Something terrifying stalks Caitlin and her beloved Trevor. Something the
bits and pieces she left claimed she had to make sense of–or so legend says.
When the curator of their collection finds Caitlin’s long forgotten diary, she
wonders will it tell the whole tale? Will it tell why Caitlin seemed so
determined to tell the difference between reality and nightmare even as she
continued the fight to defend her family from evil? Will it explain why she
thought her world twisted? If she really became a witch?
Perhaps the answer lies between the lines of her story, one of lessons,
struggles, and the hopes she carried like a warrior’s shield.
This is a side (or supplemental, if you will) story in the Antique Magic
series, a companion to The Artist’s Inheritance (Antique Magic, Book
One).
Caitlin's Book of Shadows is free on Smashwords through Friday, May 31, and .99 at both Barnes and Noble and Amazon.
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Sunday, May 26, 2013
What Do You Envision?
I'll be honest. Life as a writer can suck. Especially if you're an unknown. How do you keep optimistic when no one cares who you are?
The only thing I can say is I look to certain authors for inspiration. For me, it's Sherrilyn Kenyon and Josh Lanyon, although there're others. Every time I read Sherrilyn's RWA speech, it makes me cry. I've had the pleasure of meeting her twice, and I told her I wanted to be like her when I grew up. She is freaking awesome.
Josh Lanyon? If I had half his energy, I'd be more productive. Damn, he makes me feel like a slacker. But he also motivates me to keep writing, so it's all good.
When I first started writing, I was told I'd fail, never amount to anything. I refused to believe that. If Stephen King, J K Rowling and others achieved success, why couldn't I? Sure, there're people who want me to fail, including fellow writers whom I thought liked my writing and had my back. To learn they didn't hurt. A lot. But I try to focus on those who are supportive, like the authors in the Kentucky Independent Writers group, my local Sisters in Crime chapter, and fellow writers Amy McCorkle and Missy Goodman. And I'm developing relationships with local publishers, which I hope will have a positive outcome.
Let's talk about the vision board.
Here's mine:
Now, this isn't an original concept. I only did it after Amy McCorkle, suggested it, even though I'd used visualization in the past. But, at this point, I'd lost so much faith in my writing, I needed any help I could get. Seriously.
And it's not inclusive. That's the one thing about goals. They change. But here's what mine are:
Final or win the Claymore.
Be interviewed and/or reviewed in Mystery Scene.
Be an author signing at the Southern Kentucky Book Fest. (Being on a panel would be a plus.)
Visit New Orleans
Have a radio play produced. I love old radio plays.
Attend Thrillerfest and qualify for a membership in ITW.
Work with the following actors: Benedict Cumberbatch, Martin Freeman, Kevin Whately, and Laurence Fox.
Win a RITA and an Edgar.
Be a bestselling NY Times author.
Are the goals realistic? No. Are they achievable? Hard to say. Sure, some of them are what you could call "pipe dreams," but one might as well have fun if one's going to dream big.
Now to get to work.
The only thing I can say is I look to certain authors for inspiration. For me, it's Sherrilyn Kenyon and Josh Lanyon, although there're others. Every time I read Sherrilyn's RWA speech, it makes me cry. I've had the pleasure of meeting her twice, and I told her I wanted to be like her when I grew up. She is freaking awesome.
Josh Lanyon? If I had half his energy, I'd be more productive. Damn, he makes me feel like a slacker. But he also motivates me to keep writing, so it's all good.
When I first started writing, I was told I'd fail, never amount to anything. I refused to believe that. If Stephen King, J K Rowling and others achieved success, why couldn't I? Sure, there're people who want me to fail, including fellow writers whom I thought liked my writing and had my back. To learn they didn't hurt. A lot. But I try to focus on those who are supportive, like the authors in the Kentucky Independent Writers group, my local Sisters in Crime chapter, and fellow writers Amy McCorkle and Missy Goodman. And I'm developing relationships with local publishers, which I hope will have a positive outcome.
Let's talk about the vision board.
Here's mine:
Now, this isn't an original concept. I only did it after Amy McCorkle, suggested it, even though I'd used visualization in the past. But, at this point, I'd lost so much faith in my writing, I needed any help I could get. Seriously.
And it's not inclusive. That's the one thing about goals. They change. But here's what mine are:
Final or win the Claymore.
Be interviewed and/or reviewed in Mystery Scene.
Be an author signing at the Southern Kentucky Book Fest. (Being on a panel would be a plus.)
Visit New Orleans
Have a radio play produced. I love old radio plays.
Attend Thrillerfest and qualify for a membership in ITW.
Work with the following actors: Benedict Cumberbatch, Martin Freeman, Kevin Whately, and Laurence Fox.
Win a RITA and an Edgar.
Be a bestselling NY Times author.
Are the goals realistic? No. Are they achievable? Hard to say. Sure, some of them are what you could call "pipe dreams," but one might as well have fun if one's going to dream big.
Now to get to work.
Friday, May 24, 2013
We Interrupt This Post for a Special Announcement
Heads up. If you've wanted to read "Family Tradition," here's your chance. As part of MuseItUp's TGIF Special, my short dark fiction suspense story is .99, but only through Sunday, May 26.
Blurb:
Artist Rick Stanton needs a commission. He faces eviction from his apartment and his latest project is on hiatus. Worse, his muse refuses to cooperate. A recent letter may contain the inspiration he needs. Inside is the photograph of a mysterious woman, her face hidden by an umbrella. But there’s no identification, no way for him to contact her. A month later, another envelope arrives, this time with a phone number. Realizing this may be his last chance, Rick calls her. The woman introduces herself as Elizabeth and tells him she wants him to paint her portrait.
Rick agrees, only to learn there are conditions. Elizabeth is a recluse who lives with her two servants in a Victorian manor. She never allows her face to be seen. Not only must he stay at Elizabeth’s residence while painting her, he can’t leave, nor can he ever tell anyone about the portrait.
Sensing something isn't right, Rick is even more disturbed by the sinister undercurrent beneath the household’s genteel façade. It’s somehow connected to the family portraits hanging in Elizabeth’s living room. Could they be haunted? And why doesn't Elizabeth’s housekeeper want Rick to finish the painting?
We now return to our regularly scheduled program...
Blurb:
Artist Rick Stanton needs a commission. He faces eviction from his apartment and his latest project is on hiatus. Worse, his muse refuses to cooperate. A recent letter may contain the inspiration he needs. Inside is the photograph of a mysterious woman, her face hidden by an umbrella. But there’s no identification, no way for him to contact her. A month later, another envelope arrives, this time with a phone number. Realizing this may be his last chance, Rick calls her. The woman introduces herself as Elizabeth and tells him she wants him to paint her portrait.
Rick agrees, only to learn there are conditions. Elizabeth is a recluse who lives with her two servants in a Victorian manor. She never allows her face to be seen. Not only must he stay at Elizabeth’s residence while painting her, he can’t leave, nor can he ever tell anyone about the portrait.
Sensing something isn't right, Rick is even more disturbed by the sinister undercurrent beneath the household’s genteel façade. It’s somehow connected to the family portraits hanging in Elizabeth’s living room. Could they be haunted? And why doesn't Elizabeth’s housekeeper want Rick to finish the painting?
We now return to our regularly scheduled program...
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Tuesday Guest Post: Debbie Christiana
Thank you, Pam for having me as your guest
today. My new romantic suspense,
SOLSTICE, was released on May 4th and it was great fun to write. For
my second novel, I wanted to try something a little darker and edgier – and Solstice
was born. It’s a story of magic, murder, and a 250-year old family curse that
takes the life of one person per generation.
My main character, Sofia Palmolosi is an
Italian witch or a Strega. I have read many wonderful ‘witch’ books but none
that really delved into Italian Witchcraft, Stregheria. Growing up with a Sicilian grandmother that
talked about the Stregas of her village in Sicily, it seemed like the natural
thing to write about.
Stregheria is an ancient religion dating back
to the early Etruscan people of pre-Roman Empire Italy. Tana, their Mother
Goddess is still part of the Stregheria worship even though she was replaced
with a new, younger Goddess, Diana, as the Roman Empire grew and became
powerful.
Stregheria and Wicca have similarities but in
and of itself, Stregheria is different. There are eight celebrations throughout
the Wheel of the Year, although they are called Tregundas, not Sabbats.
The moon is an old and important part of the
rituals of Stregheria. The ancient
teachings of the Mythos of the Full Moon, links the light of the moon to the
passage of the soul. Each morning the
God would travel from east to west across the sky gathering souls who had left
their bodies while he was gone. He then went deep into the Underworld and
presented them to the Goddess. She, in turn, gave them to the Realm of Luna
(the moon). As more souls were collected, the light of the moon increased until
it was full. As the souls were reborn back to earth, the light of the moon
would decrease until it was dark.
Stregheria is steeped in mystery and secrets.
Until recently, you simply could not become
a Strega. It’s a hereditary religion and you had to be born into a family
of Stregas. The spells, incantations, traditions and rituals were passed down
from generation to generation. Today if you wish to walk the path of the
Strega, you can learn the ways, but not all will be revealed to you. Many
aspects of the ‘old religion’ or La
Vecchia Religione will remain an enigma, only privy to those of the sacred
bloodline of the Strega.
BLURB:
Time is running
out for Armend Zogu. The 250-year old family curse on his head will claim him
on his 30th birthday, the winter solstice.
Sofia Palmalosi
is just the Strega who can save him. A descendant of a long line of powerful
Italian witches, their magic was a gift bestowed on them by the Goddess Diana.
In order to
break the curse, Sofia and Armend must piece together the sheet music from an
old violin sonata that Armend’s ancestor wrote for his forbidden love.
Together Sofia
and Armend embark on a journey from New York to Sicily and the ancient ruins of
Diana’s temple and back to New York while fighting a battle of wits and magic
with a psychopath who wants them both dead and the curse intact.
If the curse
doesn’t kill Armend, breaking just might.
EXCERPT:
CHAPTER 1
Once in a lifetime you
meet a person who takes your breath away. Not because you want them to, but
because they are meant to. – Author unknown
The warm October sun beat down on her, yet it couldn’t quell the chill that quivered down her spine. She stood still and waited. From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of two casually dressed men. They appeared to be in a heated conversation, but from behind their dark glasses, Sofia knew they watched her every move.
Could she get to the front door of the gallery before they made their move? She climbed a step and stopped. She rifled through her purse and ascended another step. Three more to go.
Powerful arms snaked under hers.
“Sofia Palmalosi?” a blond man with a southern drawl asked.
She didn’t answer.
“Please come with us,” said the dark haired man.
Defiant, she crossed her right leg over her left and dropped to the ground. “Ms. Palmalosi, don’t do this,” whispered an irritated voice. The man on her right tried to lift her without drawing unwanted attention, but she remained seated in her resistance.
“Don’t make a scene. We’re trying to help you.”
Sofia closed her eyes and relaxed her body. With deep cleansing breaths, she cleared her head and summoned the Lare, the spirits of her ancestors. In her mind, she repeated the incantation.
Dear ancients ones, powerful and wise
Many times to you I’ve prayed
Please reach down from high in the sky
And offer to me your gentle aid.
The wind picked up and cool gusts blew against her face. Her eyes fluttered open. Bits of litter and leaves spun within the vigorous whirlwind that surrounded them. The men on each side of her fought to keep their balance against the unexpected squall. Their free hand flailed in the air as if they were swatting at a swarm of hornets. The Lare wouldn’t hurt them. They were mischievous, not malicious. Sofia sat patiently as first one, then the other man, let go of her, needing both hands to break their fall as they tumbled to the ground.
From behind, another pair of firm hands gripped under her arms and raised her to her feet. This time her legs straightened and supported her. The wind had calmed. The Lare had vanished.
“What the hell are you doing?” a new voice demanded.
The arrival of another person wouldn’t cause the Lare to disappear. Unless…
“What Mr. Palmalosi asked us to. Make sure his daughter arrived safely to his office.”
“She’s not a criminal.” The third man steadied her on her feet. His warm breath was on the back of her neck. “Sofia, are you all right?”
She’d had enough. “Why is it—” She whipped around and was stopped short by dazzling, steel-blue eyes. She cleared her throat and continued. “You know my name, but I don’t have a clue who any of you are?”
“I’ll let your father explain.” Mr. Steel Blue shooed the two men away. “I’ll make sure Ms. Palmalosi gets to where she is going.”
The taller of her two assailants spoke. “Ma’am, we’d like to apologize.”
“You both work for my father?”
The stockier man nodded at Mr. Steel Blue. “Yes. All three of us do.”
“My parents have never had security quite like you before.”
They mumbled an apology or obscenity and left.
Sofia crossed her arms over her chest and looked to the last man standing for an explanation. Once more, spellbound by his eyes, she took a step back and caught her breath. She should be doing the bewitching, not him.
He stood a few inches taller than she did. His black hair was longer than most men chose to wear theirs these days. He sported a neatly trimmed beard.
He held the gallery door open for her. “Your parents are waiting for you.”
Intrigued by the handsome man who caused the Lare to vanish, she went inside.
BUY LINKS FOR SOLSTICE:
www.debbiechristian.com/blog
Twitter: @DebChristiana
Facebook: Debbie Christiana,
author
BIO:
Debbie
Christiana would sit in her room as a little girl and write stories about
ghosts, unexplained events and things that go bump in the night. She combined
her love of the paranormal with her fascination of unusual love stories and
decided to write paranormal romance. She
has two novels published with Black Opal Books, TWIN FLAMES and SOLSTICE.
In 2012, she had two short stories published. The Land of the Rising Sun, was one of
ten included in the anthology BITES: Ten Tales of Vampires and The Thirteen Steps is featured in
BELTANE: Ten Tales of Witchcraft. Debbie is a member of RWA and the
International Thriller Writers, Inc. She
is the Secretary of her local RWA Chapter of Connecticut and Lower New York. She
lives in Connecticut with her husband and three children.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
And the Winner is!
Happy Reading!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)