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Friday, January 3, 2014

Guest Post from Author Janalyn Voigt

Please give a warm welcome to guest author, Janalyn Voigt. Her novel, Wayfarer, book two of Tales of Faeraven, releases today, and we're lucky enough to get a glimpse of this marvelous world through the author's eyes.

Special Offer for Today Only (January 3rd, 2014):

In celebration of the release of Wayfarer, book two in Janalyn Voigt’s Tales of Faeraven trilogy, her publisher is offering her book at a 50% discount. Click here to take advantage of this offer.

An Accidental Meeting (by an Author with a Character)

By Janalyn Voigt

What’s that?

It’s strange to meet anyone else on this forgotten track through the woodland tangle, but I swear something moved alongside that stream just ahead.  I strain to see, freeing one arm from my book bag, in case I need to run. Those few who have survived an attack by one of the jaggercats or shaycats that prowl the deep woods always say they never saw or heard a thing, and this creature casts too small a shadow over the water to be a bruin. It’s probably no more than an elk or deer, poised to run at my approach, but a woman traveling alone and so far off the beaten path can’t be too careful. There’s something about this dark forest that sets my nerves on edge, as if the trees whisper secrets.

An unexpected sound floats on the air, and almost I can’t take it in, so out of place is the scrap of melody. I know the ancient lay it belongs to but can’t name it. Fixating on this smaller puzzle postpones the greater one of why a maiden would be singing in such a place. That the sound comes from a maiden is clear. If I hadn’t guessed it from the sweet purity of her voice, I would know it from the sight of her, for she’s moved into my line of sight. The hood of her cloak has fallen back, and as she bends over a patch of pale flowers nodding on the bank, her unbound hair sways about her. It is thick and black, untouched by gray.

Perhaps the song on her lips kept her from noticing me sooner, but all at once she lifts her head and stares at me, not unlike the frightened doe I mistook her for. Her eyes are the vivid blue of the sky, their gaze without guile.

I pull a shaky breath into my lungs. “Well met.” My voice is too jovial, but then relief has made my head light. Politeness prevents me from asking why she’s gathering flowers so far from safety and alone, but of course I’m wondering.

She rises with slow grace, and the soft light filtering through the trees touches a face I recognize. Although Aewen wears a simple tunic, the wild bouquet she clutches makes her look like an elven bride. “You startled me.”

I laugh. “We’re even, then.”

“Even? Do you mean we’re of a height?” Her brow puckers.

“Paid back.”

She stares at me as if I have taken leave of my wits. “Is there some debt of which I’m unaware?”

“No. I’m sorry to confuse you.” Of course, she would not understand my modern lingo. This is Elderland, a world I should know well, for I discovered it in my writings. I have stepped into time at the beginning of Aewen’s story, which I have recorded in the pages of Wayfarer, book two of Tales of Faeraven. “Are you gathering herbs to heal the poor?”

Her eyes widen. “How do you know this?”

“Just a guess. Do your parents know where you are?” It’s not really fair to ask her this, since I already know her parents don’t trouble themselves on her account—at least they don’t yet—but she’s looking at me with suspicion and I want to throw her off.

“I’ll not be looked for at Cobbleford Castle until evening.” Her brows draw together. “Forgive me, but why do you wear a man’s garb? And by what strange weaving is your satchel made?”
Obviously I’ve not succeeded in distracting her. I’m wearing jeans and a long top that could pass for a jerkin. “I’m not from these parts. This is how we dress in my land.”

“What brings you here?”

That’s a question I’ve asked myself, one with answers only another writer can understand. I smile a little and speak the simple truth. “I couldn’t stay away.”

As her eyes narrow, I step backward, ready to return through my computer into my closet writing office.  Most often when I visit Elderland, no one notices me. Really, I prefer that.

About Janalyn Voigt

As children, my older brother and I would beg my father for bedtime stories, and he would give them.  His deep voice rumbled against my ear at his chest as he unfolded stories of exotic places like Oz and Neverland. My imagination carried on with the tales even after he closed the book for the night. When eventually he stopped reading stories, I began creating my own. 

Within a few years I’d become storyteller of my neighborhood. The other children would gather in a circle on our lawn while I invented stories to entertain them. No one, including myself, thought of this as anything unusual. It wasn’t until my sixth-grade teacher pointed out my ability to spin a tale that I and my parents took note. This is how at the age of twelve I decided to become a novelist. At it turns out, the fulfillment of that dream took a few more years than planned. 

Find out more about Janalyn, her closet writing office, and her books at the author website for Janalyn Voigt.

DawnSinger: A headstrong young princess and the guardian sworn to protect her fly on winged horses to the Gate of Life above the Well of Light in a desperate bid to release the DawnKing, and the salvation he offers, into a divided land. Will they each learn in time that sometimes victory comes only through surrender?

WayFarer: When an untried youth ascends to the high throne of Faeraven, his mistakes tear kingdoms apart and allow just one chance at redemption. He must humble himself before the man he banished.

To view a book trailer of Wayfarer click here 

Friday, November 8, 2013

Advice from a NaNo WriMo loser.

It’s that time of the year again when we all hunker down with the leftover Halloween candy and sit in front of our computers typing away madly (and resisting the urge to hit backspace because it will take away from that coveted 50k word count).

And I have to ask, is it worth it?

I’ve participated in NaNo three times now, and I’ve never once made the 50k word goal. I don’t think that makes me a bad person for a pep talk though, so just hang around for a moment.

There are a few big reasons that I hear people not getting involved in NaNo. I’m here to refute them and tell you that you—oh person who lacks super powers and extra hours in a day—can do this.

Big excuse number one: No time.

No time to what? Write? If you want to be a writer, I’ve got to tell you something: Being a writer doesn’t work if you don’t write. There’s a solution for that. Write. Make time. Put down the candy crush, give up an hour of sleep, let the dishes sit for twenty more minutes—just do it.

Big excuse number two: Too much pressure.

Yes, I’ve heard this. NaNo is too much pressure? I hear you! That’s why I’ve decided I don’t care about the word count. I only care about renewing the vows of my habit to sit down six days a week and work on writing.

Through the year other things creep in—taking care of my family, cleaning my house, going to work, bringing work home (now that’s a whole ‘nother topic). And if we aren’t careful, all these things encroach on our writing. Stifle it.

If writing is important to you, make it a priority.

NaNo is an opportunity for me to stay active in the career path I want to take. It makes me sit down and do what I love. It makes me discipline myself so I use all of my time more wisely. And hey, they say doing something for twenty-one days makes it a habit. I want writing to be a habit.

Big excuse number three: I won’t win.

Well, let’s not whine about it.

I know, losing is hard. But does NaNo really have losers? I mean, it’s not like it’s a hockey game. This is writing. I “lost” NaNo twice. Both times my word counts were above 40k words.
Yeah! 40k words and new story ideas that I didn’t have a month prior. Did I finish those novels? Yup. Are they more than 50k words? Yup.

So, yeah, I lost. But I don’t care, because the prize I walked away with was worth it. What prize? There are prizes for losers? Yeah. You get what you put in. So I walked away with half a story written, better writing discipline, and because I didn’t let the pressure get to me, I walked away having had fun. That’s right. Fun. If you don’t have fun, you’re not participating effectively. Also, if you’re not working hard, you’re not participating effectively.

So get out there, have fun, work hard, and write! No more excuses. You can do this.

Thursday, September 26, 2013

Give A Warm Welcome to Guest Author Bebe Knight

An Element of Time
Eternal Flame Series: Book One
By: Bebe Knight
Releasing September 24th, 2013 through Solstice Publising

A vampire and a slayer walk into a bar… Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke, but for Veronica and Mackenzie, it’s the beginning of the rest of their lives…

The world has seen its fair share of evil, but Veronica Chase had no idea such monsters truly existed. Werewolves, poltergeists, witches… even vampires. Ignorance was bliss. But her reality was crushed on that horrid day her family was taken away from her. Now, Veronica has devoted her entire life to hunting those very creatures, searching for the werewolf pack that murdered her parents in hopes of finding her abducted sister. Nothing will get in her way of settling the score for the hand she was unjustly dealt. That is until her newest assignment brings her to her knees.

After one hundred and eight years on earth, Mackenzie Jones thought he had seen it all. With the exception of daylight of course, but that’s what comes with the territory being a vampire and all. Perpetually damned to live his life as a bartender in the shadows of the night, nothing has sparked his interest lately. Just once he wished something exciting would happen in his mundane life. Little did he know, his wish was about to come true. Walking through the door to his bar, and into his heart, Mackenzie allows love to take the wheel for the first time. There’s just one slight problem. She’s there to kill him.


Author Info
Bebe Knight is the author of the paranormal romance series, The Eternal Flame Books. She lives in Upstate NY with her husband and son. Writing has always been a part of her life whether it be books, plays, or handwritten letters to friends and family. It’s a dream come true for her to be able to share her
stories with others.



And here's a little teaser 

As Veronica swayed gently in the rocking chair, she gazed up at the clear night sky and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. The nearly full moon sat right above the giant oak tree in the front yard, the one she and Stella used to climb and swing from the bottom branch, suspended from their knees. Her mom was always afraid they were going to fall on their heads. She remembered how her dad would always tell her mom, “If you don’t let them learn for themselves, they’ll never understand.”
Her attention drifted from the tree to the front steps. She recalled sitting on the steps as if it were yesterday, playing Barbie’s with Stella while her mother sat in the rocking chair and her father mowed the lawn. She also remembered sitting on those very steps the night of her parents’ murder, watching as the coroner and paramedics carried their covered bodies from the house to the ambulance. Veronica closed her eyes, trying to push back the memories, but it was too late. The thread began to unravel, undoing all the painstaking work she had done to keep them coiled up inside. Maybe it was a wasted effort. Maybe she was broken for life, forced to live in this repetitive moment of hell. Maybe, but she had to stay strong; if not for her own sake, then for Stella’s.

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