sad events began to follow our milestone. Friends moved away, not unexpectedly, but still… we were hoping it wouldn’t happen. It’s tough to see people you care about leave. Another friend of our dds’ also announced her family will likely be moving to another state this summer. THAT was not expected. Cue some heart-rending strife, denial, bargaining and, finally, acceptance.

Follow all this up with the natural day-to-day heartaches of life, topped off with a complete hard-drive failure of my barely-year-old laptop and some supremely stupid personal mistakes… Yes. A month from the depths of the underworld.

Dramatic? Probably, but I’m allowed. I’m a writer, after all.

Two weeks later — after agonizing over whether or not my on-line backup actually worked — my laptop has been replaced. Upgraded, even. Next, I recovered my latest work in progress. Intact. Every single one of the 49k+ words saved.

Jubilation! Celebration! A reprieve from the governor, if you will.

Suddenly, July looks to be a much better month. Big sigh of relief. It’s amazing how good the little things can make you feel once you’ve flirted with the bottom.

No, June wasn’t a complete disaster. We did celebrate two wonderful birthdays in our family. One daughter got her very first real-paycheck job. We’ve also shared some laughs and have grown a bit stronger together as a family. So I suppose I can’t dismiss an entire month of my life as wasted. It wasn’t.

Lessons learned in those thirty days: count your blessings; expect the unexpected; laugh when you want to cry; hold on tight to those you love; and always, ALWAYS backup those files!

Ah, February… the month when our hearts and minds are turned to love. If the frilly decorations and heart-shaped boxes of candy won’t do it, then the myriad of romantic films and songs just might.

But despite the candy hearts and chocolate confections; all the shades of pink and flounces of lace, I have a confession to make. Are you ready? … I don’t like Valentine’s Day. As a matter of fact, I dislike it intensely.

Now my children will tell you I am not a romantic person. They sometimes laugh out loud that I write about romance. But their assumption isn’t entirely true.

I like to think of myself as a romantic realist. I do believe in love. I do believe in romance. But I know a lot of what I write about is pure fiction and I wouldn’t expect it any other way. Honestly, if my husband were to say some of the things my heroes say to their heroines, I’d likely laugh in his face. It’s fantasy. It sounds good on paper, but in real life it would seem overblown. Odd. Out of place.

What do I find romantic? Chilvalry. Kindness. Loyalty. Thoughtfulness.

I like it when my husband opens doors for me. No, I don’t need him to do so, but it’s nice to be taken care of from time to time.

I like it when he’s extra nice to me or tries to make me laugh because he knows I’ve had a bad day.

I also think it’s romantic that he has eyes only for me, even after so many years together… and when he brings me little gifts, anytime ‘just because’.

To me, those things are romantic. Being forced, by a calendar, to buy me a gift and card isn’t necessarily so. Of course, that doesn’t mean I’ll pass up the chocolate.

Guilty pleasures … those things in life that we love, that we can’t do without, and yet feel guilty about enjoying. It can be because they aren’t intellectual enough or aren’t good for us in some way. It may simply be our egos caving in to peer pressure … that need to fit in.

Whatever our guilty pleasure may be, we indulge — often in secret — because it makes us happy.

I was reminded of the subject this past week when Patrick Swayze passed away. For many years, DIRTY DANCING was one of my guilty pleasures. The title alone put it on that list — not to mention the very suggestive dance moves. Besides, it seemed more a film aimed at teens and I was an old lady of twenty-something by then. LOL!

So what makes that one, simple film so memorable for me? What makes it a film I still watch — alone — whenever I get the chance? The romance, of course! Yes, the fantastic dancing also helps, not to mention the music and a cast of fascinating characters.

Johnny was a hero to die for. How could I not adore a gorgeous man who seemed such the bad-boy, and yet stood by his girl when things got tough? A knight in black leather. A man who could be sexy and tough… and yet oh-so vulnerable.

Now doesn’t that sound like the perfect romance hero?

Do you have any guilty pleasures?

Take one demon in disguise… add an independent, psychic heroine in distress … now mix in a sexy hero with a sword. There you have the makings of a sizzling paranormal romance!

Join me in celebrating the print release of DREAM WALK, Book 1 of The Sentinels. It’s a slightly different kind of paranormal … an otherworldly story that takes place in Savannah, GA. But it could easily be your own hometown. All you need is a little imagination.

Dream Walk
© Meg Allison
ISBN #978-1-60504-317-3

Some nightmares are deadly real.

Camille Bryant is a gifted medium being slowly driven insane by terrifying dreams. When she is forced to accept help from a Sentinel—a mysterious warrior of her race—her comfort zone is quickly invaded. Try as she might, she can’t seem to stop the erotic visions that fill her mind when her rescuer is near.

Ian Spain is a dream walker who’s been assigned to banish the dream demon from Camille’s restless nights. But complications quickly ensue. This is no ordinary demon and Camille is no ordinary woman: both are far stronger than anyone realizes. So strong, Ian suddenly isn’t sure he has the power to vanquish her demon—not when his own hound his every step.

Their passion ignites even as the body count rises and their courage is put to the test in a battle as old as time. Winner takes all.

Warning: Scenes of leather-clad hero may induce spontaneous drooling, erotic fantasies, and unfair comparisons to spouse or significant other.

Excerpt from a nightmare…

Heart pounding a staccato beat, Camille rushed down the dark alley. If she could just find the little shop again, she would be safe. Madame Virginia would give her shelter—she would know what to do.

A sound grabbed her attention and she almost stumbled as she glanced behind. Shadows moved, slithering over the sidewalk toward her. They extinguished the glow of the street lamps one by one as they drew closer. Like a massive storm, the darkness would soon blot out all light. She would be stranded. Alone.

This time the dream brought her to a different place, but the demon followed, its form concealed in the heavy shroud of black fog. Something hissed. A misty shape reached out of the shadows to touch her skin. A cold, sharp object pricked her arm and she bit back a scream, her feet moving faster. Could she outrun a nightmare?

“Camille.”

She jerked to a stop, scanning the alley before her. She was alone. Something fluttered by her ear and she screamed. Instincts took over as she ran into the alley. The blank brick wall rose up before her, barring the way to any kind of safety.

Oh God, he had her cornered. She had always escaped before, had always been able to hide long enough to pull herself from the dream. Heart pounding frantically, she braced her back against the wall and faced her dragon.

Instead of the dark, mythical beast, Ian stood before her. Tall and unyielding, feet planted shoulder width apart, he gazed at her with such intensity she couldn’t draw air into her lungs. He wore a black leather jacket that hung open to reveal his bare chest, and skin-tight pants of the same material. A gleaming saber clutched in one hand, his mane of dark hair blew about granite features. His gaze held hers for a moment before he looked down at the clothing. With a twist of the wrist, he lifted the weapon and turned it so the faint light glittered off the blade. He frowned.

“Is it a knight you’ve conjured, Camille, or a vampire slayer?” He looked at her. “I’m not quite sure I fit the part either way.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t summon you. I’ve never been able to summon help before.”

One corner of his full mouth quirked into a half-smile. A dangerous smile.

“It seems I’m here now, whatever the reason.” He bowed slightly at the waist. “Where is your demon, my lady?”

A hiss filled the air and orange flame shot between them. The rotten-egg smell filled the alleyway. Camille choked on the rancid fumes.

“Please, Ian…” A sob ripped through her. She swallowed and blinked back tears. “I can’t do this again. Make it leave. Just make it go.”

He gazed at her silently and she wondered at the wariness in his expression. “I thought you didn’t need me.”

“Please…” His features softened at her desperate plea. Then he nodded, stepped toward her and turned.

“Stay behind me, Camille. Whatever you do, don’t run. Demons thrive on fear and you cannot outrun a nightmare.”

All Camille could think of was hiding behind his broad back as darkness descended around them. The flutter of wings and a snarling growl echoed off the tall brick walls. Her body shook. Blood pounded in her ears. She could smell the brimstone mingling with sweat and the musty mildew of the alleyway.

Ian stood at the ready, sword clasped in both hands, blade pointed straight up. “Who is it, Camille? Who is your demon?”

* * *

Who is her demon? You’ll have to read the story to find out.

~~Meg Allison

Indulge your senses…
www.megallisonauthor.com

Life is filled with ups and downs. Lately it seems the latter want to take over. With the rather hopeless outlook on the economy, international relations and the like, it’s a wonder any of us want to get out of bed in the morning. Where do we turn? What can we do to keep from sinking into dark depression?

As cliched as it may seem, I find it’s the little things that keep me going from day to day. A smile from a stranger… a hug from a child… a funny picture… an inspiring song…doing something for someone else, just because. It all reminds me that sometimes you have to look for joy in life. Sometimes that joyful experience can be right under your nose.

I find my hope renewed in day-to-day things — like those mentioned above. I also find my personal faith keeps me going, keeps me upbeat and watchful for that new day when the bigger picture won’t seem so dreary. But not everyone has that to lean on.

So what do you do to keep hope alive? Where do you find solice? Inspiration? Please share… because I believe if we pass it on, things can only get brighter.

There are few things that make you feel crazy faster than forgetting stuff — appointments, phone numbers, where you put your keys… days you’re supposed to blog. (ahem)

It seems to get worse with age, although I’m still a little too young to blame it on that. My issues seem to stem more from having too damn much to do!

The children are growing up — ours are now 9, 11 (tomorrow), 13, 16 & 18. As they grow, their ‘to do’ lists also grow. Until I get the oldest two firmly entrenched in the driving world (shudder), my job as chauffeur to the masses is intact. Of course, add the myriad of errands that my dh asks me to take care of, plus home work, cleaning, cooking, teaching AND writing????

Yeah, there are days when my head is ready to explode. Honestly, there’s been a moment or two when I wished it would.

So how do you keep from losing your mind when the world seems destined to fail without you? I could really use some advice.

I love a good murder.

Okay, there really isn’t such a thing as a “good” murder, even if the victim is hated by one and all. But I find myself enthralled on a daily basis by tales of crime and mayhem on either television or in books.

I love the excitement of the chase; the intrigue; the clues. I suppose what I really adore is not the brutal act itself (no need to call the cops) but the puzzle left behind.

I have always loved puzzles. My brains seems to thrive on them. I work out the crossword every day and the cryptiquote. I love jigsaw puzzles, but have a hard time leaving one unfinished once I start. And so I turn to crime shows — CSI in all its incarnations; Law & Order; Monk; etc — for entertainment…for a chance to unwind.

As a child I played endless games of CLUE with my mother — and now play up to three different versions with my own children on those long, snowy weekends. Yes, I often win, but not always. My kids seem to have their mother’s aptitude for crime … they know how to put the pieces together and figure out the ‘who, what, when or why’.

So what exactly is the attraction? Why does my brain seem to require the stimulation of putting clues in place? Of ferreting out the red herrings? I’m not sure. But I do know it keeps my mind working. It seems to keep my young.

Maybe I should have been a cop? Nah. I’m much too squeamish and I prefer my ‘danger’ to be completely vicarious.