For love of a tale
Why does anyone write? For
philosophers and psychologists, this is prominent subject. The artist will tell
you he paints because he is compelled to depict the world around him. The poet
will tell you he pens his rhymes at the behest of his muse, to illuminate the
beauty of life and love. The storyteller will tell you she had a burning desire
to…well, tell such and such a story. Maybe some will even admit to having
nattering characters in their heads.
For me, I suppose, it’s a
little of all that. I’ve been a reader for a long time, even have a degree in
literature to show for it. Now sometimes, I’ll wake up in the middle of the
night, or reach for a pad and pen in the middle of a conversation. It’s just
what I do; what I’ve always done. Yes, like many writers I have been a
storyteller from a young age. Everything had a dash of fantasy here, a little
bit of rhyme and music there, but in all forms, there was always a story in my
mind—and in my house, the Hobbit, the Classics, modern day romance it
was all there, even storytelling songwriters.
In the intervening years a
burning love for the Arthurian tales always existed. When I think of a hero,
those are the men (and women) I think of. So it seemed second nature when I sat
down to write Passion’s Sacred
Dance, my debut paranormal romance
novel for The Wild Rose Press, that I might take my cue from the stories I’ve
loved forever. These are stories that have stayed with us from the moment they
were spoken by traveling minstrels in the fire-lit halls of the Middle Ages.
Yes, love works into it too. If we didn’t love what we do, as writers, do you
think we’d stay up ‘til all hours, agonizing about finding just the right word?
The lifelong love of these
heroic tales, of the story of the Second Battle of Mag Tuired,
tied up in knots in my mind with the current Urban Fantasies and paranormal
romances I was reading and out walked a woman in a business suit, with a
sword-wielding knight in jeans behind her. “Do we have a story for you!”
What could I do but what
I’ve always done, and write it down? Would you like to know how the story
turned out? Here’s a little taste.
Aaron intrigues her with tales of the Tuatha dé Danann, sworn warriors who protect humanity from the monsters seeking their destruction. If Aaron can prove what he claims, she would give up anything to help--even the gallery he claims is sacred ground. But with her property set to stage the next epic battle, she needs answers. An old family diary will confirm the ancient legend is true, if only they can find it in time.
If the battle is lost, the enemy will take
control of Earth for the next five hundred years. Stacy and Aaron's budding
love might only complicate things.
Excerpt:
Aaron planted his stance against the ground like the roots of a great oak tree, and pulled out his harshad. He flipped the handle over in his hand and two flail-like ends emerged. The ends cut through the glass wall, and snaked around the lawyer’s throat like metal ropes, before tightening.
Aaron planted his stance against the ground like the roots of a great oak tree, and pulled out his harshad. He flipped the handle over in his hand and two flail-like ends emerged. The ends cut through the glass wall, and snaked around the lawyer’s throat like metal ropes, before tightening.
The
lawyer’s face began to turn red. Rendered immobile, he stumbled easily as Aaron
gave the handle a hard tug. Stacy screeched as she tripped along with him.
Aaron stepped through the wall, pried Bradley’s fingers from Stacy’s flesh, and
shoved her protectively behind his back.
“Do
me a favor,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “Call the number I gave you
yesterday. They’ll do us more good than 9-1-1.”
Stacy
turned and ran for the hall as the lawyer hissed out, “You should learn
not to get involved, unsavory one.”
Aaron
swallowed his relief when he heard Stacy slam the door against the wall. He
turned his attention back to the cackling lawyer.
“I
would give you the same warning, human.” Aaron studied the man in earnest, his
voice calm.
“You
have no idea what you’re involved in.”
“I
should say the same to you.”
“Oh,
I know the depths of their malevolence.” He tugged Bradley’s shirt collar down
to reveal the glowing green eye tattooed on his chest. The lawyer’s breathing
became more shallow, and sweat trickled from his temple.
“Do
you know what you’re dealing with? Think long and hard about which side of the
debtors’ line you’ll be on when the battle comes.” He slung the lawyer around,
towards the back door. “Tell your masters this ground will carry my brand when
all is said and done, or I shall gladly hound them to the ends of their
unnatural lives!”
*sigh* I love a good
warrior, don’t you? Would you like to read more? If so, Passion’s Sacred Dance is available now at Amazon and coming soon to The Wild Rose Press store and other
retailers.
For more on these and other
books visit Juli at: http://julidrevezzo.com/
And Juli’s Amazon page and
author page at The
Wild Rose Press.
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Thank you, Pam, for having
me here today!
