Sorcerer's Song

Available now from Ellora's Cave:




“Sorcerer’s Song”
By Cindy Spencer Pape
Part of the Ellora’s Cavemen Jewels of the Nile Volume III anthology
Out now from Ellora’s Cave
Buy Link: click here

When Sorcerer Cian hears a siren’s song on a cool Toronto night, he has no idea his life is about to change forever. Lyra’s life has been a long cycle of loneliness and meaningless encounters with mortals. One night with Cian turns that life upside down. Can their night of passionate sex turn into a love that will last forever? Together they work to find a way, challenging even the gods themselves for their chance.

ADULT excerpt:

Excerpt 2:

“Please!” She started to sway, caught herself by grabbing his shoulders. “I need you. Now.”

“Not yet.” He knew from the soul-gaze that she wasn’t in imminent danger, as long as she fed sometime tonight. Cian was nowhere near done playing. For some reason it was crucial to him that tonight be special, meaningful for both of them, rather than just mindless sex. He leaned her back against the boulder and dropped to his knees in the sand. “Spread your legs.”

Small but strong fingers threaded through his hair and gripped his scalp as she obediently widened her stance and let the rock bear the weight of her ass and lower back. Cian rewarded her with a leisurely lick along her gleaming cunt. She was as wet as the lake behind him. Thick cream coated his tongue and glistened on the skin of her upper thighs. Her pussy was smooth, with just two small tufts of damp silvery hair guarding her slit. He used his tongue to toy with the tiny curls and the edges of her puffy lips. Even in the moonlight he was somehow sure that like her nipples they were normally a pale shell pink.

“I could eat you all night,” he murmured. He blew a gentle puff of air along her heated flesh and she writhed, more warm wetness trickling onto his tongue. Ravenous for the taste of her, he licked along her opening. His tongue probed deeper with every stroke. Finally, he speared it up into her channel.

Lyra screamed and her thighs tightened down around Cian’s head. He smoothed them with his hands to ease them back apart. His tongue kept up the onslaught, thrusting rhythmically into her snug pussy. Every third or fourth stroke he paused to circle her erect clit. The tender nub poked free of its protective hood and hardened further with each moist swipe.

He knew she was close. Tremors began to course through her taut muscles. Her breathing was rapid and fractured and her cries had dissolved from words to whimpers. He slid his hands over the firm flesh of her thighs and used the tips of his fingers to part her pussy lips while both thumbs slipped into the entrance of her cunt. She was so tight they barely fit. He breathed in the heady fragrance of her musk and groaned. “Let go, Lyra. I want to watch you come apart for me.” His lips closed around her clit and he sucked at the same time he stroked inward with his thumbs.

“Goddess!” Her scream filled the night, crashed right along with the waves as she came. Her vaginal muscles clamped down around his thumbs and her hips bucked beneath his face. He maintained the suction until the ripples of her orgasm had faded then he soothed her with a series of slow thorough licks. Gasping raggedly she sagged against the rock. “Thank you. Now please—I need more.”

“Oh, we’re nowhere near through yet, leannan. That was just the beginning.”

“Your turn?” She stretched and made a sound that was nearly a purr. “I want to make sure you have fun too.”

“I have been,” he told her honestly, somewhat to his own surprise. He was never a selfish lover, but he’d never felt like this before—that his partner’s pleasure was far more important than his own. “Watching you respond to my touch is a pleasure.” That was an understatement. He’d nearly come in his trousers like an untried lad.

Look for Sorcerer's Song and five other FABULOUS stories by leading authors from Ellora's Cave in the new anthology!

What Made Me Want to Write...and keep at it!

I’ll bet everyone else has been asked this question more times than you can count: How and why did you decide to become a writer?
I don’t think it’s actually a conscious decision I made. I have been a reader all my life, since I could string three words together. My mother and sister were both avid readers, and our house was always jammed with books. My sister was more addicted to mainstream, fiction, but my mother loves mysteries, especially if they had a little romance.
So I grew up reading books by Erle Stanley Gardner and Ellery Queen – God, am I dating myself. LOL! And any mystery writer I could get my hands on. My real hero is a woman named Elizabeth Linington who also wrote as Lesley Egan and Dell Shannon. She passed away at 67 but she wrote nearly a hundred books, police procedurals, all of them with personal stories interwoven and I was just addicted to her. I still have all of her books.
But the more I read, the more I had the desire to create something myself. To put pen to paper-or fingers to keyboard-and see if I could become a story teller, too.
Raising a family and working didn’t really leave me the time I want to write but I kept notebooks filled with ideas, clippings, photos that suggested ideas, all the things that I use today to craft plots. And when my husband and I retired and moved to Texas, I thought surely this was the time. Especially when my husband say, “Okay, quit fooling around. Put your butt in that chair and write.”
I was sure, based on my past reading, that I would write a mystery. I even had it all plotted out and a profile for each of my characters (many of them based on people I’d worked with who I thought deserved to be shot or hanged! LOL!
Well, my dears, talk about hitting a brick wall. I wrote three chapters. Then I rewrote them. Then I rewrote them again. By the time two months had passed I never wanted to see those (expletive deleted) chapters ever again in this life or the next. I was ready to through out both my computer and my fledgling writing career.
Then I read a book, and it’s amazing how one book can change your life. I read CRY NO MORE By Linda Howard, and lordy, I was off to the races. I discovered that I craved r/s the way ducks crave water. I started looking for similar authors and pretty soon my budget was shot to hell with book buying.
But I finally realized where my heart lay. I sat down and wrote my first manuscript in two weeks. And let me tell you, it was AWFUL!!!! I, of course, thought I’d written a RITA award winner. What a blow to my ego when no on else thought so.
Although I’ve been very fortunate in my career in a short time, I have yet to sell that first effort. Have just finished the 40th rewrite -no joke-because I think I finally get it.
So if you’re stuck at a point in your writing, or wondering if the success fairy will ever visit you, take heart. She’s waiting right around the corner. Just be sure that what you’re right is from your heart because that’s what works the best.
I don’t think you’ll ever see MURDER AT MASS in print but maybe one of these days you’ll see TARGET, my first romantic suspense and the one that led me to write the others.
And by the way, thank you, Linda Howard.
Stay tuned!
Meanwhile, here’s an excerpt from what started life as Run For Your Life.

Prologue
Her hands were slick with sweat, slippery on the wheel. The sound of her heart beating was like a kettle drum inside the car.
Damn it! Get out of the way, she swore at the cars in front of her. Move, move, move.
She could still hear the voices, so cold and mater of fact.
…kill her…kill her…kill her…
And the swooshing of the door to the garage just as she backed her car out, tires screeching. The panic as she listened for another car engine to start.
The tiny silver rectangle was tucked in her bra, it’s touch almost burning her skin. God, if only she hadn’t been so clumsy and knocked those files to the floor. If only she’d been faster down the stairs.
If only…
Shut up, Kathryn, and think. This is no time to fall apart.
There it was now, up ahead. The on ramp to the Interstate. But which way to go? Which way? Which way? She took the northbound ramp, the first one she came to, and lost herself in the lanes of speeding cars.
Ohgodohgodohgod. They’re going to kill me. I have to get away.

Come visit me at:
www.judithrochele.com
www.desireeholt.com
www.myspace.com/judithdesiree

Romancing the Villains

I have just started a six week class with E.C. Sheedy which she titled, "Romance Among the Villains." If you haven't read any of her books, check them out. She writes murderous tales with a twist or two and several red herrings to throw the reader off the scent. She is published by Kensington. There are eight in the class. Four are men! That was a surprise.

I learned the difference between a Mystery and a Suspense story with a nod at Thrillers. My last book published by Cerridwen Press, "Too Young To Die," is a thriller. I'm not sure I could write a Mystery. My uncomplicated brain might not cope with red herrings and the like.

Tomorrow I will be at an all day workshop given by Gayle Wilson. "Staying up All Night: Writing the Page Turner." Our Vancouver Island Chapter has sponsored trip. We also have an editor from Harlequin coming and have ten of our members signed up for interviews with her. All in all it will be an exciting day. I'm the registrar so have to be up and on my way by 8:30 a.m.

I await word from EC that "A Very Difficult Man" is in print. October/November is the release time. I am planning PR ahead of time.

Another interesting meeting I attended this week was to hear Dr. Mary Malone, theologian, speaking about Christian women mystics of the medieval period. Mary is a gifted speaker and passionate about her topic. Many of the women were burned at the stake for approaching Christianity from a perspective different from the men. They were true feminists before the term was invented. I was so enamored of Mary's talk, I purchased four of her books, three are hefty tomes. She writes as she speaks. Easy to listen to. Easy to read.

That was my week. I hope you all had a good one.

Anita
www.anitabirt.com

Cowboy for Hire by Isabelle Drake - Just Released

Anxious for adventure and the chance to prove she’s not the spoiled socialite her friends and family believe her to be, Victoria Moore buys The Circle Cat ranch, rolls up her sleeves, and begins the repairs that will turn the ramshackle place into the best dude ranch in Arizona. One thing she didn’t plan on was a dark, down-on-his-luck cowboy smashing into her barn. But when he does, she turns the problem into an opportunity. Armed with limited experience, but a lot of determination, Victoria sets out to get what she wants from the wandering cowboy.

The last thing Lang Thompson wants is to get tangled up with a woman. Especially one who’s used to getting what she wants when she wants it. He knows what rich girls like her expect and he isn’t interested in playing games. But he’s no match for Victoria’s hardworking determination and sexy brand of innocence.

Excerpt:

Lang Thompson eased his foot off the worthless brake pedal and waited for the red Arizona dust to clear. A board swung above the cab of his truck, once, twice, three times. The rusty nail holding it gave up the fight and the weathered two-by-four smacked across the hood with a weary thump.

One more dent wasn’t going to matter.

He pushed back his beat-up Stetson, mumbling a string of words that in his childhood would’ve earned him an afternoon in the milk house. He didn’t need this.

Outside his window a hairy, black Australian shepherd barked and waved its tail.

“You don’t need to tell me, I see the mess.”

For a split second he considered backing out and leaving. The way the place looked, the owner probably wouldn’t even notice the new gaping hole.

No, he didn’t want any unfinished business hanging over his head when he hit the highway again to head south, away from the miserable memories he’d left behind. There was that and the fact that his conscience had an unfortunate way of popping up at the worst times.

He glanced down at the animal now sitting among the rubble that used to be the side of a barn. A tired, seen-better-days barn but a barn nonetheless.

For the sake of his furry witness, he held back another string of words unfit for delicate ears as he shoved the door open and stepped out. He leaned against the truck and yanked his hat down to block out the afternoon sun. The owner had to be around somewhere.

“I guess I should’ve hung a no parking sign there.”

Lang turned to the shapely outline in the shadows. His bad luck kept getting worse. A woman.
He didn’t want to shoot the breeze with a bored rancher’s wife.

“If you’ll tell me where to find your husband, I’ll straighten this out with him.”

As she moved into the sunshine Lang tried to convince himself he didn’t see her thick blonde hair or clear, blue eyes. He didn’t notice the way the way her breasts strained against that plain white t-shirt tucked neatly into her faded jeans, either. And that bolt of physical awareness that shot straight to his cock? It didn’t exist.

A blindingly bright smile spilt across her sun-kissed face. “I can’t do that.”

No, those sweet lips didn’t really have an effect on him either. But just to be sure, he stepped away as she came closer. “Do what?”

Raising her hand to shield her eyes from the desert sun, she glanced over her shoulder toward the mess. “Did you plow into my barn because you suffer from memory loss?”

Lang turned toward his truck. He had indeed plowed into the barn. Her barn. “Your barn?”
She nodded, then reached down to rub the dog’s ears, giving him the perfect opportunity to look down her shirt. Was that a white bra with pink lace trim?

Damn he loved lace.

Forcing his gaze back to her face, he asked, “You don’t have a husband I can talk things over with?”

Sunlight blinked off the golden strands of her hair as she shook her head and scratched under the animal’s chin. Her silence didn’t make sense. Why wasn’t she pissed? “Look, ma’am, I’m really sorry—”

While waving her hands to cut him off, she moved closer, her sexy, long legs making short work of the distance. “You don’t need to explain right now.”

Judging from the tilt of her head and the welcome in her eyes, he was missing some piece of a puzzle.

But what?

He stamped out his curiosity. He only wanted to take care of business, then get back on the road and find that ranch for sale his cousin Cole had badgered him into looking over. With that out of the way, he’d get back to his real goal, which was putting as much distance between the remnants of his old life and himself as possible. He tugged his gaze away from her all-too-easy-on-the-eyes face, glanced around but soon found himself looking her way again. “Where am I anyway?”

Her delicate eyebrows knotted together and her shoulders dropped. “You didn’t come about the ad for work?”

“Work?” He shook his head. “No. I was trying to turn around, get back on the freeway.”
Her kissable pink lips curved weakly, the glimmer in her eyes faded but didn’t go out completely. “You’re at The Circle Cat Ranch.”

“And where is that?”

“Cactus Junction.” She dipped her head the other way and a few tempting strands of silken hair slipped over her shoulder. “You do know what state you’re in?”

Arizona. Only a couple of hours from the Mexican border.

Her gaze circled his face, considering, then dropped lower, assessing. He straightened, planting his legs wide enough to place the bulge in his pants front and center. If she insisted on getting a good look at him, he might as well give her a view worth the effort.

As though she realized she was rudely looking him over like he was a colt on the auction block, she brought her attention back to his face and tried to cover her actions with a smile as she spoke. “You look like you could use a drink. I know I could.” She brushed past him without waiting for a reply. “Come on up to the house and have some lemonade.”

That place his cousin was so hot for them to buy was in Cactus Junction. At least he didn’t have much farther to go.

Not that he wanted to buy a place and start all over but Cole had cajoled him until he’d agreed to at least look it over. A promise is a promise. Even to a cousin like Cole.

The woman’s hips swayed invitingly as she strode toward the house. Each determined stride called to some better left unspoken part of him.

He grumbled and tore his gaze away. He’d written complicated entanglements with women off.

For good.

The screen door smacked shut after she disappeared inside.

Why did it seem like the last shred of control he had over his life was slipping away? The hot wave of lust pooling in his gut shouted a warning, telling him to forget his so-called integrity and take the chance that once he got on the road he wouldn’t need brakes any time soon. He could always coast to a stop.

He groaned. All those hours in the milk house taught him more than to mind his tongue. He had to stick around and settle the issue at hand. That ranch for sale wasn’t going anywhere. With a quick glance down to be sure he wasn’t wearing any of his fast food breakfast on his shirt, Lang headed after the woman and the dog.

Available Now from Cerridwen Press

Desiree Holt has a new hot romance out

Check out my latest scorching romance by Desiree Holt, ONCE BURNED.



It's available at http://www.ellorascave.com/



One hot summer Cassie Fitzgerald gave her virginity and her heart to Griffin Hunter. When he married her sister, Diane, she fled Stoneham and for six years nothing could make her return. Not her sister’s murder, for which Griffin was and continues to be the only suspect. Not her father’s suicide, which the police chief wants to sweep under the rug. But now her mother is dead and she has legal obligations she can’t avoid. Nor, it seems, can she avoid Griffin, who wants her more than ever and makes no bones about it and to whom she finds herself just as susceptible. Will Cassie be able to control her own hot need for this man or will she be pulled back into the same sensual vortex? Can she uncovers the secret Stoneham’s hiding, the riddle of Diane’s murder and the answer to her relationship with Griff without destroying herself in the process?

EXCERPT:
Her breath was frozen in her chest. Swallowing hard, she made her feet move, one in front of the other, doing her best to ignore him, her eyes still drawn to him. This was a different Griff from the daredevil who lived in her darkest dreams. He was not only older but harder, less yielding. His hair was still sun bleached and too long, his body fuller but still tanned and muscular. Aviator sunglasses hid the remembered blue of his eyes but his mouth that had pressed such passionate kisses on every part of her body was set in an expression of bitterness. There was something almost lethal about him now. If she hadn’t known him so well, she might have been afraid of him.
And something else defined his posture. Anger? Sadness? She didn’t want to know. She especially didn’t want to feel the quickening of her heartbeat, the tightening of her breasts, the instant hardening of her nipples and the primal beat that began throbbing between her legs. The heat had burned her once—scorched her—and she wasn’t about to play with fire again.
But her brain apparently had taken a vacation, along with her ability to make a sensible decision and stick to it. All these years, all that pain and it took only seconds for her body to leap to life in the once familiar response.
She detoured to the trunk of the rental car, her keys in her hand that trembled despite her best efforts.
Griff reached out one arm and pressed down against the lid of the trunk so she couldn’t open it. “I heard you were in town. I came to see for myself.”
“Please let me open my trunk.” She tried to make her voice as flat as his.
“We have things to talk about, Cassie.”
“You’re wrong. We have nothing to say to each other.”
“Oh but we do.” He moved until he was standing right next to her, crowding her space. “We have a lot to say. We have unfinished business between us.”


Visit Desiree at http://www.desireeholt.com/ and www.myspace.com/judithdesiree

Life...

Life comes at you fast. Think about that. Honestly we never know what could happen on any given day. I don't blog at all like I should. I don't have a set writing schedule. I tend to write when the mood takes me and that doesn't always occur once a day at the same time. LOL I'm dreamer and I tend to dream big...and very dramatically!

But when I do sit at the computer and write...it is like magic for me. I lose myself and become the story. I take on the role of every character that I write to some extent. I'm often ask which of my characters I most identify with and honestly the answer is all of them. After all each one of them was born in my head. The good, the bad and everything in between is a part of the wicked thing I call my brain. And I love what I do.

In a world that is so ever changing that some people never know from one day to the next if they will have a job tomorrow, a savings left, or anything to retire on...I am blessed with the incredible ability to do something that I love and hope that I am good at.

I am a proud mother of three and they keep me hopping at every moment. Sometimes it is all I can do to keep my eyes open until they fall asleep. They inspire me to be better, to work harder, to take steps that maybe I wouldn't have the courage to on my own. I hope that someday they say the same things about me.

Mostly, I am just a woman, no different from any number of other women out in the world. I am divorced and doing what I can to take care of myself and my children. I am strong and proud and capable. I fall. I fail. I cry and sometimes I throw my head back and scream in frustration. I laugh. I smile. And sometimes I run around the house playing tickle tag until we all collapse amidst hysterical giggles.

Bottom line is that life is filled with infinite possibilities. I am lucky but it isn't always easy and I do work very hard for what I have. I have amazing friends and family that contribute an endless supply of encouragement and support. I get up and I smile, truly grateful to be alive and well. I have fear but I do my best to face it. I have worries and anxiety, but I can't let them take me over.

I am just a woman like so many others. My job is endless. My life a jumble of so many things. But I still get up every morning, smile and thank God that I am alive.


Lacey Thorn

Better Late than never

Friday is my blogging day with the Goddesses and I forgot! My excuse is feeble. We had our grandson, Fraser, visiting. He flew back to London, England where he works on Thursday afternoon. My thoughts were with him on that long ten/eleven hour flight from Vancouver to London. So that's where my mind was wandering. He is home safe and sound.

So what is new with me? I am beginning to put together PR material to publicize my historical romance, A Very Difficult Man, when it's released in paperback in October/November. My friend, Solveig McLaren, does PR as a sideline. We had a meeting last week and discussed various options as promotional materials. Bookmarks. Pens. Fridge magnets. We decided to try something different.

Put together a small booklet. Cover of my book. Inside, part of the first chapter that leaves the reader wanting to know what happens next. Susan Lyons, multi-published friend, sent me one of her neat little booklets. I really liked it. Solveig thinks the booklet is friendly. It will be read out of curiosity and, hopefully, will be so interesting the reader will buy the book. I will probably do some bookmarks as well.

On Monday I will take the floppy with the cover and the partial to a reliable printer and find out what the booklet will cost. I want it small enough to send in a regular size envelope. However, that depends on what can be done, etc.

If you have some brilliant suggestions please send them to me privately at, anita.birt@gmail.com or put them up on our Goddess blog so all can benefit.

Anita
www.anitabirt.com

Lighten Up

Click here for a link to the actual comic in the Washington Post)

This one struck home as my neighborhood association is permanently bent about 1) my turquoise front door. ( I think it goes very well with my grey house with dark blue trim) 2) my husband's wildflower rain garden (we get endangered butterflies every year) and 3) the light-up pink metal mesh flamingo (the same construction as the light-up reindeer at Christmas). And I'll point out that Bob the flamingo only lives on my back deck during the summer--and is hardly ever lit.

Why is it we constantly feel the need to tell others how they should live? Whether it's in the name of moral right or "property values," Americans always seem to think they know better than anyone else the proper way to do things.

Stuff proper.

Off to build a trebuchet--the one T made for a cub scout project was disassembled years ago.

Really.

Wednesday's the day!!!! Release and contest

That's when Ellora's Cave releases the latest Desiree Holt full length novel, ONCE BURNED. To celebrate, I'm running a contgest. For those who don't have them, I'm giving away five decks of EC playing cards. Email me at desireeholtdesireeholt.com and at the end of the day I'll pick five lucky winners.

ONCE BURNED

One hot summer Cassie Fitzgerald gave her virginity and her heart to Griffin Hunter. When he married her sister, Diane, she fled Stoneham and for six years nothing could make her return. Not her sister’s murder, for which Griffin was and continues to be the only suspect. Not her father’s suicide, which the police chief wants to sweep under the rug. But now her mother is dead and she has legal obligations she can’t avoid. Nor, it seems, can she avoid Griffin, who wants her more than ever and makes no bones about it and to whom she finds herself just as susceptible. Will Cassie be able to control her own hot need for this man or will she be pulled back into the same sensual vortex? Can she uncovers the secret Stoneham’s hiding, the riddle of Diane’s murder and the answer to her relationship with Griff without destroying herself in the process?

Excerpt

Her breath was frozen in her chest. Swallowing hard, she made her feet move, one in front of the other, doing her best to ignore him, her eyes still drawn to him. This was a different Griff from the daredevil who lived in her darkest dreams. He was not only older but harder, less yielding. His hair was still sun bleached and too long, his body fuller but still tanned and muscular. Aviator sunglasses hid the remembered blue of his eyes but his mouth that had pressed such passionate kisses on every part of her body was set in an expression of bitterness. There was something almost lethal about him now. If she hadn’t known him so well, she might have been afraid of him.
And something else defined his posture. Anger? Sadness? She didn’t want to know. She especially didn’t want to feel the quickening of her heartbeat, the tightening of her breasts, the instant hardening of her nipples and the primal beat that began throbbing between her legs. The heat had burned her once—scorched her—and she wasn’t about to play with fire again.
But her brain apparently had taken a vacation, along with her ability to make a sensible decision and stick to it. All these years, all that pain and it took only seconds for her body to leap to life in the once familiar response.
She detoured to the trunk of the rental car, her keys in her hand that trembled despite her best efforts.
Griff reached out one arm and pressed down against the lid of the trunk so she couldn’t open it. “I heard you were in town. I came to see for myself.”
“Please let me open my trunk.” She tried to make her voice as flat as his.
“We have things to talk about, Cassie.”
“You’re wrong. We have nothing to say to each other.”
“Oh but we do.” He moved until he was standing right next to her, crowding her space. “We have a lot to say. We have unfinished business between us.”

Contest or not to Contest?

I'm feeling every Skakespearish (if there is such a word) this week-end and am immersed in reading Hamlet. "Contest or not to Contest? That is the question." How to answer it? There is an article in RWReport titled, "Contests for readers: Do they work?" A lovely idea to have contests where readers, other than friends, enter. I have sponsored two contests and the entries came from author friends and other friends. No outside person responded.

There's a tagline under the headline of the article in RWR. "Contests are one way to bring readers to your web site, but is it worth all the trouble?" From my experience it wasn't worth the trouble except for the fun of doing it, especially my Portrait of a Lady in Blue contest. The entries were fabulous. I posted them on my blog, http://www.anitabirtstoryteller.blogspot.com/ should you want to read them.

Sherry James who wrote the article certainly did her research and interviewed various authors for their opinions. The majority of authors Sherry contacted "said they saw no increase in their sales due to the contests they host on their web sites. But author, Monica Burns (Dangerous) summed it up. "My strategy has always been that contests area about rewarding the reader and about name building. They are not about driving sales, they're about generating reader good will and author branding."

How I wish I could reward a reader by hosting a contest. But readers are illusive. I'd like to have a few turn up on my web site and send me a letter. Here's the cover of my fifth book with Cerridwen Press, Too Young To Die. It's a romantice suspense. If you love the suspense genre drop by my web site and read an excerpt. http://www.anitabirt.com/ That's an invitation. Write me a letter. I'd love to hear from you.

Anita

What happens when writer's block hits?

Is there anyone ouit there who hasn't had writer's block Raise your hand. I'm sending you a rose. And asking you torub the rest of us for good luck.

First, thanks to Jenna Mills who had a great workshop on this.

Okay, let's identify some of the roadblocks that might bring you to a screeching halt:

1. But I'm so busy.
You all know this one. You've all heard it. Hell, we've all SAID it. You volunteered for the PTA. You need to do laundry. Your mother-in-law is coming. Your friend called. You have a deadline at your day job. In short, life intervenes, sometimes even in small ways, and it slowly sucks away more and more time from the writing at hand.

2. Email/Sudoku/Mahjong Tiles.
It's so easy, since you're already on the computer, to just take "a minute" and answer email. You're on a few email lists, right? Well, those emails add up. And then hey, why not relax a minute and play a hand of solitaire. It's just a few minutes! Next thing you know, an hour has gone by and now it's time to do something else and the writing you intended to do just doesn't happen.

3. But my Mom/Cousin/Neighbor/Husband/Kid says.
Procrastination aside, sometimes it's something that hasn't even happened yet that sidetracks us from writing. In your head, you have voices, your own and others, whispering that whatever you write won't be good enough. Or it won't be real because it's romance. Or it will insure you go to hell because it's sexy. And those voices can be so loud that they drown out the story and keep you staring at a blinking cursor instead of writing down the story that is in your heart.

4. What do you think will sell?
So many people who aren't writing or who are just writing proposal after proposal instead of book after book are market chasers. That means that they are so terrified that what they want to write doesn't fit the market and won't sell that they never write anything. They spend all their time researching who is buying what and what did well on Bookscan last week and read between every line of every submission guideline. Instead of writing a book that interests or inspires them, they write whatever they believe will sell. And once they write that, they have to quickly move on to the next thing because this week inspirational is hot and next week they'll hear paranormal is on the rise and the next week itwill be chick lit with a historical twist.5. I want it to be perfect. This one is probably one of the most insidious and damaging roadblocks of all. I see so many writers picking over every word, every sentence every chapter to the point where they never get past a scene or a chapter or two. They write and rewrite and rewrite and rewrite until they've sucked all the magic out of their work, all the passion away from their characters and themselves. They never finish because the words on their page can't ever attain the perfection of the story they have in their head.

6. Something BAD happened.
I think this one is pretty self explanatory. Something in your life happens, whether it is something world changing like 9/11 or something personal like a death in the family or something just about you, like an illness. Whatever it is, it makes it hard to sit down and write.

So where do you fall into this? What's your particular roadblock? And what suggestions do you have for getting past it? Let me have your comments.

Happily Ever After or Not?

Happily Ever After or Not? Current mood: annoyed Category: Writing and Poetry
.. I write Adventurous Romance. That means, at least to me, the heroine and the hero are thrown into danger, intrigue, harrowing escapes, monsters, betrayal, suspicion, disaster and so forth. They run, they fight, they hide and they sometimes distrust each other. But each and every time, they discover that they are the ones they can trust in. The hero discovers that no matter what happened, he can rely on the heroine. She learns that no matter how badly things have gone, the heroine is able to trust the hero. By the end of the book, The monster has been destroyed; The villain has been defeated; All is right with the world; and The hero and the heroine live happily ever after.
Some how that seems to be changing.
The other day I was reading a book that was heralded and reviewed as a romance. It was Urban Fantasy and both the location where I bought it online and the numerous reviews I read of the book before I bought it touted it as a romance. (No, I am not going to tell you the author, the name of the book or the place I bought it.)
The book was exciting. The plot was a page-turner. I stayed up until 2 AM reading it. The hero was dashing, handsome, tortured, heroic, all the things you want in a hero. The heroine was heroic, strong, self-assured, independent, learning to rely on the hero, growing, opening up, becoming less of a pain in the ass and more of the love of the heroe's life, in other words, everything you want in a romance heroine. I wanted to finish the book - I had to finish the book. I had to see how everything turned out.
..Everything Went to Crap.
The hero was killed. The heroine was mentally and physically destroyed. The object of the adventure was taken away and not rescued. The villain disappeared, not defeated, and not destroyed. The bad guys won, the good guys lost.
Now, I will admit, perhaps this is a book that is supposed to be the beginning of a series, sort of like the Star Wars saga. But I was terribly disappointed with the ending. The adventure throughout the book was great but the ending ruined the entire book for me.
I want a happy ending when I read. Life, the Universe, and Everything (with a nod to Douglas Adams) gives me enough of bad endings. If I want heroes to die, all I have to do is listen to the news. The same thing for the bad guys winning - listen to the news. I want my heroes to stomp the daylights out of the bad guys. I want my heroines to be taking a deep breath of contentment when everything is said and done. I don't want my heroine to be left crying her eyes out feeling bereft and alone when the book says The End.
What about you? Do you want your romances to be reflective of real life - as in the good guys do not always win and the bad guys walk away untouched? Or do you want a Happy Ever After in your romance?

Swan Song

I don't know why "swan song" floated into my head during the night but it did so I thought I should follow it and see where it led. The fable has a dying swan singing just before it dies. I have to look up the fable but not right this minute. I'm not preparing to pass on or quit writing or anything drastic, I'm thinking about the dying of the year.

Yes, the autumn is the time of new beginnings for children returning to school. I remember the thrill of having brand new notebook - we called them scribblers - and my plan to keep it neat and tidy with exquisite penmanship. Ah well, that lasted a couple of weeks.

To return to the dying of the year. As I looked out over our garden the flowers are more beautiful than they have been all summer. They have had some nice rainy days to feed them and the sun not too hot to frazzle them. I think the quality of the light has something to do with how they look. The sun is slowly sliding down to the east and the slant of the light makes the flowers glow. Too soon it will be time to take them out and plant winter pansies. The swan song of our summer flowers.

And now for something completely differnent. Here's a question for my sister writers. Are you a plotter or a pantser? I tried plotting and could not do it. I fly by the seat of my pants and let inspiration be my guide. However, I am seeking inspiration by attending a series of workshops given by E.C. Sheedy on writing the romantic suspense/murder mystery novel. E.C. is not a plotter!

Our chapter is hosting a workshop on Septemeer 27 given by Gayle Wilson. The title. "Staying up all night writing the page turner." Should be lots of fun and inspire me to do great things. Stay tuned! If you live in the Seattle area or nothern Oregon, consider coming to visit Victoria and taking in Gayle's workshop.

Anita
www.anitabirt.com

New beginnings

YAY, it's finally fall. Not according to the stars or weather (hotter than blazes today) but according to the all-important school calendar. Kids are back in school, so mom has her life back!

I've got a bunch of releases coming this fall, and a bunch more to get cracking on. But I love this time of year. Even more than January, it gives me a sense of new beginnings and second chances. Maybe I spent too long in academia, or maybe it's the sight of all those shiny new notebooks and pens and pencils--a writer's favorite toys.

Anyway, here's a sneak preview of one of my upcoming books, and it's all about new beginnings and second chances.

Three for All
By Cindy Spencer Pape
Coming 10/3/08 from Ellora’s Cave

Blurb: In her 600 years, elven reporter Eislinn has had two great loves in her life—paranormal police officer Callum, another elf, and Lothan, a demon enforcer. One hot summer night the three of them come together, and Philadelphia practically explodes with the passion.

Note: This book contains male/male and male/male/female sexual acts and light bondage. The excerpt contains sexual discussion and strong language.

Excerpt:

“When will you learn not to mess around with things that can kill you, Eis? You’re six hundred years old. When are you going to grow up?”

Callum raised a sandy eyebrow and turned his piercing green gaze on Lothan. The two had clearly met before but didn’t know each other well. That made sense, given that Callum was a member of the city’s special paranormal police team, while Lothan did pretty much the same job on a private level. Both were charged with keeping paranormal rule-breakers in line and out of the newspapers. The elf and the demon were cut from very similar cloth, really. They were both smart and brave and honorable and had each, at one point, been the love of Eislinn’s life. And apparently neither of them had quite twigged to that fact. Though now it seemed like the shit was about to hit the fan.

“Sounds like you know our star reporter pretty well, von Deimos. How exactly are you two acquainted?”

Eislinn squirmed. Nothing like having two ex-boyfriends in one room. Especially when they were the two she’d never really gotten over. It was bad enough that both of them were in Philadelphia at the same time. Ever since Callum had shown up here a year ago, she’d wondered if he’d been following her. She could have lived a few more centuries without them getting together and ganging up on her. Unless—she felt her pussy clench. No, she was pretty sure that neither of them would ever go for it. They were both centuries old alpha males. Neither would be willing to share her—would they? If only for this one night?

“Oh the lovely Eislinn and I are old friends, elf.” Lothan had an eye for races and he’d pegged Callum immediately as one of the Fae, just like Eislinn. “Old enough that I’m tempted to tie her up and paddle her backside for putting herself in danger tonight.”

His heated gaze was making Eislinn sweat. Her nipples hardened under her hoodie and her jeans were getting soaked. It had been almost five years since she and Lothan had been together and she hadn’t had a really good spanking since. She had to maintain some pride, though, so she held her ground. “Sure you are, big guy. Promises, promises.”

“I’ll help,” Callum offered. His grass-green eyes were shot through with golden sparks—a sure sign that he was aroused to either anger or passion. “I’ve been trying to get her to stop taking stupid risks for two hundred years. And think how pretty she’ll look with that little ass all red from both of our hands.”

Eislinn’s breath stopped in her throat. Had Callum just suggested…

He had.

Labor Day...Or Not

Well, here it is, September 1. Summer's nearly behind us, and in Texas where it's been a raging inferno most of us are giving heartfelt thanks. It's also Labor Day, a holiday celebrated only in the United States, but I thought for everyone out there (and you are a might crowd!) who lives outside the U.S. of A., a little history of the holiday night be in order.

Labor Day: How it Came About; What it Means
Labor Day, the first Monday in September, is a creation of the labor movement in the United States, and is dedicated to recognizing the social and economic achievements of American workers. It is an annual national celebration of the contributions workers have made to the strength, prosperity, and well-being of our country.
Founder of Labor Day
More than 100 years after the first Labor Day observance, there is still some doubt as to who first proposed the holiday for workers. Some records show that Peter J. McGuire, general secretary of the Brotherhood of Carpenters and Joiners and a cofounder of the American Federation of Labor, was first in suggesting a day to honor those "who from rude nature have delved and carved all the grandeur we behold."
But Peter McGuire's place in Labor Day history has not gone unchallenged. Many believe that Matthew Maguire, a machinist, not Peter McGuire, founded the holiday. Recent research seems to support the contention that Matthew Maguire, later the secretary of Local 344 of the International Association of Machinists in Paterson, N.J., proposed the holiday in 1882 while serving as secretary of the Central Labor Union in New York. What is clear is that the Central Labor Union adopted a Labor Day proposal and appointed a committee to plan a demonstration and picnic.
The First Labor Day
The first Labor Day holiday was celebrated on Tuesday, September 5, 1882, in New York City, arranged by the Central Labor Union. That organization Union held its second Labor Day holiday just a year later, on September 5, 1883.
In 1884 the first Monday in September was selected as the permanent day for the holiday, as originally proposed, and the Central Labor Union urged similar organizations in other cities to follow the example of New York and celebrate a "workingmen's holiday" on that date. The idea spread with the growth of labor organizations, and in 1885 Labor Day was celebrated in many industrial centers of the country.
Labor Day Legislation
Through the years the United states gave increasing emphasis to Labor Day. The first governmental recognition came through municipal ordinances passed during 1885 and 1886. From them developed the movement to secure state legislation. The first state bill was introduced into the New York legislature, but the first to become law was passed by Oregon on February 21, 1887. During the year four more states — Colorado, Massachusetts, New Jersey, and New York — created the Labor Day holiday by legislative enactment. By the end of the decade Connecticut, Nebraska, and Pennsylvania had followed suit. By 1894, 23 other states had adopted the holiday in honor of workers, and on June 28 of that year, Congress passed an act making the first Monday in September of each year a legal holiday in the District of Columbia and the territories.
A Nationwide Holiday
The form that the observance and celebration of Labor Day should take were outlined in the first proposal of the holiday — a street parade to exhibit to the public "the strength and esprit de corps of the trade and labor organizations" of the community, followed by a festival for the recreation and amusement of the workers and their families. This became the pattern for the celebrations of Labor Day. Speeches by prominent men and women were introduced later, as more emphasis was placed upon the economic and civic significance of the holiday. Still later, by a resolution of the American Federation of Labor convention of 1909, the Sunday preceding Labor Day was adopted as Labor Sunday and dedicated to the spiritual and educational aspects of the labor movement, although this seems to have somewhat fallen by the wayside.
The character of the Labor Day celebration has undergone a change in recent years, especially in large industrial centers where mass displays and huge parades have proved a problem. This change, however, is more a shift in emphasis and medium of expression. Labor Day addresses by leading union officials, industrialists, educators, clerics and government officials are given wide coverage in newspapers, radio, and television.
The vital force of labor added materially to the highest standard of living and the greatest production the world has ever known and has brought us closer to the realization of our traditional ideals of economic and political democracy. It is appropriate, therefore, that the nation pay tribute on Labor Day to the creator of so much of the nation's strength, freedom, and leadership — the American worker.

In our little corner of Texas this is the weekend we hold the county fair and we have a parade down Main Street that is so typical you want to put it in a movie. People have picnics, barbecues, family dinners, hang out at the fair. For everyone still working (not retired, for example) it is a day to enjoy the fruits of your labors all year long.

I'd love to hear you y'all celebrate Labor Day. and if live outside the U.S., tell me about any holidays you have that might be considered close to this. Me, I'll still be 'laboring' today trying to meet yet another deadline! LOL!